The two gunshots rang out, and the weirdest thing was that the only pain he felt was the sting of the sound in his ears.

Two flopping thunchs followed, echoing around the stolen riches.

Z lifted his head. Qhuinn and Rhage were standing right behind where the lessers had been, their guns just lowering. Blay and John Matthew were with them, their guns drawn as well.

“You okay?” Rhage asked.

No. That would be one big fat hairy fuck-no. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m tight.”

“Blay, back into the tunnel with me,” Rhage said. “John and Qhuinn, you stay with him.”

Z let his head fall back and listened as two sets of shitkickers headed off in the distance. In the eerie silence that followed, a wave of nausea rolled over him and every inch of him started to shake, his hands flapping like flags in a brisk wind as he brought them up to feel his face.

John’s hand touched his arm and he jumped. “I’m okay…I’m okay…”

John signed, We’re going to get you out of here.

“How—” He cleared his throat. “How do I know this is happening?”

I’m sorry? How do you know…?

Zsadist’s fingers skipped along his forehead as he tried to prod where the slayers had aimed their guns. “How do I know this is real? And not a…How do I know I didn’t just die?”

John glanced over his shoulder at Qhuinn like he had no idea how to respond and was looking for backup. Then he pounded on his own chest with a solid thumping. I know I’m here.

Qhuinn leaned down and did the same, a heavy bass sound rising from his chest. “Me, too.”

Zsadist let his head fall back again, his body scrambling in its own skin so badly his feet tap-danced on the hard-packed floor. “I don’t know…if this is real…oh, shit…”