The pain reminded him of the blue kibble he’d been forced to eat in the lab, which had made his stomach and head hurt terribly. He closed his eyes. The rat, Juniper, had mentioned a place—the Catacombs. The name somehow seemed familiar, but how did he know it? He closed his eyes and concentrated. The Cata-combs, he repeated as he began to doze off, the Catacombs … The lab tech looked up at the wall of cages. “Number 111 is acting odd,” he said to his colleague. “It’s like his fire has gone out or something. Maybe he’s sick.” “Well,” said the long-necked female tech, “he may be slowing down, but his growth rate certainly isn’t. He’s a bony one, but he’s the longest rat in the lab and he eats like a horse.” “I know,” said the short man, “it’s just that—he’s usually so much livelier. Maybe he’s depressed.” “Depressed?” scoffed the woman. “He’s a lab rat.” She shook her head. “Really, Walter, you get too attached to these animals.
