Serrin hadn’t gotten much rest. Pumping music had kept him awake half the night, and clicking roaches most of the rest of it. Michael’s idea about staying here might have been fine in theory, in practice it had turned out to be bad news. The clock said it was nine in the morning, his body told him it was still somewhere around midnight. And somewhere in between those times, Serrin remembered, was the commonest hour of death from natural causes, when the body just gave up on the struggle. It felt like it, too.