Rhodes would have collapsed right there in his conversion station, but the prongs held him up.

  The loss of his one chance to get away from the Masks crushed him more than anything else. He could take the pain and despair, but not that.

  His subordinates’ tormented roars, sobs, screams, and curses drifted into his ears from his right and left. He didn’t want to see his people, but the interface left him no choice.

  The Masks worked around him in their usual way. He didn’t even care if or when they did something to cause him more pain. Nothing could be worse than this.

  He’d been minutes or even seconds away from returning to the Legion. Rio had been right there in the same sky with Rhodes.

  Going back to the Legion would be as torturous as this. He knew that now. Withdrawing from the drug would be terrible without the Masks to modulate that ordeal.

  Withdrawing from the bliss of Stonebridge and the exhilaration of battle would be even worse, but anything was better than this prison.

  Maybe, someday, if he got really lucky, he would start to feel normal again—or as normal as he possibly could be now that he was….this.

  That would never happen as long as he stayed the Masks’ prisoner. He might suffer this torment for the rest of his life. He might decide to end it after all just to end his own misery.

  At least he would have the chance there. The slim hope always lingered there in front of him as long as he was a part of the Legion.

  It would never happen here. He would always crash back and forth between this torment and the stupid insensible illusion of The Grid. It would last as long as he stayed here.

  Knowing that confirmed in his mind that he had to escape no matter what the Masks did to him.

  As soon as he thought that, he found himself back in Stonebridge. The Grid wiped out all his pain and suffering, but it didn’t wipe the memory.

  He knew exactly where he was and why. He remembered every second of agony in the Masks’ lab. He remembered everything he went through at Coleridge Station and afterward.

  He appeared in The Grid landscape out in the fields. He stood on the hilltop where he first entered this fantasy world.

  A satin breeze brushed through the long grass. The wind carried the scent of wildflowers and wood smoke to his nostrils.

  Rippling golden colors played through the waves of grass and reflected the sunlight. Every sight, sound, smell, and texture of this world breathed with beauty and perfection.

  That feeling only made him mad. Those cocksuckers. They couldn’t keep him sedated forever, so they sent him back here.

  Now he had to go through the whole damn process of trying to convince his subordinates all over again. He almost couldn’t bear it.

  Was that the Masks’ plan—to wear down his resolve by making him go through the same hamster wheel again and again and again?

  The Legion was looking for him. Even the ordinary platoon soldiers knew now that the Legion wanted to get Rhodes back.

  Rhodes seized that with every ounce of his frazzled hope. The Ero and the Strikers traveled to every battle between the Masks and the Legion.

  The Legion stationed the Ero in orbit over every battle on the distant chance that the battalion would be able to break away.

  Rhodes would succeed one of these times. One of these days, the battalion would find a way to escape. They had to escape if it was the last thing they ever did.

  You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

  He couldn’t bring himself to go back into town and do it all over again. He would do it, but he couldn’t do it now.

  He just wanted to rest. He wanted to shut his eyes and not think about any of this anymore.

  He would have liked to stay in this world—as a normal human man. The temptation to just accept himself like this—the way he had been before Battalion 1 turned him into a freak—the temptation almost overcame his will to resist—almost.

  The simple fact that it tempted him infuriated him out of his mind. The Masks really knew how to dangle the carrot. That’s what this temptation was.

  Everything pleasant, beautiful, and enticing about this world made him want to kill someone. The bastards ruined his life—as if it wasn’t ruined enough already.

  The Masks used the crumbs of his ruined life to ruin it all over again a second time—and a third time—and a fourth time….

  They would keep wrecking it again and again as long as he stayed here. They would build up his hope and then demolish that hope repeatedly.

  They didn’t even know they were doing it. They were too stupid even to understand that. Their own actions made it impossible for Rhodes to cooperate with them.

  He would never cooperate—not ever. He would destroy every last living Mask before he gave them one ounce of his cooperation.

  He couldn’t stay out here in the fields forever. The sun was already going down and the wind bit a little colder.

  The Masks somehow always worked it so Rhodes had to go back to Ora’s house. He didn’t even think of it as his own house.

  It wasn’t his house. She wasn’t his wife. He hated her for even pretending to be.

  He planned to sleep in the barn again. He would sleep in the barn forever. What the hell did he even care anyway?

  He made it halfway back to town when Fisher came out to meet him. Rhodes braced himself for another confrontation.

  He hated Fisher for pretending, too. This Fisher was nothing but a tool of the Masks’ control. How dare they prop up this scarecrow pretending to be Rhodes’s friend?

  Fisher—this fake Fisher—this was nothing but another manipulation to get inside Rhodes’s head and break down his resolve.

  He ran through a dozen insulting things he could say to make Fisher leave him alone. The two men got within twenty feet of each other before Rhodes noticed something wrong with Fisher.

  He buckled onto his knees right there in the road and doubled over with his arms across his stomach before he managed to stagger to his feet.

  His hair fell over his face. He took three steps before he lurched to one side, crashed into a fence, and lost his footing again. He tried to catch his balance and went down on one knee this time.

  Rhodes picked up speed and got close enough to see blood dripping from Fisher’s nose. Dark patches surrounded his eyes and ran down his neck in what looked like bruises.

  “Fisher….” Rhodes grabbed him. “Easy, pal.”

  Fisher let out a broken groan, tried one more time to stand up, and collapsed onto his seat against the fence.

  “Sit tight, pal,” Rhodes husked. “Take it easy. I’m here. You don’t have to go anywhere.”

  “Get…..out…..Captain….” Fisher started coughing, toppled sideways, and retched a mouthful of blood onto the grass.

  He whimpered under his breath, spat out the last of it, and croaked again, “You have to….get out…..”

  “I’m going to, man.” Rhodes fought down panic. “What are they doing to you?”

  “The Grid…..” Fisher groaned again.

  Rhodes grabbed Fisher by the shoulders, dragged him upright, and propped him against the fence—as if Rhodes could do anything to help Fisher.

  Stonebridge didn’t have any advanced medical technology. It didn’t have any medical technology at all.

  Rhodes couldn’t imagine what the Masks were doing to Fisher, but it would kill him if it kept going on like this.

  “The Grid….” Fisher choked again. “You have to….use The Grid….”

  Rhodes didn’t take that moment to remind Fisher that Rhodes didn’t know how to use The Grid to get out of here.

  Rhodes glanced around. Everyone in Stonebridge was already going home for the night.

  Rhodes made a snap decision. He couldn’t leave Fisher lying out here on the ground.

  Rhodes didn’t want to take Fisher to his own house or to Ora’s house. That left one option.

  Rhodes dragged Fisher’s arm over his shoulders and hauled Fisher to his feet. Rhodes staggered to the barn on the edge of town, shoved the door open, and lowered Fisher onto a pile of hay in one of the back stalls.

  Fisher kept groaning in agony, and as soon as Rhodes laid him down, Fisher heaved over on one side and vomited a massive puddle of blood onto the floor.

  “Fisher….” Rhodes husked. “What can I do? Tell me what to do.”

  “Get….out…..” Fisher choked. “Get….out……”

  “I’m trying, man.” Rhodes fought down rising emotion. He couldn’t just stand here and watch Fisher die.

  Rhodes scrambled to come up with some idea—anything to help his friend.

  Just as fast, Fisher reared off the ground and lunged for Rhodes. Blood stained Fisher’s lips and ran down his chin.

  He curled his lips back in a deadly snarl. Blood stained his teeth and turned him into a raving monster.

  He roared in fury and dove for Rhodes’s throat. Rhodes reacted without thinking, seized Fisher by the shirt, and yanked him sideways.

  Rhodes wasn’t thinking about anything other than defending himself. His instincts kicked in when he felt how strong Fisher was.

  Rhodes overcompensated and slammed Fisher into the stall’s sidewall stalls. Fisher’s head hit the boards and Rhodes snapped.

  He hauled Fisher away and vented all his strength to smash Fisher’s head into the boards again and again and again.

  End of Chapter 32.

  ? 2024 by Theo Mann

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