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                “These are lost drunken men who don’t know where they are, but do care! And these are men who know where they are and care, but don’t drink.”

                                Dr. Klahn, Kentucky Fried Movie

                I can feel the leather straps holding me to the metal table. I can feel the IV going into my arm, which hurt like a mother when they put it in. I can feel the cold metal beneath me, and the incidental warmth from the light.

                But that’s all.

                I can’t hear.

                And I can’t see.

                I know they put something over my eyes. And there’s a strange waterfall-like sound, but it’s really quiet. I don’t know what it is, but it’s the only thing I can hear.

                “That eyepiece is a sensory depravation device.” Toren says as I watch the thin line of green circulate through the rubber tube that’s stuck in Sam’s arm. He’s not moving much. I look up from my chains and the guards at my sides, trying to decide how I’m going to kill Toren when I get the chance. I don’t know why, but I’m fixated on his neck, on snapping it. Probably to the right. That way I can feel like I’m jerking that casual military grin off his face.

                I look down when Sam jerks a bit. For as much of a pussy as he is, he doesn’t deserve this crap. I look over at the team of white-coated scientist guys working on the machines connected to the goofy sunglasses and the machines that are around him. I recognize the heartbeat meter, but that’s it. All I want to do is smash up their little fun.

                Sam jerks again.

                “We’re feeding him sensory information.” Toren explains, his arms crossed as he strolls over towards me. “Basically, it’s triggering the portions of his brain responsible for bad dreams and unpleasant memories. Sort of like a nightmare in a bottle.”

                “You know,” I say, glaring at Toren. “I almost want that guy to show up, just so I can watch him throw you through a wall.”

                Toren chuckles at me. “I don’t care what he is.” He says, looking away. “He’s not getting in here.”

                “Famous last words.” I say.

He doesn’t look back, but I know that sat just inside his neck. The same neck I want to break.

                And then there is light.

                It’s blinding at first. I don’t know where I am. But the waterfall noise is disappearing. I feel sick, my whole body shacking as I’m pulled up vertical. I’m drenched. Somehow, I can tell its sweat. I can’t see anything except white. I hear, but it’s only a buzzing.

                Slowly, though, it all starts to clear up. The bright blur begins to take shape. I can see . . . fires? I start to look around. I’m in the same room I was in. I’m still on the table. I look to my right, only to see Slate. She’s got my left arm slung over her shoulders and she’s pulling me off the table. I can’t feel any of it. Her mouth is moving, but I can’t hear anything, just a cottony sound that absorbs everything.

                I look back around at the military base-type room I’m in. There’s a large hole in the far wall. Smoke and fire is everywhere. The lights are flickering and the ground seems unstable. I can’t hear anything, but I can feel something that feels like sound.

`               Slate drags me over towards the wall just as an explosion of light erupts from above us. I look up as sparks fly out in silent motion from one of the overhead lights. The array of sparks rupture out through the open room, sending shadows chasing out from every corner.

                Slate sits me down and we both get low. She turns to me and starts rambling on, but I can’t hear anything. I call out her name, but I can’t even hear my own voice. I bet I sound like an idiot. I try to explain to her that I can’t hear, but as I’m speaking, there’s another rumble of sound.

                A large corner of the building adjacent to us crashes in. The bricks and ceiling fragments fall to the ground, collapsing down with an air-shaking din. I cover my head as more bricks fall and I can feel sounds from everywhere. I look up, able for the first time to see through the flames and the smoke.

                There’s a war going on.

                Men are rushing through the fence, machine guns in their hands. But in the twilight illumination, I can tell that they’re dressed in military clothes, not the uniforms of the Ever-After security. I look over at Slate and ask her what we’re going to do. She looks around at the chaos for a moment, then looks up at the wall we’re leaning against.

                She looks out at the world of destruction and chaos, then points at a small building that seems undisturbed. She looks back at me and I nod.

                When I try to stand, it’s like trying to stand on stilts. Slate tries to keep up with me, but I feel like every step I take, my foot’s on a ball or a point and even the slightest motion and I’ll fall. I can’t seem to get my eyes to stop shifting uncomfortably, as if my head is rolling around on my shoulders.

                Slate rushes over to the farthest wall standing, about a hundred yards or so from the other building. She crouches down as more soldiers run by. I watch them run, seeing more fires and gunfire off in the direction of the base itself.

                Before I know what’s going on, Slate has my hand by the wrist. She yanks me to my feet and we both sprint towards the building. I have no idea how quiet I am, but I imagine it’s not very and I imagine it doesn’t matter.

                The building looks like a water department facility. It’s squat, brick, metal roof, and amazingly nondescript. It’s one story and probably one room. Slate finds the heavy metal door and tries the handle. To my utter astonishment, it opens. She flings the door open, grabs me and we both duck inside.

                The last thing I’m aware of is the door shutting.

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