Patrick stayed tense on his back, one arm raised defensively. I halted in midstep, afraid that if I moved again, it would mean that time would keep moving, too.

There was no sound except the hiss of oxygen escaping from the mask.

“Ben,” Dr. Chatterjee said in a shockingly calm voice, “put the mask back on Patrick. You don’t want a Host in here any more than we do.”

Ben glared down at Patrick. The wide straps strained. Held tight in Ben’s grip, the mask wobbled a few inches from my brother’s face. Ben looked from Patrick to Chatterjee, then to me. My brother’s life in his hands.

The moment stretched on and on.

Finally Ben released the mask, letting it snap back into place hard over Patrick’s nose and mouth. Then he climbed off Patrick and stood, his face shifting with emotion, his scar lines pulling into strange new alignments.

Patrick exhaled hard through the one-way valve, then panted to catch his breath, his chest jerking.

“Hell, I was doing him a favor,” Ben said. “Showing him what it’ll be like out there. If one of me could do that to him in here, how do you think it’ll go down with hundreds of Hosts in the open?”

It took Patrick a few seconds to push himself onto one knee, then find his feet. I wanted to help him up, but I knew if I went over to help, it’d make him angry right now. He picked up his cowboy hat and put it on. Then he adjusted the mask straps and the tube and walked back over to his cot. Every head in the gym turned to watch his retreat. He slumped onto the mattress, still breathing heavily, one hand resting gently on the mask as if making sure it was still there.

Seeing him defeated like that made something inside me break into little pieces and blow away. I swallowed hard. I wanted to pummel Ben’s face until those scar lines cracked open again. But as he took up his chair by the double doors, I detected a note of remorse in his face. That’s the only thing that stopped me from attacking him and probably getting myself killed.

I walked over to Patrick, feeling everyone’s eyes on me. I was about to ask my brother if he was okay when he tilted his head, looking up at me from under the brim of his trademark black cowboy hat.

What I saw in his eyes chilled me through and through.

“You have to go, Chance,” he said through his mask. “Go get her. Get her and bring her back to me.”