"Chapter Ten - Willard Is Back "
A harrowing feeling woke Willard from his sleep. He knew something was wrong. Firemen slowly scorched each rat that came within eye sight. With the swat team close behind they walked down the dark labyrinth of hallways towards the lower levels where the dangerous patients were being kept. Dead, scorched rat carcasses scattered the floors of the hospital. Few escaped the terror.
Now in the lower levels, the swat team slowly unleashed the patients from their captivity. One by one the swat team released them into the dark hallways. Blood curdling screams mirrored the walls of the hallways which more resembled a catacomb meant to keep people who others wish to forget. Throughout this terror, patients' unleashed their wrath upon the swat team and firemen who unlocked their small dark cave-like cells. The swat team gained control of most of them; less than half of them killed each other. Half the patients made it out alive. Some couldn't be saved. They were eaten alive by the rats.
"Do you know who did this?" Dr. Long was asked. She gazed out of the van window in awe at what was occurring. She couldn't bring herself to say a word. Bodies of countless patients were being carried out of the dark hospital. Patients which she treated. She had treated Willard....how could this happen? she thought. They were all layed in a row below the shadow of the insitutions walls. The injured cried in terror.
Morning came and dark rain clowds filled the sky. Willard was already awake and dressed in a dusty suit belonging to his long dead father. He walked to the bathroom for some water. No water came out. A large gurgling noise echoed throughout the house. The lights refused to luminate the dark rooms. Everything was turned off. Grabbing Socrates he slowly walked towards his father's study. Closing his eyes he opened the door. Everything was torn apart. Glass scattered the floor from fallen pictures. Memories from the last night he had entered the room flashed before him. He placed his hands upon his head hoping it would go away. The innumerable rats attempting to kill him. But they didn't succeed...he was still here. Socrates crawled up his arm upon his shoulder and squeaked. This caught his attention and he lowered his hands, holding Socrates. He remembered what he had come into the room for. Looking on the floor he picked up two broken picture frames. One of his father, the other of his mother. Quickly, he left the room.
Walking down the large staircase he heard a noise. A car door slam. Slowly he sprinted towards the window and looked outside. A white van with the words "New York Electrical" drove away from the front of the house. He took a deep breath, glad that it hadn't been someone else.
"Lady, you have to tell us who did this," Dr. Long was told. Still overwhelmed from the actions of the past night she finally brought herself to say his name, "Willard Stiles." "We'll start a statewide search. He can't have gone far. Do you have any idea where he could have gone?" Dr. Long was interrogated. "Yes, back home," she continued staring out the window in disbelief. "Can you describe him?" she was asked. "Pale...very pale. Black hair...he was shot in the arm by one of the security men... Tall, blue eyes, he's very disturbed. I really should come with you when you find him," she said still staring outside. Dr. Long listened as the policeman grabbed his walky talky and began to phone the information in. She was quickly taken from the van into another police vehicle . Dr. Long was being taken to Willard's house and she didn't know what she would find when she got there.
Placing the pictures of his mother and father in his torn and slightly nibbled up breifcase he opened the front door and walked down the front steps. He was going to complete some unfinished business. Willard was back.
A harrowing feeling woke Willard from his sleep. He knew something was wrong. Firemen slowly scorched each rat that came within eye sight. With the swat team close behind they walked down the dark labyrinth of hallways towards the lower levels where the dangerous patients were being kept. Dead, scorched rat carcasses scattered the floors of the hospital. Few escaped the terror.
Now in the lower levels, the swat team slowly unleashed the patients from their captivity. One by one the swat team released them into the dark hallways. Blood curdling screams mirrored the walls of the hallways which more resembled a catacomb meant to keep people who others wish to forget. Throughout this terror, patients' unleashed their wrath upon the swat team and firemen who unlocked their small dark cave-like cells. The swat team gained control of most of them; less than half of them killed each other. Half the patients made it out alive. Some couldn't be saved. They were eaten alive by the rats.
"Do you know who did this?" Dr. Long was asked. She gazed out of the van window in awe at what was occurring. She couldn't bring herself to say a word. Bodies of countless patients were being carried out of the dark hospital. Patients which she treated. She had treated Willard....how could this happen? she thought. They were all layed in a row below the shadow of the insitutions walls. The injured cried in terror.
Morning came and dark rain clowds filled the sky. Willard was already awake and dressed in a dusty suit belonging to his long dead father. He walked to the bathroom for some water. No water came out. A large gurgling noise echoed throughout the house. The lights refused to luminate the dark rooms. Everything was turned off. Grabbing Socrates he slowly walked towards his father's study. Closing his eyes he opened the door. Everything was torn apart. Glass scattered the floor from fallen pictures. Memories from the last night he had entered the room flashed before him. He placed his hands upon his head hoping it would go away. The innumerable rats attempting to kill him. But they didn't succeed...he was still here. Socrates crawled up his arm upon his shoulder and squeaked. This caught his attention and he lowered his hands, holding Socrates. He remembered what he had come into the room for. Looking on the floor he picked up two broken picture frames. One of his father, the other of his mother. Quickly, he left the room.
Walking down the large staircase he heard a noise. A car door slam. Slowly he sprinted towards the window and looked outside. A white van with the words "New York Electrical" drove away from the front of the house. He took a deep breath, glad that it hadn't been someone else.
"Lady, you have to tell us who did this," Dr. Long was told. Still overwhelmed from the actions of the past night she finally brought herself to say his name, "Willard Stiles." "We'll start a statewide search. He can't have gone far. Do you have any idea where he could have gone?" Dr. Long was interrogated. "Yes, back home," she continued staring out the window in disbelief. "Can you describe him?" she was asked. "Pale...very pale. Black hair...he was shot in the arm by one of the security men... Tall, blue eyes, he's very disturbed. I really should come with you when you find him," she said still staring outside. Dr. Long listened as the policeman grabbed his walky talky and began to phone the information in. She was quickly taken from the van into another police vehicle . Dr. Long was being taken to Willard's house and she didn't know what she would find when she got there.
Placing the pictures of his mother and father in his torn and slightly nibbled up breifcase he opened the front door and walked down the front steps. He was going to complete some unfinished business. Willard was back.