Chapter 2-Escape

It was shortly after 8:30 when Loomis returned to his unit. The hospital he worked at was strictly for juveniles, with two main wards. One ward was for those who were a danger to others, and one was for those who were dangers to themselves. The patient he was transferring this evening was certainly in the former category. As he walked from the car park toward the staff entrance he noticed how it was odd that there wasn't a guard stationed by the door. Normally there was someone there just in case to make sure that none of the patients got out, or that no unsavory types tried to get in. it wasn't unheard of for a guard not to be stationed at a moment-they might be responding to a call and need to assist in restraining a patient or assisting with some other need-so it didn't bother him terribly as he punched in his ID and scanned his badge to enter the hospital.

What did bother him was the fact that as soon as he entered he was overloaded with two things-a terrible stench he was unfortunately familiar with, and the sound of many patients freely roaming the halls. He looked down to confirm the smell he'd picked up.

There was a pool of crimson liquid leaking out from a cabinet beside the door where the guards typically kept their rain gear. He hesitantly walked over to the cabinet and opened the door. As he did he jumped back, horrified at the sight that was in front of him. It was what was left of one of the guards, a chocolate lab named Charlie who'd been working there for a few years.

Loomis stood horrified. Charlie's head had been beaten repeatedly. There was sign of sever blunt force trauma, his muzzle barely still attached to the front of his skull. His eyes were both sunken and his teeth, the few that were left, were bloodied and covered in bits of saliva and mucus. His forehead had been split open, and beyond the ragged tear in his fur and flesh there was a cracked skull peering through.

His chest was no better. His guard uniform had been ripped off, leaving a bruised and bloodied torso in its wake. His brown fur was mottled with blood and bits of entrails spilling through. It was clear that he'd been caught unaware and had been beaten repeatedly before being stabbed.

Loomis immediately slammed the emergency lockdown button on the control panel beside the access door to the unit. It both called the local police and locked all entrances and exits to the building, hopefully containing the threat that had done this. As the door behind him clicked shut he advanced through the security gate and past the few patients in the halls.

Most of them paid him no mind, and the few that did notice him didn't threaten him. He'd worked to build a good rapport with his patients, and he knew that he was safe from any of them-with one exception. He advanced to the end of the corridor, around the bend there was a maximum security room with padded walls and a single skylight. It wasn't humane, but the thing inside wasn't exactly deserving of the same treatment as the other patients who were making progress in their mental struggles.

As he reached the end of the hall and turned, Loomis again froze. There were two bodies on the ground in front of him. It was Chett and Barry, the two other guards who were on duty.

Chett looked even worse than Charlie had been. While Charlie had still been in one piece, Chett wasn't quite so fortunate. The golden retriever had been attacked, that much was clear. There was blood covering the floor and most of the door that lead to the maximum security room. The first thought that came to Loomis was the fact that it was almost like a Jackson Pollock painting, if Pollock had been a serial killer. There were rivulets of red mingled with Chett's yellow fur and grey matter from his half decapitated head all strewn across the grey tile and white walls. The limp form of the former guard was still leaking further ichor as Loomis heard a slight groan from beside him.

"Barry?"

The German Shepherd coughed as he held a deep wound in his gut. "Sam?"

"Barry, what happened here? Where is he? Tonight's the transfer, we're supposed to get him to the adult hospital so he can finally stand trial!" Loomis frantically gestured to the empty room behind him.

"He, he escaped." Barry wheezed.

"He fucking escaped?! How?!" Loomis demanded, shaking Barry. The guard coughed up blood with the vigorous movement.

"He got Roger's keycard somehow and unlocked the door. He attacked us, then he went down the hall and got Charlie. I saw him go through the door to the outside. I'm sorry; I don't know where he is."

Loomis growled. "That dog is a monster! Now he's loose in Brisbane. We have to stop him, he's a menace with nothing but evil and malice for a guide. Who knows what kind of damage he can do?"

***HW***

A half mile from the locked down facility a golden haired Hovawart walked down the sidewalk, the crisp air blowing his fur slightly. There was little outwardly wrong with the dog, he didn't seem any different than a normal dog on the street, well, with one exception-his eyes. They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul, and in this case the glassy black orbs that filled the holes in Michael Myer's skull revealed just how tarnished the dog's soul was.

The silent shape glided through the Brisbane streets, eventually pausing by a bus station stand. There were no passengers waiting-the route stopped running at ten-but that wasn't what he was looking at. On the side of the bus shelter there was an advertisement for the Brisbane Natural History Museum's newest exhibit, with a prominent picture of Dr. Samuel Loomis-exhibit coordinator-welcoming guests to learn about mental health.

Michael turned from the advert and began walking down the street with purpose.

***HW***

Bandit swiped his employee badge as he yawned and took a sip from his coffee. It wasn't a daddy drop off day, but it was an office day. While the blue heeler normally could split his time between working at home on his research projects and in the museum working on the practical exhibits, the last few weeks had been forcing him to be more at the museum. He stretched slightly as he tread toward his office, a small room tucked in the bowels of the museum along with the specimen rooms and a handful of other administrative corridors.

He noticed it was quieter than usual, normally there was at least some buzz from one of the other employees or guards talking. He shrugged, maybe I'm the first one here. He headed toward the elevator, pressing the button to descend when he heard a bloodcurdling scream. He immediately tensed, his hair standing on end as he heard it echo through the empty atrium.

"What the hell was that?"

The scream continued. Bandit paused, not wanting to discover its cause, but knowing that he needed to. He poked his head around the corner and nearly vomited. It was Patches, the head of the botany department. He was pinned to the ground, writhing to get free. The cocker spaniel made eye contact with Bandit, pleading for him to help. Bandit froze, the eyes of his coworker, his friend, begging him to do something. He trembled, frozen in place as the blond dog stood up from Patches and turned to face him. He had cold eyes, they were nearly black. Bandit's blood ran cold as the figure loomed and started toward him.

"Fuck!" He shouted, quickly running from the upstairs and down the hall through the side door. He exited the museum and dialed the police, running as far from the museum as he could.

"Hello, this is triple zero, how can we help you?" A woman said on the other end of the line.

"My coworker is being attacked! Some psycho is stabbing him, and now I think he's trying to get me!"

"Sir, where are you?"

"Brisbane Natural History Museum. Well, not inside anymore. I'm about three blocks away…" Bandit panted as he leaned against the side of a building, passersby not noticing him in their efforts to get along with their own lives.

"Is that where the man being attacked was?"

"Yes."

"We'll send over police immediately. Remain clear of the area until they've assured you the threat is clear."

***HW***

It was an hour later when Bandit was allowed back in the museum. There were half a dozen police cars around the building. Patches' body had been removed, and the security footage had been analyzed.

"It looks like the dog who did it somehow got in through the maintenance entrance on the lower level." One detective stated. "He then continued to roam the building until he found someone. Unfortunately your coworker was in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Another detective continued, "Mr. Heeler, I understand this is a traumatic experience, but the quality of the footage from the cameras is poor. Could you please describe the dog as best as you're able so that we might have a composite sketch to distribute?"

Bandit nodded slowly as he looked at the floor where Patches had bled out. "The dog was tall, much taller than me. He had blond fur, like a retriever, but I don't think he was a retriever-he looked a little different." He paused, the image flashing in his mind of the stare from earlier, "And he had black eyes, like they were all pupil. I know it sounds crazy, but it's true."

"Thank you Mr. Heeler." A sergeant nodded. "We're going to do a sweep of the area to see if we can find the dog that did this. Why don't you go home and get some rest?"

Twenty minutes later Bandit stopped at a red light a few blocks from home. Bandit wrung his hands on the wheel. I could've done something. I could've done SOMETHING. I just froze… I'm such a coward! Patches, I'm sorry. Bandit sighed as he shook his head. The image of the dog's eyes were still burned in his memory. His blood ran cold at the thought. Little did he know that those same eyes were much closer than he ever would have imagined, hiding, waiting for the right time to strike.