Chapter 3: Massacre

It was mid-morning when Bandit pulled the orange 4x4 back into the driveway and turned off the engine. He was still shaken up from everything that had happened as he unbuckled and walked toward the front door. He didn't even remember to lock the car as he fumbled with the keys to get the front door. He stared ahead; still shocked at what he'd witnessed when he heard a voice.

"Bandit… Bandit? Bandit!" Chilli waved her hand in front of him. He blinked. "Is everything alright? You're home early and you look a right state."

Bandit shook his head. "I need you to promise me that what I tell you won't make it to the girls, I don't want them to know about this."

"Bandit, are you okay?" A frown deepened on her face.

"Please, promise me." He plead, desperation evident in his eyes.

"I promise."

"Thank you." Bandit exhaled. "Patches is dead. I saw someone stab him to death at work."

"Oh my God…" Chilli covered her mouth.

"The dog that did it… he looked at me like I was the next one on his list. I ran. I ran so fucking fast I don't know how I did it. I called the cops, and they didn't find him. We don't know where he is…"

Chilli exhaled, "Well, okay. The museum's on the other side of the city, right? And chances are whoever he was; he doesn't really know who you were. Patches, he was a good dog, he didn't have any enemies. Whatever the bastard was thinking, I think it was opportunistic. I don't think you're in harm's way. Otherwise they'd've sent someone with you home, right?"

"Yeah, that makes sense." Bandit sighed.

"How about I get you some hot tea and some chocolate ice cream, take your mind off it as best I can?" Chilli offered, stroking her husband's ears.

As Bandit was about to reply his phone rang. He looked down, "Sam's calling me."

"Let it go. The last thing you need is any other stress at the moment." Chilli said.

"He never calls me; it has to be for a reason." Bandit tapped the accept button as Chilli huffed.

"Bandit! I heard about what happened, are you okay?" Sam was nearly panting on the other end of the phone.

"Yeah, I'm shaken up, but physically unharmed."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that… unfortunately I experienced something similar recently, we had a patient escape and I lost some good friends of mine who were guards."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Bandit, I need to ask you something." Loomis said, a serious tone entering his voice. "What were the eyes like?"

A chill ran up Bandit's spine as he again thought back to the golden dog who'd been stabbing Patches. "They were black. Not black like mine, where it's just dark brown, but all the way black. There was no light. No anything behind them. It was completely devoid of any sense of humanity." He shook his head, Chilli frowning deeply at the words. "I felt like I was looking into something that wasn't a dog, just something dog shaped pretending to be a dog… This shape, it wasn't like us. It was evil, pure evil."

Loomis was silent a moment before he spoke. "That was Michael."

"Michael?"

"The same dog who escaped yesterday and attacked and killed three of the guards at our hospital." Loomis sighed. "I fear he's trying to find me, that's why he went to your museum-he must've figured out I was there recently."

"Why would Michael target you?" Chilli asked, "You said yourself that your patients were generally good people, even if he looks evil, he must be good inside, right?"

"No, Michael… isn't." Sam sighed, "I'll come over and we can talk face to face, this sort of thing, it isn't right to do it over the phone. I need to find out as much as I can about what he's doing, because until he's captured we're all in grave danger."

***HW***

Janelle sighed as she tossed the shopping on the counter in the kitchen. She'd just gotten back from getting the boys Halloween costumes, as now it was expected that they celebrate the holiday. Even though we never did when I was a kid. She shrugged, Though it's mostly harmless fun, just some spooky costumes. She appraised the two outfits. Lucky had wanted to be a masked killer, like one of the ones from Scream or Friday the 13th. Unfortunately none of the stores had masks like that, so she'd settled on an off-putting white one that was supposed to be Captain Kirk. It had been faded by the lights in the store and had turned a sufficiently strange color to be no longer recognizable as the captain. That along with a prop knife would make his costume complete. For Chucky he'd asked to be a dinosaur, so she'd picked him up a t-rex costume, hopefully it'd fit, but if not there was still a few days to return and exchange.

She heard a buzz from the next room and walked over to the laundry. The washer buzzed again to let her know that the towels and sheets were clean. She opened the lid and started shifting the wash into a basket. As she was halfway through the load she sensed someone else in the room. She turned to see a familiar blonde coat standing in the doorway with some familiar accessories.

Janelle chuckled at the sight. "Pat come on, you're not gonna scare me with Lucky's Halloween mask and a prop knife. Cut it out. I need to finish flipping the laundry. Heaven knows we make enough towels and sheets in this house…" She turned back to the washer and continued taking out the damp towels, getting ready to put them in a basket to take outside.

She turned around to find the masked figure standing inches from her, holding the knife up as if to stab her in the chest.

"Woah! Fuckin' hell Pat, don't do that!" She scowled. "You got me, alright. Now take off that dumb mask and let's get the laundry taken care of."

It took a step closer, knife glinting with the light coming in the window.

"Pat?"

The blade swung forward and caught Janelle in the right shoulder. She screamed as the metal tore through her muscle, nearly severing the arm at the shoulder. The swing was too strong to be her husband. She backed up, shocked at the intruder.

"Get back! Get away from me!" She shouted, trying to find something to arm herself with. Unfortunately there was nothing immediately ready. She fumbled with a jug of laundry soap and swung it at his head, but even as it connected he shrugged it off and lunged at her.

She leaned back out of the way and tripped on the damp towels on the floor. As she fell on her back she looked up to see the figure surrounded in a haze of light streaming through the window. It would be the last thing she'd see as he plunged the blade into her skull, jutting through her eye socket and piercing into the linoleum floor behind.

Michael stood over the body. He pulled the knife out and tilted his head slightly at the scene.

***HW***

"Janelle, have you seen the charger for my headphones? The bloody things say they're out of battery and I was halfway through my set." Pat called out as he walked from the second floor to the first looking for his wife, he wiped his forehead, his workout demanding more energy than he was used to. He heard the thumping of the dryer-it sounded off balance, great, I'll have to call the repairman again-and headed toward the laundry room, anticipating his wife finishing up a load or some such.

He entered the room and the first thing that struck him was an odd burning smell. The hell is that? He wrinkled his nose, it smelled like burning hair. He walked over to the dryer and glanced at the dial. No, looks like normal heat. He pushed the stop button and pulled open the door, anticipating a sweater or something similar making the odd smell. To his horror Janelle's corpse fell from the door.

She was maimed, her head and shoulder both stabbed, the blood not on her body, but instead spread across the many formerly white towels in the dryer. Pat doubled over and vomited on the ground. "Oh my God…" He wiped his muzzle as he backed away from the dryer. He backed into something.

He turned around to be greeted by a large blonde dog in a Halloween mask. Before Pat could react he had a knife driven into his chest. He gasped, and the knife was then jabbed into his left leg. The beast attempted to pull it out, but apparently its initial swing had been too forceful, the blade stuck in Pat's femur. Pat shoved the monster away, adrenaline taking over and began limping toward the back door, hoping to call out to one of the neighbors for help.

He was only a meter from the door. He saw Doreen in her garden, she was reading a magazine. I just need to get her attention… he grabbed the knob and was sharply pulled back by the tail. He screamed as he felt enough force to dislocate at least a few vertebrae as he was thrown to the floor. The blonde dog towered over him and held a recently unplugged clothes iron, still smoldering.

"No… please…" Pat begged, coughing up blood.

The iron slammed down on the retriever's face, melting the fur then flesh. The impact crunched as it broke the bone around his eye, then sizzled as is started moving beyond the soft tissue. Pat screamed and kicked, trying desperately to get free. After a moment the iron was removed, then slammed down again in the same place. This time hard enough to begin to cook the eye as well. Pat writhed in agony, saliva bubbling from his mouth as he spasmed. The third blow finally did him in, cracking the skull with the force of the iron and the heat sufficiently burning the little tissue that had survived the first two hits.

***HW***

Bandit sat on the back porch with his tea and ice-cream looking out to the yard, he couldn't seem to focus though, the images in his mind refusing to let him enjoy the pleasant weather. Chilli walked out of the door from the kitchen.

"I made an appointment with Dr. Collie on Monday."

He looked up, "Thanks." He mumbled.

"We'll get through this." She kissed his forehead.

As the couple stood on the second floor a shape lurked in the side yard, just out of sight. It stalked up the walk and stood at the corner of the house, looking up at the couple. It neared the back door and was about to enter when a car burst down the street and screeched to a halt in front of the Heeler home. A sheepdog dashed out. He stopped, noticing the boot to the Heeler SUV was open and there were red stains in the back. He ran back to his sedan, quickly stowing a pistol in a holster hanging off his hip, then crossing the yard to ring the bell.

At the sight of the figure the shape retreated.

Back upstairs Bandit heard the bell ring and went to answer it. He took a step back upon opening the door. "Woah! Sam, what's with the gun? You even have a license for that thing?"

Sam scowled, "Yes, of course I do. It's a precaution. With Michael on the loose he could be anywhere."

"Sorry, just not used to seeing those things. Last time I did it was one that Chilli's dad had from his days in the army."

"Bandit, while I appreciate our friendship, I do not have time for pleasantries at the moment. Michael is on the loose and I believe he is near."

"What?!"

"Your car. Did you leave the boot open?"

"No. Is it?" Bandit asked, glancing over toward the drive.

"You are extraordinarily lucky to be alive. Michael was in your boot. I suspect to get a ride from the museum to somewhere with more victims."

Bandit paled, realizing just how close to the killer he'd been.

"We need to get you out of here. Who knows what he intends to do!"

As the two were talking there was a shriek from the balcony above.

"Bandit! There's someone next door!"

"Wendy!" Bandit yelled, charging across the lawn, Sam following closely behind. The two arrived to see the woman on the ground on her Pilates mat, a familiar yellow dog looming over her.

"Get away from her!" Loomis shouted, charging at the fence while wielding a pistol. He knew better than to shoot at that distance, but figured if nothing else Michael still likely had his self preservation instincts.

Wendy turned, realizing the unfamiliar dog wielding hedge trimmers only a few feet from her and screamed. Michael lunged, but was unable to truly connect before Loomis fired off a shot into his arm. He lurched back and quickly mounted the fence leading to the street out front.

"Wendy! Are you alright?" Bandit asked, quickly running over to her.

"Just a cut, it should be okay." She said, wincing at the gouge in her arm.

Sam chased after Michael, but found nothing but an empty cul-de-sac. He growled. "Michael!"