5
It was Mr. Jack. He was nearly unrecognizable - most of his head was now a crumpled mess of gore - but Theodore recognized the red velvet jacket of the caretaker. The little chipmunk turned from the sight and threw up all the mashed topatoes he had eaten for lunch.
"Dave?" Alvin said.
Dave was sitting on a stool, eyes closed, with specks of blood on his face and shirt. He was calming tuning a bass. At his feet was a ruined electric guitar, its neck snapped and dangling cords, its body covered with
(Mr. Jack)
"Dave," said Alvin slowly, as Theodore tried to get his voice working again. "What's going on?"
Dave's eyes flew open. "Hey fellas. Want to record something?"
"We need to get help, Dave," said Alvin. "Simon and Danny aren't well and Jack…"
"Jack disturbed the creative process," said Dave. There was a hazy look in his eyes. "He doesn't know that in the studio, the musician is king. I showed him, though. I showed him what Rock and Roll really means."
"Oh no," Theodore managed to squeak out. Alvin we need to run we need to go, he thought but his mouth wasn't up to the task.
"It's good, though," said Dave, grinning. "I feel like I've got inspiration again, like I can finally make something real. Hey, here's a bassline I just up with...I'm thinking of calling it "Murder in Reverse."
He began to play a growling bass riff, but stopped and turned his eyes to the two chipmunks. "Alvin...you don't seem happy for me."
Theodore grabbed Alvin's paw. Alvin began to stammer. "No, Dave, that...that's fantastic. We're just gonna go grab some food…"
"No," said Dave, shaking his head. "No, I need you to lay down some vocals. Vocals while they're still fresh."
"Oh Dave, you know, I'm pretty tired, maybe…"
"TIRED?" roared Dave Seville. He stood up and yanked the audio cord out of the bass. His face was red and Theodore could see veins on his forehead. "You think I ever got tired when I was in The Scatmen? When I played four shows a night? Do you have any idea what I gave up for you three?"
Alvin's voice caught in his throat, and Theodore forced himself to speak. "Of course, we appreciate…"
"No," said Dave. "No, you never appreciated me, or my music. Music is just some stupid novelty for you. But I'm the real deal. The rock lifestyle is in my blood. Ever since you three arrived, I've been pushed to the side. Cut off from real music. I couldn't even remember how to write a song…"
He stopped and ran his fingers through his hair. Then he threw back his head and laughed. It was a fast, high-pitched laugh that reminded Theodore of a hyena. Slowly, Dave returned his gaze to the chipmunks, who began backing toward the door. His eyes were wide and glassy.
"Kill your darlings," he said. "Every songwriter always says it. Why didn't I listen?"
He began taking off the bass strap.
"Kill your darlings and the rest will follow. Sex. Drugs. Rock and roll. That Manson notoriety. I just need my axe...I just need to SHRED!"
And now he was gripping the bass by its neck and raising the heavy wooden body above his head and Theodore was paralyzed with terror-
"COME ON!" screamed Alvin, and he yanked Theodore's arm as Dave swung the bass downward like an executioner. The blow missed Theodore by an inch, and suddenly he could move again. The chipmunks dove out the door and began running for their lives.
"COME BACK HERE YOU VERMIN!" screamed Dave. Theodore snuck a look behind and (oh GOD) Dave was right on their heels, grinning like a shark. Theodore ran like he had never run before, his lungs screaming with pain and the taste of vomit still fresh in his mouth. He and Alvin came to the bedroom door, and with horror Theodore remembered that it was still locked, but Alvin yelled, "DIVE!" and the two chipmunks lunged forward on their bellies and pushed their way underneath and through.
A harsh bang, a second later. "Boys! Open up in there!"
Theodore looked around the room. Simon was still there, sitting on the bed, shaking. Alvin ran to him.
"Simon! We have to go, NOW!"
The door shook again and again, with terrible pounding thuds. "KILL YOUR DARLINGS, THEY ALL SAY IT!" screamed Dave. "COVER OF THE ROLLING STONE!"
The wood of the door began to splinter, and Alvin ran to the window. "Theodore, we might need to leave Simon behind."
"No!" screamed Theodore, throwing his arms around Simon. "We stick together no matter what! We're the Chipmunks!"
And as he spoke, he felt Simon twitch. Theodore looked at his brother and saw, in his eyes, the struggle to come back. He had done something to trigger him...and suddenly, he knew what it was.
"Alvin! We need to sing to him!"
"Theodore, there's no time to…"
"ALVIN, PLEASE!" screamed Theodore. A long sliver of door flew across the room and now Theodore could see the shadow outside it.
Alvin nodded and closed his eyes. "Watch. Out. Cause here we come!" he sang, even as the door rang with noise. Theodore joined in.
"It's been a while but we're back in style. Get. Set. To have some fun!"
The bass guitar smashed clean through the door. Dave's face, gaunt and horrible, appeared in the hole.
"AAAAAAAAAAALVVVVVVVVVINNNNNNNNN!" he bellowed.
Alvin froze but Theodore kept his eyes on his Simon's face and continued singing, "We'll bring you action! And satisfaction! We're the Chipmunks-"
And suddenly Simon gasped as if emerging from water and sat up straight. "See Aich Eye Pee Em You En Kay!" he screamed. He looked around wildly. "Alvin! Theodore! What's going on?"
"No time to explain!" yelled Alvin. "Dave's trying to kill us, we have to go NOW!"
Simon took one look at the door and nodded. The three brothers forced the window sill open and looked out into the wintry night.
If you go into the woods tonight you're in for a big surprise, thought Theodore. From the window, he could see the forest, with its branches like claws. He hesitated. Simon seemed to be thinking along the same lines.
"You know," said Simon, "hypothermia is a very real concern…"
The door flew open with a smash and Dave was standing there, a toothy grin on his bloody face.
"Bing bang," he growled. "Walla walla bing bang."
The chipmunks dove out the window and ran.