Chapter 2-Break Out

"Sound off. Convoy leader, clear."

"Convoy two, clear."

"Convoy four, clear."

"Convoy rear, clear."

Dale tilted his head slightly, the Australian Shepherd again spoke into his truck's radio. "Convoy three? Report status, convoy three what is your status?"

There was no reply.

"Convoy four; do you have visual on convoy three?"

"At this moment, negative. Dust storm has led to temporary loss of vision."

Dale grunted. He'd been a guard for nearly thirty years and in all that time he'd never lost a guard or had a prisoner escape. That sure as hell isn't going to change tonight. "All transports halt. Convoy two and four, search for three. Rear and lead will remain for perimeter."

"Copy."

The dust storm had come unexpectedly. It wasn't unheard of for squalls to kick up clouds from time to time, so the group had continued as usual. The storm was still ongoing as two of the guards left vans two and four, leaving their prisoners contained with one guard to watch over them.

"Can't see anything with this fucking dust!" Fisher, a black German Shepherd, complained.

"No shit, now come on, three's probably between us." His partner, another shepherd named Ken, replied.

The two walked down the road a moment before they saw the lights of a van off on the shoulder.

Fisher spoke into his radio, "This is Fisher from convoy two, we've spotted convoy three on the shoulder about a half mile behind convoy two."

"Copy. Please report status." Dale replied.

Ken and Fisher approached the prison van, its lights casting into the ongoing dust storm, illuminating the motes being tossed about by the winds. Ken looked in the window, the driver, a St. Bernard named Max, was sitting behind the wheel.

"Max, open up!" Ken knocked on the door.

He didn't.

"Max, open the door, why are you stopped?" Fisher said, joining in his partner's raps on the steel. After a moment of frustration he yanked on the handle, opening the door to reveal that Max's upper half was in the seat, but not his lower half. Intestines and thick blood were strewn across the floor of the cab, his lower torso seemingly torn away with the legs and deposited on the other side of the cab.

"Oh my God!" Fisher shouted, backing up suddenly.

"Dale! We have a situation, Max is dead!" Ken said into the radio. "Fisher, we've gotta check the others." He turned, Fisher was gone.

"Fisher?"

"Ken, Fisher, what's going on?" Dale shouted into the radio. For a moment there was a crackle and he heard a scream over the speaker, then there was a wet thud followed by radio static.

***In Brisbane***

"…Which brings us to a story from Western Australia." The newswoman said, turning to the camera. "A prison transport convoy experienced a break-out last evening, when two prisoners- Michael Myers and Rex Terrier-escaped from their prison van after overpowering and killing the guards who had been transporting them to a new holding facility. The two are known killers and are considered extremely dangerous. Local government has declared a shut-down of the area and is conducting a manhunt for the two men. If you see them, do not approach; contact the tip line shown below."

Muffin was trembling as she watched the screen, the colors of the television flickering across her face as she stared at the images passing across its surface. Despite her eyes staring directly at it, she wasn't seeing it anymore. In fact, she wasn't seeing much of anything, her mind more occupied elsewhere. It took her mother shaking her for the younger grey heeler to come to.

"Muffin!" Trixie said, eventually jolting her eldest out of her semi-catatonic state.

"You need to get out of here!" She shouted, springing to her feet. "Pack and get the fuck out of Brisbane, I can handle Michael, but you need to get out of here!" She ran past her father and sister, quickly glancing out the front window of the house. "If he manages to get a car it'll be a day or less for him to get here. Walking, we have some time to buy, but I doubt he'll walk the whole way…" She muttered. "He doesn't know about Nana, you could stay with her. It's safe there; he's never been outside Brisbane except for the prison…" She turned around to run into her father.

"Muffy…" He held her, keeping her arms at her side.

"Dad, let go of me, you need to get mum and Socks out of here!"

"Muffin, you really think he's gonna somehow end up all the way here? It's the other side of the country." Socks said, looking concernedly at her sister.

"I know, but that doesn't matter!"

Stripe looked at his daughter and sighed, "I understand that you're worried, we all are a little, but do you think you might be over-reacting slightly? It's been twenty years…"

"Overreacting?! I'm the only one fucking sane enough to realize that bastard's got a vendetta with all our names on it!"

"Dear, when was the last time you had your medicine?" Trixie asked, a slight frown on her face.

Muffin felt herself getting hot. "Look, you know the antipsychotics don't work! They make me feel like shit and I can't concentrate…"

"Maybe you should take a seat and try some of those breathing exercises Dr. Kelev taught you." Socks suggested.

Muffin grunted and freed herself from her father, "How are none of you even worried?!"

***In West Australia***

Lucky hadn't been very lucky for most of his life. It all started when his parents died. His grandparents were nice enough, but they weren't equipped to raise two young boys. That meant that most of the responsibility for himself and his brother had fallen on the older Retriever. So he'd managed. He worked long hours on the farm, busted his ass to get decent grades, fought with all the kids who made fun of his brother for being soft, and took dead-end jobs with shit pay in town because he needed the extra money to help keep the farm afloat. He was 28 now, and with his grandfather in hospice and his grandmother having borderline dementia it meant that he had to run things on the farm.

Tonight was no different.

The bailer had stopped working for some reason-probably because it was a sixty year old piece of shit-and he'd spent the last four hours figuring out how to make it work again. He left it on, humming slightly to make sure that it wouldn't shut off again on its own. He was tired, filthy, and miserable. "I need a fucking drink." He muttered, walking to the beer fridge he kept in the back of the work shed. He opened the door and got himself a grog, flipped off the top and took a long draught from the bottle. He smiled for the first time in hours at the cold beverage and wiped the cool glass against the ruff of fur on his neck. As he sipped he heard the door open, it was his brother back from his date.

"Hey… any luck?" Chucky asked, poking his head in.

"Finally working, no thanks to you." Lucky replied, not turning to face his brother as he tossed the empty bottle in the trash and got a second beer from the fridge.

"Look, you know I'm beyond useless with this kind of stuff…"

Lucky snorted as he tossed the cap in the trash.

Chucky scowled and continued, "But Casey and I already had plans. I told you about this last week."

"You think that makes it better?" Lucky asked, turning to glance at his brother. While the older retriever had grown up and out, filling in to be a wall of a dog at 6'3 and 250 pounds of muscle, the younger hadn't. Chucky was a meager 5'7 and skinny, never filling in like his brother or father.

"I had hoped it would." Chucky replied. "After all, we both agreed we can take off if we talk about it in advance. Not my fault you never take the time to date and I do."

"Take the time? What fucking time?!" Lucky spat. "You can go gallivanting with your boyfriend all over God's green earth whenever you want-again thanks for always sticking up for you in school when all the other kids made fun of my gay little brother-because I bust my ass taking care of this place!"

Chucky's scowl deepened, "You're not the only one who does work here."

"No, thanks for helping turn on the automatic feeders and mow the lawn…" Lucky replied with a scoff.

Chucky clenched his fists, "You know what, you're a real asshole! Sometimes I wish you'd been with mum and dad, then I wouldn't have to deal with always taking your shit!"

Lucky froze. Chucky inhaled sharply, realizing what he'd said. "I… look, I didn't…" he stuttered, but before he could respond four spikes jutted out of Lucky's chest, claret blood spewing forth as he coughed. The pitchfork slid deeper into the blond dog's chest as he was raised up off the ground, coughing, desperately trying to cling to life. Chucky stared in horror, frozen as a figure emerged from the darkness, a shape wielding the fork now holding his brother almost perpendicular to the ground.

In a single motion Lucky was tossed bodily into the bailer. With a sickening series of crunches and screams the dog's legs were churned first, then his torso, then his head. The screams didn't stop until the grinder was almost at his navel. Lucky tried to push himself up as he felt the bailer chewing at his torso, but it only ended up catching his hands in the process, further sealing his fate. Chucky was frozen in place, the grinding and shrieks of his brother gluing him to the spot. He couldn't move, even as the bailer started spewing bits of blood and chunks of flesh onto him. By the time the grinding stopped the machine had seized, smoke pouring from the engine. Chucky was coated in a layer of red that had once been his older brother.

It was then that the shape moved out of the shadow and into the light, it was a dog, or well, it looked like a dog… it was blond, like him, but taller, and definitely meaner. It was wearing some sort of mask, from what Chucky could tell it was dripping blood… the figure neared, and it wasn't until it was only a meter away that his brain again kicked in and told him to run. He turned and screamed, charging toward the door that led to the farmyard in the hopes he could make it to the house and call someone for help.

He felt a sharp stab in his leg, the shape having grabbed a sickle from the wall. It had cut deep into his right leg, he could feel the blood pouring out. Adrenaline pushed him forward, he was almost at the exit… a second swipe to his left leg left the younger brother screaming as he dragged himself across the concrete floor. He reached the door, pushed it open and saw that his grandmother was sitting in the living room. He just had to call out to her…

It was at that moment that he heard a sickening thwuck as a rope was cut. Before he could look up a hay bale that had been suspended from the roof landed on the younger brother's neck, smashing his face into the ground. What was left of Chucky's head bore little resemblance to its usual countenance. For one the snout was now a mess of red and tan chunks smeared across the concrete. His skull had cracked at the impact, spewing further blood and brain across the floor. The fluids trickled out from under the bale, mixing with the urine that had seeped out when the dog relieved himself at the moment of death. Michael stared a moment before turning toward the house and looking at the old woman with her back to the window…

Ten minutes later a deeply crimson dog appeared at the door, holding a ring of keys. A grey terrier stood by the door and greeted him.

"You got the keys! Awesome…" Rex murmured, a smile twitching at the corner of his mouth. "Ready to go fuck some shit up?"

Michael stared ahead vacantly.

"Great. Let's get going." He took the keys to the pickup and started it. Michael joined him in the passenger seat and soon the two killers were off.

***Meanwhile***

"I still can't believe you two haven't just fucked already." Bluey said, leaning back on the sofa at her apartment as she won the most recent race on Mario Kart.

Mackenzie rolled his eyes and crossed his legs as he sat in the loveseat across from her. "Well, let's see… First, I'm dating Rusty."

"Second, even if he wasn't there's no way I'd be into him." Winnie listed.

"And third, even if we did, neither of us would ever tell you because, let's face it-"

"-you suck at keeping secrets." Winnie finished.

Bluey looked over at the two sitting side by side on the small loveseat, "I just want my two best friends to be happy, is that too much to ask?"

"Yes." They both replied flatly.

She sighed, "You two are no fun!"

"You can't just ship people and expect them to get together. This isn't a cartoon." Mackenzie stated.

Bluey shook her head. "We all know you and Rusty are open, so that isn't a real reason. One day you guys are all gonna end up together."

Before either could protest there was a knock at the door. "That'll be Bingo." Bluey said, getting up from the sofa, nearly knocking over the beers her friends had on the coffee table.

"Coming!" She shouted as she walked through the living area and got the door.

"Hey!" Bingo smiled holding up a pack of tinnies, "I brought grog!"

"Uss!" Mackenzie cheered from the loveseat, clearly more than a bit buzzed. "You rock Bingo!"

"You know it, bitch." She smiled as she sat on the sofa beside where Bluey had been.

"How was your night class?" Winnie asked.

"Awful, as usual. I'm just happy this is the last semester I have. Then I'm done uni and I'm outta here!"

"What, Brisbane too small for you?" Mackenzie quipped.

"Nah, but I don't wanna be around here forever. Lila and I are thinking about traveling a bit before we settle down."

Before the conversation could continue Bluey's phone rang. She glanced down. "Oh, it's Muffin."

"Put her on speaker." Bingo suggested, "We're all friends, after all."

Bluey answered and put her cousin on speakerphone. "Hey Muffin, you're on speaker phone. Bingo's over along with Winnie and Mackenzie."

"Bluey, you need to get out of town! He's coming!"

"What? Muffin, I swear if this is another thing about Michael…"

"Bluey, Michael escaped! He killed some guards and broke loose!"

Bluey frowned, she remembered that years ago her father had dealt with the dog and that he had once attempted to attack her aunt, but aside from that she had no connections to him. "Okay, well, that isn't great, but he isn't around here, right? And if he's been in prison for twenty years I doubt he had the chance to learn to drive. The police'll find him and he'll be detained again."

"Bluey, this is serious! He's going to come for us-and your mum and dad are on the list! You've got to get them and get out of Brisbane!"

"Muffin… look, I get that this is one of your triggers, but… maybe have you considered you're blowing this a bit out of proportion? When did you last take your medicine?"

Muffin growled, "Bluey, this has nothing to do with that! I know that I prayed every night that Michael would escape, but I'm not ready yet!"

"Wait, why would you want Michael loose?"

"Because I'm gonna finish what our dads couldn't manage, I'm gonna kill that bastard!"

Bluey's brow rose. "Um, look, I've gotta go, thanks for the warning Muffin…"

"Bluey don't hang up on-"

The others exchanged a glance. "I thought she was doing better?" Mackenzie asked.

"It's complicated. It'll blow over and we'll all be fine. C'mon, let's get back to the game."