Nica's Story 2 - Return To Green Acre

by smngry

Set months later, Nica is now quite the model patient at Green Acre. But after stumbling upon some disturbing secrets, will she be able to carry on? Meanwhile a mysterious package arrives at the asylum, spelling even more trouble for our heroine.

6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Dr Abner was jerked violently from the pages of his novel as the high pitched ringing of his phone echoed up the stairs and along the hallway of his 19th century countryside abode. The absence of neighbours and other distractions were, ironically, one of the standout features during his and Mary's discussion over which property to purchase twenty-two years previous. But here he was, summoned from his bed, and at an ungodly hour. He picked the bookmark from the bedside table and dropped it between the pages, slowly clamping the book shut and turned to face his wife. Mary was, as always, fast asleep and snoring her heart out. He'd come to figure over the years that there were only a handful of things that could wake his wife, one being the smell of coffee and a lightly buttered croissant. Throwing his book onto the bed next to his wife, he lifted the covers and swung his long, frail legs over the side, before slipping his feet into his slippers, perfectly positioned at the side of the bed. As he stood, he placed the palms of his hands on his knees and sighed. Old age wasn't just creeping up on him, it was hurtling towards him at a frantic pace. He took a few steps over to the chair in the corner of the room and lifted his dressing gown from the back rest, swinging it over his shoulders in one swift movement. As he tied the belt of the dressing gown he found himself wondering why it was they didn't have a phone right here in the bedroom, then he remembered. Mary. She'd been dead against the idea, arguing that their marital room was the only place she felt they could truly escape to with no interruptions from the outside world, including Roland's job. Opening the door and stepping through, into the hallway outside, he turned to see Mary gently stirring and counted his lucky stars she had not woken up, questions following. He quietly closed the door to the bedroom and proceeded to walk down the upstairs hallway, glancing out of the window at the storm in full swing. Flashes of lightning, the rumble of thunder, the heavy drops of rain being smashed against the windows in the ensuing gale outside just added to the sense of emergency brought eerily to life by the ringing of the phone. It also added a strange sensation of comfort as he walked down the stairs and into the open hall of his vast house, the warmth of the heating system making the interior of the house and the storm outside seem worlds apart. He reached the floor of the hall, the bare, rustic brick walls and oak floor bringing out the best of the artwork and various animal heads adorning the walls and trotted over to the phone, grabbing it from its wall mounted base and snapping it to his ear.

"Hello?" He queried, the business of an office in the background was instantly recognisable.

"Dr Abner?" The mysterious voice said. Female, probably late twenties, he Dr Abner thought, building a mental image in his head immediately.

"Yes?" He replied.

"Dr Roland Abner? Of Green Acre Mental Facility?" The female voice asked again.

"Yes?!" He once again responded, he was in no mood for games. Looking at the clock he noticed the time, 10:30pm. Not exactly witching hour, but after the day he'd had he was in no mood to be entertaining cold callers.

"This is Highgate Police Dispatch sir." The voice took on a much quicker pace, suddenly becoming much more professional. "We have a report of an alarm activated up at the Green Acre Facility, the notes have been altered recently and request us to contact you in any such event sir. Is that correct?"

"Yes, it is indeed. I assume you want the password?" Dr Abner's voice became much sterner as he quietly spoke, trying his best to keep his voice from reaching upstairs.

"Please sir..." The female dispatch came back, instantly.

"Very well, the password is 'Ethlandrone Model One'." He calmly stated, listening as the sound of typing echoed down the phone line. Finally the voice spoke again.

"That's confirmed sir. What action would you like us to take at this time?" She asked again.

"Action?" Dr Abner seemed shocked.

"Yes sir, what action? Would you like a patrol car to check in with security, help make a sweep of the facility? Our systems are showing no incoming security footage." She asked again.

"That won't be necessary officer." His voice turned a little sour, "I seem to remember maintenance saying we've been having problems with the system. Rest assured I'll be straight onto it in the morning."

"Very good sir." She shot back, typing as she spoke. "I'll make a note of this in the log. We'll need you to check in with us in approximately one hour just to follow protocol. Failure to comply will result in a unit being dispatched to the address. Be sure to get that system checked by one of your engineers."

"Yes, yes I will." He lied.

There was no problem with the security system. Green Acre had one of the best systems money could buy. The dispatch officer was just about to release the call when Dr Abner spoke again.

"Oh, officer?" He asked.

"Yes?" She replied.

"I don't suppose there's any way of telling which area, maybe even which wing or floor the alarm was triggered on is there?" The line fell quiet, the ambient noise of the dispatch office filtering through the ear piece. Finally she came back, her voice hurried and blunt.

"First Floor sir. D-Wing."

"I see. Thank you." His voice trailed off and his expression dropped, his long trembling arm attempting to place the phone back in its base. As he finally managed what should have been the easiest of tasks, he fell against the wall, his outstretched arm the only thing stopping him from falling flat on his face. Pulling himself together and standing straight he raced for the front door, not giving a second thought to the weather bellowing outside. Grabbing his car keys from the table of the entry he raced out, the door slamming behind him as the wind took it. The rain lashed down, stinging his face, the belt from his dressing gown whipping across his waist and flapping behind him as he flicked the switch on the fob and opened the door of his Mercedes. As he jumped in, he pulled the door shut, struggling against the strength of the wind, and inserted his keys into the ignition twisting as the engine fired into life. His mind was set on one thing and one thing only. Getting to Green Acre.

This had something to do with Nica Pirce.

He was sure of it.

As Nica sat, secured in her room, the intermittent flash of the emergency lights illuminating her living space, she tried to formulate some kind of plan. Could this really be the work of one man? The hordes of voices, the vitriolic cries of angst heard out in the corridor not too long ago were unlike anything she'd ever heard at Green Acre. The scream bouncing off the walls just a moment ago had left her shaken, the hairs on the back of her neck lifting as her spine shivered with terror. It had reminded her of her mother. That night, as Sarah's lungs burst forward with a blood curdling shriek, Nica had been awoken, the shock knocking her sideways as she eventually discovered the lifeless body in the hallway. Looking back Nica had often wondered how it had been so easily ruled as suicide. In hindsight it was the most blatant murder you could think of, the huge shears plunged deep into Sarah's chest, chances of survival practically zero. So Nica knew the shock and fear projected in that scream she'd heard minutes ago and she knew it well. It was ungodly, and sounded like the release of a thousand festering souls. As she looked around her room, eyes fighting against the dark-light-dark combination of the emergency lights, she tried to find something, anything at hand, that she could defend herself with. There was nothing.

"Shit!" She moaned, guessing that this was one of the cons of a mental asylum. No sharp instruments!

Suddenly she was shaken from her thoughts, the lock to the door whirring slowly open, retreating from the chamber in one long lingering movement before fully releasing and allowing the door to gently rock open. Dumbstruck and frightened, Nica wheeled back, unaware she was backing herself into a corner, her mind racing, not knowing what to expect. Then a shadow appeared. Very slowly the shadow spread across the doorway and filtered in, growing in height as it reached the far wall and started rising, almost touching the ceiling. As the flashing red gave the mysterious shadow a sharper outline, Nica found herself recognising the shadow as female. She could tell by the hair, but what the hell was on its shoulder? As Nica examined the shadow on the wall her eyes caught the solid shape of her guest stood in the door way. She snapped her head to her right, in a state of shock Nica couldn't believe what she was witnessing.

"Dr Weston?" She exclaimed.

But it wasn't just Dr Weston. She noticed this as Dr Weston took a long step, fully through the door.

"You!?" Nica spat. Chucky in full view hanging over Dr Weston's shoulder, knife held to the poor woman's throat, evil smile spread across his ugly little face.

"Hello Nica." He calmly replied, hardly audible over the whimpering from Dr Weston.

"My god..." Dr Weston cried, her hands covering her mouth. "I'm so sorry Nica, I'm so sorry..." She began to break down, the tears flowing as she realised the situation unfolding before her very eyes.

"It's okay." Nica gestured holding her hands up. She turned to Chucky, hatred ejecting from her eyes. "I wouldn't have had you down as a hostage taker!"

"Think of me as a... 'no holds barred' kinda guy." He laughed throwing his head back, the knife still held firm against the soft skin of Dr Weston's neck.

"I prefer to think of you as cowardly sack of shit!" Nica shot straight back.

Chucky stopped laughing, lowering his gaze to Nica as his face took on a serious expression.

"Really?" He said, no emotion, just hollow. "Let's see what you think of this then!"

With neither warning nor mercy, Chucky suddenly ran the blade of the knife across Dr Weston's throat, the cut deep enough to expose the muscle and veins underneath. As the blood started flowing, a maroon waterfall, Dr Weston realised what was happening and tried to scream, but nothing came. Nica was also taken aback by cold, sudden brutality of Chucky's actions, hands flinching to her face in shock as she closed her eyes, unable to watch. Chucky though took great pleasure in demonstrating to Nica what he was capable of, just as he did six short months ago. His face took on a grin, filled with evil and enjoyment as he slowly finished pulling the knife across Dr Weston's neck, relinquishing his grip from around her shoulders and jumping free, landing on his feet. Just in time too, Dr Weston collapsing to her knees and placing her hands around her neck, as if trying to stem the flow of blood. It was a fight she would eventually lose. As Nica looked Dr Weston in the eyes, she held her hand out and began to weep, nobody deserved this. Her arm outstretched Dr Weston tried in vain to reach out to Nica, her eyes dilated as her mouth moved, trying to speak. Nica could just make out the same word over and over.

'Sorry.'

Caught up in the moment, Nica didn't notice Chucky stride up to the back of Dr Weston. Without an ounce of remorse, he lifted his right foot and brutally kicked her in the back, watching her fall face first with a sickening crunch, blood starting to pool around the poor woman's now lifeless body. Quickly moving, Chucky stood on the doctor's back and stared straight at Nica, right arm in the air, knife clenched tightly, suddenly he sunk to one knee and began frantically bringing the knife down, stabbing Dr Weston time and again. She tried to move, but found she had no strength whatsoever, as she lay on the floor of Nica's room she stared at the wall, feeling every jab, every puncture the knife bestowed upon her. She was sure that her lungs had already been punctured by the long blade. It was now just a matter of time before she died, either from the drowning, if she lived long enough, or the inevitable blood loss from her now gaping neck. As Chucky withdrew the knife, over and over again, splashes of blood would fly up hitting him in the face, all the while he laughed as though this was the funniest thing he'd ever had the privilege of witnessing.

"Stop!" Nica screamed at him. "She's dead! Just leave her you sick fuck!"

As Chucky pulled the knife free one last time he slowly wiped it across the front of his overalls, the 'Good Guy' logo now barely readable under the claret stain. He held the knife in front of his face and stared at his reflection, amazed at how much blood had struck him.

"You know Nica," He said as he stared even harder at himself in the blade. "I've not had this much fun in a long time!" He stepped down from the back of Dr Weston, one final breath leaving her body. Chucky turned to look at her, then back to Nica. "A very long time in fact. Not since, let me see." He brought his hand up and stroked his chin as he looked to the ceiling. "Not since that time I killed your slut mother and your sister!"

"Don't you fucking dare talk about my mother like that!" Nica whispered. Chucky laughed as he heard the venom seeping through Nica's tone.

"She was a fucking slut and you know it!" He scolded Nica. "If it weren't for her then..."

"Then what?" Nica interrupted. "You wouldn't be a fucking plastic freak? A fucked up midget?"

"Not how I'd have put it." He replied. "But now you mention it..."

"My mother would never have touched you." Nica was getting mad. Her nerves were disappearing under an avalanche of anger and Chucky could sense this. He knew what a fighter Nica was and he was determined.

"You know what? I'm not gonna let you do this, not this time!" His voice carried intensity as he spoke, making the atmosphere crackle. "You're mine now Nica. All mine."

"Let's go then short round!" Nica grabbed her wheels and turned slightly to face Chucky head on. Chucky looked to the knife, then back to Nica and smirked, assuming his job was almost done. Then suddenly, without warning he charged at her, screaming, running straight past the body of Dr Weston and jumping straight at Nica. Prepared for this Nica held her wheels firm and leaned backwards, causing her wheelchair to tilt back. As Chucky made contact with her he was taken by surprise, the knife he'd brought slashing across where her neck was now made contact with nothing but thin air. Landing on her chest, his weight and momentum sent them both crashing to the floor, the knife landing on the floor with a clatter and disappearing under Nica's desk. Chucky sat up, confused at what had just happened and looked around quickly to get his bearings. Nica also up quickly, knew that she now had the element of surprise in her favour. But not for long. As soon as she sat up Chucky was on top of her, pinning her to the floor and grabbing her hair, smashing her head into the hard floor. Nica tried to land a punch on him but she wasn't able to connect, in the end deciding simply to try and put her arm up and hold him off, get rid of his advantage. Infuriated at this, Chucky saw the bare naked flesh of her forearm and did what came naturally, sinking his teeth down and clamping onto Nica's wrist, screaming in a fit of rage. Nica screamed too, in agony as the teeth sunk deep, drawing blood. Getting her head together, Nica brought her other arm round in a wide, circular motion and caught Chucky round the head with a sickening 'smack', sending him flying under her bed. It was suddenly quiet, no noise, no threats, no expletive laden insults from the foul mouthed little demon. Sitting up and taking a breather Nica grabbed her wrist and looked at it, the tiny teeth marks buried under a steady stream of blood, bruising already beginning to show. She turned her attention back to the bed and slowly crawled towards it, the sheets of the bed hanging down obstructing her vision of what could possibly be waiting for her underneath. Summoning all her courage and preparing herself for round two she flicked back the sheets waiting for Chucky to leap at her. But he wasn't there... Nica was confused, where had he gone? Then she found out. She found out because he suddenly landed on her back, screaming, calling her all the names he could think of. Bitch, whore, slut, junkie, cripple, you name it, he was exploding with anger at Nica as he wrapped his tiny arms around her neck trying to strangle the life from her. Nica took a deep breath and threw herself backwards towards the bed, slamming up against the sturdy, metal frame, sandwiching Chucky between. He screamed in pain as he was crushed between Nica and the bed, but still held on. Nica leaned forward and tried again, throwing herself backwards with even more force, then again, and again. Eventually Chucky's grip started to loosen as he started to feel the effects of the beating Nica had delivered to him. As they both lay there, Nica struggling to get her breath back and sit up, Chucky feeling like he'd literally had the stuffing knocked out of him, there was a moment of calm. But not for long, Chucky was up again, jumping on Nica's chest and raining punches on her, harder and harder with every swing. She held her hands up, shielding her face, but felt him start to connect with her body, her chest taking the full force of his constant pummelling. Nica wasn't sure if she was imagining it, but he seemed to have the strength of a full grown man, every punch carrying the weight of an anvil. She lay there, arms crossed over her face and suddenly found the strength to sit up, catching him between punches, completely unawares as she shot forward, her forehead connecting with his nose, a sickening crunch sounding out around the room as Chucky fell backwards. Wasting no time, Nica grabbed his leg and lifted his limp body, bringing it crashing down on the floor, not once, not twice, but three times before throwing him with at the wall above her desk, where he impacted with a 'thud' before dropping dazed on to the desk. As he sat up and shook his head, he saw no sign of Nica. Her wheelchair was still there, on its side, but Nica was nowhere to be seen. He had just about shaken away the cobwebs when Nica's hand grabbed the edge of the desk followed by Nica herself, as she came rising out of nowhere. Chucky's knife held aloft in her other hand, Nica brought it swooping down, so fast Chucky heard it cutting through the air, before finally landing in his leg and crashing straight through the desk, pinning him to the furniture.

"God damn!" Chucky cried in anger as he grabbed the handle of the knife with both hands and tried desperately to yank it free from the wooden desk.

Nica, sensing now was the time to move, turned towards her wheel chair and reached it in record time, crawling as fast as she could manage before tipping it the right way up and lifting herself up and into the seat. She wheeled as fast as possible to the door, turning to take one last look at Chucky, stuck solid to the desk. Chucky let go of the knife and turned to face her, completely furious.

"You fucking bitch!" He yelled at her.

Nica gave a smirk as she looked him in the eye and simply extended her battered, bruised and bitten arm, raising her middle finger in a 'fuck you' gesture. Chucky once again grabbed the knife handle and started screaming as he yanked and wiggled it trying to free himself. Not wanting to give him any chances, Nica then wheeled herself out into the corridor and towards the elevator. She could have thrown up as she passed the nurses' station, the long dead bodies of Lynn, James and Paul behind the desk, glass shattered all over, blood coating the floors and the walls of D-Wing. As she reached the elevator she couldn't help but see Dee, a huge gash running from her chest to her stomach, organs slightly exposed beneath the wound, a look of sheer terror on her face. Quickly Nica reached down and grabbed Dee's key card, swiping it down the electronic reader. She was in luck as the lift doors opened, unbeknown to her the work of the Maximum Security prisoner that deactivated the security measures from the terminal behind the nurses' station. As she wheeled in and spun on the spot the lift doors automatically closed, a single high pitched scream heard from the other end of the corridor as she saw Chucky's bright red hair and crudely stitched face emerge slowly from her room. Nica didn't notice at first, but she wasn't heading down. Instead the lift was heading up, destination Maximum Security. It was there within seconds, the doors sliding open as they did every day, as though nothing was wrong. It was the same up here. The floors and walls bathed in a sea of intermittent red, emergency light. Nica noticed the body of Grace slumped forwards over a chair, her clothes removed, her body battered, bruised and bleeding. The patients had shown no mercy, just like down stairs. The security guard lying on the floor next to Grace was also covered in dried blood, glass jutting from his face, misshapen after the heavy beating his former patients had felt it an honour to administer. His cheekbones were broken and an eye had been gouged out. Nica felt sick as she looked on at the scenes of devastation surrounding her. She fought back tears and pressed the button for the basement, the only place she knew besides the first floor. As the lift started moving down she felt a little easier, but was again shaken as a new light lit up on the console.

First floor.

He was waiting.

Taking three long, tired steps up to his front porch, David yawned as he approached his front door. Lifting his knee, carefully supporting the large package he was carrying, he started rummaging in the pocket of his leather jacket. Eventually finding what he was looking for, he slid the key into the lock, twisting anti clockwise and hearing the click of the lock snapping back. As the door swung open he stepped inside, kicking the door close with his heel, once again taking the large package in both hands before walking through to the kitchen and placing it on the small table. As a force of habit he walked over to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer, snapping the can open, the hiss as the pressure escaped from the can, satisfying to his ears. As he took a drink he looked out of the kitchen window, noticing how cloudy the dark night sky had become on the course of his walk home from Bob's. Not a friend, more an acquaintance, he'd come to know Bob quite well over this last year, frequenting his auto-parts store regularly, whenever his bank balance allowed it, and ordering various parts as and when needed. But boy could the old man talk. He hadn't known David from Adam when he first wandered in off the street a year ago. Hell, he'd only gone in for a fly wheel, next thing he knew he'd been stood at the counter for over an hour as Bob ran him through the events of his life to date. How he'd married his high school sweetheart at the young age of 19 back in 1951, started the store using money his father left him back in '58, then there was his military service in Vietnam for which he was still bitter, constantly referring to the Vietnamese as "those slinty eyed sons of bitches", how he and his wife were unfortunate in never being able to have children of their own all on account of his wife, Molly, being "barren". The only thing was that now every time David called in, Bob recognised him and kept him talking even longer, which he wouldn't have minded so much if it weren't for the smell. David wasn't keen on the smoke filled, nicotine stained atmosphere of Bob's shop. He hated the smell, the feeling of breathing in other peoples second hand smoke. Smoking was probably his biggest pet hate, so foul and the way it hung around on your clothes afterwards was disgusting. It didn't help that this was the only auto parts store in this small mountain town. Population of 3,289 people and not one had apparently thought of giving dear old Bob a bit of stiff competition. As he stood gently sipping his beer, David was startled by a flash of lightning the rumble of thunder soon following, a vibration passing through the small, rented house. David hated this kind of weather. He was a summer man, no doubt about it. The early morning sun, the long days and the warm relaxing nights were just what he looked forward to every year. Looking at the clock he couldn't believe the time, nearly 10pm. He'd meant to be back ages ago and get started, but then Bob started going on about a Chevy his friend was selling and wouldn't let up. David actually felt offended telling the old man he wasn't interested but he just wasn't really a car kind of guy. Letting his eyes wander back to the clock, he reckoned that he really should look at getting some sleep, before the inevitable phone call from Gregg at whatever time asking David to cover for him yet again. But the truth was David wasn't in any mood for getting to bed. His parts had arrived at Bob's and were now sitting safely on his kitchen table, the final piece of the puzzle, and he was itching to get into the garage and get to work. He was buzzing so much that he decided sleep could take a back seat this time. He'd work through the night if he had to, then soldier on up at Green Acre regardless of how tired he was. As he continued looking out of the window it began to rain. A light shower quickly turning to a heavy downpour, the rain bouncing off the tarmac along the road, puddles forming quickly, streams of water starting to sweep along the side of the road, the current picking up whatever lay in its path whether it be leaves, flyers from the towns various businesses or even full branches as the wind turned into a gale, bending them back until they snapped clean off, falling from the trees that lined the street from one end to the other, carried away under a torrent of rainwater and towards the storm drains. Turning away from the darkness spreading outside the window David walked over to the table and picked up the package, balancing it again on his knee as he twisted the handle of the garage door, stepping through and turning on the light. Sure it was raining, but boy was it humid. The heat and moisture in the air made it a job just to breathe. As he set the package down on the garage floor, David glanced into the corner and at the sheets covering his pride and joy. There she was, all ready for the final parts before she was road worthy. If all went to plan that could well be tonight, if the rain died down anyway. Turning his attention back to the stifling atmosphere of the garage, David stood and made for the huge metal door, twisting the handle and lifting as it flipped up on its hinges and came to a stop, nestled safely over head, in line with the garage ceiling. The wind was blowing outside, but thankfully the house stood proud of the garage door and prevented the blustery conditions from swarming inside. David noticed the rain had started to get even heavier, another flash of lightning, forking, arcing across the grey, miserable sky. The rainwater was pouring down the slight incline and towards the garage, gathering pace with every drop, but luckily heading straight into the grated drain at David's feet. Turning on the spot, David strode back over to the sheets, the angles and points underneath the thick, dusty bedding obscured from view. Then grabbing the sheets with both hands, he swiftly and suddenly yanked them across his chest, the sheets tearing away and exposing the gleaming metal of a Norton Commando motorcycle. Picked up in a scrap yard for a bargain $500, this bike had been David's life for the last 18 months. Now he was finally going to finish the refurbishment he had started so long ago. The twin exhausts finally ready for fitting to the manifold of the engine. As he stood and looked at it, he thought back to how he came to own this wonderful piece of British engineering. His parents had agreed to a loan of $2,000 so he could buy himself a car. Nothing too fancy, just something to get from A to B when he needed it. He'd been honest and told his parents he didn't have any interest in a car, but their faces dropped and panic and confusion took over as they desperately tried to talk him out of getting a motorcycle. In the end he'd agreed and assured them both that he would buy a car. He didn't, obviously, but he occasionally sent them a picture of himself stood next to the neighbour's blue Hyundai. That seemed to keep them quiet. All he had to do now was spin them a tale about 'his' car been stolen and announce once and for all that he'd bought a motorcycle. At the time he'd thought it a smart move, paying £500 for the bike and having $1,500 left over with which to refurbish it. The only problem was that the bike was in a much poorer state than he'd first thought. The paint had been chipped, partly stripped away through years of abuse, the engine was shot, the pistons worn and oil heavily leaking from the sump, the wheels weren't concentric, more or less oval and the brakes... Well there weren't any to be honest. He'd had to spend the best part of $700 buying a reconditioned engine and having the cylinders bored out. After he'd stripped the bike back to its metal and resprayed it a beautiful charcoal black he'd been more or less out of money. He'd had just enough left to have the original Norton logo and corresponding gold trim added to the petrol tank and various other parts, but that was it. The rest would have to be done as and when. But now he'd finally made it. With a new engine, bored cylinders, reseated pistons, new suspension for both ends and double disc hub and floating brake disc setup just a handful of the many parts he'd sourced over time, he was finally ready to finish the job. One thing that had gone for good was the original starter switch. There was next to no power in the thing and David had always been a traditionalist, preferring to use the kickstart. As he dropped to his knees, taking another drink from the beer can, he ran his hands over the splendid finish, shining proudly in the ultraviolet light of the garage.

"Finally here old girl." He whispered as he patted the seat, turning to grab the package beside him, starting to unwrap the brown wax paper. The exhausts had been a while in coming, imported from England, just down the road from where the famous Norton factory once stood. As he carefully peeled back the paper he was amazed at the chrome finish, so beautiful. He reached over to the side of the bike and grabbed his trusty box of tools, reaching inside for his ratchet and socket set. Then, carefully lining the gasket up between the manifold and the exhaust joint he dipped his finger in a little motor oil and ran it around the seal. Next he held the exhaust in place and threaded the bolt through, twisting by hand at first before reaching for the next bolt and doing the same again. Once they were nipped up, hand tight, David reached and picked up his ratchet, giving both bolts an equal amount of force as he tightened them. Once that was done he picked a nut and bolt from the packaging and quickly fastened the long section of exhaust pipe to the underside of the bikes frame, the exhaust now secure and sturdy.

"That's one." David said as he stood, taking the remaining exhaust and subsequent fittings with him. He reached the other side of the motorcycle in a matter of seconds as he once again sunk to his knees and went to work, repeating the procedure and fitting the second exhaust pipe. In no time at all the job was finished and David stood, taking a step back, allowing the beauty, the fruition of his months of hard work, sink in. It was stunning. He was impressed with the new parts. The exhaust pipes only narrow as they bent downwards from the manifold before curling back under themselves and widening out towards the end then suddenly tapering to an almost closed position. David set his beer can, now more or less empty, down on the floor and had a quick think trying to remember anything he may have forgotten before he plucked up the courage to insert the key and give the kickstart some action. He couldn't think of anything so he turned the key and lifted his leg, striding over the huge bulking frame of the bike, coming to a standing finish with one leg either side, hands on the handle bars. Pulling in the clutch and making sure it was in neutral he lifted his right leg and placed it on the kickstart, jumping in the air and forcing his foot down with enough weight and power he thought he'd break the thing. He needn't have worried though, the Norton firing straight up, the huge 850cc engine growling into life, a phoenix rising from the ashes. The two cylinders of the air cooled, parallel twin engine burst into action, a new lease of life given to the wonderful machine as David squeezed back on the throttle and gave it some revs, all while keeping an eye on the thermostat, which had started to heat up as expected. As the bike roared, triumphantly, the emissions flowed from the exhausts, acrid, but that was to be expected, the bike had been stood a long time, the exhausts were new and still had a slight coat of oil that would no doubt burn off over time. Looking out of his garage door and into the now pitch black night David considered taking it out for a run right there and then, but thought better of it. The rain was still belting down and the wind looked to have picked up even more as an umbrella, obviously ripped from some poor persons hand, came skimming across the road before being lifted up into the night sky. He was just about to kill the engine, pleased with what he'd heard and seen when he decided to roll the bike forward, just to check the brakes. Using his strength to pull the bike so it stood up straight, he took the weight off the stand before using the heel of his left foot to kick it up and under the frame of the now purring machine. Gently he rolled forward, pushing with his legs before applying the brakes. Stopping with no problem at all, David could see the difference a new set of brakes and callipers made. Trying again, David let the bike roll to the entrance of the garage, applying the brakes again as the bike came to a standing finish immediately. Incredibly happy, David pushed backwards and rolled the bike back towards its resting place suddenly spying his open face motorcycle helmet laying seductively beside the tool box. He noticed he'd still got his jacket on and then looked again to the outside. In a moment of madness that he would later come to regret, David grabbed his helmet and placed it on his head, securing the straps under his chin. Then twisting the throttle, pulling on the clutch and slipping her into first gear, David gave it some gas.

"Fuck it!" He smirked as he released the clutch, the huge engine bubbling over like a beast freshly unleashed. The bike shot forward, the power a pleasant surprise to David as he struggled to hold on at first, before he knew it he was at the end of his drive, the rain soaking him through. But he hadn't had enough, he wanted to go further. Not giving a damn about the weather David turned onto the street and floored it, the water spraying up either side of the beautifully crafted bike. As he hurtled through the rain and towards the main street into town he felt his face stinging as he squinted, keeping the rain from blinding him, faster and faster, the downpour never giving up as the blur of black metal whizzed to the junction, slowing slightly before turning left and onto the deserted main road. With more room and a longer stretch of road, David decided to finally see what the bike could do, yanking back on the throttle and hunching down behind the handle bars, head up and eyes only just open. He could feel the difference wider cylinders and bigger pistons had made as they drove the bike on, faster and faster, the four valves of the engine working overtime. The machine was thundering along magnificently, the new suspension springs making every crack in the road pass unnoticed. David could just see the traffic lights up ahead as he approached the town centre, the neon red lights warning him to stop. He applied the brakes in plenty of time, figuring the rain would make it harder than ever to come to a halt. He had reached a gentle pace as he approached the traffic lights, stopping on the line of the four-way intersection and wiping the rain from his face and couldn't be happier with the bike, the last eighteen months of painstaking work finally worth it. He was so happy that as the lights changed to green, David slipped the clutch and gave it some gas without noticing the Mercedes approaching from his left hand side, oblivious to the red light warning it to stop and carrying on regardless. As David started to move off he just noticed it in time, the silver frame a blur, whizzing past as David frantically applied the brake, the front end of the bike stopping instantly, the back end swinging out and around David's left side. The Mercedes missed him, but only by a matter of inches as it shot off down the road, well above the speed limit, and into the cold, dark wet night. David recognised the car though, he'd seen it before. Every day for the last god knows how long. It was Dr Abner's. Taking one last glimpse of the car as it disappeared over the bleak horizon, David looked to the sign at the side of the road. Sure enough Dr Abner was headed towards Green Acre, but at this time? And why such a hurry? Curiosity and gut feeling took over, as David once again popped the clutch and gave the bike some revs, setting off into the darkness, following Dr Abner.

Destination Green Acre.

As the lift doors opened back up on the first floor Nica was completely surprised by what greeted her. Dee's body had been sat in one of the chairs from the nurses' station, head hung forward, partially covering the gaping wound in her chest. Confused, Nica didn't have time to assess the situation thoroughly, so was even more surprised when the chair shot towards her, the casters underneath making a scraping noise on the floor, Dee's head snapping back and flopping over the backrest of the chair. As Dee's body clattered into Nica's wheelchair, blocking the elevator doors, preventing them from shutting, Nica repeatedly pressed the button for the basement. The doors tried shutting, over and over again, but it was no use, they wouldn't shut as long as Dee was there. Suddenly, without any warning, Chucky appeared over Dee's shoulder as he jumped up, screaming furiously and with great anger as he waved the blood stained knife about desperately trying to slash at Nica's face. Leaning back in her wheel chair, the knife a hairs width from making contact Nica closed her eyes and panicked. As Chucky lunged forward even more he brought his right arm swinging back before arcing it towards Nica's face once more. Suddenly Nica opened her eyes and shot up her hand, grabbing Chucky's wrist and pulling him forward and onto her lap. As she kept hold of his arm Nica pulled her own arm back and landed a punch right on the end of his nose, dazing him. Nica grabbed the knife and stupidly threw it out into the corridor of the first floor before grabbing Chucky and doing the same with him. A blur of red hair and multicoloured overalls as he span through the air landing with a 'thump'. Nica quickly grabbed hold of Dee's cold, dead knees and pushed her severed carcass out into the corridor, looking beyond the corpse and spying Chucky now getting to his feet and moving for the knife. As he reached it Nica hit the button for the basement once more and felt ecstatic as the doors began to close. But Chucky was still coming, running, vitriol stamped across his face as he charged the elevator doors screaming bloody murder, his face contorted in rage. The elevator doors shut just in time as Nica breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly the blade of the knife burst through the seam between the two metal doors and stopped inches from Nica's legs. She rolled back, gasping in shock and crying with fear as the knife started to move up towards the top of the doors. Then she realised the knife wasn't moving, the elevator was. As the blade reached the top of the door it suddenly disappeared, the scream coming from the floor above becoming less audible with every second as the elevator descended.

Back on the first floor Chucky was going ballistic. Patients were looking out of the windows in their doors, gobsmacked by what they were seeing. Chucky wasn't bothered about that though. Who was going to believe this lot anyway? The reason they were in here in the first place was because they had a screw loose. No Chucky had bigger things on his mind. First of all, why the fuck was he bleeding? He looked at the leg Nica had more or less torn of as she pinned him to the desk in her room and couldn't believe it. His overalls were ripped open, his leg sliced pretty badly, bleeding profusely. This wasn't supposed to happen. Reaching into his blood stained overalls he pulled out some kind of necklace, the chain dropping to the floor as he looked at it. A black hexagon, with two parallel sides longer than the others, it was black with a blood red ruby sat dead centre. The Heart of Damballa in all its glory. This little thing had given him powers he could never have thought of, even in his wildest dreams. It had recently kept him in this same body for an extended period of time which he had been amazed at. But it seemed the powers weren't limitless after all, as Chucky's worst fear began to rear its ugly head.

He was turning human.

And it hurt like a bitch!

As Dr Roland Abner skidded to a halt at the gates of Green Acre he was distraught. The motorized gate was all the way open, yet still trying to travel past the point it should have stopped, the motor starting to burn as the gate made the same 'clunk' sound over and over again. Leaving the engine running and the lights on, Dr Abner opened the door of his Mercedes and stepped out into the wild storm howling around him. Racing over to the security office, the wind whipping the belt from his dressing gown out behind him, he found Derek, the night watchman, beaten and bruised, not breathing and slumped over the controls for the gate. Dr Abner could have been sick on the spot, but lifting his hands and fighting away the urge, he grabbed Derek by the shoulder and pulled him away from the console, the button releasing and the gate finally coming to a rest. The windows of the office had been completely smashed by various bricks, branches, whatever the escaped inmates could find in their efforts to gain entry to the office and release themselves from their theatre of nightmares. Looking at the CCTV screens, Dr Abner was greeted by the snowy sight of static, no incoming feed from any of the floors inside Green Acre. Feeling even more disturbed, he turned on his heels and raced from the office, back to the sanctuary of his car, slamming the door shut behind him before accelerating towards the parking lot. As he reached the steps up to the lobby, he quickly screeched to a halt and once again sprang from the car. No time to kill the 3.2 litre engine or shut off the fashionable xenon lights, Dr Abner raced up to the shattered glass doors or reception and stepped inside, not knowing what to expect. It was eerily quiet, which he had not been expecting. He had expected rioting, fighting, vandalism, the kind of things you associated with the people in the care of Green Acre. But no, instead there was quiet, some damage, but other than that the lobby was in good shape. As he stepped over to the stairs, bathed in the red emergency lights intermittent flashing, he noticed the blood stains, hand shaped and smeared down the wall as if somebody were in a hurry. Then he saw more, with every step he looked further up the staircase and saw more blood stains, not just on the wall now, but on the floor too. Creeping quietly up, one step at a time he eventually reached the landing of the first floor, bloody hand prints covering the entrance to D-Wing. He took a deep breath and stepped inside, greeted by the revolting sight of Dee as she lay lifeless near the elevator door. Blood looked like it had been practically mopped around her, the floor absolutely covered in it as it dried, taking on a tacky feeling. Snapping from his day dream he snapped his neck right and looked down the hall at the doors all securely locked, making his way down to the nurses' station. Just as he suspected, the alarm had been activated and the glass security screen had been raised automatically, but somehow it had been obliterated. As he took a step further he stopped dead in his tracks, spinning and seeing the broken, mutilated bodies of Lynn, James and Paul, like Dee not breathing. Dead. He pulled his hands to his mouth, the shock making his body cold, then looked further down the hall. Something wasn't right. One of the doors was open, as though it had been opened on purpose from outside. As he started to walk he gathered pace, eventually beginning to run, then sprint. As he'd suspected, the room belonged to none other than Nica Pirce. This really upset things for him. He closed his eyes as he entered the door way and stepped into Nica's room, not sure he wanted to see the sight that would greet him. As he opened his eyes he was surprised. Not in a good way either. True, there was no Nica, which was a good thing, there was a chance she was still alive and his plans wouldn't be brought crashing down, a blazing inferno. But there was blood all over the place. The floor, the bed... The he noticed Dr Weston. How had he not seen her? She was sat with her back up against the head board of Nica's bed, wrapped in some sheets, drifting in and out of consciousness her face grey, blood still seeping from her neck as she fought the hardest battle of her life.

"Abigail!" Dr Abner muttered in shock. She opened her eyes, drowsy and looked straight at him. The whispering, she opened her mouth to address him.

"You..." She very slowly, quietly whispered. "It's true... All of it..."

"What? What is?" He asked her, stunned by her response. "What's happened here?"

"The doll!" She started to get worked up, her energy coming from god knows where. "It's alive... It came for her!"

"What? Don't be absurd!" He shot back at her, sympathy the last emotion to drip from his tone.

"You know... What that means... Roland?" She gasped as she took her breath. "She was telling... The truth!"

"What? Who was?" He spat.

"Nica... Your drug... Your precious Ethlandrone..." She smiled. "You've cured nothing... You're a fraud!"

"How do you...?" He asked, startled.

"Oh... I know..." Abigail cut in. "How can you... Cure her, when... She was telling... Us the truth.. All along?" She started laughing, hysterically.

With that last comment Dr Abner lost it. He leapt onto the bed and grabbed Dr Weston by the throat, the screams of her pain echoing out around the facility as he increased the pressure, a madness taking over his mind, a crazed look spreading across his face as he slowly strangled her, the life she had laboured to cling onto gradually wrestled away from her at the last moment by Dr Abner. As she slumped forward, eyes shut, Dr Abner released his grip and looked at his hands. The blood from Dr Weston's neck had made a mess of him as he knelt and started to shake, disgusted with himself for giving and committing the ultimate sin. He jumped off the bed and ran to the door, desperate to get out of here and find Nica. As he reached the door a huge, huilking monster of a figure came into view, the silhouette blocking out any of the red light entering the room. In front of Dr Abner stood the 6' 7" frame of none other than his usually, heavily guarded and restrained patient, Melvin Hopwood. Heavily tattooed, not a hair on his head, his jumpsuit fit to burst as the raw mountain of muscle tried to erupt from underneath he stood before Dr Abner, a menacing look of joy on his features.

"Melvin?!" Dr Abner said in a state of shock, backpedalling at a furious rate. "What are you doing out?"

"We're all out doc!" He calmly replied, looking down at his hands, like shovels.

"But how?" Dr Abner asked, suddenly fearing for his life.

"Didn't she tell you?" Melvin teased.

"No!" Dr Abner tried to remain calm. Melvin lifted his hands up as if examining them, then turned his gaze to Dr Abner.

"The doll let us out!"

With that Melvin Hopwood stepped towards Dr Abner and lifted his hands, grabbing the doctor, either side of his head, pressing his thumbs into his eyes and applying a tremendous amount of pressure. Dr Abner screamed as he felt his eyes, pushed back into his brain, begin to implode under the punishment Melvin was inflicting upon them. He knew this was the end as his life flashed across his brain. His children, his wife, his job but more selfishly, his lifes work. His screams rang out, agony and terror rolled into one as the other patients stared from their windows waiting to see Melvin Hopwood emerge. But he never did. As soon as his thumbs were knuckle deep in Dr Abner's eye socket he relinquished his grasp and let the doctor's body drop to the ground, flinching, before coming to rest in the middle of Nica Pirce's room. The Melvin simply sat on the bed and propped Dr Weston up in a much more dignified manner, she'd always been kind to him, gentle, everything Dr Abner hadn't been really.

Then that was it.

The only thing Melvin could do was sit and wait.

As the elevator arrived at the basement level, Nica quickly wheeled herself out, looking for something nearby to wedge between the doors. The way she was thinking, if the doors couldn't shut, then the little fucker couldn't follow her down unless he took the stairs. As she entered the maze of the basements corridors she accidentally wandered a touch too far, the sound of the elevator doors sliding shut behind her as she wheeled back in one last ditch attempt to reach them. She was too late. Looking at the digital readout above the door she could see that the elevator had travelled back up to the first floor. Quickly she tried to move, wheeling down the corridor and trying every door imaginable. Eventually she came to a huge area, open layout, full of stuff. Boxes, shelves, things covered over with dust sheets. She heard the elevator arrive down the corridor, the doors once again sweeping open, the accompanying 'ping' sound alerting people to its presence. She found a stack of shelves and hid behind them, hoping, praying that he wouldn't look here. Leaning forward and looking out into the corridor she could see the shadow of Chucky, knife grasped in his hand as he walked down towards the room she was hidden in. He'd occasionally stop and check the doors, making sure he wasn't heading straight past her. Evenutally, Nica feared, he'd find this room, and in turn, find her. She spun her head around.

"There must be something!" She whispered to herself as she looked left and right. She noticed something protruding from one of the boxes. Quietly wheeling forward she grabbed the handle of an old umbrella and pulled it from the box. As she pulled it, the box fell forward, hitting the ground with a 'thud' the contents spilling out across the floor. Syringes, surgical dressing, gauzes rolled across the floor and came to a stop at her feet. She clenched her teeth hoping to God it wasn't loud enough to be heard out in the corridor. As she turned and looked to the doorway she saw Chucky's shadow stop suddenly and turn towards the doorway, running at a steady pace, the blade of the knife causing the reflection of the light to flash up and down the walls. He reached the door just as Nica wheeled herself back behind the stack of metal shelves. It all went quiet as Nica held her breath, every nerve in her body tingling. Then she heard his voice. Teasing, taunting, saturated with sickness as he enjoyed the chase, his prey edging closer with every step.

"Nicaaaaaa..." His voice trailed off. She could hear his little boots clicking slightly with every step he took. "Come out, come out, wherever you are..." He called.

Nica could tell he was enjoying himself. His weird, warped mind taking great pleasure from the fact that Nica was next to helpless and in no position to keep fighting as she had already done. Then she heard him stop moving and again start to talk.

"You know, your mother never had a chance to hide." He said. "Just came down and found little old me right there on the floor. The look on her face..." He started laughing, cackling to himself, slowly becoming hysterical, slightly psychotic as he remembered. "It was just like old times!"

Nica knew what he was doing. He was trying to flush her out, find her without leaving himself exposed. He didn't want a fair fight. Well he'd have to try harder than that.

"She was a basket case, slut way before I ever got to her!" His tone turned menacing as he shook his fist, the knife clenched firmly. "See Nica, I could take rejection. If that was all it turned out to be then I'd never have given you this sick existence you've had to endure. But to call the cops on me?" He started getting louder, angrier.

Still Nica remained calm.

"Barb was much more fun though." He continued. "The look of terror, she didn't know what the fuck was going on. I don't know what was running through her mind." He stopped, as if to contemplate something. "Well I have an idea!" He lifted the knife and examined the blade, smirking and quietly laughing to himself.

Nica tried to look round the corner, gauge where he was. She couldn't stomach this much more. Listening intently, she could hear him taking a step forward, gradually closing in on her position.

"Looks like it'll be just me and Alice after all then Nica," He coolly said. "I think I could handle the old girl if I gave it another shot. Stupid bitch just didn't know when the fuck to die! How's that? Uncle Chucky huh?" Another laugh.

Suddenly and without warning Chucky was upon her, leaping round the corner, straight into her view, the knife raised devilishly above his head, the vacant, psychotic look of evil staring dead at her.

"BOOOO!" He screamed as she jumped a mile, feeling her body go limp, her chest squeezing, gasping for breath. She reached out, clutching at thin air as her world started to become cloudy and muffled. She was having an attack, pretty much like she had done before. Her heart unable to take the strain any longer. She needed her shot, the adrenaline tucked safely away beneath her seat. As Chucky looked on at Nica, reaching out to nobody, struggling to breathe and blinking her eyes he was confused. What the fuck was she doing? The last time he'd had this affect on somebody was back Kent Military school years ago. He didn't like it then and he sure as hell didn't like it now. This really did take all the fun out of things. He was miles away, in a world of his own, wondering what to do next when he was alerted to the presence of somebody else, rushing him, something in their hands, then it all went upside down as Chucky, once again, found himself flying through the air, pain screaming down the right hand side of his face. Dazed and confused, he landed in the corner of the room in the middle of a pile of cardboard boxes. Not able to move. The last thing Nica saw was David, dripping wet and a look of disbelief on his face. He grabbed her arms and looked at her in shock.

"Nica?" He asked. "Are you alright? What the hell's happening?"

Nica pointed under her chair, unable to say a word, her back seizing up in pain as her lungs started to burn. David following her hand looked underneath and grabbed the medi-kit from beneath her, carefully unzipping it and removing the syringe and vial of adrenaline. Taking one look at Chucky before turning back to the syringe David's eyes were wild. What the fuck had he walked into? Was that a midget? What the fuck? Carefully piercing the foil across the top of the vial, David pulled the plunger upwards, sucking the fluid into the glass tube of the syringe. Once full he withdrew the needle and gave the plunger a quick press, checking the needle was clear. It was. Nica sat back, frantic with worry, quickly and urgently jabbing at her chest, indicating where David had to inject her. Without even thinking about it, David lined the needle up and pulled back, suddenly ramming the syringe home, through Nica's breast plate and into her heart before depressing the plunger fully. Nica dropped forward, as though dead, and David didn't know what to do. Out of the corner of his eyes he saw Chucky start to move, only his hands, but it wouldn't be long before he was up again. David still couldn't believe what he had witnessed, but logic went straight out the window as David stood and steppe round the back of Nica, pushing her out of the room and into the corridor, turning left and heading past the mailroom and down towards the underground parking lot of the facility. As he pushed her through the double doors of the parking lot he could see his bike, over near the exit, and decided against it. She was unconscious and would never be able to hang on. The only other option was one of Green Acres ambulances. Coming to a stop at the back of the first ambulance he opened the door and climbed into the driver's seat, dropping the sun visor to reveal a set of keys. Grateful for this bit of luck he ran to the back of the ambulance and unfolded the ramp before quickly wheeling a passed out Nica into the back and shutting the doors. As he folded the ramp back up he looked towards the double doors and could see the shadow of Nica's tormenter approaching, knife swinging wildly as he yelled expletive after expletive at the both of them.

Chucky didn't know what the fuck had just happened, all he knew was that he had that bitch right where he wanted her and once again she'd been saved in the nick of time. He staggered down the corridor, noticing the double doors at the other end still swaying from the last couple to use them. He lifted his hand to his face and ran his finger under his nose. More blood! He was getting pissed now. The amulet had started getting weak and he had no idea why. This was never mentioned to him and he'd be fucked if he was going to be left high and dry yet again. As he crashed through the doors he found himself in a parking lot, a motorcycle and a row of ambulances greeted him. Suddenly the very first ambulance in the line up roared into life, the driver putting his foot down as he lifted the clutch. Chucky looked to his left, the exit was right beside him, they had to go past. Sensing this, the driver had put his foot down before Chucky could figure out his next step, but it was too late. As the ambulance headed for the exit, Chucky started sprinting as fast as he could, but he was losing strength, losing power, no matter what he did he didn't feel invincible like he had done. As the ambulance drove past, Chucky jumped, digging his knife into the side of the vehicle and hanging on for dear life.

David was sure he'd gotten away, that whatever was stalking Nica hadn't managed to get inside the ambulance. He hurtled through the exit and into the heavy rain and blistering winds outside, the ambulance catching the back end of his beautiful Norton motorcycle, sending it spinning in a shower of sparks and metal. David couldn't believe it, he shook his head as he thought of the time and money he'd spent on the bike. Then he found himself wondering if this wasn't all just some sick dream. As he thought that, a knife came tearing through the side of the ambulance, down the driver's side, in the back. David had been wrong, whatever it was had indeed hitched a ride, and now it was trying to get in. He could hear it as he tore past the security gate, the rain lashing at the windscreen, the wipers struggling to keep his vision clear, the thunder and lightning fighting it out above their heads. The screams and furious cursing going on outside were drowned out slightly as the ambulance raced from the dirt track and bounced onto the highway. David whipped the steering wheel left, the ambulance skidding into the middle of the road, the back end sliding out as David tried to correct it and straighten up. Just then a car came hurtling towards them as the ambulance finally regained its composure and crossed back over the white lines to the correct side of the road.

David wasn't sure if whatever had come after Nica was still there, but one thing was for sure.

He wasn't about to stop and find out.

The police car narrowly missed the back end of the ambulance as its back skidded out in front of them, the driver regaining control and safely guiding back over the white lines. Officers Travis Mayer and Erik Chistensen were alarmed at first, but then figured maybe the driver swerved to avoid a fox. Foxes were pretty common in this part of the town. The forests that surrounded Green Acre probably sheltered more wildlife than an Amazon rainforest during weather like this. Turning off the highway and down the dirt track Officer Christensen leaned forward and grabbed the radio of the Highgate Police Department squad car.

"Control this is Christensen in car 443. We are en-route to Green Acre. ETA one minute." He said as he relaxed in the passenger seat of the squad car, Officer Mayer carefully navigating them down the sludgy track. The radio crackled back into life, control confirming the transmission.

"Roger that car 443, advise status when on the scene." The control officer responded, just legible over the static.

"Will do control. Has the registered contact not checked in yet?" Christensen asked.

"Negative car 443. Registered contact is one Dr Roland Abner. Be advised Dr Abner may be on site." Control came back.

"Roger that control." Christensen acknowledged. "Will check in ASAP." With that he replaced the radio in the cradle and sat back, the gates of Green Acre appearing on the dark horizon, another fork of electricity lighting up the sky, lending the asylum a foreboding presence. As they approached the gate, wide open Chirstensen looked towards the security office.

"Jesus Christ!" He shot Mayer a concerned look as he too glanced over. Broken glass covered the floor, the door swinging in the ferocious winds as the rain belted down, bouncing off the blood stained tarmac. Mayer flicked a switch and the immediate area lit up, intermittent flashes of blue and red, as the squad cars emergency lights flared into life. Before the car even came to a stop Christensen was out of the car and racing towards the office, his imposing stature enough to strike fear into even the most hardened of criminals that may just be waiting inside. He removed his gun from the holster and grabbed the torch from his belt, extending the weapon in his right hand whilst resting his left hand, torch and all, across his right wrist steadying the beam as it shot out across the floor and into the security office. At thirty two years old he'd already seen his fair share of brutality in the line of duty. But right now, as the rain fell heavily weighing down his hat, making it an effort just to move his head, he had a gut feeling that this was to be a night like no other. Sure enough, inside, he found the deceased body of a security guard and flashed his light around the office, making sure they were alone before checking for any sign of life. Kneeling down he noticed the name badge, 'Derek Holloway', and checked for a pulse, placing two fingers just under Derek's chin. As expected there was nothing. Derek had been badly beaten, his bruised face and lacerations telling a rather chilling tale. Suddenly Christensen was joined by Mayer as he raced from the car, hand on his hat in an effort to stop the wind ripping it off. Surveying the scene, Officer Mayer didn't have much hope.

"Is he...?" He asked Christensen.

"Yeah." He replied calmly, grabbing his radio from his belt. He raised it to his mouth as he turned to look at Mayer. "Control this is Christensen up at Green Acre. We have a disturbance up here, one fatality, requesting back-up."

"Roger that Christensen," Control responded over the airwaves. "Confirm one fatality?"

"Indeed control, requesting backup ASAP." He repeated.

"Roger your request for back-up, be advised back-up is en-route, ETA fifteen minutes." Control once again came in, just audible.

Dropping his radio back to his belt he looked back out into the storm and at the facility. He wasn't looking forward to this one bit, but he had to put a brave face on. Officer Travis Mayer, his partner wasn't long out of the academy and still occasionally needed his ass wiping. As he looked at him, probably 140lbs wet through, twenty four years old and in a state of shock Officer Christensen figured this was probably the first dead body Mayer had ever seen.

"You okay man?" He asked, genuinely concerned. Mayer's face didn't alter one bit, but he nodded rapidly. "You sure? I need to know before we head in there." Christensen flicked his head in the direction of the facility and Mayer turned and looked, fear etched on his face. Again, he nodded.

"Yeah, let's get going." He replied as he turned back towards the car.

Standing, Christensen ran after him and back to the warm sanctuary of the squad car. Both men jumped in and started down the incline to the visitor parking lot, taken aback by what they found as they pulled up.

"What the hell?" Mayer asked nobody in particular.

There in the thundering rain and howling gale sat a Mercedes, lights on, door open and engine running. Pulling up behind it and cutting power to the engine, both men stepped out, back into the storm. Pulling out their torches and giving the car a look over, they found nothing suspicious apart from the fact it had been left in the state they currently found it. Christensen reached inside the driver's door and grabbed the key, twisting it back as the engine suddenly died, the warning 'beep' from inside indicating the driver had left the lights on. He slammed the door shut and nodded towards the lobby doors. Taking time to survey the surroundings for any possible threat, the officers walked up the steps and through the empty space that had, until recently, been the beautiful glass doors of the entrance to Green Acre. Their torches once again whipped around, but the lobby was in remarkably good condition, besides the shattered glass from the doors that was. Mayer took a walk over to the reception area and picked up the phone, placing the receiver to his ear. He placed it back in its cradle and shone his torch over to Christensen, shaking his head, indicating the phone lines were out. As Mayer walked back over to Christensen, the glass crunching under his feet as he crossed the lobby he caught something with his torch, something over by the staircase.

"Fuck me!" He whispered hoarsely.

Hearing him, Christensen turned and focused on his light. There at the bottom of the staircase he noticed a hand print. Not any hand print, a bloody hand print. Both men cautiously approached the bottom of the staircase and flashed their torches up, into dark red abyss of the emergency lights. Taking a step at a time they began to notice more and more. More hand prints, more smears of blood, splatters of blood had flown up the walls there was even quite a lot of it smeared across the floor as they walked, their shoes sticking ever so slightly as they carried on upwards into God only knows what awaited them. Eventually they reached the first floor, the door greeting them with the same smears and bloody hand prints. Looking at each other and refraining from making a sound they prepared to quietly open the door and enter D-Wing. Christensen raised is left hand, fingers and thumbs fully extended and began to mouth the numbers as he counted down. Mayer nodded and gently cocked his weapon as he brought it up the side of his face. Christensen counted, not making a sound, but with every finger that disappeared feeling like a thunderbolt between the eyes of his young partner.

'5'... '4'... '3'... '2'... '1'...

They opened the door and stepped onto D-Wing, the unit disturbingly quiet. Looking down towards the lift they saw the lifeless body of a nurse, face down on the floor, a revolving office chair laid across her back. They raced over, putting their weapons away and lifted the chair from Dee's back before turning her over, Officer Mayer instantly vomiting at the sight they were greeted with. As they surveyed the gruesome vivisection scar that adorned Dee's body Officer Christensen guessed there wasn't much point checking for a pulse. Reaching for his radio he called in to control.

"Control this is Christensen. Come in control." He whispered as loudly as he felt he could. The radio crackled back loudly as Christensen fumbled for the volume controls.

"This is control, go ahead, over." The reply instantaneous.

"Another fatality control. Female, about twenty years old, had the hell cut out of her. Any news on that back-up?" He asked

"Be advised, back-up is en-route, ETA ten minutes." Control responded. "Is there sign of any possible threat?"

"Negative control." Christensen shot back, "We'll keep on looking."

"Roger that." Control came back before dying to nothing.

"Come on," Christensen muttered to Mayer, his partners face ashen and troubled. "Let's check down here." He nodded back down towards the nurses' station.

As both men stood, Mayer held onto the wall as he tried to regain composure, placing his hat back on his head. As they started walking they both withdrew their weapons again, held firmly in both hands, pointed towards the floor. The scene at the nurses' station was equally as devastating, the broke, lifeless and tortured bodies of Lynn, James and Paul suddenly appearing as they passed the desk, the glass once again cracking underfoot. They stood taking it all in for a few seconds before Christensen once again grabbed the radio. He was about to speak when Mayer tapped him on the shoulder. He dropped his radio to his side and allowed his eyes to follow the direction in which Mayer was pointing. Sure enough he saw it. One of the doors was open, a noise could be heard emanating from within. Christensen replaced the radio on his belt and both men quickly, but quietly hot footed it down to the open door of room 1-32, the name on the plate besides the door reading 'Nica Pirce'. As they stood outside the room they listened intently at the noise coming from within. Was it... Was it crying? That's what it sounded like. They regained composure and once again Christensen held his hand up, fingers and thumb extended. Nodding that he understood, Mayer pulled his weapon back up and took a deep breath as Christensen counted down. It passed much more quickly this time, almost instantly in fact. The second they reached zero both men leapt into the open doorway, weapons extended not knowing what could be waiting for them. Their faces went blank, their minds were blown by the devastation inside. The body of a man lay on the floor, eyes a bloody pulp, torment and terror forever chiselled across his face. Another body, of a woman, sat propped up against one end of the bed, her throat cut from ear to ear, blood smeared across her torso, her face peaceful yet pale, drip white. As they took in the scene, the gargantuan frame of Melvin Hopwood emerged from the bed, tears running from his eyes, a crazed look on his features. Both men raised their weapons, instinct taking over.

"STOP WHERE YOU ARE!" Mayer shouted.

But it was no use. Palms out in front of him, crying like a baby, Melvin took a huge step.

"WE MEAN IT," Christensen yelled. "DON'T MOVE. NOT A FUCKING STEP!"

But he kept coming.

"She was the only one that was nice to me!" Cried Melvin as he took another step. "I tried to help her!"

The blood across his hands told the officers a different story entirely and as Melvin took another step they had no other option. Each firing two shots, Melvin dropped instantly to the floor, dead before he hit the ground as a bullet passed straight through his heart and the blood spilled forward, surrounding his body in a pool of blood. Looking at each other in a mixture of shock and relief the officers blinked their eyes, as though they couldn't believe what they were seeing. Suddenly the radio crackled back into life as control tried to reach them once more.

"Car 443 come in. Car 443 do you read me?" Control came in.

"This is Christensen control, proceed." He replied.

"Reports of a Green Acre ambulance driving recklessly, headed eastbound on the highway. Last sighting O'Mallie's farm!"

As control finished it dawned on both men what had happened. Their minds racing back to fifteen minutes previous, the ambulance that nearly took them out on the highway. It wasn't swerving to avoid an animal, it was escaping from this hell hole. Flicking the switch on the radio, Christensen shot back to control.

"Roger control. We're on our way!"

As they raced back into the corridor and towards the staircase both men began to think pretty much the same thing.

Could tonight get any weirder?

Out on the highway, rain spraying up and almost totally obscuring his vision, David swerved to avoid the broken down station wagon. Relief spread through his veins as he took a look in the wing mirror and saw that despite it being a distance of inches, he'd missed the family that had stood and looked on in terror, running at the last minute as they realised the potential fate awaiting them if they'd stayed next to their vehicle. As he looked through the rear view mirror and into the back of the ambulance, he no longer saw any signs of Nica's twisted demon trying to gain access. The knife no longer being constantly forced through the fibreglass walls of Green Acres emergency response vehicle. As he took his foot off the gas a little he turned slightly in his seat and looked at Nica as she lay, still slumped forward, her wheelchair rocking from side to side. He'd never had to administer a shot like that before and wasn't sure how successful he had been. For all he knew Nica could be sitting there dead as a door nail, all this tearing through the torrential rain, down the waterlogged highway could be for nothing. The rain seemed to be getting heavier as he flicked the windscreen wipers up a gear, the metal arms going into overdrive as they raced to clear the window and keep David's vision clear. Another flash of lightning as they followed the road, the crackle of thunder erupting high above their heads. The surrounding fields were illuminated in the millisecond of light the flash of electricity provided. Scarecrows were ripped to shreds, fields swamped under the heaviest rainfall David had ever seen, trees were blown over, crushing several farm vehicles. Taking a deep breath David began to relax a touch, still asking himself the same questions over and over in his mind. What was going on? What the hell was that thing? It looked like a doll, but that couldn't be possible... Could it? It seemed intent on harming Nica though and that's when David had finally come in, following the voices as he'd killed the Nortons engine and walked up the corridor of Green Acres basement, only then passing the door to the storage room and seeing the ensuing scene play out. It had a streak of venom running through every sentence it uttered, gradually stepping over to the only place David figured Nica could be hiding, behind the stack of metal shelves. It was at this moment that David had spotted an old shovel, used for clearing snow from the parking lot during the heavy snowfalls that winter often brought to the area, and grabbed it as he sneaked up on the tiny terror, bringing the shovel arcing back before swinging it towards the 'thing' and catching it unawares, hurling it through the air. As he sat, one eye on the road, the other on Nica's lifeless body his concentration had slipped. It was soon brought crashing back to the forefront though as in the space of one second, David felt pain like he'd never felt before. Hearing the 'chink' of metal on metal he looked down at where the pain was coming from, his left leg, and spotted the knife had come crashing through the driver's door striking him right across the back of the calf muscle. Grimacing and clenching his teeth, David let out a muffled scream, all the while trying to kick the knife away as the blood started to seep down the his freshly torn jeans. He heard a cackle of laughter, madness running through it like a lightning bolt had just ran across the horizon, as the knife again came cutting through the ambulance door and sliced his leg again, higher up this time through his thigh. David let out an even bigger scream this time, startling Nica into life as she started to come round from her medication. Again the knife was withdrawn, disappearing for a few seconds before coming crashing through at an even higher high, severing the top of David's thigh. David couldn't believe the 'thing' was still hanging on, what was the matter with it? How strong was it too? They must have travelled three miles now and it still wasn't letting up, plunging the knife through the back, and now through the front. It obviously wanted David to stop, hence the sudden onslaught of attacks aimed at his leg, but David wasn't in any mood. Pressing his foot down on the accelerator the ambulance again started to pick up speed, a bang heard from the outside of the door as whatever it was had nearly lost its grip and was barely holding on. Suddenly the knife disappeared again and David tensed up, anticipating the next barrage of attacks from the sharp blade. But it didn't come. He heard a thudding noise coming from down the side of the ambulance but figured that could be anything. No doubt this thing had thought about trying to puncture a tyre, but that wouldn't work. The speed they were turning they'd probably rip the knife from its hands, leaving it without any advantage whatsoever. Feeling at his leg and lifting his hand, David was shocked at how much blood had started to escape his wounds. The next thing he had to do once they were safe, was look around in the back and find some bandages and a tetanus shot. His eyes wandered to the rear view mirror again as he attempted to locate some bandages, maybe a bit of gauze and some sterile cream. All he could see though were stacker shelves, gas canisters, a gurney and heart defibrillation equipment. One thing he did know, they wouldn't be stopping for quite a while. Or so he thought.

Shaking her head and taking in the immediate surroundings, Nica was confused. Her vision was clouded, her senses were either screaming at one another or lying dormant and she had no idea where she was. She took a couple of deep breaths and examined the environment. A gurney, defibrillators, she knew where she was immediately. She'd seen this picture many times over her life. She was pretty mystified who was driving though and as she turned to check out her saviour, she couldn't believe it. David was sat at the wheel, the rain battering the windscreen as he cursed and screamed about something. She suddenly saw him bring a hand up, coated in blood, he was hurt. Still dazed and pretty out of it, Nica returned her gaze to the back of the ambulance and took yet another deep breath, her nightgown stained with blood, but whose blood? Then she remembered, Dee, Dr Weston, Grace the countless other bodies that had been amassed over the course of so little time tonight. She was just sitting there getting her bearings when she heard something. A thudding noise coming from outside the ambulance to her right. She had no idea what it could be, maybe they'd picked up a puncture, maybe something was stuck under a wheel arch. Suddenly and without warning Nica screamed as the realism was swept hom, the knife once again charging through the side of the ambulances back panels. The blade was longer than she remembered, still slightly stained with blood, now quickly and repeatedly piercing the ambulance trying in a valiant effort to injure her. It couldn't have been further away from her if it had tried, but that didn't matter to Nica, she screamed as she realised the ordeal wasn't over, Chucky still relentlessly pursuing her to the end. Then it stopped, the knife retreating from the side of the ambulance and instead replaced with a high pitched, mental scream as the window of the ambulance suddenly erupted in a shower glass, the shards cutting Nica's face as she was engulfed in the blast. Chucky landed right beside her in the ambulance and quickly got to his feet rage and anger evident through every aspect of his character as he stood in front of Nica with the knife held aloft. She feared this was it as he stood there shrieking. By the time David could pull over she would be dead, then David would follow, another needless victim, another life ruined and brought to such an early and messy end because of Nica. As Chucky smiled he was about to leap at her, his target in his sights at last, he could smell the blood now. Then he was taken completely by surprise as David slammed on the brakes, Nica's wheelchair flying up to the top end of the ambulance and crashing into David's seat, Chucky also thrown from his feet and sent hurtling into the front of the ambulance, hitting the windscreen and landing on the floor between the front seat and the dashboard. David again changed gear and kicked on the gas, hitting the release button for the rear door as he went. As the ambulance started to instantly pick up speed Nica looked up and saw the rear doors opening in front of her, the hard wet tarmac awaiting her outside as she rolled towards the doors and into the road, her wheelchair shattering in hundreds of pieces as she made contact with the asphalt. Pretty unharmed she placed her palms on the ground, the rain wetting her through as the thunder and lightning crackled above. She spun her head and could just see the ambulance as it picked up speed down the highway before suddenly swerving viciously off to the left and down the embankment, into the trees lining the road besides the farmland. Nica was worried about what had made the ambulance swerve. Had Chucky killed David? What if he had? She turned herself around and started crawling, her hair drenched from the downpour of rain, matting together and blinding her as the weight made it heavy, falling in front of her eyes. Inch by inch, she crawled, hoping, praying that David was alive.

Seeing Nica thrown from the back of the ambulance had been too much for Chucky. He'd had her. He'd had her right there in front of him, seconds away from delivering the same punishment to her as he had to so many people throughout the course of his life. As Chucky picked himself up from the floor of the ambulances passenger foot well he decided enough was enough. Pulling the knife up he had jumped at David, but David had seen this coming. Yanking the steering wheel to the left he'd sent them plummeting down the grassy embankment, the ambulance stopping as it hit the bottom bumper first, smashing into the trees at the bottom. As Chucky looked around he could see David slumped up against the steering wheel, unconscious, but alive. Blood running from the gash on his forehead as he lay there. Chucky also found himself in pain, hampered by the dashboard, now caved in and pinning his legs against the passenger seat. He tried to move and it hurt. It hurt a lot, but he could move, he wriggled trying to get himself free, ready to take advantage of David laying prone against the steering wheel. He knew what he had to do and he wasn't about to let yet another chance slip through his fingers!

The rain practically drowning Nica, she battled to remain conscious as she crawled along the tarmac, fighting the will to go to sleep, to drift off. She looked at the sky, the clouds, big, grey and filthy looking, gathering rapidly overhead, the rain getting heavier with every drop and the thunder clapping against her ear drums, louder every time. She stopped, her energy depleted amazed at how far she had come, she was still quite a way off, but could see the top of the ambulance and the trees it had obviously made contact with at the bottom of the embankment. Stopping for a second she looked up, the rain lashing at her face. An arm outstretched in the vicinity of the ambulance, screaming at the top of her lungs.

"DAVID!" She bellowed, but nothing came back.

Suddenly, with no remorse, the ambulance lit up, exploding in a colossal ball of fire and scrap as a bolt of lightning thrown from the violent skies overhead, struck it, igniting the fuel and gas canisters at once. Nica screamed in terror, the stark realisation that David was probably still inside dawning on her immediately. As she started to weep she felt her vision once again clouding, the sound of the rain hazy as the blue and red lights approached from behind. Then all at once she passed out. Dead to the world.

As she slowly came around again, she noticed the familiar decor of the ambulance. The medic attending to her noticed she had woken up and put an arm across her shoulders, willing her to stay still.

"Back with us huh?" He asked, his unkempt silver hair and gleaming white smile making Nica feel quickly at ease.

"David?" She asked immediately. Trying to sit up, despite the medics best efforts.

"He's fine." The medic said, his hands up in a calming motion. "He's following on behind, he's in a bad way."

"Bad?" She asked. "How bad?" Urgency in her voice.

"Bad... But fixable." The medic laughed. "Mainly concussion, he's just taken a pretty big bang to the head, he's struggling to remember anything right now. Name, date of birth, the usual stuff things like this make you forget. Don't worry about it though, it's perfectly normal."

"Is he going to be alright?" Nica enquired.

"He's gonna be just fine."

"But the lightning. It hit the ambulance!"

"Well if it did, then he's in pretty good shape miss." He put his hands on her shoulders and urged her to lay back down as the ambulance rattled along towards the hospital. "Trust us, he'll be good as new."

"What about the doll?" She asked.

"I'm sorry?" He tilted his head a little, confused at the last question.

"There was a doll. In the ambulance." She started, but thought better of telling the full story. "It was mine, it meant a lot to me. Is there any signs of it?"

"To be honest I'd wondered about that." He replied laughing. "Bits of it everywhere I'm afraid. Must've been caught in the explosion. Bit of plastic here, bit of clothes there, that thing was destroyed, and I mean destroyed. Sorry"

Nica closed her eyes and smiled. Surely that was it. The end. She wasn't sure how all this was going to play out from here, but she knew one thing, it couldn't be any worse than the last six months.

Later that day, just hours after the last squad car had left the site, a car gently pulled up along the side of the highway, the early morning sun glistening on the hood. The long black Audi A4 ground to a halt before the driver killed the engine and opened the door. A long, stocking clad leg emerged, gracefully standing as the stilettos struck the burnt asphalt with a click. Slamming the car door, the girl looked around, seeing if anybody else was here, anybody within earshot. Clutching her hand bag over her shoulder, she took a step towards the edge of the embankment and started to walk down sideways, the long pointed heels of her stilettos digging into the grass, her incredibly short and tight fitting mini dress riding up with every step down. The sunglasses she had perched across the bridge of her nose only served to highlight the blonde, shoulder length hair she had styled with a gentle curl as it cascaded down her shoulder. As she reached the bottom she examined the scorched grass and looked around, trying to find something in particular. She took a step and found a piece of blue overall, the partly legible 'Good Guy' logo almost burned beyond recognition. Bits of charred plastic were scattered around the immediate area, as well as further afield. Spinning, she was beginning to get agitated, something definitely troubling her. Then all at once she stopped. A smile crossing the beautiful face as she stepped across the burnt grass, towards one of the many blackened trees, burnt to a cinder by the events of the night before. Lifting her hand to one of the branches she gently grabbed the hexagon shaped necklace as it hung by its chain and ripped it clear of the tree. She looked at it, inspecting it for damage and seemed happy. She turned it over in her hands, inspecting the back before, seemingly happy with her find, she opened her bag and slipped the necklace inside. With her task accomplished she then made the even harder trip back up the embankment, her heels digging into the drenched grass once again, every stride exposing the top of her stockings before she finally reached the highway and returned to the comfort of her car. Pushing the starter and setting off, leaving behind nothing but a cloud of dust.