Splatterhouse: Patient #6504
By Rob Strangman

It's a piece of fan fiction (sorry, not totally original) based on the Splatterhouse series, entitled Splatterhouse: Patient #6504. 

The opening of Splatterhouse 2 mentioned that three months had transpired between the end of Splatterhouse and the beginning of Splatterhouse 2. What happened to Rick during those three months? Jennifer was missing - would he have been accused of murdering her? I've tried to answer these questions and more with Splatterhouse: Patient #6504. Enjoy, and don't forget to visit my Splatterhouse site West Mansion for more Splatterhouse info.

He wished the screaming would stop.

He could hear it everywhere, haunting him. While he was awake, he could hear some of the more deranged patients screaming their heads off. He could hear them distantly, as they were located more toward the center of the asylum, supposedly far out of earshot - but he could still hear them. While he slept, all he could hear was Jennifer's screams... she was terrified more than she ever had been in her life. She pleaded for him to save her. Always he tried, but he never could. Her body would vanish, fading away as he grabbed at her. Every time he hoped that somehow, this time, things would be different.

But no matter what he did, she vanished.

* * *

They had found him the night of the incident, wandering down the road away from the mansion. The rain had stopped a few hours earlier, but lightning was still flashing... a bolt of lightning had struck the mansion earlier, and the fire from the strike had spread rapidly. Someone had placed a call to 911 about the fire that was engulfing the building, burning it to its very foundations, burning the remnants of the monsters that had inhabited it. The flames licked at the night sky even as he stumbled away from the mansion, toward the street. His clothes were torn, covered with blood and other bodily fluids. His shoes were gone, his sweat-soaked hair plastered to his forehead. His eyes were vacant and glassy... it was the look of a man that had just stared into the very bowels of hell itself, and had seen the horrors beyond that which anyone had ever comprehended. He couldn't speak, and he heard nothing, even as the fire trucks raced by him, sirens blazing, toward the mansion. He didn't see or hear the approaching police cruiser as it pulled up near him and flashed its lights at him. He just kept walking straight ahead, with that same glazed stare.

"Hey!" one of the police officers, Leary, shouted as he stepped out of the cruiser. He didn't notice him... he just kept walking.

"I'm talking to you!" Leary continued. His partner, Michaels, had also gotten out of the cruiser and drawn his gun, just in case he gave them any trouble. As their presence sank into his consciousness, the man slowly stopped walking and turned his head toward them. Leary's eyes grew wide as he took in the sight of the man's torn and bloodstained clothes. Quickly he drew his gun and aimed it squarely at the man's chest.

"Don't move!" he shouted. Michaels quickly followed suit, whipping his gun up and aiming it at the man as he slowly inched around behind him. "Get down on the ground - slowly!" Leary continued to shout.

The man didn't move... he just stood there.

Michaels suddenly tackled the man from behind, knocking him to the ground. He had put up no resistance at all. Quickly Leary moved close and handcuffed him.... and still the man showed no sign of resistance. Leary began to read the man his rights, while Michaels removed the man's wallet. He pulled out the man's driver's license and turned on his flashlight to read it as Leary finished reading the man his rights. Leary shoved the man into the backseat of the cruiser, then turned toward his partner.

"He didn't respond once while I was reading his rights," Leary said. "I don't think there's anyone at home up there. What have you got?" he asked. Michaels shook his head.

"Says here his name is Rick Taylor. There's a college I.D. in here as well, and it's current."

Leary shrugged and moved back towards the cruiser. He touched the radio on his shoulder, and immediately a voice came back.

"Did we get an I.D. on the owner of the car we found parked outside the mansion?" he asked.

"Yeah. The car belongs to a Rick Taylor. Any sign of him there?"

"We just found him. He looks like he's high on something, and his clothes... well, it looks like he's spent the last few hours in a slaughterhouse. We just cuffed him... we're about to bring him in."

"We'll run a background check on our Mr. Taylor and see what we turn up."

"You might want to check and see if there's any people recently reported missing. We might be dealing with a serial killer here... he certainly looks the part."

Leary signed off and turned back to Michaels, who was watching Rick intently.

"He's just sitting there, staring off into space. I wonder if he even realizes where he is."

Leary shrugged. "Who knows? Let's just bring him in."

The two officers got back in the cruiser. As the doors shut, they pulled away, leaving the firefighters behind to continue fighting the blaze that had engulfed the once stately mansion.

One month after the incident... June, 1988

Dr. James Turner sat back in his chair with a sigh. The current case he was working on was certainly baffling. He lit a cigarette and puffed away for a minute or two, lost in thought, then opened up the file folder on patient #6504, Rick Taylor.

When they'd brought Rick to the Belmont Home for the Emotionally Troubled a month ago, he had been completely mute. Nothing that anyone could say to him would get him to say anything - even when the report had come in that he was the prime suspect in a missing persons case. The person missing was a college student named Jennifer Willis. According to what the police knew, the two had been dating - but according to their family and friends, they had had nothing but a very loving and caring relationship. Very rarely had anyone seen them display any kind of anger or hostility toward each other. The last time anyone had heard from Jennifer, though, was the night she disappeared. She had told her roommate that she and Rick were doing a joint term paper on Dr. Herbert West, an expert in the field of parapsychology - which she and Rick were both majoring in. According to her roommate, they were going out to West Mansion (which had been West's residence until he disappeared) that night to do some research. The last time anyone had seen Jennifer was when Rick had come to pick her up.

She and Rick were both reported missing two days later. Rick, of course, had been immediately located in the custody of the police. There was no sign of Jennifer, though. The police forensics team had swept the ruins of the mansion and found no human remains, but Rick remained the prime suspect in her disappearance. All attempts to question him had been in vain, as he still would not say anything. He kept staring straight ahead, with that dead, glassy look in his eyes. The police interrogators could get nothing out of him, despite their best efforts. Finally, he'd been brought here, and Dr. Turner had been assigned to work on the case.

Turner dropped Rick's file on the desk and picked up another file, much older than the one on Rick. He'd heard a lot about Dr. West over the years, and when he'd found that West Mansion was where Rick had been, he dug out the old files on West. Strange stuff indeed... West had been highly respected in his field, but not given much respect anywhere else. Some of his theories were considered to be highly questionable at best, and had more than once made him the laughingstock of the scientific community. Until his disappearance in 1963, though, he was just considered a harmless crackpot.

The search for West had gone on for a week, but nothing had been found. His mansion had been searched from top to bottom, but no trace of him had turned up. All of his personal belongings were in place, his car was in the garage... it was like he'd just vanished into thin air. After months of investigation, the case was officially labeled unsolved, and had been closed.

It was shortly after that that the rumors had started.

Several of West's colleagues claimed that he said he'd been onto something big shortly before he'd disappeared. They were talking about things like other dimensions, experiments in black magic, and research into arcane and forgotten cults. One of the cults which West was said to have been fascinated with was the Brotherhood of Hecate, a group that had, according to some, been responsible for the Great Fire of London in 1834. It was rumored that they had experimented with bringing the dead back to life and creating monsters. West had done a lot of research on them, even journeying to England at one point to see what else he could find out about them.

West had also been fascinated with the darker side of Mexico's history. Shortly before his disappearance, he had taken a trip to Mexico and participated in an archeological dig. According to one of his closest friends, one Dr. Edward Mueller, on West's return he had been absolutely ecstatic about a discovery he'd made while he was there. He refused to elaborate as to exactly what this discovery was, but he did say that after doing research on it, he would publish a paper describing his discovery in detail. It was right after that that he'd vanished.

Turner sighed and threw the folder on West onto his desk. All that was ancient history, of course. He turned his attention back to the file on Rick. Everything looked completely normal. Stable family life, fairly normal childhood, there was nothing traumatic in his files at all. He had no previous police record, either. There was very little on him. Still, Turner had heard of seemingly normal people snapping for some reason or another. He didn't think that was the case with Rick, though. Just call it a hunch, he thought to himself. But one thing was obvious - something had caused him to go completely mute. Either his feelings of guilt were so powerful that they'd caused his mind to snap, or something else completely horrible had happened to him - and until he started talking again, there was no way to tell for sure.

Turner got up from behind his desk and snuffed out his cigarette, then walked out into the hallway. It was time for his daily session with Rick. So far, these sessions had been completely uninformative, but he continued with them, hoping that something would break through the shell that had closed over Rick's mind.

Halfway down the hallway, he stopped. There were two police lieutenants headed toward him, both of which that Turner recognized. They had both been working on this case for quite some time, and the only reason that they were here now, Turner realized, was so that they could try to get him to get information out of Rick. They stopped about three feet in front of him.

"Dr. Turner," the taller one of the two said.

"Lieutentant Manthey, Lieutenant Loker," Turner said in return. "What brings you both here today, as if I didn't know?"

"The usual," the taller one, Loker, replied. "Have you made any progress with Taylor?"

"Step into my office," Turner said, indicating the room he'd just left. Without another word, the three of them stepped back into the office. Turner sat down and lit another cigarette. He took a few puffs, then spoke.

"There have been no changes at all in the patient," he said. "He remains exactly the way he was when you brought him in."

"Something needs to give soon," Manthey snapped. "The DA's office wants a confession from him... hell, at this point, they want anything from him. This constant silence from him is not sitting well with Ms. Willis' family... and I don't think I need to remind you exactly who her father is."

Turner stood up and began pacing. "What exactly are you asking me to do?" he asked.

"Get something out of this guy," Loker said. "Do whatever it takes."

Turner whirled around and marched straight up to Loker.

"I will not endanger my patient's mental health any more than it already has been. I have a responsibility to him and his well being, and I will not try to force him out of his shell before he's ready to come out - for you, Senator Willis, or even God himself," he spat, staring directly at Loker. "Something's scarred him very badly, and he needs time to work through it. I can't rush him."

"Regardless," Manthey said, "you need to get him to talk, and soon - or they're going to put someone a little less understanding than you on this case." Turner glared at him.

"You are overstepping your authority here, Lieutenant. I will inform you when any progress has been made - no sooner," Turner said, his eyes focused on Manthey. "In fact, I'm late for my daily session with him. If you'll excuse me, gentlemen."

Loker and Manthey looked at each other, then Loker nodded. Turner opened the door, and the three of them walked out into the hallway. He turned and headed toward Rick's room, while the two lietenants headed for the exit.

* * *

"Rick," Turner said softly. He was seated in a chair in Rick's room. Rick was staring at the wall, just like he had been ever since he had been brought in. He would accept food when it was brought to him, he would sleep at night, but that was it. The rest of the time, he stared at the wall, focused on some other place entirely.

"Rick," Turner said again. "I have to ask you some more questions about Jennifer. Can you hear me, Rick?"

Rick still said nothing, although for some reason Turner thought he saw Rick's head move slightly. Turner took a close look at him, and was about to start asking another question when Rick's lips moved slightly.

"Jen..." he said, the word almost inaudible. Turner practically bolted out of his chair, but stopped at the last second, not wanting to startle Rick.

"What did you say, Rick?" he asked gently, almost not believing his ears.

Rick slowly turned his head toward Turner, his mouth forming the same word again. "Jen," he repeated just as quietly.

"What about her, Rick? What about Jen?" Turner asked quietly.

Rick shook his head slowly. The glassy look in his eyes seemed to have dissipated slightly.

"Make it stop," he whispered. "Send it away."

Turner was completely puzzled. "What, Rick? Send what away?"

Rick said nothing for several minutes, as if going over something in his mind, debating about whether or not to say what he was thinking. Finally he spoke.

"It talks to me," Rick continued, just as quietly as before. "It taunts me... tempts me..."

His voice was rising as he spoke. Turner listened intently.

"It's inside my head... it wants me back... GOD, MAKE IT STOP!!!" Rick suddenly screamed. He stood straight up, turned towards Turner - and in a flash he was on top of him, clawing at his shirt collar. He was making no sense to Turner, who had slammed the button for help as soon as Rick had screamed. Almost instantly two orderlies charged in and grabbed Rick, trying their best to restrain him. His head swiveled wildly from side to side, his eyes alive with terror. He continued to have a death grip on Turner's collar, though.

"It wants me back... make it leave me alone!" he pleaded, despite the efforts of the orderlies to restrain him. The look in his eyes changed suddenly... it was no longer a look of abject terror, but rather the look of a man that had just lost his very soul. "Jennifer... oh god, Jennifer!" he cried, suddenly releasing Turner's shirt. He crumpled to the ground, sobbing. One of the orderlies pinned him down, while the other pulled out a syringe full of a sedative and proceeded to inject Rick with it. Almost instantly he lapsed into unconsciousness.

Turner straightened out his shirt as the orderlies stood up. "Get a straightjacket," Turner said. One of the orderlies rushed out to get one while the other stood there, ready for action in case somehow Rick shook off the effects of the sedative.

I think he's almost ready to come out of his shell, Turner thought.

Two months after the incident... July, 1988

Rick had been very calm after his outburst, Dr. Turner reflected. After that day, he'd said very little, but at least he was talking now. Still, what he was saying made no sense whatsoever. He had made references to the mansion, and every so often muttered something about monsters... and any time Jennifer was mentioned he retreated back into his shell for a day or two. At any rate, Turner now felt he was not going to have another outburst, so he had the straightjacket removed. Of course, an orderly was keeping an eye on him at all times.

Turner had immediately reported that to the lieutenants, who were happy to hear that he was finally talking, but still impatient for him to confess something, what with Senator Willis breathing down their department's neck. After a few weeks, Turner had decided to try a little therapy that had worked for troubled cases in the past. There was an art room that a lot of the patients used for painting. The paintings they created were usually very insightful - almost like you were looking into what was going on in their minds. Turner left Rick in the care of one of the other doctors that day, Dr. Alicia Lee, while he went out to attend to some other buisness. When he returned, Dr. Lee was waiting by his office for him.

"Doctor," she said. She was holding a stack of papers in her hand.

"Yes, Doctor Lee. How was Rick today?" Turner asked as he unlocked the door to his office. He took a seat and motioned for her to sit down.

"That's the reason I'm here," she said as she sat down. "I'm afraid he had another relapse while he was in the art room today."

Turner glanced up at her. "Violent?" he asked.

"Yes. He's been restrained and returned to his room," Lee replied.

"What brought it on? Do you have any idea?"

"I'm not entirely certain. He was sitting quietly, drawing, when he suddenly started screaming. He fell to the floor and knocked over his easel before I could get the orderlies in the room, but that didn't seem to affect him. He just kept holding his head and screaming 'Get it out!' over and over."

"Has he calmed down since?"

"He seems to have... at least, after he was sedated. He was sleeping when I checked on him last."

Lee looked down at the stack of papers in her hand. "After Rick was sedated and returned to his room, I picked up the pictures he'd been working on off of the floor. I found these, and I really think you should take a look at them."

She handed the stack of papers to Turner as he fished a cigarette out of his desk drawer. Upon his first look at the top sketch, he froze, the cigarette forgotten.

"What in god's name?" he whispered to himself as he looked through the small stack of sketches. They were all done in pencil ("He didn't want to use paints," Lee explained) and they were all like nothing Turner had ever seen before.

There were five in all. The first sketch was of some kind of creature. It looked almost human, except from what he could tell, the flesh on this thing was falling off. It was almost reaching out of the sketch, it seemed. The next sketch was what looked like an upside-down cross surrounded by severed heads. The heads appeared to be screaming in agony. Turner swallowed briefly - this was disturbing, even to him. He flipped over the sketch of the upside-down cross and looked at the next sketch. It appeared to be a rotting head and arms emerging from the ground... sharp teeth lined the head's mouth, and the hands appeared to be reaching out of the sketch, just like the creature in the first sketch. Turner shivered slightly, then flipped to the next sketch.

The next sketch was even more disturbing. It looked human... except that it had no skin. Its head was covered by a bag, tied off at the neck, and where it's hands should have been were two chainsaws, poised like they were ready to slice something - or someone - to ribbons. Turner shuddered, then flipped over that sketch to the final one in the stack.

On the piece of paper in front him was one object. It looked almost like a face, its eyes narrowed - yet completely black - and its mouth twisted in a hideous grin. The very sight of the thing caused Turner to break out into a cold sweat. He could barely make out what looked like straps attached to the back of it. Is it some kind of mask? he wondered.

He set the sketches on his desk and turned back to Lee. He fumbled in his desk for the cigarette, then lifted it to his lips and shakily lit it. He took two or three nervous puffs, but said nothing else. Lee could see that he had been seriously shaken by what he'd seen.

"I felt the same way when I saw them," she said softly. "Whatever's going in that boy's head is... well, I don't know what it is."

"Thank you, Doctor Lee," Turner said abruptly. He picked up the sketches and slipped them into Rick's file. Lee needed no further urging.

"You're welcome, James," Lee said softly as she stood up. Without another word, she turned and left the room.

After she had left, Turner started to reread the files on Rick, nervously puffing away on his cigarette the whole time.

* * *

"NO!!!" Rick screamed as he bolted out of bed, covered in a cold sweat. It was just after three a.m.

His dreams of Jennifer were becoming more disturbing as time went on. It had been two full months since the incident, and things were becoming clearer to Rick about what had happened that night. These kinds of memories, horrible as they are, would normally be repressed by the human mind, but it seemed that something was causing Rick to remember more and more as he slept. He didn't want to remember what had happened, regardless of what had happened to Jennifer, but it was becoming clearer and clearer to him. The monsters he had sketched that day in the art room were appearing more and more frequently in his dreams - except for the one in the final sketch, that is. That one only appeared briefly every so often, and each time it did, Rick would awaken with a start, screaming like a madman - his heart hammering in his chest, his eyes wide open with fear. His reaction in the art room that day had even taken him by surprise, but then again, he hadn't expected to be seized by that kind of terror after seeing it again. Luckily it had not been that particular phantom this time, but instead it was the chainsaw-armed creature. Still, that had been enough to shock him awake.

Rick curled himself up into the fetal position, whimpering and sobbing like a baby. Everything was becoming clearer to him as time went on, and he didn't want to think about any of it. He wanted to block it out, force it away from him... but still the dreams came, and with them the memories of that horrible night. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force away the memories, but it was no use. He wrapped his blanket around him tightly, and opened one eye. All he could see was the window, and through it, a star was shining brightly. He opened his other eye and stared intently at the star, until finally, an hour or so later, he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep... the first such sleep he'd had since the night of the incident.

Three months after the incident... August, 1988

Rick was becoming more coherent, and at the same time he was making even less and less sense to Turner. He had finally agreed to talk to Turner about his memories. They all revolved around the mansion and the evils that it had contained. They'd taken Jennifer, he said... taken her away to another place entirely. He tried to save her, he'd said, but she had vanished before his eyes. He had talked to Turner about the Mask that had covered his face that night, although he still was missing some of his memories about it. He just remembered that it had talked to him, had tempted him with its power, and how it felt more evil than anything else in that horrible place. He didn't like to talk about it, though, so Turner didn't pry.

When he was finally told that he was the prime suspect in Jennifer's disappearance, he had angrily stated that no, he didn't kill her - it was the creatures in the mansion. They'd taken her away. He kept insisting over and over that he was innocent.

It was late evening. Storm clouds had been gathering all afternoon, and now the rain was coming down hard. Lightning was flashing once every few seconds as thunder crashed harshly in the distance. There hadn't been a storm like this in three months... the last time this kind of storm had come was the night of the incident.

Turner sat at his desk, a cigarette clutched in his hand, staring out at the rain. It was time for him to make the call he knew he had to make. He didn't want to do it - something in his head said that Rick was telling the truth about Jennifer's disappearance, despite how bizarre it sounded - but at the same time, he had to. Senator Willis himself had paid a visit to the Home at the end of last month, demanding that Rick be released so he could stand trial for his daughter's disappearance. Turner had vehemently argued with the senator, asking for one more month to try to make some more headway with Rick. The senator had grudgingly agreed, after listening to Turner's arguments. But now his month was up, and now there was nothing more he could do. He still felt that he could make more progress with Rick, and had even called the senator earlier that day to ask for yet another month's worth of time. The senator had flatly refused, saying that the extra time he had asked for a month ago was one month more than he had wanted to give in the first place.

Turner picked up the phone and dialed the police station. He entered Lieutenant Loker's extension, and waited patiently while he was connected.

"Loker," came the gruff voice over the other end of the line.

"This is Dr. Turner," Turner said.

"I take it there's been some kind of development in the case?"

"He's talking. He remembers what happened that night, and he swears that he's innocent."

"Has he told you what really happened?" Loker was definitely curious.

"He insists that there were creatures in the mansion. He says they took Jennifer away, that they made her vanish before his eyes."

Loker snorted in disbelief. "Bullshit," he said. "There was nothing in that mansion except for burnt lumber and wrecked furniture. The forensics team didn't find anything else."

"He says there was something else... a mask that had attached itself to his head. He couldn't take it off, no matter how hard he tried. He also says that the mask started talking to him, tempting him with power and urging him onward."

"He's insane," Loker sighed. "If it was up to me, I'd leave him with you people... but the senator wants him to stand trial."

"I think he's telling the truth," Turner said quietly.

Loker's laugh rung over the phone. "I think you're as crazy as he is if you believe that story. Hanging around that psycho's had an effect on you, Doc."

Turner's temper flared. "What time will you be here, Lieutenant?" he asked angrily.

"About nine or so," Loker replied. "There'll be a trial tomorrow if the senator has his way. Just have him ready for us."

"Fine," Turner snarled, then he slammed the phone down. Arrogant bastard, he thought.

* * *

He went in to see Rick a few minutes later. The storm was raging even harder outside now, and the lightning flash and crack of thunder was almost simultantaneous. Turner jumped slightly at a particularly loud crack of thunder, then opened the door to Rick's room. Rick looked up at his visitor and smiled at him - the first time Turner could ever remember him doing so.

"Hi," Rick said weakly. "What brings you here tonight?" Turner smiled back at him sadly, and decided not to beat around the bush for the reason of his visit.

"You're leaving, Rick," Turner said. "Tonight."

"What?" Rick asked. "Why?"

"There's nothing I can do about it, unfortunately. Senator Willis wants you to stand trial for Jennifer's disappearance. I asked him to give me one more month with you, but he refused."

"But I'm innocent!" Rick shouted. "I'm innocent! I know what I saw in that place, I know what I fought! I would never kill Jen! I loved her! Please, you've got to believe me!"

"For what it's worth, Rick," Turner said quietly, "I do believe you."

That brought Rick up short. "You believe me?" he asked just as quietly. Turner looked at him for a long minute.

"Yes, I do."

"Then why can't you stop them?"

"The fact that I believe you isn't enough to go on in a court of law, Rick. You know that. The fact remains... Jennifer is still missing, and to the rest of the world, you're still the number one suspect. I'm sorry."

An air of resignation seemed to hang over Rick. "That's it, then," he said.

"Your psychiatric evaluation will be appended to your file, so it will be used at your trial. I hope that will help at least somewhat."

Rick shook his head and said nothing else. They stood there and looked at each other for a long moment, then Turner turned and exited the room.

* * *

By nine, the storm had gotten so bad that you could barely see five feet in front of you. Curious weather for this time of year, Turner thought. I've never seen rain come down this hard unless it was hurricane season, and that doesn't really kick in for at least another month.

He walked by the security station at the front of the building, and watched as two headlights, barely visible through the thick rain, pulled into the parking lot. He could barely make out the two lieutenants getting out of the cruiser and heading for the door of the building. The door opened and they entered, absolutely soaked.

"Craziest weather I've seen all year," Manthey muttered. Loker nodded in agreement. Then they spotted Turner waiting for them. He shot an icy glare at Loker, then spoke.

"He's ready to go," Turner said.

* * *

Something odd was happening in Rick's room. He'd lay back down on the bed after Turner had left, and was just looking at the ceiling. After laying there for a while, he suddenly began to realize that he was not alone in the room.

He lifted his head up and looked around. He hadn't heard the door open, yet he felt a presence in the room. He sat up on the bed.

"Hello?" he said. "Hello?"

That's when the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. He could feel it... it was here, and it wanted him. He jumped up and began banging on the door. "NO!!!" he screamed. "HELP! IT'S HERE! Somebody help me!"

In the window that was about head-level in the door, an image was forming. Rick recognized it instantly. With a scream of abject terror, he flung himself across the room.

Rick...

"STAY AWAY FROM ME!!!" he screamed at the top of his lungs as he sank to the floor.

* * *

One of the guards suddenly poked his head out of the security room.

"Dr. Turner!" he shouted. Turner and the two lieutenants stopped where they were, then turned and walked into the security room.

"What?"

"Something's up with your boy," he said, and pointed at the monitor.

* * *

She doesn't have to die, Rick...

"Those monsters killed her!" he screamed at the rapidly forming image. "She's gone! LEAVE ME ALONE!"

Jennifer's alive, Rick...

Rick froze. A tiny gleam of hope appeared in his heart.

"What?"

Only I have the power to help you save her...

"She's alive..."

Go back to the house... Jennifer's there...

"She's alive..."

and I'll be waiting for you.

The image had fully formed now. It was the thing from the fifth sketch Rick had drawn... the Mask. The Mask that had covered his face that horrible night. The Mask that had tempted him with its awful evil, that had given him the power to escape the mansion - and would give him the power to rescue Jennifer from wherever she was being held now, he realized as the rest of his memories came flooding back. He had liked the power, he realized with a start... and he wanted to be in command of that kind of power again.

You need me.

"Yes..." he whispered.

The image of the Mask moved toward him as he stood up...

* * *

Turner stared at the security monitor that showed Rick's room. Loker and Manthey were also looking at it closely. "What's he doing?" Manthey asked as they watched Rick's demeanor change from frightened to determined.

"I don't know... I've never seen him like this before," Turner admitted. Rick suddenly looked at the camera, a feral grin on his face. The look alone caused all four men to recoil in surprise.

"SHE'S ALIVE!" he shouted in manic glee, then he threw his head back as a loud, ominous laugh emitted from his throat. Then he threw himself against the door, hard. It was quite obvious he was trying to break out. They could hear the door groaning as he slammed into it again and again.

"Let's get down there!" Loker exclaimed, pulling out his gun. That's when there was a trememendous crashing sound as the door to Rick's room flew off of its hinges and crashed against the opposite wall! Manthey yanked his gun out of his holster as the alarm started blaring. The two of them ran out of the room as fast as possible.

Turner, meanwhile, had seen something else in the monitor. The security guards had stormed out after Loker and Manthey, so he was alone in the room. As he looked closely, trying to make out what it was that was appearing on the monitor, it suddenly became clear to him. He jumped backwards in surprise as the image pulled itself out of the monitor and seemed to float in front of him. It was the Mask. Its sightless eyeholes seemed to bore into his very soul.

It laughed... it was the most evil laugh that Turner had ever heard. It rumbled through the building, shaking it to its very foundations. To Turner, it sounded like the hollow laughter of Death himself.

Then the power went out. The entire building was plunged into darkness.

Turner heard gunshots coming from somewhere further down the hall. A few seconds later, he heard the sound of running feet go right past the security room, followed by more pairs further down the hall. Turner charged out into the dark hallway, just in time to see the front door slam and, as lightning continued to flash, he saw a dark figure running off into the forest surrounding the Home.

Turner yanked open the front door and ran out into the rain. It soaked him to the bone after just a few seconds outside. He stopped on the top step and tried to see through the pouring rain. The wind whipped past him as lightning continued to flash. He could just make out Rick's silhouette in the forest.

"RICK!!!" he shouted, but the sound was swept away by the wind. Loker, Manthey and the security guards came up behind him.

"WHY DIDN'T YOU STOP HIM?" Manthey shouted, trying to be heard above the wind. Loker, meanwhile, had charged down to the cruiser and gotten in. He appeared to be talking into the radio. Turner turned and walked back into the Home, followed closely by Manthey and the guards.

"Why didn't you stop him?" Manthey repeated as soon as they were inside. Turner looked at him. An odd gleam had appeared in his eyes.

"He was out the door before I could do anything," he said quietly. "I suppose Loker is putting out an A.P.B. on him now, isn't he?"

"That's police buisness," Manthey snapped. Without another word, he stormed out of the Home, headed for the cruiser. Turner watched him go, then turned and headed back to his office. the last words he'd heard Rick say echoed in his head. The power was slowly starting to come back on.

She's alive!

He reached his office and sat in his chair. He pulled a cigarette out of the desk drawer and lit it, then pulled out Rick's file. He opened it, then pulled out one of the sketches that Rick had drawn.

It was the sketch of the Mask. Turner looked at it for a long moment, staring deep into its sightless eyes. Then he stood up, walked out to the restroom, crumpled up the sketch and used his cigarette lighter to set it aflame. As the sketch burned, he heard the fire alarms go off, but he didn't care. He dropped it in the sink, where it quickly burned to nothing. The sprinklers in the restroom activated, drenching him for the second time in five minutes, but again - he didn't care.

Good luck, Rick, he thought.

As the image of the Mask flashed before his eyes again, another thought entered his head.

And may God help you...