Rick White felt a tinge of anxiety as he set foot inside the Houston Medical Centre. He never liked hospitals, the white walls and the blue aprons the doctors wore reminded him too much of a nursery, hardly an appropriate decor for a place whose atmosphere reeked of pain and torment. True, there were many success stories, many people were saved in hospitals, yet nobody ever went to a hospital feeling good. Rick was glad that he would be picking up a couple of his friends, but still, there was a feeling of solemn death floating over him. Could he only be taking them out of a place of pain into one of death, for certainly the situation right now in Barken was far from dandy, and if there was black magic involved, who knows what the results could possibly be.

     He was introduced to Dr. Eisen, a tall man who looked like he might have played football at one point in time. He was quite frank with him, and told him that the situation for his friends was not the best in the world. "I don't recommend either of them seeing action for a while. We put Mr. Beall's arm in a cast, otherwise he is fine. Mr. Bruce will be walking on crutches for a couple months. Sheriff Davis will be able up and around shortly after he gets back, we hope to release him tomorrow, but Mr. Budd is never going to be the same; he might be able to walk again, but for the moment he is going to be confined to a wheel chair."

     Rick nodded, never liked saying much anyway.

     "Oh, Davis insisted on seeing you and the others before you left, said he had some things he wanted to tell you." Dr. Eisen informed him.

     "That's good. I have some things I'd like to tell him too." Rick was pleased that he would be able to see Davis, hopefully Davis might give him some advice about what could be done.

     When they got to the recovery room, it was obvious that both Joe and Taylor were quite happy to be getting out of here. Taylor looked his usual grumpy self, while Joe seemed quite withdrawn. "It's about time you showed up!" Taylor blurted out, obviously uncomfortable with the idea of needing crutches to walk around.

     "Sorry, it was a madhouse down at the police station this morning." Rick told them.

     "How many now?" Joe asked, as if the entire thing were unstoppable.

     "Twenty-Four." Rick said, glancing back to make sure that Dr. Eisen hadn't followed him in, which he hadn't. The recovery room was like most of the rest of the hospital, white walls, beds on gurneys, with white sheets, and white pillow cases. There were stirrups at the end of the beds in the event that they were necessary. Joe had been pacing before Rick had entered, while Taylor had still been lying in the bed, looking angrily down at the cast over the lower half of his right leg.

     "How in the Hell did he get twenty-four?" Taylor blurted, lowering his voice a little though.

     "I have no idea, though it's worse than that, our killer is a certified psycho." Rick continued.

     "No kidding." Taylor remarked.

     "Well, Davis said he wanted to see us, and they're going to let us, so I think we should go and discuss this with him." Rick told them all.

     "Good." Joe nodded. "You need help there Taylor?"

     "No I can handle myself thank you very much!" Taylor barked back. He then scrambled off the bed as the other two watched. He obviously was going to do this by himself, regardless how badly he did it, and there was nothing they could do about it.

     FBI Agent Will Bryant looked up when he saw the figure stride into the police station. It was Dr. Joey Vermiclin, and his clothes were stained in blood. He was looking quite flustered, and obviously flabbergasted form his job. He saw Will, and walked right up to him.

     "Where did Rick go?" Joey asked.

     "He went to go pick up some of the sentries who were at the Hospital in Houston. He'll be back shortly. What do you need?"

     "Well, I figured out how they died. Skulls crushed, exactly the same way on each of them, and in exactly the same position. All at the same time as far as I can tell too. It looks like he used a flat object to do the crushing, probably something mechanical." Joey described.

     "So what about it?" Will asked.

     "I figured you'd want to know." Joey became a little bit frustrated at Will's ambivalence, but didn't show it.

     "Is there anything else that you have divined?"

     "Well, I think they're all dogs."

     "What do you mean?" Will asked, this statement seeming to be quite obvious, but then again, it might not be.

     "What I mean is that they were not Barkenites. They are real dogs." Joey explained.

     This was interesting. It would certainly explain why nobody had been found missing since last night. Everybody in Barken had been accounted for. Of course, this made him wonder two things. First, how could Joey tell that they were real dogs and not Barkenites in their dog form, and two, how did their killer get his hands on twenty dogs.

     "How do you know?" Will asked, his interest in Joey's report quite piqued.

     "Well, my first indication was from a few external sources, a few visual clues. There was a dog shaped like a Spaniel among them, and it's tail was clipped. I doubt many Barkenites have their tails clipped. One of them was also castrated. Whoever our killer was definitely wanted us to figure out that he killed regular dogs and not Barkenites."

     "That's still pretty terrible." Will told him. "I happen to like dogs, and anybody who would kill a dog gets no sympathy or kindness from me."

     "Plus there were a few other clues." Joey continued. "For example, I found that all our subjects had the rabies vaccination, plus all the other shots that dogs normally get when they are young. I doubt the Barkenites subscribe to these rules."

     "I wouldn't know about that." Will admitted. "Jenny, is what Joey saying true?"

     Jenny looked up abruptly, not used to being addressed directly over matters such as these. She did not fumble for words though, "Dr. Vermiclin's wrong. We all get our shots when we are young. I don't know if we need to or not, but we do get them. However, I have never heard of anybody getting their tails snipped."

     Joey took the rebuke in stride. "Well, at any rate, I think they are just regular dogs."

     "It would explain a few things, however it raises another question. Why did he kill just regular dogs, what is more important, the killing or the skins?" Will asked rhetorically.

     "I'd say the skins." Joey replied. "However, I'm not an investigator, I just work with dead people."

     "Speaking of the dead." Will said as he looked past Joey at the figure that strode into the police station. He looked like he was quite roughed up, there were several bruises all over his body, and he had cuts in several places, over his arms, down his legs, across his face, simply everywhere. His pistol was still held in his right hand, and in his left he carried what looked to be a dog skin, obviously one that had been aged a long time, and not one of the ones that had been taken just in these past two weeks.

     Jenny saw him stride in, and she moved swiftly to wrap him about in her arms, her eyes beginning to water as she came up to him. "Oh what happened to you? Where did you go? Why didn't you tell me? You should know better than that!"

     "Randy," Will addressed the man who was hugging Jenny back, comforting her, "where have you been?"

     "Getting answers." Randy replied. "The identity of our killer was nearly made known to me."

     "Where did you go to find these answers?" Will pressured him. "Where did you get that skin as well?"

     Randy's face turned dark, and he turned away from Will again patting Jenny on the back, reassuring her that he was all right. After a moments pause, he looked at Will, his eyes declaring that he was not beholden to him Will Bryant in anyway shape or form, no matter what Will thought. Will glared back, not to be outdone, not by some simple sentry, despite his qualifications. "I asked you a question Randy, do you not have the decency to answer it?"

     "I have the decency." Randy told him. "Sure, I'll tell you where I went, and I'll got here again if I feel it is the only way to solve this case. I went to speak with the Pastor Paul Aberdeen of the First Baptist Church in Cherry. Are you happy now?"

     "You didn't, did you?" Jenny asked, the look of concern on her face growing more desperate.

     "And you trust him?" Will asked, amazed that Randy would go to such lengths.

     "He's never lied before." Randy then laughed a bit to himself. "It's funny, he killed my father without any qualms whatsoever, yet he cannot lie to me. That's quite ironic."

     "What's the skin for?" Will asked.

     "That's my father. That damn bastard had him framed in his office." Randy exclaimed, which evoked more sympathy from Jenny.

     "So what did you find out?" Joey asked, getting the conversation back on to the track it was supposed to be.

     "Our killer lived in Barken for a time, and he is indeed the one who escaped that night one year ago. Other than that, I do not know."

     "Does All For You mean anything to you?" Will asked.

     "Not really, why?" Randy asked.

     "Well, that's the message he's written on all of the bodies." Joey interrupted.

     "It's also his phone number." Will remarked. "I talked with him last night."

     "For all of five seconds." Joey reminded him.

     "Why don't you call him back?" Randy asked.

     "Because his phone is disconnected." Will told him. "I'm planning to call back later, but only once everybody is here. I invited several other people to come, and they should be here shortly."

     "Who did you invite?" Randy asked.

     "Well, Joe and Taylor are getting out of the hospital, and I called Ted Obermeyer in on this."

     "Him?" Randy was baffled. "Why?"

     "Because of that." Will pointed at the map which had the pentagram drawn onto it, and Joey looked at it, recognizing it for what it was, and shuddered. Randy saw it, and then knew that this was going beyond just a little bit of revenge for the DDD incident.

     Little Stevie Engel was home playing with his Rubik's cube that Nicholas had given him, and the latest toy, an action figure dressed up as a space man. The Rubik's cube was simply a puzzle whose original intentions mystified him, and he could not fathom the purpose for which it was designed. Nor did it really matter that much either, as Stevie redesigned it's purpose, no longer a puzzle to baffle him, but a mock Death Star for his space trooper's Luke Skywalker. His mommy wouldn't by him the Star Wars action figures like he'd wanted him too, and so he simply had to improvise.

     He wondered just why his mommy never bought him any toys, all the other kids had toys, and he loved going over to their houses to play with them. Of course nothing beat running about as a dog, being chased through the streets, his friends shrill barks following after him. He liked being a dog, liked it a lot, and he couldn't imagine life otherwise. He'd heard that there were places where people couldn't become dogs. How could anybody live like that? It was so dull just being a little boy all the time, even with lots of toys.

     As he was playing, the Death Star blown up, he tossed the Rubik's Cube in the air, spinning it about, messing up the color combination even more - there was no hope for Stevie ever to get it right himself - he heard his mommy come down the hallway to his room where he was playing. He looked up, smiling as she opened the door with a midday snack for him to eat on a tray in her hands. She looked down at the toys, her face once a smile, now quite a bit reproachful. She set the tray down on his bed, and closed the door before turning to face him, taking the Rubik's Cube and action figure in her hands.

     "Where did you get these?" she asked, her tone quite serious, that no nonsense she quite frequently displayed, most especially when he had been bad.

     "Nicholas gave them to me." Stevie said, being quite honest, with the slightest bit of trepidation creeping up in his voice.

     "And who is Nicholas?" she asked again, her brows furrowing in an expression he had never seen her wear before.

     "He's a friendly man." Stevie replied.

     "Do you know where he lives?"

     Stevie remembered that he had told him, but couldn't quite remember where though, so he just shrugged his shoulders.

     His mommy gripped him by the shoulders and brought him to eye level. "I told you never to talk to strangers. And most especially never accept gifts from a stranger."

     "But he was a nice guy!" Stevie insisted.

     "That doesn't matter. This is for your own good. I don't want you ever to speak to this man, ever again, do you understand?"

     "Yes mommy." Stevie said, his face drooping with sorrow.

     "If you ever see him again, I want you to run and find me. I don't want you anywhere near him, do you understand me?"

     "Yes, mommy." Stevie said, feeling even worse for that.

     "Now," she set him down, and scooped up the toys in her arms, "I am going to take these away from you. I don't want you playing with them."

     "But, Mommy!" Stevie protested.

     "But nothing!" she barked at him. "You will sit in here and eat your lunch. And you won't come out until dinnertime!" with that she turned on her heels, and stormed out the door, slamming it behind her. Stevie could hear her slam several other doors throughout the house. Stevie sat down on his bed then and ate his lunch, taking no pleasure in it.

     He then took his clothes off, and let himself slip into his canine form to abide the time. It did wonders, for time simply had less meaning to him when he was a dog, and he knew that it would be suppertime before he realized it. However, now that his hearing was better he could hear that his mommy was in her bedroom, lying on her bed, and was sobbing into the pillows. He felt even worse for that, what could he have done that would have made her cry?

     When Ted Obermeyer arrived at the police station, everybody else had already assembled. Will and Randy had squared off as to who was running the show, but it was clear that no matter what experience Randy had out on the field, when it came to office duty, Will had him beat on every corner. So Will kept everything organized in Sheriff Davis's absence. According to Taylor, the most vocal of the three who returned from the hospital that day, they had informed Davis of what was going on. Davis of course was surprised, as were they all, but there was little he could do about it at the moment. Will reminded himself that he would have to call Davis and ask him if he sent Kubelik a package recently, for if so, then there was nothing to fear from giving Jason the package, but otherwise, there was no telling just what horrors it contained.

     Ted's arrival in the police station made for a party of seven. Will had the map spread out on Davis's table, held upside down to Will's perspective as he sat behind the desk, but upright so that everybody else could see it. The others took seats about the room, Taylor sitting the closest to the door, still not quite too comfortable walking with crutches, nor the idea that he would miss out on the action.

     "So what do you have to show me?" Ted asked as he stepped into the office, dressed in a slightly outlandish shirt, typical for the bayou, and nowhere else.

     "This map, we have thumbtacks showing where each murder took place." Will pointed to the map.

     "I'd like to see the bodies at some point." Ted mentioned off handedly.

     Joey walked up, and dumped a stack of photographs on the table. "That's all twenty-four." Ted looked at them, and it was quite obvious that he looked a little flushed as he did so. He quickly pushed them aside, and stared at the map.

     "Is this some sort of destruction ritual or something?" Taylor asked.

     "No, if it was a destruction ritual, the star would be inverted." Ted said, not taking his eyes off the map, as he traced the lines with his finger. He showed very little emotion on his face. He suddenly looked up, and looked about the room. "Can somebody get me something to drink, a coke or something."

     "How about some Chardonnay?" Randy asked, still clutching the skin of his father in his crossed arms.

     "What?" Ted looked confused.

     "The killer's first act was to buy a bottle of Chardonnay." Will explained.

     "And then he crushed poor George's head with it!" Joe blurted.

     "Yes that's another thing that might be important." Joey pointed out. "All the victims have had their heads crushed in in some sort or another. The words All For You were drawn on the inside of the skin lining with a laundry detergent or something."

     "All For You?" Ted asked.

     "We discovered it's the guys phone number." Will added.

     Ted nodded then went back to tracing the lines. During the entire scene, Randy rolled his eyes several times, obviously in a huff; Dr. Vermiclin waited patiently, wondering what grim forecast Obermeyer would give after his perusings were over; Taylor tapping the cast, which he had refused to let anybody sign as of yet; Rick holding his heads in his hands, vacillating between prayer and shuddering; Joe unable to think of what this horror was planning to unleash, already he was killing like Eddie did with anybody he caught as a dog, and that in itself stirred up memories of his dead friend Mac, who he hoped to be able to avenge one day - in a way he truly hoped it was Eddie, that way he could obtain the opportunity to kill him finally; Will sitting, watching his long time friends face, its changing contours, the features moving ever so slightly form one of confusion to understanding, back to confusion again, all the time wondering just what it was that he was thinking.

     When Ted finally did speak, it was in a voice that sounded quite disappointed. "Well, I can't tell you what it means exactly, but I think I can shed some light on this. Because the pentagram is upright, it has positive connotations."

     "How can death have positive connotations?" Randy challenged.

     "Well, anytime you kill an animal and eat it, its death contributes to your continued life." Ted replied, remembering Randy to be less moody than he was today. "Now what it means exactly, I'm not quite sure about that. It could be a circle of protection, it could be designed to lift a curse, it could be fashioned to restore life, it could even be conceivably constructed to bestow supernatural powers on somebody, I don't know exactly."

     "What about these smaller stars?" Joe asked, pointing at them with his good arm.

     "Those are what confuse me, because they look to be of the same size, and none of them breach the circle of the pentagram, so they are obviously important in some way. In my studies I have never run across this before, so I really cannot tell you exactly what this means. The only way I could is if I found the actual pentagram where our killer intends to perform his rite, whatever that may be."

     "Don't do anything stupid, Ted." Will cautioned him, remembering what had happened the first time Ted had been in Barken.

     Ted laughed. "I won't do anything stupid. I wouldn't even know where to look for the place."

     "So those stars look to be of equal size?" Joe asked, getting him back on topic.

     "Yes, if somebody has a ruler, I can know for sure." Ted looked about, and Will quickly produced a ruler from inside the desk. He handed it to Ted, who immediately started taking some measurements and making some calculations. After a moment he looked up, a smile cracked on his face, and he was shaking his head.

     "What is it?" Joe asked.

     "Whoever this guy is, he is one smart cookie. He used the doubling constant, how in the heck did he know that?" Ted was now beside himself in amazement.

     "What is the doubling constant?" Will asked, himself now mystified.

     "Oh, the doubling constant is a mathematical construct. It's approximately 4.6, it has to do with chaos theory. I don't know too much about it, but I do know that it is derived from the Feigenbaum diagram." Ted explained, leaving everybody only more perplexed.

     "The what?" Taylor asked, leaning on his crutches.

     "The Feigenbaum diagram, the graph of the final states to any recursive function. The most commonly used one is the population function a(1-x)=y where a is between zero and four." Ted saw that he had lost everybody in the room and so decided to drop the theoretical math, "Let's just say that the large star is 4.6 times as large as the smaller ones. Just remember that at some point this guy has had lots of time to study chaos theory."

     "I'll keep that in mind." Randy mentioned, his tone quite flat and unreadable.

     Ted returned to look at the map. "Well, it seems that the point that we should consider the most is right here, the south-east corner. He's saved it last, for whatever reason we do not know as of yet, but we must consider it as pivotal to everything he is going to do. once he has his last body, he can proceed with his ritual. Whether you believe it can work or not is up to you, but remember, most human beings can't turn into dogs either."

     With that thought, all of them looked at each other for a few moments. What could he possibly have in mind? What could it be if not a ritual of destruction for Barken? Then again, there was evidence out there that made Will truly suspicious, as if he should know something more. What was he missing, what was it that they all were missing that would solve this mystery?