PROLOGUE

Frank Liberty - Clinic

The rain poured down relentlessly, coming from a seemingly endless supply in the heavens above. The torrents of water drowned out the low humming of Dr. Liberty's 1996 Intrepid. Windshield wipers squeaked as they danced across dripping panes, and tires cracked over slicked gravel.

Dr. Liberty wiped the moisture from his glasses. It was cold inside the car, seeing how the heater had broken down earlier. The radio played a crackly Johnny Cash song, static streaming like a running river. The digital clock read 8:44 P.M.

He was a doctor. He had graduated from Reed College in 1971, and had been a licensed physician for over two decades. A member of the Healer's Union as well as the OSPA in Oregon, he was one of the most well known doctors in the state. Despite his prestige, he spent most of his time at a private family clinic located near Keizer.

The morning had begun seemingly normal. There were only two patients at the clinic. One was a baby who wouldn't stop coughing; the other was a man in for a regular checkup. Both were simple enough, and Liberty was able to take care of them both by himself. At noon, he left for Portland to go to a Healer's Union meeting. His assistant, Dr. Torez, was left to take care of the clinic.

Half way to Portland he got a call from Torez. A frantic woman had brought her daughter to the clinic. Apparently, the girl had been attacked by a wild animal. Liberty gave Torez instructions on how to handle the situation, and hung up.

The call had taken place more than eight hours ago, and Liberty had yet to receive an update. It was highly irregular for Torez not to notify him in such a long time, and he was beginning to worry.

He pulled into the parking lot as he finally reached the clinic. Lights were visible from within the building, flickering from beneath the falling rain. Looking out through the window of his car, he wasn't able to see anything out of the ordinary.

Tension rising inside of him, he turned off the ignition and opened the door. Outside, he was quickly soaked with rainwater, his jacket glistening like the skin of an amphibian. He slammed the door shut, and hurried over to the building.

In a moment he was inside, closing the door behind him. It was warmer inside the clinic than it was outside, yet it felt strangely drafty. He cleared his throat. "Dr. Torez?" No answer came, only an eerie silence.

The room was empty and monochromatic, with a couch and a few chairs, a table, and a receptionist's desk. Nothing seemed any different than from earlier in the morning.

Slowly, Liberty stepped across the room to the open door on the opposite wall. "Dr. Torez?" he shouted, piercing the silence. "Dr. Orlando? Nurse Patricia?" Still, no answer came.

He got to the door and pushed it open further, peering down the corridor. It was empty and dark, the only light coming from a room at the far end. Cautiously, he moved into the hallway, hands nervously raised as though to ward off the darkness.

Suddenly, his foot tapped against something in the middle of the floor. He almost jumped out of his shoes. Breathing in slowly, he looked down. A small, black shape lay amongst the shadows. In the darkness he couldn't tell exactly what it was, but judging from the size and shape it looked very much like a...

No. It couldn't be.

Fear growing, he fumbled against the wall for a light switch. Finally, he felt one within his grasp, and he flipped it on, looking down at the thing near his foot.

It was a leg. A human leg. Liberty could feel his heart racing. Was this for real? Was it some cruel joke? Was it just a horrible dream? With all of his courage he lifted his eyes up. Another leg. A body. A face. He realized that he was looking at his nurse, Patricia.

She lay sprawled across the floor, half of her body in a bedroom and the other half in the hallway. All up her arms were large, deep scratches, with bruises on her wrists and palms. Liberty looked down at them. Those wounds were characteristic of...

...Animal attacks. He felt sick as he looked up. Patricia seemed otherwise unharmed, except for her neck. The flesh had been ripped open, the thick blood vessels and shredded windpipe visible. It looked as though something had torn a chunk from her neck.

Turning away quickly, he noticed the light at the end of the hall again. He gulped. There might be more in that room.

He carefully stepped over the pale legs of the nurse, moving to the back of the hall. Blood led a path from Patricia into the back room. What had happened? What kind of animal would have done this? Or worse, was it even an animal? He gulped. Torez and the others might be in the back room, either in hiding or... He slowly rounded the corner and entered the room.

A slaughterhouse. A murder scene. A picture taken from a slasher movie, too horrible to be true. But as Dr. Liberty walked into the room, he realized that this was all too real.

Three lay on the floor. Dr. Orlando was the nearest to the door, his white t-shirt splattered with red blood. His arms were bent at an awkward angle, and his head was at his side, mouth agape, bloated tongue hanging out.

A woman lay next to him. She looked as though she had died suffering, her face locked in a silent scream. Her clothes were bloodied as well, and her leg looked as though it had been partially eaten.

The last was a little girl. She was wearing a blue dress, her arm wrapped in bloodied bandages. A small, ball-point pen protruded from her eye socket, coated in blood and surrounded by a strange, purple substance. It seemed she had been killed when the pen went through her eye and entered her brain.

Dr. Liberty looked around the room in disbelief. The bed was overturned, drawers and cabinets were opened, various medical devices were scattered across the floor, and blood was everywhere. But where was Dr. Torez?

He examined the room, and noticed a blood-spattered spot in the corner of the room. Blood had dried on the wall, with a strange imprint in it, as though someone had been leaning against the spot. The blood was pooled on the floor, splattered like a macabre Rorschach test. Liberty looked down, and saw bloody footprints. They led away, across the room.

Heart pounding, he followed the footprints with his eyes to the other wall, where they stopped. There was a window, open, covered in bloody handprints. He walked over and peered out the window. Deep footprints were embedded into the mud, leading off, into the woods.

Dr. Liberty rushed to his office to grab a phone.