I wasn't going to reach George in time. I simply couldn't move fast enough. Bullets showered the kiosk just as George's nightmarish form sprang through the doorway behind the kiosk. By some miracle it didn't seem like any of the bullet hit George.

"Don't move!" shouted the Pied Piper officer who was leading the handful of other officers nearer.

No time to think. The complete stupid idiot I am threw my hands up and moved around the kiosk towards the doorway.

"Stop or we'll shoot!" the officer ordered and I knew for sure he would if I dared continue onward.

For a brief moment I considered stopping in my tracks, maybe to get down on my knees with my hands raised for them to handcuff me. They would find out I had nothing to do with any of this, that I had even saved Mike – kind of – and they would let me go. But what about George?

There was a single second where the officer, if he were so inclined, could have unloaded the rest of his bullets into me.

"Stop!" he shouted, but didn't open fire. This gave me the time I needed to move through the doorway.

George was at the end of the doorway with his chest pressed against the closed door ahead. Dozens of packets of overalls were scattered on the floor between us.

He wants to go to that spot I found him in before, I thought, He just wants to be alone.

I continued forward, lowering my hands and making my way towards George. The eyes on his arms and back were searching angrily around. They all fixed on me as I approached. I froze.

"George," I said in a whisper, "It's me. It's Burgess."

The eyes remained fixed in anger.

"I'm going to open the door for you. You can go to sleep," I said.

I continued inching closer the soles of my feet touching down on the plastic wrapping of the overalls which were threatening to trip me up.

I heard the rattle of guns and bootsteps behind me. I dared a glance backward and saw the officers filling the doorway.

The strange slits in George's chest let out an agonized moan as if warning the officers to stay away. I pressed my hands together as if in prayer and silently begged for the Pied Piper officers to stop their approach.

The Pied Piper officer at the head of the squad was a middle-aged man with black hair with lots of gray in the roots. I met his cold gaze and stared down the barrel of his gun.

You've had a gun pointed at you before, I thought, You can do this. You can do this. At least don't piss yourself this time.

"He just needs to go into that room and go to sleep," I said in a whisper.

I didn't know this to be a certain fact, it was just a hunch. But I was this deep into this mess now so I was going to try and see it through to the end. If my nerves would hold out at least. A part of me just wanted to get on the floor and put my hands behind my head and let the officers take control of the situation. But, without me in the way, I was sure they would open fire on George.

Why do you care? A part of me screamed, Why are you risking your life for George?

It was a great question. I wasn't trying to be selfless. I could hardly think at all let alone be decisive about what I was doing.

"Stand aside," said the gray-haired officer in a whisper.

His whispering gave me hope. He seemed to understand that yelling and coming in guns blazing wasn't the only way to handle this.

"Please," I said, "I can get him in there. There's no way out. Once he's asleep I'll–"

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"Last warning," said the officer, still whispering, "Don't make me shoot you, lad."

My guts wanted to melt out of me. My mouth frowned as I fought the urge not to cry. Please don't kill me, I wanted to beg.

I wanted to be brave, to tell the officer what was what. But I was so afraid I could hardly stop myself from trembling.

"I-I've g-got this," I stammered out, pitifully.

It was quiet enough now I could hear the faint sound of the officer's gloved hand squelching as he placed his finger on the trigger of his machine gun.

It's whatever, I thought, and turned my back to him. No turning back now. I walked towards George, whose hand was gripping the handle to the door and making it shudder. I reached George and put my hand on his hand that was gripping the door handle. I pushed down, and the door opened, and George's weight pushed the door inward.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

I could almost hear the sound of the officer's bullets ripping into my back, shredding my body apart and murdering me. Surely George and I had moved too much and the trigger-happy officer was going to put an end to this situation?

No gunfire. Just silence. I breached the doorway and stood before George. His faceless head jerked about like a stop motion puppet whilst his many eyes searched the room, scanning every nook and cranny.

"Look," I said to him, pointing to the corner I had found him in before, "It's quiet over there."

His head made an odd rattling sound, like bone clicking against bone, and then he started to move slowly over to the corner.

Then the sirens in the facility began to wail and lights in the corridor outside began to flash in intervals of red and white.

George screamed his hellish scream and lunged at me. My body was tensed up and ready for the impact of his against mine this time. His coiled up body and mine smacked together. He had more momentum, pushing me back towards the doorway. I planted my right foot down and by some miracle I touched down on the tiled floor and not one of the overall packets, on which I would surely have slipped. George's chest-lungs let out a guttural cry in short bursts as if trying to fill the intervals between the wail of the sirens. Like some twisted sumo match he was winning, pushing me further towards the officers with their guns.

I wanted to try and tell George to calm down but there would be no hope of that with all the sirens wailing. If George bested me in this battle of strength no doubt the officers would open fire on him, and, presumably me as collateral damage. Losing here wasn't an option.

With every ounce of my strength I pushed back against George. Even in my coiled up state taken up to such a high level of intensity I could feel myself on the losing side of our collision. The muscles in my arms and legs and torso were burning, aching, screaming for a stop to the exertion demanded of them. Never had I experienced this particular kind of agony before. All I had to do was give into the desire to give up and the agony would come to a stop. I clenched my teeth and let my face fill with rage, spittle foaming at my mouth, my brow narrowing down.

No! Not yet! I can still do more!

I didn't have the capacity to think of coiling up even further; I didn't even know if I could do that. That simply wasn't an option because every last bit of my strength and concentration was fixed on keeping George at bay.

In my desperation I punched George right where the slit in his lungs were. The blow felt as if it hit hard but George's strength didn't relent one bit. I staggered back another step, losing ground.

That's not going to work, I thought, try something else.

The idea that came to me then was madness, but I had to try it.

"R-Ruff Rover!" I cried out, tears threatening to leave my eyes, "R-Ruff Rover!"

George's iron grip and pressing weight relented just a tiny fraction. I had to keep pushing and singing at the same time and it was taking every last bit of strength I had not to buckle under the power of George's body.

"The best dog going from town to town, he's our favourite hero hound, it's Ruff Rover, Ruff Rover, the crimefighting hero hound!"

George's strength relented just enough for me to start pushing him backward, step by step. I kept singing the theme song of the Ruff Rover show because our lives depended on it.

"He's the dog who's going to say 'I have come to save the day!' Ruff Rover! Ruff Rover!"

George continued to back up, his strength relenting a bit more with each passing lyric. I kept singing the song, but brought my voice down to a whisper. The sound of the sirens weren't helping at all but a kick quick of the door slamming it shut behind us muffled it just enough for me to continue whispering the Ruff Rover song.

"Villains, your time is up, over! Over! Why? Because here's Ruff Rover! Ruff Rover!"

By the time I finished the song for the second time George all but let me ease him into a sitting position in the corner of the laundry room. Outside the muffled sound of the sirens stopped. I sat down with George and put my arms around him in a hug, doing my best to ignore the gross sweatiness of his body and the slickness of his open eyes on his arms. I hoped with every fiber of my being the officers had the sense not to come barging in any time soon. One minute passed into another and gradually each of George's eyes across his body closed as if falling asleep.

The motion sensing lights in the laundry room flickered out.

"Burgess?" said George. He was back.