Sister Jude was not in the mood this morning. For anything, really. But especially not Mary Eunice's bullshit. Not today. "What, Sister?" She snapped.

Her assistant dilly dallied before her desk, obviously wanting something. The girl was nervous, and that made Jude nervous. And Jude hated being nervous. "Um..."

The older nun sighed. "Out with it, Eunice. It's going to be a long day, so let's just get it over with. What's broken? Who died?"

"No one, Sister!" Eunice was scandalized by the very thought. "It's just..."

"Just what?"

"It's Halloween, Sister."

Jude spread her hands, blinking. "And?"

"And I know we had spoken in the last staff meeting about keeping the patients preoccupied."

"I thought we were letting them have game night?" They'd ordered at least 20 idiotic board games in preparation for this event. "And hot chocolate?"

"Oh, yes, Sister. We're still setting up the games."

"Good. So what's the problem?"

"I was just thinking -"

"You shouldn't think, Mary Eunice." Jude rubbed her temples. "Every time you think, the crazy around here gets a little thicker."

"Oh." The disappointment on the young nun's face was guilt-galvanizing.

A heavy sigh. "What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking maybe we could have...sort of a festive gathering?"

"A festive gathering."

"For fall!" Eunice's hands fluttered. "You know. Distract us all from the evil ramifications of Halloween."

"Eunice. It's a holiday far fantasy prone personalities to sanction beggary. Nothing more. Attempting any sort of distraction will only add to the ridiculous superstitions surrounding the Pagan frippery."

"It's the devil's day," Eunice murmured.

Jude stood, smiling patiently. She rounded her desk, hoping to settle Eunice with her own calm. "Tuesday is the devil's day, Sister. Wednesday. Thursday. Friday. All of the days are the devil's days. That is why we are here. To take those days back. In the name of God."

"Well. In the name of God...I think we should have apple bobbing and carve pumpkins."

"Have you lost yar mind?" Calm was forgotten. Jude sounded shrill to her own ears. "You want to give an institution full of lunatics access to sharp objects and the means to drown one anothah?"

"They'll be monitored the entire time, Sister!" Eunice trembled.

"Oh, excellent! It's good ta know all the murdahs will be witnessed!"

"Even the Monsignor thinks it's a good idea!"

"The..." Jude stepped directly in front of Eunice. "You spoke to the Monsignor about this?" Her voice pitched low, threatening.

"It was just a passing -"

"You went ovah my habit, and spoke to Fathah Howard?" Her voice pitched high, threatening.

"I didn't mean to go over your habit, Sister!" The girl was on the verge of tears. "We were just chatting about decorative gourds and -"

"Decorative gourds?!"

"I'm so sorry, Sister!"

"Yar sorry for decorative gourds, Mary Eunice? Or yar sorry for being a mutineer?"

"I'm - I don't - both!" Eunice wailed, now completely flustered.

"I need coffee!" Jude snapped, stepped past her blithering assistant swiftly, stepped into the hallway to nearly collide with the - "Monsignor!"

"Sister Jude!" Timothy Howard smiled handsomely. (He did everything handsomely.) "I was just coming to parlay with you." He peered past her shoulder. "Well, hello, Sister Mary Eunice!" His smile fell. "Are you quite all right?"

"She's fine." Jude assured, patting Eunice's head.

"I'm fine." Eunice sniffled.

The priest looked between the two women. "Good." He nodded. "Good. I assume Eunice has told you our exciting news, Sister Jude?"

"Exciting news?" She wasn't ready for exciting news. Behind her, Eunice was shaking her head, gesturing frantically to Timothy. Jude spun to face her. "What was yar exciting news, Sistah?"

"Um..." Her voice quivered.

"Our pumpkins will arrive any moment now, Sister." Timothy peered around Jude at Eunice. "I'm very excited."

"Pumpkins." Jude breathed. She smiled at Eunice, who cowered. "What...pumpkins?"

"It's decorative gourd season, Sister!" Timothy exclaimed. He took hold of Jude's shoulders, obviously tickled pink. Leaned into her ear. "And if you could oversee the acquisition of a few tubs for the common room. For the apple bobbing." His hands patted her shoulders as he pulled away. "Sister Mary Eunice, I greatly anticipate tonight's festivities."

"Thank you, Father!" Eunice waved at him as he left Jude's office.

"Eunice?"

"Yes, Sister Jude?"

"How many pumpkins are arriving?"

"Just one load, Sister."

"One...load?"

"Mmhm." Eunice was backing toward the door.

"Eunice. I have a good mind ta give you a solid beating. One lick far every pumpkin that's about ta come through these doors."

"Oh, Sister Jude! I don't -"

"Get out!" Eunice got out.

Jude made her way to the kitchen on an absolute war path. There'd been more than enough shenanigans already and there were more shenanigans to come. She wasn't best pleased. But there was coffee in the percolator at least, and she poured a cup, ignoring the bustle of kitchen staff. The dark roast was heavenly. She closed her eyes, savoring its flavor, manufacturing a peaceful world in her mind. A utopia where there were no pumpkins. No lunatics. No apple bobbing. No -

"No cream?"

"What?" Her eyes snapped open.

Frank, her trusted head of security peered over her shoulder into her cup. "No cream today?"

"What are you doin' here?" She asked. "I gave you the day off."

He shrugged. "The Monsignor called me in. Somethin' about a festival tonight. I'm apparently here ta oversee a delivery of gourds and apples, then help monitor the situation?"

Jude slammed her mug on the counter. "He called you in?!"

"He called me in."

"Am I not in charge here?"

"Yer in charge everywhere, boss."

Jude was incredulous. "I make schedules far good reason, Frank." Suddenly a man appeared with a clipboard. Jude signed something, still ranting. "I make schedules so that things run smoothly here. And when someone goes behind my back and orders gourds or arranges parties for crazy people or..." She realized a commotion in the area. "What is going on here?"

"Pumpkins." Frank pointed to the double doors of the service entrance. A pickup truck backed to park there. *beep beep beep* It bent beneath the weight of the pumpkins piled inside it.

Jude stared at the bright orange gourds piled high back of the truck. Her eyes rolled to Heaven. "God. Give me strength." The security guard chuckled. "Frank. Do me a favah, will ya? Will ya do me a kindness?"

"Of course, Sister."

"Drown me in one of those apple tubs."

"Awww, Sister Jude." The man leaned close to her. "Don't be like that. It's decorative gourd season!"

Jude took her coffee - seeing as she clearly wasn't needed for what should have been her job - and headed back up interminable stairs to her office. She saw Dr. Arthur Arden walking away from her door and she considered fleeing in the opposite direction but the physician was quick. The wiry ones always were. "Ah, Sister Jude!"

She steadied her slightly sloshing coffee. "Yes, Dr. Arden. How can I help you?" He followed her into her office.

"Well, a bit of a concern."

"Oh, please no more concerns." A desperate sip. "I have enough as it is this morning."

"Far be it from me to question your judgment, Sister -"

"It doesn't seem terribly far if you're actively doing it, Doctor." She gestured for him to sit and sat herself.

Arden chuffed self-deprecatingly. "Touché, touché." A breath. "I'm concerned about the...festivities you've arranged for this evening."

"I assure you I've arranged nothing, Doctor. And I imagine I share quite a few of yar pressing concerns. I can envision only devastation resulting."

He floundered a bit. "So who -"

"Mary Eunice."

"Ah." Sense fell. "Forgive me again, Sister, but doesn't your assistant require your approval before -"

"She has the Monsignor's approval, apparently. It seems I'm as powerless as a pup to prevent the coming apocalypse."

Arden rubbed his forehead. "We're basically arming them, Sister."

"Indeed." She drank long from her coffee while Arden stewed. "Do you have any recommendations?"

He shrugged, seeming powerless himself. "I could fill those apple tubs with tranquilizers."

A smile threatened the nun's harried visage. "Do it."

At 4 pm, she went to survey the preparations. The common room was indeed ... festive. There were a few sad wreaths of fall leaves dangling here and there. Tables were covered in orange plastic. There were colorful cups stacked neatly around a punch bowl. Jude smirked, recognizing them as color coded medicine cups. She was briefly relieved to see the three apple bobbing bins were quite shallow, set up in a row along a bank of card tables. Stacks of pumpkin-shaped spice cookies beckoned and for just a moment - a fleeting moment - Jude was inclined to try one.

But something held her back. Something impenetrable - an energy shield of some sort - prevented her from fully entering the room even. She could only gape in the door, finally fully recognizing the scope of this diabolical operation: the pumpkins.

They were everywhere. A veritable plague of gourds in all shapes, sizes and colors. She'd never known pumpkins existed in any color other than garish orange but there they were - strange bulbous units ranging from dusky brown to gray, golden and outright white. Some were the size of her head. Some were conveniently palm sized but the big ones. She swallowed. The big ones.

Menacing gourds that seemed to be institutions within themselves. They were the centerpieces on multiple tables. One threatened to crush the piano. Suddenly she realized one was peeking from behind the couch near her leg and she gasped. Her fingers trembled at her lips.

Guaranteed disaster. She pictured pumpkin guts coating every surface, oozing beneath thresholds, dripping from the ceiling mingling with the blood of lunatics. She imagined herself opening the common room doors to be absolutely engulfed in a flood of seeds, sludge, blood and fluids of all kinds. This was not good.

"Isn't it wonderful, sister?" Eunice swept past her, arms laden with bins of...something that looked dangerous.

"Mary Eunice. I'm not so certain this is going to be -"

"Clean?" The little nun interrupted apologetically. "I've anticipated a mess, I assure you. Several sisters have already volunteered to stay up and help me tidy the common room tonight."

"You might want to consider calling in the special forces."

"I must say you have outdone yourself, Sister Mary Eunice!" Jude half turned to see the Monsignor approaching, Frank bringing up his rear. "This is quite inviting."

"Inviting disaster." Jude heard Frank's quiet mumble. She was inclined to agree.

Father Howard clearly did not hear the aside. He was weaving in and out of pumpkins, impressed. "Incredible how large they get, isn't it?" He was delighted, smiling like an idiot. "You know, Sister Jude? I think I could fit inside this one." He thumped the giant gourd. It echoed like a timpani drum.

Frank leaned close to Jude. "You could climb in one of 'em, Sister. I'll sneak ya out back."

She bit her smile. "Yar an angel, Frank."

Eunice was placing trays on each table. Jude took a closer look and nearly fainted. "Eunice. These are murdah kits."

"They're pumpkin carving tools, Sister!" She held up a tiny serrated knife, made a sawing motion. "See?"

Jude snatched the implement. "Any othah day we would call this contraband. Fathah." She appealed to the priest. "You can't seriously think -"

"I think that extra supervision and security -" He nodded toward Frank who was shaking his head imperceptibly "- will ensure the safety of all patients and staff. Eunice? Let's try these delicious cookies."

He was done with Jude. She took a deep breath. "Frank. I'm worried far yar safety."

"Eh." The guard shrugged. "I was a marine."

She turned oh her heel to the door. Best to walk away. She had to. For her own sanity. Eunice called after her. "Will you join us, Sister Jude? Just an hour now."

"Unfartunately I have a great deal of work to catch up on, Sistah." She spoke over a retreating shoulder. "I'm afraid I'll be indisposed far the evening."

"I think ya just afraid," Frank whispered.

"Shut up, Frank."

She cloistered herself. Her office was quiet. A bastion on the worst days. So far, this evening seemed no exception. It hadn't been a complete lie. There was work to catch up on. But by 6:30, it was complete. She pushed away from her desk and had a hard listen.

Silence. Surprising, wonderful silence. She paced a little. Her stomach growled. She was hungry, but also curious. Just a peek then. Even the hallway was quiet. In an overabundance of caution, she checked over the banister. Nothing downstairs.

A trip to the kitchens would pass the common room. Just a peek then.

And she wasn't the only one having a peek. Leaning against the common room door, quite unassuming, was Dr. Arden. He seemed so engrossed he didn't hear the nun's soft approach. "Everything alright in there?"

"Holy Christ!" Arthur spluttered, clutching his chest.

"Not quite."

"You startled me, Sister."

"I'm good at that."

"Truly." He gestured. "I'm honestly amazed." She peered through the door. The common room was full - nuns and patients, malingering security, bored orderlies. Jude saw Frank in the furthest corner, reading a newspaper. Carl was shoving cookies into his mouth by the banquet tables. Eunice was laughing - laughing- leaned over a table with Shelley, Pepper, and the Mexican.

And they were carving pumpkins.

All of them. Lunatics of every description were wielding tiny tools of destruction and...carving fucking pumpkins. "God works in mysterious ways," Jude whispered. Then considered. "Did you really put tranquilizers in the apple bins?"

"No." Arden grimaced. "I didn't have enough on hand."

"Hmm."

"I put in a requisition for more, though. Just to be safe."

"Of course, of course." She sniffed. "Well. I'm going to grab some dinnah, Doctah. I hope you have a peaceful evening."

"I believe we will, Sister Jude."

If only she had known he'd spoken too soon. But as much insight as a person can have, as much their nihilism might cloud a hope for positivity, as much their black clouds might obscure a rainbow - that person can still unfortunately be falsely secured. And it was true what Jude spoke. God does work in mysterious ways. However - cradled by the blissful outcome of the decorative gourd carving in progress - she forgot a most pertinent truth: the devil also works in mysterious ways.

She made it through a tranquil dinner. She even had a relaxing bath. She made it through evening prayers. She donned her long, cotton gown and thrilled to the thought of retiring early. She fluffed her pillow. She settled beneath her sheets and quilt. She began to drift almost immediately, having the audacity to look forward to a wonderful report tomorrow morning from Mary Eunice. She even embarked on the beginnings of a lovely dream involving some kittens and a cheese wheel.

Klaxons. A cacophonous ringing. Shaking the kittens from her head she bolted upright. "What the devil?" The devil indeed.

A banging at her door. "Sistah! It's Frank."

Obviously. She was pulling on a slipper as she hopped to her chamber door. And what she saw there? Nevermore.

It was ghastly. Too terrible to describe. Frank - covered head to toe in pumpkin eviscera, bleeding from a small cut above his eye. "Frank!" She clutched her gown over her heart. "What is -"

"It's the goddamn gourdmageddon down there!" The man gasped, stumbling into her room. She watched him right himself, taking her shoulders in desperate hands. The bell still rung. The red light blared, turning the hallway outside into a Dantean backdrop. "We've called in the reserves."

"The reserves!" She stammered. A piercing scream overrode her. Overrode all the other piercing screams she could hear from below. This was a scream of true terror. A woman fleeing her highest horror. Jude pushed past Frank into the hallway. "Eunice?!"

The scream doppled closer, approaching at an alarming rate. Frank drew his gun, shielding Jude who peered over his shoulder wide-eyed at -

"Monsignor!"

The priest barrelled toward them like a great black bird, the scream still emanating from his throat. "Save me!" He shouted, diving past Jude and Frank to scramble against her wall. He scrambled because every part of him was soaked and dripping pumpkin innards. "He's coming!"

"Who's coming?" Jude knelt quickly, assessing Timothy.

"The - the pumpkin man!"

"Oh no." Frank hissed. "I'll take him out, Jude. I swear."

"Who the hell is the pumpkin man?"

"I don't know!" Timothy yelled, clutching her gown. "He - he appeared during the apple bobbing. He has a pumpkin for a head and a craving for blood!"

"Son of a bitch nearly took my eye out with his saw claws!" Frank bit out. "He's some kinda demon! He showed up and now the lunatics are running the asylum!"

"Nonsense." But suddenly other red lights appeared, flashing through Jude's window. "Looks like the troops are here, Frank." She dashed past him. "Cover me." Into her office, keys quick from her pocket, she flung open the cabinet by the door. The canes glistened in the moonlight. She grabbed her favorite, and her second favorite. Back in the hall, Frank was easing to the stairs, back hugging the wall. Jude took up position against the other wall.

"I'm gonna have ta get back down there and open the main doors."

"Right." She nodded tightly. "I'll covah ya." Instinctively, perhaps driven by some innate response to blaring alarms, they crouched. Frank low crawled against the right wall while Jude took a kneeling gait down the left, way eyes scanning ahead and behind. Shadows danced here and there and beneath the screaming alert, there was human screaming.

They reached the landing, banister in sight, and Frank gestured for Jude to hold position. She paused until his two fingers flicked twice - 'go.' A quick, stiff glance around the corner revealed only flickering red and blackness. The nun rolled to the banister smoothly, blew blonde curls from her eyes and met Frank's intense stare. "Clear," she whispered.

He crawled fast - echoes of Iwo Jima in every salamander like sway - to the edge of the stairs and Jude watched him disappear over the threshold like a spill of oil. Using a cane in each hand for ballast, she began her own descent, still hugging each step. She froze at the unmistakable sounds of bare feet slapping against wet tile. The showers. That explained the sound of running water beginning to penetrate the ruckus.

On the second floor landing she straightened, controlling her shock at encountering a veritable flood of water. It pooled about an inch high over her slippers, swirling before sluicing over the top step. She grimaced and abandoned the slippers, made the mistake of checking the corridor.

In the flashing red beacon, she could see the stark outlines of...people? Patients. Grotesque figures clearly naked frolicking and possibly even fornicating in the glinting splashes of water. Hieronymus Bosch himself could not have constructed a scene of such utter terror and debasement. She was frozen, nearly hypnotized by the horrific shadow puppetry, but awakened violently by chill droplets near her eye. "Gah!"

Shaking her head she looked up and wished she had not. Impossibly, the slick, black figures seemed to writhe across the ceiling, approaching her position swiftly. "Oh, God," she whispered, backing to the stairs. "What is happening here?"

Her bare foot registered the edge of the landing too late and she shouted, losing her balance, certain she would tumble to her death or worse - the wicked machinations of gravity-defying wet lunatics.

But a solid form bastioned her suddenly, firm hands gripping her upper arms to steady. Both scared and grateful she whipped her head to see - "Dr. Arden!"

"Shhhh." A finger to his thin lips. The man settled her swiftly, securely, just a step beneath him. He whispered tersely. "I passed Mr. McCann on the way up. He told me about that." A head jerk toward the shower room orgy in progress. "I'll take care of it. You should get somewhere safe, Sister. The chapel is secured and most ancillary staff is cloistered there."

"But -" Suddenly he clasped a hand over mouth, silencing any protest and cocked his head. In this second, Jude took him in completely. He was bedecked in black himself, surprisingly muscular in a tight tee. Across his chest was an X of belts strapped to capacity with some sort of syringes.

"D'you hear that?" He asked, tension clipping his tone. Indeed, somewhere echoing in the vast firmament, Jude heard a bone-chilling scraping sound - a sound determined to make nails on a chalkboard hang its head in shame. "It's the pumpkin man." He released her. "Go, quickly. Stay in the light." Jude nodded, perfectly willing to trust a man who was suddenly drawing a shotgun from behind his back. She watched him load it with one of those syringes as she backed down the banister and realized - tranquilizer darts. He seemed torn between the still approaching hoard of soggy lunatics and the possibility of hunting down a more pressing foe: the pumpkin man. But she saw immediacy demand action. He was leveling the gun at the second floor ceiling when she turned to flee downstairs in earnest, hearing a satisfying succession of pops, plops and splashes.

Clearly, Arden had this.

On the main floor, she ducked quickly beneath the stairway. She needed a moment to gain her bearings. The damnable alarm still blared, but the red flash was less invasive here. The main doors were still secured. She could only expect - hope - that Frank had allowed in the troops and re-locked the facility. Or perhaps he had opted for a back entrance. She listened intently for the sounds of marching, military shouts, anything other than echoing manic laughter and occasional screams. But nothing.

Crossing herself with her canes, she checked her six. Only a few yards down that dark corridor to the chapel, which Arden had assured her was secure. But Arden had also warned her to stay in the light. And that was the darkest corridor of all. She checked her 3 o'clock. Saw the common room for the first time.

One door was broken - unhinged like the rest of Briarcliff at the moment. The other was open, propped by an enormous yet grossly mangled pumpkin. And anything she had imagined could not have prepared her for even the glimpse of Hell inside.

How could pumpkin innards stretch so far? From floor to ceiling it dripped and clung like some terrible tarantula's inescapable webbing. Tables were overturned. The room was also flooded, whether from the second floor or the apple bobbing tubs she wasn't certain and she hoped to the Holy Father that the dark swirls in the drink weren't blood.

No time for that, though. She was only a few yards from the main entrance. Her keys were heavy in her wet pocket, caressing her thigh like a promise of freedom. She could simply leave...

But she couldn't. What of Mary Eunice? Jude clenched her eyes in a quick prayer. Hoping against hope that her young, naive charge was secured in the chapel - or had escaped these Hellish halls - fretting in the back of an army van outside. She had to be certain. The chapel then. Dark corridor be damned.

Three quick rolls took her across the main floor, marble chill from the pooling water. Against the far wall, she slithered upright like a liquid snake. Blew a shank of tangled curls from her face. And that was becoming annoying. So she bent, gripped, and tore. Steadying canes between her knees, she tied tightly her gown's hem around her forehead, legs freed up for movement by a few more inches now. Good.

Perhaps 20 yards to the chapel? 15? Past the gymnasium, past the security office door, past the door to Arden's basement laboratories. She took a deep breath and ducked across to the opposite wall. Less doors this way. She could keep an eye on every orifice. Canes a protective cross, she commenced sliding toward the chapel.

The lights flickered blue in the alcoves she passed, casting a strange strobe into the hall. There was the constant sound of dripping, the flood persisting from above; water, swirling and sloshing around her feet, descending into the basement; still the occasional echoing hoot or howl of a mental patient.

She wondered where the troops were. Wondered how Frank might be faring - and Arden. She prayed, too - prayed that she would find Mary Eunice in the chapel, and that the young nun was well and intact. And she was soon to find out - only a few strides to go now.

But then a new sound. That scraping sound. It echoed in the corridor and Jude froze, unable to decipher the sound's origin. Behind her? Or before her? The hair bristled along the back of her neck when a new sound joined the scraping: guttural, a clicking in the throat that made her own throat ache. She bit her lips. Just there - just diagonal was the entrance to the basement. Not even thinking, she dodged into it, pressed into the deeper shadows to hide.

But that may have been a mistake.

The scraping stopped. The groaning stopped. Jude cursed silently. She could sense its nearness. The pumpkin man. And now it seemed to sense her too.

Slap. A footfall. Slap. Another footfall. The scraping resumed soooo slowly. And there was...breathing. An echoing, broken...pumpkin breath. It was so close...

She shook. From fear yes but from something else, too: adrenaline. Fight and flight had met in the smoky bar of Jude's brain, had a gnashing one night stand, and created a startling emotion baby called attack. So she crouched, centered herself in the dark doorway and waited.

Slap. Slap. Scrape. Slap. Slap. Scrape.

It couldn't have been human - the thing she saw step into the flickering blue. Just that brief glimpse - the water a mirror beneath it - it couldn't have been fully human. Yes it was dressed almost like a human - in what appeared to be a ragged Briarcliff patient's gown but the rest of it suggested something unholy, unworldly. She swallowed, eyes traveling up skeletal legs that bent on feet more like three taloned claws and just there - only centimeters from the tip of her nose yes: fingers that were tiny saws. They'd been scraping down the walls as it walked - as it hunted.

Jude squeezed her eyes shut against the image. Maybe it would pass her by - its ominous floating gourd head rolling on pointed shoulders. Maybe it could hear the shouts of other prey. Maybe it would turn and chase another target. Maybe it would -

What was that on her face? Something slimy slid down the side of her nose and onto her lip. Reflexively she spat and her eyes fired open to see its horrid face hovering directly over her own.

There was no head to speak of. Poorly carved, uneven eye holes with no soul inside, no light, no means. A grinning, jagged, sharp carved pumpkin grin that moved - opened wide enough to engulf Jude's own head.

"Noooo!" She mustered all her strength into the scream and the launch, throwing herself into what could pass for a body. The ploy worked. It was unbalanced, its giant head making for shitty fluid dynamics. However, its slender, extended arms made for dangerous weapons themselves; it managed to get in a solid swipe across Judes chest.

She hissed at the sting, nearly dropping her defense, but she was determined by terror. She rounded on the thing, landed a weak but centered blow against its back. It took another stumble. A supernatural shriek emanated from its mouth as it scrambled to right itself and another slicing slash - this one contacting the nun's arm. "Ah!" This was a deeper pain, and yes she dropped a cane, immediately realizing the danger in her fumble. She dove for the lengthy baton, fingers barely brushing its handle when suddenly cold, cutting fingers wrapped her ankles, tugged her with supernatural strength.

She yelped, twisting in the thin flood and thank goodness for it because it made her right ankle just slippery enough to sleek through a no doubt deadly grip. She kicked out, awkwardly contacting her attacker's neck. It swiped again, hissing anger, and suddenly lunging up her body.

It was a chilling shock - the surprising solidness - heaviness of the creature. Jude slammed a knee into its side, nearly dislodging it but fully angering it. Seated on her belly, it delivered a glancing backhand, enough to momentarily stymie her.

But also enough to give her nearly a full turn. Ignoring the pain in her elbow and wrist, she shoved herself toward the discarded cane. The pumpkin man saw her intent and cuffed her soundly back of her neck. "Fuck!" Jude cried out, nose and lip crunching against the floor. One pain canceled another and her fingers wrapped securely the cane's slippery handle. Saw fingers tangled in her hair and she felt herself being pulled to her feet. Fine.

She twisted against the tearing pain in her scalp, fueled by fury and fear. She managed another blow against the creature's side. It bent, slicing hair, seeking purchase. Saw fingers tinked against the wet cement floor as it pushed itself upright again. But Jude was faster. She swung a cane up, over her head, gathered momentum and let the weapon fly.

A sickening crunch when her rod connected with the gourd. The creature momentarily crumbled, its shriek deepening as she scrambled further away from it. "I fuckin' hate pumpkins," she muttered.

She swung again. Another cracking blow. "Decorative." Another blow. "Fucking." Another blow. "Gourds!" She stepped over the now withering creature, one cane cracked from the ferocity of Jude's attack. She tossed it aside. Flipping the second cane in both hands, she prepared to stab. "I'm gonna send ya back to the patch, you piece of -"

"OVER HERE!"

She turned at the shout, nearly blinded by a series of leaping, glaring flashlight beams. Clearly the troops had arrived. "Just in time," Jude whispered, turning back to her quarry.

But it was gone.

"What the -"

"Sistah Jude?" Frank grabbed her shoulders, turning her as six or seven soldiers hutted by. "Are ya alright?"

"Frank!" She gestured, flummoxed. "He was right there! I had him! Did you see him?"

"Who ya talkin' about, Sistah?"

"The - the pumpkin man!" She turned again, pointing to her victim. "He was right...no." She shook her head, kneeling. Frank bent beside her, reaching for the broken jack o'lantern. He held up a piece between them, met Jude's eyes over the jagged, sharp pumpkin grin.

"Sister! Sister Jude!" No more would be spoken on the mystery. Mary Eunice had been freed from the chapel and ran pell mell toward Jude. The older sister stood, allowing the small nun to engulf her in a desperate hug. "I thought the worst!" Eunice spluttered. "I was so afraid. I'm so sorry, Sister Jude! So sorry! I promise I'll get this all cleaned! I promise I'll -"

"Eunice." Jude pushed up her charge's chin. "No more pumpkins. Ever again. Never. Ya hear?"

Eunice's lips trembled. "Yes, sister."

A heavy sigh. Jude's head rolled on her neck. Everything hurt. Everything burned. She spat blood over Eunice's shoulder, patted her young charge's back. "Good."

Alarms were back online. Doors were secured. Patients were locked away, medicated, or monitored in the makeshift hospital unit set up in the gymnasium. There was an inquest scheduled, of course, and Jude made the final arrangements with a detective as the last of the marine reserves hutted out the front entrance. She watched the military jeeps, firetrucks, ambulances and police vehicles depart. Slowly - achingly - made her way back into the still flooded foyer.

Frank secured the door succinctly behind her. "Sistah."

"Yeah, Frank."

"I think the pumpkins were um...a bad idea."

"Do ya, Frank? Do ya?"

The guard shrugged, gestured to her torso and other bits. "You oughta get looked at, too. Little busted up."

"Frank?"

"What?"

"Why don't you go clean some pumpkin guts."

The guard shuffled toward the common room, grumbling. Jude leaned against the banister. "He's not wrong."

She was beyond startling. Simply raised a brow as Arthur Arden slipped out of the shadows. "I was gonna come find ya, doctah."

"Hm. No doubt." He pointed to the bottom step. "Sit, please." She sat. Arthur knelt and cracked his black bag. He was quick in his ministrations. Jude hissed at iodine and winced at every bandage. "I'm going to give you a mild pain reliever."

"Oh, go on and give me a strong one."

He chuckled, usually serious grimace nearly grinning. "You'll be dreadfully sore for several days."

Jude nodded. "You, too. Looks like you took yar own lumps tanight, doctah." He sported a swelling, darkening eye and a bandage around his own cranium.

"We both fought singular battles, I suspect." Jude swallowed heavily as he bandaged both her ankles. He studied the strange scrapes there carefully. "You saw it."

"I fought it."

"Did you kill it?"

She shook her head. Their whispers were loud in the sudden water-insulated silence. "I don't know."

He nodded. "Either way. My respect." He finally stood, satisfied with her treatments. He watched the nun quietly take her leave, her bandaged ankles stark beneath torn gown as she mounted the stairs. He could tell she was unsettled.

Not surprising.

The cleaning crew was moving into the foyer now, mops swaying. Arthur made his way to his lab, pausing outside the basement entrance. He knelt. Picked up a bit of broken pumpkin missed by the cleaners.It was tangled in a shank of blonde curls. His lips quirked in disappointment.

In his lab, he retrieved the wheelie bin from its nook. Parked it at the end of the stainless steel table and sadly swept the detritus away. A few discarded gourds. The remnants of a bad brain. A rejected eye. Four unnecessary toes. The few tiny saws that bent in production.

He covered the mess with a heavy oilcloth and sighed. The nun was good. He had to give her that. He'd been honest when he offered his respect. She was a challenge.

It meant he'd have to do much better next time.