CHAPTER 15- BURIED ALIVE
When Dr. Loomis finally came to, his first thought was that he had died and this was hell. He was in hell with no vision and no hearing and left to wonder aimlessly around dark caves for the rest of eternity. Then he took a deep breath, but when he wasn’t able to inhale the normal amount of crisp, clean autumn air, that’s when it hit him.
He wasn’t dead. He was merely knocked unconscious, and Michael nearly succeeded in choking him to death. So if he wasn’t dead, and he wasn’t in hell, just where in the fuck was he?
He tried to sit up to gather his thoughts, but immediately bumped his head on something hard directly above him. Alarmed, he reached his hands up into the darkness to feel what it was, but his hands wouldn’t go over a foot above his laid out body. Panic then flared up inside him as he frantically shot his hands to his sides, once again reaching a solid obstacle. At that point, he began thrusting his legs up and down but only succeeded in banging his knee hard off of whatever was above him.
“No, this is impossible!” he thought to himself. But it was possible, and Dr. John Loomis now found himself buried alive in the very coffin he meant as a decoy for Michael Myers.
Once reality began to set in, his body broke out into a cold sweat. Panic quickly spread across his body, striking his heart as his whole body began to thrust in a single motion screaming to be let out. His brain still couldn’t comprehend what was happening while the rest of his body went off of instinct to escape at all costs, but there would be no escape. The panic and fear was so intense, that he started to have a mild seizure. While all this was occurring, his brain finally got back on the same wave length as the rest of his body, and brought him back under control.
“Relax, think, I need to think!” John told himself with his eyes closed, trying to black out the image of complete darkness. He had never known darkness was so black until now. For some reason, he remembered a fact from his military training. He had no idea why or even when he learned it, but for some reason, he knew that a person could potentially survive in an enclosed space such as a sealed coffin for three hours until all the oxygen ran out.
“Three hours, I can’t stand another moment like this,” he told himself. He wanted the suffering to end now and end quickly, and reached for his gun. Surely he’d be able to remove the wet bullets and replace them with dry ones from his pants pocket. So that’s what he did, all while keeping his eyes closed and taking small short breaths to keep from having another seizure. However, when he reached into his pocket to pull out the bullet that would end his life, he instead found his cell phone, and a ray of hope came to him.
He quickly pulled it out and flipped it open, and the small, enclosed casket was immediately filled with an eerie, neon green light. John had his eyes open for this, and seeing his reflection on the phone instantly brought back all the panic and fright. Trying to avoid any further complications, he shut his eyes and slowly counted to ten until he had his breathing back under control again. He knew he would have to open his eyes again to dial the number, but this time he was prepared for it.
He opened his eyes but only focused them on the phone, and managed to find Sheriff Robinson’s number in the memory. “Thank God I got his number when I did,” John said out loud as he hit the send button, praying to have service.
He was relieved when the phone began to ring on the other end, and after about six rings, Don Robinson answered with a sleepily and annoyed, “This better be good.”
“Oh, thank god Sheriff! Please, I need your help!” John panted as he managed to bend his arm enough to hold the phone up to his ear.
“What? Who is this?” Don replied from the other end, his voice becoming more alert.
“This is John Loomis, I met you today,” Loomis reminded him. “I need you to come to the cemetery as quickly as you can, and bring and shovel with extra men, and call an ambulance.” John struggled, but managed to state every word slowly and clearly, careful not to let the panic rise in his voice.
“Is this some kind of sick joke, Loomis?” Robinson answered angrily. “Do you expect me to just get up in the middle of the night in a downpour and come to the damn cemetery?”
“Sheriff, please, there isn’t much time,” Loomis pleaded. “I beg of you. Michael was here and now he thought he killed me, so he buried me inside Laurie Strode’s coffin. I know this sounds crazy, but you gotta believe me.” John, realizing how outrageous his story sounded, prayed that if the Sheriff would only come here he would see the loose dirt and know that this wasn’t some Halloween prank.
“You expect me to believe that bullshit Loomis?” Don asked, still angry.
John went to respond, but the phone beeped. When he glanced at it, he noticed that the battery was about to die, and if he couldn’t persuade the Sheriff soon, he would die right along with it.
“Donald, please!” Loomis shouted, starting to come unraveled. “If you don’t come soon, I’m going to suffocate. Please, you must hurry! I don’t have much air left!”
With that, he heard another beep, and then a click. His phone was dead.
“You really aren’t shitting me, are you?!” Don asked, now seeming concerned.
He really started to worry when he heard no response on the other end of the line.
“Loomis?” Don called out into the phone. “Loomis, are you there?”
Okay, Don thought. That’s enough to convince me.
“Okay, pilgrim, you hang in there, I’m on my way,” Don stated into the dead phone line, slamming the receiver down.
It was now a race against time for Sheriff Robinson, and time was quickly running out.
Proceed To Chapter 16
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