CHAPTER 16- A LONG SHOT
Sheriff Robinson was fully dressed and racing toward the cemetery in a matter of minutes. He had called the station and made it perfectly clear that this was no joke or drill whatsoever, and had three cruisers and an ambulance en route to the scene along with him. He couldn’t help but think about the immense amount of suffering that that poor man was going through right now, and he felt lucky to be alive and breathing fresh air.
The steady downpour had diminished to an annoying drizzle, but the wind was still howling and blowing wet leaves everywhere. Sheriff Robinson didn’t care or change his driving one bit. Speeding along at nearly fifty miles per hour, he made a sharp turn, sending the rear end of the car into a fishtail. But all the years of high-speed chases paid off, as he easily brought it back under control.
He kept replaying in his head what Loomis told him over the phone, hoping he didn’t miss anything important. Basically, what he got out of it was that Loomis was buried alive in Laurie Strode’s grave plot, and luckily, he knew exactly where that was.
And by gods someone had to put him there, too. He wasn’t exactly sure if he wanted to accept the fact that it was indeed Michael Myers. But if it was him, he knew it was gonna be a long night.
Minutes later, the blue siren on his dashboard reflected brightly in the night sky as he pulled up along the cemetery, coming to a screeching halt at its iron-gated entrance. He rushed back to his trunk and pulled out two shovels and a pick axe. He heard other sirens approaching in the distance as he took off in an all-out sprint toward the gravesite. He was confident his boys would be able to follow his trail, but just for good measure, he brought along a flare.
He arrived at the grave not long after that, and wasn’t surprised at all to find the loose dirt where there should have been fresh grass, and a few empty shell casings sprinkled across it.
Good, the Sheriff thought, hopefully he got a few shots in. Then, frantically, he began to dig into the wet, thick mud as his backup arrived behind him.
“Sheriff, what the hell is going on?” One of the men, winded, asked in complete confusion. “Is it Michael Myers? Has he returned?”
“Oh my God, he has, hasn’t he?” The three troopers seemed to all ask at once.
“There’s no time!” the Sheriff barked at them. “Just shut up and dig, damnit!”
Two of the men obediently grabbed shovels and began digging alongside Sheriff Robinson. They’d been on the force long enough to know you didn’t argue or ask questions when the Sheriff was mad.
“I don’t got a shovel, what should I do?” the younger of the three officers asked.
“Damnit rookie! Pull a perimeter watch and get the god-damned paramedics here already!” Sheriff Robinson yelled, never looking up from digging.
Minutes later, the Sheriff and his officers were momentarily distracted by the glare of the red light approaching in the distance. At the same the ambulance arrived on the scene, the trio of men finally struck the wooden coffin.
“Loomis, we’re here, just hang in there! We’re gonna get you out!” the Sheriff shouted as one of the other troopers tried to pry open the lid with the pick axe.
Sheriff Robinson kept shouting down toward the casket, but there wasn’t so much as a moan from inside.
The paramedics had finally found them, and the Sheriff faintly heard the rookie cop trying to explain the situation to them.
After what seemed like an eternity, the three men got a good grip on the coffin lid and ripped it completely off its hinges. What they found inside was the face of a man who had just been through the most horrible experience in the world. His face seemed frozen in agony and he was completely soaked from head to toe in perspiration. He was making faint wheezing sounds, but his eyes were totally glazed over.
“Medics! Medics!” the Sheriff yelled as they gently lifted Dr. Loomis out of the coffin and onto the wet soggy ground above. The two paramedics quickly rushed over to the body and began to work on him.
The two medics then gave each other a look, then glanced over at Sheriff Robinson with that same look, and that sent chills down his spine; it was the look that they were too late.
Then the one called in a helicopter for an emergency evacuation, and while he was doing that, Loomis reached a hand up in the air and gasped one single word: “Myers!” before fainting or finally dying. Either way, he was no longer capable of fighting this war any longer. That left only Sheriff Robinson and his young, inexperienced police force to handle the situation, and they were nowhere close to being prepared for the horrors they would encounter on this day.
Not by a long shot.
Proceed To Chapter 17
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