“Dr. Loomis, Dr. Starks will see you now,” said the cheerful voice of a young secretary as she flashed a well-practiced smile at the middle-aged doctor.

“Thank you,” Loomis mumbled as he got out of the cushioned chair and walked through the tall oak door that the secretary held open for him.

“Good afternoon, John, have a seat,” said Dr. David Starks, chief of medical operations at Smith’s Grove Warren County Sanitarium. Starks, a short, chubby, middle-aged man, attended medical school with John Loomis, and in many ways, their careers paralleled. However, John got drafted by the Marines late in the Vietnam War, and the rest was history.

Loomis sat down in the designated chair in front of Starks’ desk, folding his long black trench coat over his khaki Dockers as he leaned back and just gleamed at Dr. Starks.

Loomis was an intimidating man here in the halls of the sanitarium. It was either because of the slight limp he had from taking a bullet in the war, or because he was the nephew of Dr. Sam Loomis, a legend in the history of Smith’s Grove.

And to top it all off, John was the only doctor in the entire building who would take Michael Myers as his patient, something Loomis himself had insisted.

“Listen, I know why you’re here, but this decision came down from the board of trustees. John, I had nothing to do with it,” Dr. Starks tried to explain. For some reason, being alone with John had always made David feel a little uneasy. This time was no different. His stomach was in knots.

“Damnit, David, don’t lie to me!” John roared as he brought his fist down on his desk and made David jump back in his seat.

“I’m serious, John, I had no influence on the decision to move Myers to minimum security,” Starks desperately tried to clarify. “It comes straight from the board. Besides, it’s the law. If a patient shows that much progress in just under a year, we must move him to minimum security in order to help expedite the rehabilitation process.”

“Don’t tell me about the laws and procedures of normal men,” Loomis fired back sternly. “These laws don’t apply to that thing.”

“I told you, John, you can’t keep referring to him as ‘that thing’. It’s not the way we treat our patients here,” David answered.

“No, I told YOU, David, that thing you call a ‘man’ is not a man more than this chair is,” Loomis yelled. “Now, I request an appeal and that Michael not be moved until it is heard.”

“It's too late,” David hesitantly informed him, awaiting John’s next eruption. “Michael was moved early this morning to his new room on the east wing before you arrived.”

However, instead of erupting, John just sighed a deep breath and glanced over at David’s calendar on the wall. “Do you know what this weekend is?” he asked calmly.

“Yes, we’re all very aware it’s Halloween this weekend, and that’s exactly why we chose to move him now rather then later, in order to prove to everyone else what we here already know...” David replied.

Loomis just stared at him with disbelief, awaiting the next mouthful of horse manure that was about to come out.

“...that Michael Myers has been successfully rehabilitated thanks to Smith’s Grove Sanitarium!!!” David proudly stated, but trailed off as he appeared to be talking to himself, finishing with, “Wow, just picture the headlines.”

“You, my old friend are a fool,” Loomis simply stated without any emotion in his voice. “And the board of trustees has not decided to move Michael to minimum security. They’ve decided to bring death back to this area, and its death they will get.”

“I thwarted him last year, and I’ll do it again this year, and every year if I have to,” he concluded as if in deep thought.

“Yeah, that’s another thing I have to talk to you about,” David interrupted, shifting uneasily in his chair. “The board has also decided to put you on a temporary leave of absence until the transaction of moving Myers has been completed.”

“What?!” John shouted, jumping out of his chair.

“Please, calm down John, it’s no big deal,” David tried to reassure him. “It’s only going to be for a few weeks.” John, however, continued to rant on as though he never even spoke.

“In a few weeks, Michael will have gutted the entire staff at this joke of a sanitarium!” Loomis continued, still outraged.

“Now, John, I feel confident in the decision handed down, and if you don’t lower your voice this instant I will be forced to have security remove you from the premises,” David replied strongly and sternly in his voice of authority, even though his insides were screaming for him to run away from this madman before he hurt you.

“That won’t be necessary,” John replied calmly. “I am quite able to remove myself on my own with no trouble. But not before I have a little visit with my patient first.”

Proceed To Chapter 3
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