PROLOGUE- NOT THIS TIME
October 30, 2003
Smith’s Grove Warren County Sanitarium
“Holy shit, Mark, what was that?” asked 43-year old Joe Popchack.
“Will you relax, you pussy, it was just some damn thunder outside,” replied Mark Kranich as he continued to mop the hallway of the Warren County Sanitarium.
At the age of 35, Mark was head of maintenance at the WCS, and even though it wasn’t in his job description to be mopping floors at two in the morning, he had to train his new employee, Joe, of the strict procedures in the building.
Joe, who was just recently hired as a janitor, took up the job to keep a little of the cash flow coming into his house before his Navy pension kicked in when he turned sixty. Joe figured mopping floors a few nights in some damn hospital should be plenty to support him and his wife in their small home in Smith’s Grove, since the Sanitarium had a high turnaround rate and was paying well over minimum wage as incentive to try and keep employees.
“I’m sorry, it’s the ex-sailor in me,” Joe replied, squeezing water out of his mop back into the bucket. “Every time there’s a storm a brewing I just get this inevitable gut feeling in my stomach that my ships a-sinkin’, that’s all.”
“Yeah, it’s not your fault. It’s just getting a little late, and I’m gettin’ tired, I apologize,” Mark responded, walking over to a nearby window and peering out into the dark, stormy autumn night. A flash of lightning lit up the sky just as he walked past, which was quickly followed up by a roar of thunder.
Joe just looked at him, not saying a word, but silently accepting his apology, and continued to mop the already spotless white hallway.
“Aw, shit, that’s not the reason I’m on edge,” Mark said as he still peered out the window. “Honest to God truth is, I’m scared Joe.”
This caught Joe’s attention immediately as he quit what he was doing and looked at Mark with a puzzled expression, awaiting further explanation.
“I’m afraid of what’s beyond them there doors behind you,” Mark continued as he nodded in the direction of the black double doors with bright yellow writing on them:
No Admittance: Authorized Personnel Only
Joe jumped back quickly as if the boogeyman was right behind him and glanced at the ominous doors.
“Why, what’s back there?” Joe asked, a little shaken.
“Evil,” was all Mark could say as thunder and lightning struck simultaneously outside.
“What evil? What are you talking about?” Joe asked, obviously sounding scared.
“Don’t be scared, we’re safe,” Mark explained. “Those doors lead to an elevator. And that elevator leads to a floor where no stairwell or other elevator will go. It’s the maximum security floor where we hold six very deadly psychopathic killers, including HIM,” Mark continued as thunder rumbled again in the distance.
“You mean Michael Myers?” Joe replied, but it wasn’t really a question. After all, everyone knew about Michael Myers.
“Oh, so you know about him?” Mark asked, but it wasn’t a question either. Of course everyone who lived even remotely close to this area knew of him and his infamous history of Halloween night.
“We don’t have to clean down there, do we?” Joe questioned with a shiver, worried.
Mark just grinned. “You gotta earn your eight dollars an hour somehow,” he said as he swiped his ID card through a slot near the doors. A loud buzz filled the silent hallways as the doors automatically opened and the rain continued to pelt the windows outside.
The two men walked down a short, narrow hallway pushing their mop and bucket along until they reached the end elevator. Mark once again slid his ID card through the slot and the elevator doors opened.
“All we do is the floor down here. There are six doors which are all power locked. The doors have small windows in them and I would suggest not looking in for your own sake,” Mark stated as the two men entered the elevator and began to descend down to the forbidden floor.
“Uh, which door is Myers in?” Joe asked out of curiosity.
“The sixth door at the very end,” Mark responded. “Just remember, curiosity killed the cat.”
“Yeah, but satisfaction brought him back,” Joe answered, meaning it to be a joke. However, neither man took it that way as the elevator reached the final floor and the doors began to open, revealing a long, dark, cold, hallway with six identical doors lined up on one side.
“Welp, you take the far end, and I’ll get the area up here,” Mark told Joe as the two exited the elevator.
Joe didn’t respond. He just slowly pushed his mop and bucket down to the far end of the hall, trying not to look into any of the windows as he passed, even though he felt a strong urge to do so.
Joe reached the far corner and began mopping, trying to block out the fact that he was standing directly in front of door six, which held Michael Myers.
Come on, you old dog, you’re perfectly safe, Joe thought to himself, his eyes staring at the floor directly under door six. Quit giving yourself the jeepers creepers.
But he couldn’t help it. His eyes drifted up to the window only a few feet away and found himself staring directly into the heavy bandaged face of Michael Myers.
Joe went to scream, but couldn’t hear it because at that very second, lightning struck outside blowing the power transformer to the building. For a few seconds, everything went pitch black before the emergency generators kicked on.
When the dim lights came back on, Joe was now staring at an open doorway that once contained Michael Myers himself.
Joe heard Mark yelling if he was okay, but never got a chance to respond. Because at that very second he heard his mop snap in two, and before he could react, Michael plunged the broken splintered end of the mop straight through his midsection.
Blood shot through Joe’s gaping mop as Michael slowly lifted his entire body with the mop still through him. As Joe’s body slid down the mop handle Michael just tossed him aside like a rag doll.
“Joe!” Mark shouted from the opposite end of the hallway as Michael now faced him.
“Oh my god, NO!” Mark shouted, frantically trying to swipe his ID badge through the elevator to recall it.
Michael slowly stalked toward Mark as we was finally able to swipe his badge and the old elevator doors slowly opened back up.
Mark frantically crawled backward on his hands, unable to grasp the fact that he was now only feet away from the infamous serial killer, Michael Myers.
Mark somehow managed to get inside the elevator. He slapped the button numerous times before the doors started to slide shut again, but it was too late. Michael stepped inside the small elevator, and as the doors closed, Mark let out a loud blood-curdling scream.
When it reached its destination point back at ground level, Michael emerged with his white hospital gown stained in blood, and holding Mark’s ID badge, leaving the limbs, head, and body of Mark Kranich, chief of maintenance, lying in a pool of blood inside the elevator.
Michael continued unchallenged as he exited the sanitarium, and found a pickup truck parked nearby with a retired Navy bumper sticker on the back with the keys still inside. He started the truck and was once again free from his imprisonment, heading down the long and twisted ramp way, as the storm continued to rage outside.
However, when Michael reached the end of the ramp, he was forced to bring his truck to a screeching halt. Standing there before him were two large S.W.A.T. vans parked nose to nose with about 15 officers all holding rifles aimed directly at him.
Michael emerged from the vehicle and stood by the driver’s side door glaring at his set trap, not flinching at all.
“Not this time, Michael!” yelled a middle-aged man in a long black trench coat.
Then, as if on cue, all of the rifles went off at the same time as Michael was nailed with 15 tranquilizers.
Michael glared at his doctor with eyes of blackness and pure evil, before falling to the ground unconscious.
Proceed To Chapter 1
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