“Okay, men, listen up. This is how it’s going to work,” Sheriff Robinson commanded as seven of his best deputies listened intently, armed to the teeth with pistols and shotguns at their hips.

“We are now standing on the outskirts of Billow’s Woods. This stretch of forest runs approximately five miles southwest into rural farmland. I strongly believe that our suspect, Michael Myers, is currently taking refuge in these woods,” Sheriff Robinson continued as his deputies tensed up when he emphasized the name Michael Myers.

“Men, we must now capitalize on this opportunity. Myers is believed to be suffering from gunshots wounds as we speak. Any help from state police or the National Guard is still hours away. Gentlemen, we don’t have hours. We must stop Myers now at all costs before this hell of a night escalates any further and any more blood is shed in Haddonfield.”

Cocking his shotgun, the sheriff glanced at his determined young officers and concluded with a strong message. “You men took an oath to serve and protect. I’m asking you now to both serve and protect your town, your children, and our livelihood. Now are you with me?”

There was a pause while the sheriff paced back and forth among his men, finishing a speech that would have been worthy of any medieval battle or field general in the history of warfare.

Not surprisingly, all his deputies nodded in stern agreement.

“I’m ready to get this son of a bitch, sheriff,” Deputy Josh Barnes fired back, breaking the eerie silence. Barnes was one of the first officers on the scene of the grisly murder of Tony’s friend Tim.

“Barnes, I’m sorry but you’re not going in,” Sheriff Robinson replied as the wind behind him began to pick up, tossing some leaves around their feet.

Barnes was visibly upset. “What do you mean I’m not going in?”

“Damnit Barnes, there’s no time for a debate!” Robinson responded firmly, standing nose-to-nose with his deputy. “I need you out in front controlling the crowd and media and whatever other part-time cops we have left.”

Josh Barnes opened his mouth to reply, but the look in the sheriff’s eye made him think otherwise.

As Barnes broke away from the pack and headed toward the front of the house, Sheriff Robinson grabbed his arm and whispered in his ear: “In case we don’t make it out of these damned woods alive, you’re the new sheriff and by god save this town if I can’t.”

Exchanging a sincere eye-to-eye with Robinson, Barnes just nodded his head in agreement and trotted through the fog back to the front of the house, already barking out orders to the rest of the officers.

“Okay men spread out in ten feet intervals. Be aware of who’s on either side of you. Let’s find this fucker and load him full of so much lead that they’ll need a forklift to carry his ass out of the woods,” the sheriff ordered one last time before lining up to sweep the woods.

Sheriff Robinson, Deputy Weber (also from the garage murder), Officer Kirsch, Officer Blackie, Deputy Truscott, Deputy Hine, and Deputy Pritt comprised the team as they checked their equipment and prepared for battle.

Haddonfield’s last line of defense, the last authority for hours to put an end to hell’s night, then slowly began to walk into the fog-infested hollow of Billow’s Woods, unsure if they were ever going to come out again.

Proceed To Chapter 5
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