It’s not too late, Dr. John Loomis thought to himself, positive he’d made it to the cemetery in time.

Loomis, perched on a nearby hillside, sat with his back against a large oak tree and his .45 pistol tight in-hand. Every second seemed to last a minute, and every minute an hour as the doctor’s nerves grew tense. The rain had begun, as he sensed it would, only fitting for the inevitable showdown between himself and his former patient.

From his position on the hillside, he had a pretty clear view of the entire graveyard until the rain picked up into a steady downpour. Then, the rain combined with the gushing wind, beating and dancing on the surrounding tombstones, limited his vision to only about 50 yards. However, he had a feeling that the 50 yards would be enough. His instincts told him that all the action would take place directly in front of him, but at the same time, his ears were tuned in for any sound coming from his rear, just in case. If there was one thing he learned as a Marine, it was to trust his instincts, so his instincts he would trust.

As it turned out, John only had to wait about five minutes, although it probably felt more like an hour, for his enemy to arrive. Once again, his instincts proved true as The Shape emerged out of the fog and rain, carrying a shovel in his hand. Loomis remained silent and still, confident he’d finally gotten the drop on Michael. Loomis just watched him, careful not to blow his cover, knowing full well that Michael could be playing coy and probably knew he was there anyway, but he didn’t want to take any chances until he was sure he had the upper hand.

As he inched his way closer, John noticed that Michael had once again donned his infamous costume that was so well-known around the world. How he had gotten it was anybody’s guess, but he didn’t even want to begin guessing because he had more important things to worry about.

The Shape got about twenty yards from John’s position when he stopped and slammed the spade of the shovel into the rain-softened ground, easily loosening the dirt and tossing it aside. Michael then stood back and glared toward the tombstone with intense hatred in his dark, black eyes.

This was it, it was time to strike, Loomis thought to himself. But just when he was about to make his move, a bolt of lightning struck and lit up his surroundings. It was then that Loomis saw what Michael was staring it. It was the grave of Laurie Strode.

Loomis managed a faint smile knowing his intuition was correct. However, in the split second he took to see the tombstone, he took his gaze off of Michael. When he looked back, he found himself staring directly into the eyes of death, whose return gaze was burning a hole right through Loomis.

The doctor felt his stomach jump into his throat, knowing he’d blown his opportunity. However, much to his surprise, Michael made no movement toward him, but rather, began to dig at an inhuman pace that would have easily been faster than a group of four strong men.

Puzzled, Loomis watched intently, wondering why Michael would just ignore him like that. Or maybe Michael didn’t even see him in the first place. Maybe it was just his imagination. Damn senile mind, Loomis cursed to himself, Now what do I do? There was no longer any need to hide, of course. He’d been discovered, so the best thing to do was to make himself seen and heard.

“There’s no use Michael, she’s not there,” Loomis called out into the stormy night . “Not there, not anywhere where you’d expect. Hell, even I don’t know where she is. She’s gone, Michael, and there’s no longer any reason for you to be here either.”

Loomis then watched The Shape carefully, hoping his words weren’t drowned out by the downpour. Not surprisingly, Michael gave no reaction. He just kept on digging as if Loomis hadn’t even said a word.

“Come with me to the proper authorities, Michael,” he continued, making his way toward the grave. “Leave these people in peace.”

Loomis silently flipped the safety off on his pistol, daring to inch even closer to Michael, who was now knee-high in the dirt below him.

Michael still refused to even acknowledge his presence. He was hell bent on uncovering his sister’s grave and there was nothing Loomis nor anyone else was going to do about it. And he succeeded in doing just that as the shovel struck the wood of the coffin six feet down.

Loomis gave up trying to talk to him; he just stood there a measly five feet from the grave, his gun ready at his hip, anxious to see what Michael would unearth.

Once Michael managed to get the casket open, John wasn’t entirely surprised to find that it was empty. In that same instant, Michael spun around quickly, his eyes gleaming in fury as though it was John’s fault that Laurie was no longer there.

Opening fire, Dr. Loomis wasted no time at all unloading his clip. The first two shots went wild and struck the earth behind Michael, but the last four hit their mark and struck Michael in the chest at point-blank range, sending him sprawling backward and into the empty coffin unconscious.

Knowing it would not be enough to stop Michael, Loomis tried to quickly reload, but his hands were shaking with adrenaline and it took him a little bit longer than usual to slide the clip in. After finally forcing it in, he went to unload again into the motionless body of Michael Myers, but the gun jammed and he didn’t get a single shot out of the barrel.

This extra second was all Michael needed to regain consciousness. As another bolt of lightning flashed brilliantly across the sky, The Shape leaped forward and grabbed his doctor by the ankles, dragging him down into the hole beside him.

Dr. Loomis tried to fight Michael off, but he was no match for the uncanny strength of Michael Myers, who had Loomis reeling with his back against the dirt. The Shape’s hands then quickly found their mark as they wrapped around the doctor’s throat and began to squeeze the life out of him.

His eyes bulging out of their sockets, Loomis reached into his side pocket and pulled out a small X-Acto knife and plunged it into Michael’s side, momentarily causing The Shape to lose his grip.

But it was not enough.

Blue in the face, Loomis dropped to his knees and tried to plunge the knife deeper into Michael’s mid-section, to no avail. John collapsed shortly thereafter, falling face first into the empty coffin.

Staring down at him with hate and triumph, Michael removed the knife from his side and tossed it to the ground with a thud. He then tilted his head to one side, then the other, almost waiting for any sign of movement. When there was none, and he was sure his arch-nemesis was dead, Michael crawled back out of the hole, closed the lid of the coffin, and began to fill the hole back with dirt.

With Loomis now six-feet deep, Michael would finally have his revenge against the town that stole his sister, his ultimate prey, from him. When all was said and done, he’d be sure to turn Haddonfield into hell on earth like he never had before.

Proceed To Chapter 15
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