For the second time in as many days, Michael Myers had been taken by surprise. Only this time, he found someone else had the upper hand.

Just as he moved in for his final kill, the headlights of several motorcycles and one police car illuminated him in a ghostly glow of white, and a barrage of gunfire ensued from all directions.

Sparks and smoke filled the air, as varying calibers of bullets struck Michael all over his body, even ricocheting off of his knife, which fell to the ground with a thud.

After about twenty seconds, the command of "CEASE FIRE!" rang out loudly into the night, and the shooting stopped.

"Sherry, are you alright?" Brandon Farson asked, a shotgun still at his side.

Completely awestruck, Sherry rolled out of harm's way and instantly ran to her boyfriend, whom she discovered was a member of an unholy mob of mercenaries.

"Yes, I'm fine," she exhaled, relieved to be rescued. "But how did you--?"

"We followed you from the festival," a deep, baritone voice chimed in.

It was Caleb Wilkes.

"It's gonna be alright," the Paragons of Perdition president assured her. "Michael Myers killed one of our brothers last night. Honey, that right there is what you call a receipt."

"Wait, what?" Sherry questioned, confused. "How?"

"It's alright, Sherry," Deputy Forster echoed. "When everything broke down at the rave, I came across Caleb and his men a few miles down the road and informed them of the situation. We decided strength in numbers was the best option."

"Yeah, when we got split up, I tried to find help," Brandon added. "Luckily, I caught them before they took off."

"Why didn't you call my Dad?" Sherry questioned. "He could've had the entire force out here in no time at all."

"I thought that, with everything in town..." the deputy replied, not realizing Sherry had no idea what he was talking about.

"Wait...what happened in town?" she interrupted, not allowing him to finish.

"You don't want to know," Forster somberly responded. "It's a complete massacre."

"Oh my God," was all Sherry could manage to say as she composed herself.

"Well, at least it's over now and we're all safe," Sherry continued, hugging Brandon. "Thank you, guys. Can we call him now, please?"

"Um, prez," Orrin Chambers chimed in. "We lit him up, right?"

"Like a jack-o-lantern," Wilkes proudly replied. "Why?"

"Then where is he?" Orrin questioned, circling the now-empty clearing with Bradley Kemp and Brian Bonham in tow.

"Fuck!" Caleb complained. "He was right there!"

"Wait a minute, guys, I got him," Deputy Forster called out from the opposite side. "He staggered over here. He's dead."

"No, he's not!" Sherry cautiously commented, again flashing back to her youth, and remembering how a mob of the entire town couldn't get the job done.

"Believe me," Forster called back through the smoke. "He's not going anywhere."

"Don't touch him!" Brian Bonham yelled. "I want to see this fucker and make sure he's dead."

"But he's stopped breathing," Forster insisted, reaching his fingers down to Michael's neck to check for a pulse.

Suddenly, Michael sprang back to life and grabbed Forster by the head. Then, with wicked precision, he jerked the deputy's head back and swiftly slit his throat from ear to ear.

"Oh shit!" Bonham shouted, opening fire again as Michael escaped back into the depths of Billow's Woods.

The other members of the group, led by Brian Bonham, loaded up their weapons and took off running in their direction, not waiting around for help.

"Wait a minute! Wait for us!" Caleb commanded, but it was no use. They were already gone, divided into the dark, foggy unknown.

Caleb took one look at Sherry and could tell she wasn't surprised.

"Just what the fuck are we dealing with here?" the grizzled biker asked.

"Evil," was Sherry's cold, emotionless reply.


Spread out among the forest of Billow's Woods, the members of the Paragons Of Perdition motorcycle club all hoped to find the infamous killer that claimed the lives of so many, including their cut-brother Boyd Bonham.

At the head of the pack was Boyd's brother Brian. All-too-eager to exact his revenge, Brian, known as Bonzo to the club, wildly ran after the merciless Shape without waiting for backup to join him. Now, he was god-knows-where, and his fellow club members were apt to spend more time looking for him and each other than they were for Michael Myers.

Which is exactly the way the devil wanted it.

A quarter mile behind Bonzo were Orrin Chambers and Bradley Kemp, respectively. They, at least, smartly decided to pair up, counting on strength in numbers. Despite that, they still left Caleb Wilkes and the teens in their dust, determined to catch up to Bonzo.

"Sir, we need to turn around," Sherry insisted to Caleb, who had his shotgun firm in hand. "My stepdad the sheriff will be here any minute and he can take over. It's not worth the risk."

"Do you know that for sure?" Caleb replied sternly. "My brothers are out there somewhere with this maniac."

"You don't understand! This is exactly what HE wants! He wants to split us all up so we'll be easy prey. He's done this so many times before, that's how he got my real Dad, the old sheriff."

"No, YOU don't understand, missy!" Caleb piped back. "This fucker took out one of my men, and I am not leaving until we finish the job. Then, and only then, can the five-o take over."

Just then, in the distance, a loud cry pierced the night sky: "AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Sensing danger, Caleb took off running, getting his large 300-pound body into high gear for the first time in what seemed like forever.

"No, wait!" Sherry insisted, sprinting after him without even thinking, with Brandon in tow.

As she navigated through the thick fog, a series of shots rang out, followed by a very deep, guttural groan: "Holy shit!"


Lost in the middle of the woods with the fog blocking his vision, Caleb Wilkes had no idea what was going on.

He heard the screams of his fellow brothers and managed to open fire and take down the assailant, Michael Myers. Only, with no body in view (or anything else for that matter), he suddenly felt disoriented and confused.

Holding out the barrel of his shotgun in front of him as a guide, Caleb called out to his fellow club members, hoping someone, anyone, would respond.

"Bonzo!" he yelled, with no response. "Bonzo, I got the bastard!"

However, the only acknowledgment was from the forest creatures, who continued to sing out their nightly medley into an otherwise serene evening.

"Orrin? Kemp? Come on out, I got him!" Caleb continued, still not gaining the answer he so desperately desired.

Feeling a chill roll down his spine, Caleb slowly approached a slight clearing near an old oak tree. There, he spotted two feet on the ground.

Cocking his shotgun, Caleb proceeded with caution as more of the body came into view. It wasn't until he was right on it that he realized it wasn't Michael Myers at all.

It was Bradley Kemp.

"Oh fuck, Brad!" Caleb shrieked, rushing to his friend's side. "Son of a bitch!"

Dropping down to one knee, Caleb Wilkes set his shotgun down and lifted Bradley's motionless head up off of the ground. The grizzled biker then noticed two bullet holes in his chest, and a blank stare in his eyes. Which could mean only one thing.

"Oh my god, Brad, I'm so sorry...I thought you were HIM!" Caleb cried, shocked that he'd accidentally shot and killed one of his brothers by mistake.

"You're gonna pay for this, you fuck!" Caleb screamed, getting back to his feet. "Come on out! Let's finish this!"

There was no response. Just more crickets chirping into the dark abyss of the forest.

Delirious, the heavyset club president turned in a circle and pointed his shotgun in all directions, not exactly sure where the attack could come from. At that point, he was almost afraid to pull the trigger again, thinking he might harm someone else close to him.

That all became a moot point when he looked up into the tree and saw one of the most horrifying sights he'd ever witnessed-- there, hung from separate branches of the tree, were his fellow brothers, Orrin Chambers and Brian Bonham.

"NOOOOOOOO!" Caleb shouted, falling to his knees in disgust and bewilderment.

Both bikers had their chest and stomach sliced open, with their steamy entrails hanging down outside of their bodies. A pool of blood had accumulated at the base of the tree, which Caleb just managed to avoid stepping in. Much to his dismay, their leather cuts were tied around their necks and fixed to the large tree branches as well. The men's eyes were both bulging out of their sockets, and they seemed to be staring down at their leader in surprise, wondering just where it all went wrong.

As the stunned Caleb stared up at his blood brothers in fright, he heard footsteps approaching from behind, and instantly snapped out of his trance.

Michael Myers narrowly missed stabbing Caleb in the head with his butcher's knife, as he gave everything he had left to get out of the way.

Maneuvering back to his feet, Caleb went to shoot Michael one more time with his shotgun, but it clicked off on empty.

"FUCK!" he yelled, tossing the gun away in disgust. Noticing Bradley Kemp's AK-47 lying nearby, Caleb immediately picked it up and opened fire wildly.

Michael absorbed some of the blows, but not a lot, as Caleb emptied what was remaining of the entire clip. The Shape fell to his back and lay motionless, while the satisfied biker pulled out his backup plan, a berretta he affectionately called the Peacemaker, and approached him.

Pointing the gun at Michael's head, Caleb cocked the gun and, as if he were carrying out a death sentence, said his final words:

"Meet Mr. Mayhem, you cocksucker!"

However, just as he said that, The Shape sprang back to life and plunged his knife deep into Caleb's stomach, eliciting a surprised yelp out of the club president.

Caleb staggered backward as Michael sat up. He reached down to try to pull the knife out, but it was no use. It was lodged deep into his gut, with barely any of the handle visibly sticking out.

Spewing blood, Wilkes fell backward against the tree and expired, his head resting against the base of the oak behind him.

At the same time, Sherry Robinson joined them in the clearing.

The Shape, still sitting on the ground, turned his head and stared directly at her.

Proceed To Chapter 28
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