Nestled into a small hillside on the outskirts of town, the Haddonfield Cemetery served as the final resting place for so many of its own, including those taken well before the prime of their lives.

Like Judith Myers.

Annie Brackett.

Rachel Carruthers.

Jamie Lloyd.

And so many others.

But yet somehow, amidst all the chaos of the evening, the cemetery had largely been spared any carnage. Through it all, the town mob did not disturb the graveyard out of respect for the dead-- those unfortunate souls who'd met their untimely demise on so many cursed Halloween nights spanning three decades.

Until now.

Hiding behind a series of bushes at the side of the property, Dr. John Loomis and Sheriff Joshua Barnes remained calm and stoic, trying to plan the right course of action. A few yards ahead of them was the entrance to the graveyard, hidden behind two large wrought iron gates, which stood ajar.

Just inside the entrance, a series of chains and a large broken padlock were strewn to the side of the road. Beyond that, about a quarter mile inside the gates, sat the squad car of Sheriff Barnes, haphazardly parked at the side of the road.

Despite Barnes' objection, Loomis' intuition had appeared to be correct.

"I still say we should wait for backup," Barnes insisted. "Or at least notify my other officers."

"No," Loomis quietly answered. "It's up to me to finish this so no one else gets hurt. My memory goes back over a decade, my uncle's long before that. Besides, he may not be able to see us out here, but he can certainly hear us."

"So what are you gonna do?" Barnes whispered, toning down his voice.

"I'm going in," Loomis informed him. "Give me 15 minutes. If I'm not back in 15 minutes, unleash the hounds."

"Are you crazy??" the sheriff fired back, attempting to keep his voice under control. "You're going in alone?"

"Not alone," Loomis replied. "Me and my uncle."

And just like that, before Barnes could stop him, Loomis stepped out into the graveled path and entered the cemetery.


Slowly stepping through the Haddonfield Cemetery, John Loomis carefully considered his next move. He had no plan. No course of action. Yet, somehow, he knew this was his destiny. He knew that he must take each and every step through these particular grounds, at this particular time, just as his uncle did so many years before him.

John tried to keep a calm demeanor, but the further he got into the dark, mysterious graveyard, the more difficult he found that to be.

His emotions were all over the place inside, but none of it showed on his face.

After a few minutes, he reached a clearing that broke from the main path in a Y pattern, and it was there Loomis found exactly what he was looking for.

About fifty yards ahead of him was the grave of Laurie Strode.

And, kneeling by its headstone was her brother, Michael Myers.

Loomis acted both surprised and not surprised at the same time; stunned yet expectant. Instinctively, he froze in his tracks and hid behind a large maple tree, but he knew this time, it was the wrong play. It was that same play ten years earlier that nearly cost him his life.

Nu-uh. Not this time, uncle.

This time would be different.

Without even thinking, John Loomis spontaneously stepped right back into the main path, crossing over into the grassy area that led past a row of grave stones.

At that point, he was sure Michael knew he was there, but unsure why The Shape was still motionless.

Maybe the tranquilizer had finally caught up to him, Loomis thought, his heart racing rapidly as he got oh-so close to the devil's enforcer.

Twenty-five yards.

Fifteen yards.

Ten yards.

As he approached, something on the ground caught the corner of his eye. There, at his feet, was the pale white mask of Michael Myers, adorned with fresh blood stains across the cheek and neck area.

At that point, practically standing right behind Michael, Loomis broke his silence.

"Michael...this all has to stop," he said, startling the maniac out of his meditative state. "You buried me in this very grave ten years ago. Well, tonight, Iím here to let you finish what you started. Make me your final victim. End this thing once and for all. But for god's sake, leave these innocent people in peace."

The thought of taking John Loomis' life must have intrigued Michael, because he immediately turned and fixed his cold, dark stare directly onto his former doctor. Michael, the man, not The Shape behind the mask, tilted his head to the side and slowly ascended to his feet.

"That's it, Michael," Loomis stated, holding his arms out. "All that anger...that rage...that you never got to exact on my uncle. Take it out on me. But then go away and never return to Haddonfield ever again."

Michael, almost non-verbally agreeing to Loomis' request, stepped forward, holding his prized butcher knife out in front of him. Even though he'd removed his mask, Michael showed absolutely no emotion whatsoever. His chilling visage appeared no different than when he actually wore his infamous mask.

In anticipation of what was about to happen, Loomis dropped down to his knees in defeat.

"Come on, Michael, you know this is the right thing to do," Loomis insisted, surrendering himself to his arch nemesis. "Kill me. Make me your ultimate sacrifice. End this. Here..."

With that, Loomis held out the pale white Shatner mask, which Michael, gaining back more of his proclivities, took it from him and quickly concealed his human face once again.

The willing Loomis closed his eyes and held his head back, preparing to die for the town that had forsaken him. Michael, standing behind him, raised his arm to slit his adversaryís throat, but before he could, both men were suddenly blinded by the headlights of a fast approaching car.

Loomis opened his eyes in surprise and glanced up into the cold blackness hovering over him.

Michael, clearly thinking he'd been double-crossed yet again, grabbed Loomis by the throat and bashed his head off of the side of the tombstone with inhuman strength. Loomis let out a grunt that sounded more like an injured puppy than a man in pain, and instantly collapsed to the ground, taking a corner of the headstone with him.

At the same time, before Michael could react, Sheriff Barnes rammed him with his squad car, sending The Shape flying backward several feet off the ground.

Taking a jolt of whiplash behind the wheel, Barnes took a second to collect himself, then quickly emerged, shotgun in hand.

There would be no mistake this time, he thought. If you want something done, you've gotta do it yourself.

Standing over Michael's motionless body, Barnes cocked his shotgun and attempted to pull the trigger, but before he could, the demon suddenly sprang to life and plunged his knife directly into Barnes' stomach, surprising the lawman with both its accuracy and ferocity.

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, Barnes collapsed to his knees as Michael got back to his feet and stood over him. In a matter of seconds, Michael's rage overcame him, and he reached out and punctured the sheriff's eye sockets with his bare hands, driving his thumbs deep into his head with extreme force. Barnes cried out in agony, but like prey caught between the teeth of a great white, there was little he could do. Michael lifted him off the ground by his head and wrenched his body until he expired, then tossed him aside like a slab of meat.

Breathing heavily, Michael retrieved his knife and turned his attention back to his long-time rival, who, using Laurieís tombstone as a crutch, managed to get back to his feet.

Myers, quickly closing in on his concussed victim, kicked Loomis back to the ground with a vengeance. Then, just as Dr. Loomis rolled over onto his back, Michael plunged the blade of his knife right into his heart.

Clearly wanting to make the doctor to feel a lifetime of pain and suffering, the merciless Shape slowly and methodically twisted his knife as it found its way through its target. The maniac wrenched and rotated the knife until it popped out Loomis' back, seemingly waiting for his heart to stop beating.

As the life slowly faded away from the eyes of Dr. John Loomis, he fixed his gaze directly at his former patient, or rather, behind him. The Shape didn't realize it, but there was someone else there, standing right behind him, wearing a black fedora and trench coat. In the moonlight, Loomis caught a glimpse of the mysterious stranger and smiled.

Everything suddenly made sense.

Proceed To Chapter 31
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