HALLOWEEN:
THE WRATH OF MICHAEL MYERS
By Randy Romero
Part Five:
THE LAST HALLOWEEN
“You know,
it’s Halloween. I guess everyone’s entitled to one good scare, huh?” – Leigh Brackett
Monday, October 30, 1989.
One more day till Halloween.
Nothing.
Silence.
The calm before the vicious storm.
A thick, bloody rain was about to
wash over Haddonfield.
Loomis could feel it in the air,
feel it in his bones. The storm wasn’t on its way.
The storm was already at their
doorstep.
A statewide manhunt was now in
effect for Michael and Jamie. But Loomis knew Michael, knew he’d never leave
Haddonfield voluntarily. He was hiding away, waiting for the ideal moment to
leave his mark again.
Loomis patted himself down,
searching for his cigarettes. Ten years, he reminded himself. Ten
years since you gave it up.
Leigh Brackett, on the other hand, hadn’t given it up. Loomis
joined him outside for some fresh air, the exact opposite of what Brackett was
looking for. Brackett shook a cigarette from his pack, lit it, and offered one
to Loomis, who declined.
Sunset had ushered in a gloomy twilight, and soon the
darkness would claim Haddonfield. Tommy Doyle came out and joined them on the
veranda.
“Cigarette?” Brackett asked.
Tommy looked back over his shoulder. “Lindsey would kill me
if she saw…ah, what the hell? It’ll calm my nerves. And who knows if I’ll even
be alive after tomorrow.”
Tommy accepted a cigarette from Brackett’s pack and used his
lighter.
“I remember when I first met you. You were this pale, skinny
eight-year-old boy who was on the verge of wetting his pants.” Loomis couldn’t
help but chuckle at the thought. “Look at you now, all grown up. Ready to march
into battle.”
“Doctor Loomis, this isn’t war.”
“Oh, but it is, Tommy. This is Armageddon. Do you know what
Armageddon is? It’s not the end of the world, as some would have you believe.
It’s the final battle between the forces of good and evil. Either good
triumphs, or evil flourishes. But the world still keeps spinning. If we don’t
stop Michael this time, Haddonfield will never be safe, because none of us will
be alive to protect it from him.”
A black-and-white rolled up along the curb; two of Sheriff
Meeker’s deputies.
“What’s the status?” Loomis asked as they exited the vehicle
and approached the house.
“Status quo,” the younger deputy said. “Nobody’s seen or heard
a thing. But every cop in the state is searching high and low for that nutcase,
Michael Myers. I can assure you that we’re not taking the situation lightly
after the massacre at Smith’s Grove.”
“I’ve never seen so much blood in all my years on the force,”
his partner said.
“Just keep your eyes peeled. And don’t underestimate him.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah Doc. We’ve all heard the spiel. ‘He’s not
human. He isn’t a man. He’s pure evil.’ Save it for the press. Meeker needs to
have a word with you.”
“The sheriff knows where to find me.”
“He’d like a word with you in private.”
“Anything Meeker has to say to me, he can say in front of
Leigh and Tommy.”
The younger deputy nodded toward the patrol car. The backdoor
opened and Ben Meeker slid out.
It was getting dark, so they went inside. “Guard the door,”
Meeker told his men.
“Oh, hell no,” the older, more experienced deputy spoke up.
“The cops are always the first to die in these situations.”
“Some confidence you have in yourself. Just watch the damn
door.” Meeker left them to it, and followed Loomis, Brackett, and Doyle to the
living room.
“We never got the chance at a proper introduction. Ben
Meeker.” Meeker extended his hand and Brackett accepted it.
“Leigh Brackett.”
“No hard feelings?”
Brackett nodded. “No hard feelings. Thanks for keeping
Haddonfield relatively safe in my absence.”
“Well, now we know each other officially. Let’s skip the rest
of the pleasantries. Sam, I need to know where to find Michael Myers.”
“If we knew, we’d already be there.”
“Think, Sam. Think.”
Meeker could almost see the light pop on in Loomis’s head.
The answer hit him like a stinging slap to the face.
“Where it all began…the Myers house.”
“Is the house occupied?”
“John and Debra Strode live there with their son and
daughter. They’re relatives of the family that adopted Laurie. We have to go
and see them.”
“No, I’m the sheriff here. I’ll go see them. You stay out of
it for now, please.”
****
“Enough of this Michael Myers bullshit!” a disgruntled John
Strode shouted as he chased several snickering teenagers off his lawn. The
teens had built a scarecrow displaying a replica of the infamous white mask
that Haddonfield residents had come to associate with grim death. He smashed
the scarecrow with his son’s baseball bat and stormed back inside, seething.
“Every damn Halloween,” he muttered.
“John, they’re just kids,” Debra said from the couch.
“They’re not just kids, Debra. They’re menaces. And our son
is one of them.”
“Tim’s not even a teenager. He doesn’t hang around with those
boys.”
“He’s still a menace.” John sighed. “I need a drink.”
He was a stout middle-aged man with a ruddy complexion and an
explosive temper, sometimes impossible to control or reason with. The only
reason Debra stayed with him was because she was terrified of him and what he’d
do if she tried to leave him.
He fixed himself a drink, didn’t offer one to Debra. “Where’s
Kara?”
“I think she had a date tonight.”
“Whatever. If she gets knocked up, it’s her problem.”
“John!”
The doorbell rang and John eyed Debra with curiosity and
suspicion. Debra shook her head. “I’m not expecting anybody.”
“Neither am I,” John shrugged. “It better not be those damn
kids again.” He set his drink down and walked to the door. He was both
surprised and a bit agitated to see Sheriff Meeker late at night.
“Evening, Sheriff,” he nodded, feigning civility. “What’s
going on?”
“Just a formality, John. You know what time of year it is. I
just had to check in on you guys and ask if you’ve seen or heard any strange.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary.”
“All right. Do me a favor, just keep your eyes open. Be on
the lookout. And please, stay safe.”
“Will do. Have a good night, sheriff.” He forced a smile,
closed the door, and returned to his scotch.
****
Tuesday, October 31, 1989.
Halloween.
The parents of Haddonfield decided
to take precautions. They all pulled their kids out of school and let them go
trick-or-treating early so they could get home before dark. And no child went
unsupervised.
Lindsey sat on the porch, pensive, deep in thought.
Remembering a time when she was sweet, shy, scared, innocent little Lindsey
Wallace. Now she was Lindsey Doyle. And though her name had changed, she was
still that sweet, shy, scared little girl deep down inside.
She watched the kids parading around in colorful costumes,
carrying pillow cases or plastic pumpkin baskets for their candy and shouting
“Trick or Treat!” at every doorstep. Several children came to their door and
Lindsey had a bowl of candy ready for them.
Tommy squeezed in next to her and put his arm around her
shoulder.
“It’s going to be okay,” he assured her.
“According to you.”
“He’s just a man, Lindsey. He’s not unstoppable.”
“You’re wrong, Tommy. He’s evil. Pure, unadulterated evil.
He’s not human. He never was.”
“Sounds like you’ve been busy. I love the book, by the way.”
“You know about my book?”
“Of course I do. You know there are no secrets between us.”
“And you’re not mad?”
“Why would I be mad? I’m proud of you. And who better to tell
the story than someone who witnessed it firsthand? It’s going to be a
bestseller.”
“Oh, I’m so happy to hear you say that. When this is over,
we’re going on vacation.”
“You bet. I need to get out of this town for at least a few
weeks.”
A car came pulling up to the house
and Tommy Doyle could swear he had seen a ghost riding in the passenger seat.
“It can’t be,” he whispered.
Two women exited the vehicle and
walked up to the front porch. Loomis was watching from the door and couldn’t
believe his eyes.
“Is that–”
“Yes, it’s me. How are you Doctor Loomis?”
“Laurie, you’re a sight for sore eyes. And please, call me
Sam.”
“Sam, where is Jamie? Where’s my daughter?”
“You ladies better sit down for this one. Shocks are much better
absorbed if the knees are bent.”
“What’s going on?” Rachel asked, starting to panic. “Where’s
Jamie?”
“Jamie is missing. Michael slaughtered the staff at Smith’s
Grove. We think he took Jamie with him.”
“Oh, God. I need to find Tina.”
“Tina is…Tina is gone. I’m sorry to be the one to tell you
all this. Michael has been busy.”
“Let’s go find this son of a bitch,” Rachel said, her fear
and panic turning into white hot rage. “Where would he take her?”
“The Myers house,” Laurie said.
“We already checked. The house is occupied. John and Debra
Strode, relatives of the family that adopted you, live there.”
“Then they’re in danger.”
“John is well aware of the danger. And so is the rest of the
Haddonfield. That’s why the children are trick or treating in the afternoon.”
“We need to put our heads together and find him before it’s
too late.”
“No,” Loomis shook his head. “You ladies need to get
someplace safe. Leave this to us, please.”
“Fine,” Rachel groaned. Then added, “For now. But if you find
Jamie, you call me right away.”
“Deal.”
Laurie caught up with Tommy and Lindsey and said her
farewells. When they were back in the car, Rachel said, “I’m not staying put.”
“Me neither. But I have an idea. We just need to make a quick
stop.”
****
It was near dark and the streets
were vacant. Loomis, Brackett, and Doyle could no longer sit idly by and wait
for Michael to surface. They drove through town, Brackett at the wheel with his
.38 at his side. Loomis wasn’t crazy about revolvers. He preferred the Smith
& Wesson Model 15. Doyle didn’t care what kind of gun he was using so long
as it stopped Michael dead in his tracks. He had his pistol, but he also
brought his hunting rifle along with him. It was in the trunk, along with
Brackett’s double-barrel shotgun.
“We’re going to need some coffee if
this keeps up,” Brackett said.
“If you were Michael, where would
you be?” Doyle asked to nobody in particular.
“In a mental asylum,” Brackett said.
“The Myers house was a dead end, but
what about Jamie’s house?” Doyle asked.
“Rachel isn’t living there. Her father
moved out almost immediately after what happened. The house has been for sale
ever since.”
“So it’s empty?”
“Yes…” Loomis said and trailed off.
“What’s the address?” Brackett
asked.
****
Rachel had an itch she needed to
scratch. She drove Laurie to the house she grew up in. The lights were out, the
curtains drawn, a FOR SALE sign posted out front.
“You have the keys?” Laurie asked,
peeking into the plastic bag on her lap.
“Of course. Are you sure you want to
do this? What if they’re really in there?”
“I’ve faced Michael before. And I’ll
face him again if it means saving my daughter.”
Rachel got out and unlocked the
front door. She took a deep breathed and opened the door slowly.
Darkness.
“Hello?” Rachel called, not really
expecting an answer. It was instinct, nerves. She was the first one inside,
Laurie following close behind.
Rachel didn’t look back. She didn’t
want to look back and see what Laurie was wearing.
They stopped just past the foyer
when they heard a creak.
“It came from upstairs,” Laurie
whispered, her words muffled.
They ascended the stairs, quiet and
careful in their steps. They reached the top of the stairs and heard another
creak in the floor.
“Master bedroom,” Rachel whispered.
The door was slightly ajar. Rachel
took a deep breath. Her palms were sweaty. Her heart was beating rapidly. She
was not ready for this, even with her father’s gun.
Laurie stepped in front of her and
eased the door open. Laurie saw a dark shape standing in the darkest corner of
the room.
“Hello, Michael,” she said.
“Remember me?”
Laurie stepped forward, wearing a
familiar mask. For Michael, it was like looking into a mirror. That haunting
white mask looked just as terrifying on Laurie as it did on him. It was all
part of her plan to confuse Michael, psych him out so to speak. “Where is she,
Michael?”
Jamie stepped out of the shadows,
her dark eyes and pallid skin visible in the moonlight.
“Snap out of it, Jamie!” Rachel
screamed. “Don’t let him control you! You’re not like him! You’re my sister and
I love you no matter what!”
Jamie didn’t sigh, didn’t cry,
didn’t blink. She didn’t even move.
Michael moved beside her, his blade
glistening in the moonlight. He cocked his head to the side and stared deep
into that living mirror.
Rachel had her father’s gun out and
behind her back, her finger tight around the trigger, waiting for Michael to
make a move.
He lunged at Laurie with the knife
and Rachel fired two shots into his chest, dropping him to one knee. She fired
off two more deafening shots and knocked him flat on his back.
Jamie fell to the floor and clutched
Michael’s arm, shaking it, trying to revive him. Rachel pulled her away and
into Laurie’s arms. Rachel told them to get back and then she squeezed the
trigger, firing another bullet directly into his heart.
“It’s over,” Rachel told Jamie.
“It’s over.”
Rachel carried her sister down the
stairs. Laurie was standing in front of them when Tommy Doyle fired his gun and
the blood sprayed across Rachel’s face.
“Laurie!” Rachel cried. “What have
you done?” Rachel pulled the mask off and Laurie coughed blood.
“I-I-I-I’m so sorry,” Doyle
stammered. “I-I didn’t know. I thought it was him, I swear. I’m so sorry,
Laurie. Please forgive me…please be okay…please.”
****
Laurie was still breathing when the
ambulance carted her away with the sirens wailing. A distraught Tommy Doyle was
on the verge of tears. Jamie was back in Rachel’s arms, but she hadn’t uttered
a word. And Ben Meeker was on the scene as soon as he got the call.
“You’re free to go for now, unless
Laurie decides to press charges. They tell me she should survive. But I think
you gentlemen should call it a night. Rachel, I’ll take you and Jamie down to
the station. You can stay there until the night is over. You’ll be safe there.”
Brackett emerged from the house, clearly
disturbed. Loomis knew the look. He knew exactly what Brackett was about to
say.
“Michael is gone…”
****
First, Loomis and the men made sure
Rachel and Jamie were safely escorted to the station. Then they returned to the
Myers house.
Brackett got his double-barrel from
the trunk and Doyle grabbed his hunting rifle. Loomis knocked first, then rang
the bell several times when nobody answered. The front door was unlocked and he
looked to Brackett for the okay. Brackett nodded and Loomis twisted the
doorknob.
The crimson coated walls gave the
impression that the living room was painted red. The blood was so thick you
couldn’t make out the wallpaper.
John Strode was splayed out on the
floor with his stomach cut open, his entrails spilled out onto the carpet.
Debra Strode was on the couch, her eyes frozen in terror, the victim of innumerable
stabbings. There was blood and chunks of viscera everywhere they looked.
Michael emerged from the hall. No
more hiding. No more playing possum. This was Michael’s holiday.
“You son of a bitch!” Brackett
shouted. “I’ve waited a long time for this. This is for Annie.” He pumped his
shotgun, but Michael was too close. The blade penetrated his body, tearing open
his chest cavity.
Brackett dropped to the floor beside
John Strode and Loomis and Doyle opened fire. But Michael withstood every
bullet, endured every shot. Doyle put himself in harm’s way by getting too
close and paid the ultimate price. Michael’s knife slid across his throat, the
blood spurting out in quick jets.
Loomis emptied his gun into Michael’s
chest and didn’t even faze him. Michael approached Loomis, stood inches from
his face. He raised the knife, then lowered it.
“Do it,” Loomis dared him. “Go
ahead. Put me out of my misery.”
But Michael refused. Something
inside him would not let him harm Loomis. He slipped past Loomis and
disappeared into the night.
****
Loomis met Lindsey Doyle in the waiting
room of Haddonfield Memorial. She was sobbing, shaking, but most of all, angry
at herself for letting Tommy go along with this.
“They say Tommy will be all right,”
Loomis assured her. “He’s in surgery now. You’ll be able to see him soon.”
“What about Brackett?”
“He didn’t make it.”
“And Laurie?”
He spared her the grisly details of
her husband accidentally shooting Laurie. “Just got out of surgery. Condition
is stable.”
“Screw this holiday.”
“You can say that again.”
“What about Jamie and Rachel?”
“They’re done at the police station…and
Michael is still out there. I-I have to go. Excuse me, please.” The night was
not over. It was far from over.
****
With half the deputies out looking
for Michael, the station was vulnerable. Michael arrived before midnight and
hacked and slashed his way through the halls until all that stood between him
and Jamie was Meeker and Rachel.
“You can have the girl over my dead
body,” Meeker said emphatically. And Michael was more than happy to oblige. He
rammed the blade through Meeker’s chest, piercing his heart.
He ripped the blade out and closed
in on Rachel, who was using herself to shield Jamie. Michael stopped and looked
past Rachel, to Jamie. Their dark eyes met and even Rachel felt the sinister
connection between them. She no longer knew the girl she once called her
sister. Jamie was gone. Jamie had crossed over to the dark side.
Michael raised his knife and Jamie
leapt in front of Rachel to protect her.
“NO!” Jamie cried, breaking her
year-long silence. “Give it to me!”
She held out her hand and Michael
relinquished the knife to Jamie. She turned to Rachel and told her to go.
“No,” Rachel shook her head, sobbing. “I’m
not leaving without you.”
“You don’t have a choice. This is my
destiny, Rachel. This is who I am. I’m Michael Myers niece.”
“No, you’re my sister. You’ll always
be my sister.”
“And you’ll always be mine. I’m
sorry, Rachel.”
Rachel gasped as the knife slipped
between her ribs and her lungs slowly filled with blood. Jamie grasped the
bloody knife in her hand and cocked her head to the side. A creepy grin edged
across her mouth.
She took Michael’s hand and they
walked out into the night.
