Allyson burst out of the conference room, unable to believe what Detective Graham had just told her. How could Michael Myers have possibly survived? She’d seen him standing in the basement, trapped, flames spreading all around him. She’d looked back at the house when she and her mom were helping Laurie to the road. Fire had blazed out of the front windows, rising up to the roof— the whole goddamn place had been an inferno! No one could have escaped from that, not even him. And yet, according to Graham, that’s exactly what had happened. All her grandmother’s preparation, her father’s life… it had all been a waste. Michael Myers still walked the streets of Haddonfield— and Halloween wasn’t over yet.
She headed for the ER waiting area, wanting to go outside, get away from this place for a few minutes, stand in the cool and the quiet and try to come to terms with everything that had happened. But as she approached the exit, she was surprised to see Cameron walk in. He’d changed out of his Bonnie costume and into regular clothes—shirt, jeans, jacket, sneakers. He didn’t see her at first, and she considered turning around and walking away, but then it was too late. He caught sight of her and hurried over to speak to her. He stopped several feet away, as if hesitant to come closer.
“Allyson? Are you okay? Is everyone okay?”
She looked at him, expressionless, struggling with conflicting emotions. He took a step toward her, not quite within touching range, but close. His tone was apologetic, almost pleading.
“Anything you need. I just want to help. I’m sorry for everything.”
Anger flared bright inside her. Everything? He had no fucking idea of everything that had happened tonight!
“He killed Oscar.”
Cameron’s head jerked back, as if she had slapped him. Before he could respond, she went on, fighting back tears. “He killed Dave and Vicky and… and…”
“What?” Cameron said, taking another step toward her.
“He killed my father, too. He’s still alive. Michael. He’s not dead.”
Cameron looked at her for a long moment, then, without speaking, he stepped forward and put his arms around her. She stiffened, not wanting him to touch her, but he held on, and eventually she raised her arms and hugged him back. After a moment they separated, as if by unspoken agreement, but they remained standing close. Cameron told her about finding Officer Hawkins injured as he was walking home from the dance, how he’d called 911, then his father.
“Dad picked me up then took me home so I could change. He brought me here so I could check on Officer Hawkins, see how he was doing. I didn’t know you’d be here. I’m glad I found you, though.”
Allyson glanced around the waiting area, but she didn’t see Lonnie Elam.
“Where is your dad?”
“Still out in the car. He’s on the phone to Tommy Doyle. They spotted Michael tonight over at Mick’s Bar and Grill. They tried to catch him, but he got away. Tommy intends to track Michael down, and my dad’s going to help him.”
Allyson’s grandmother had protected Tommy Doyle from Michael when he’d been a boy, and she knew Tommy hated that masked motherfucker as much as anyone, maybe even more than her grandmother did. She wasn’t surprised to hear that he planned to take part in a little vigilante justice this evening, and given how the sheriff’s department had failed to capture Michael so far, maybe the authorities could use some help tracking down the sonofabitch and taking him out for good.
“I want in,” Allyson said.
“What? You mean, you want to join Tommy?”
“Yes. For our friends.” She paused, fought back a sob, then continued. “And for my dad.”
Cameron looked at her, and for a moment she thought he was going to try to talk her out of it, but then he smiled grimly and nodded.
She caught movement from the corner of her eye, and she turned to see her mother headed in their direction, accompanied by both Sheriff Barker and Detective Graham. Her mother was speaking to the men, and she did not sound happy.
“No, you need to get everybody here right now! If he’s not dead, he’s on his way—”
Both men interrupted her at the same time, talking over each other.
“Gonna ask you to wait for me by Administration, and I’ll—” Barker said.
“We’re doing everything we—” Graham said.
Karen paid no attention to either of them. “He’s not going to stop killing until my mother is dead!”
Allyson had never seen her mom like this before. Usually she was the calm voice of reason. Sensible, logical, always in control of her emotions. But now she sounded frantic, as if she was on the verge of losing her shit entirely. Her eyes were wild, like those of a trapped animal desperately searching for a means of escape. Her gaze fell on Allyson then. She was already walking fast, but her panic took hold of her, and she ran the rest of the way.
“Mom!” Allyson stepped forward and caught her mother by the shoulders, as much to slow her down as to reassure her with her touch.
Karen began speaking rapidly, words tumbling from her mouth.
“You are going to go with the detective and stay with your grandmother until she wakes.”
Allyson knew she could soothe her mother by agreeing, and probably should, but she couldn’t just stay here and do nothing.
“No.”
Karen looked at her, confused, as if she hadn’t understood the word.
Cameron stepped in then. “She’s coming with us. My dad and me. We’re joining Tommy Doyle.”
Karen turned her gaze to Cameron and frowned, as if only just registering his presence.
“She’s what?”
Cameron glanced at Allyson before going on. “The police are understaffed. I don’t know if you heard, but—”
Karen cut him off. “Every police officer should be coming here. Right now. We’re not dealing with a normal human. Michael Myers is a monster.”
Allyson couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Throughout Allyson’s entire life, her mom had resisted buying into Laurie’s “delusion” about Michael Myers, that he was somehow a living embodiment of evil, destined to one day hunt her down and attempt to finish what he’d started on Halloween night in 1978. Now Karen had gone completely in the opposite direction. It sounded as if she’d wholeheartedly adopted her grandmother’s belief, to the point where it seemed that her own sanity was in question. Karen had fought to keep her mother at arm’s length over the years, trying to prevent Laurie’s craziness from infecting her and her family. She’d given up the struggle now, though, and was one hundred percent on Team Strode—for better or worse.
Barker and Graham were watching the three of them closely, but they weren’t the only ones. Allyson became aware that the other people in the waiting area—patients, family members, staff—were listening as well, and a number of them were moving closer. Looks like we’ve got an audience, she thought.
Cameron continued his attempt at an explanation.
“Tommy’s organizing groups,” he said. “Groups of people. To find him. To find Michael.”
Karen looked at him as if he’d just made a particularly unfunny joke. “Tommy Doyle? You’ve got to be kidding me. He’s unstable… as bloodthirsty as Michael is!”
Cameron didn’t reply to this, but he stood confident, his decision unchanged. Allyson couldn’t help but admire him for this.
“I’m going with them,” she said. “We’re going to hunt him down and put an end to this.”
“But he’s coming here,” Karen insisted. “I keep telling them. He’s stalking her. We need to stay here and protect her!”
Allyson wanted to tell her mother that Michael Myers was doing no such thing. Dr. Sartain had been the one obsessed with the idea that there was some kind of spiritual link between Michael and her grandmother, a primal connection between predator and prey. She’d been in the cruiser when he’d spoken about it, had been forced to ride along as he drove the unconscious Michael to her grandmother’s house in order to purposefully force the confrontation that he believed was inevitable. If Sartain hadn’t done this, Michael never would’ve found her grandmother. It hadn’t been destiny at work, just the madness of a single man.
She knew her mother wouldn’t listen, though, not as worked up as she was.
Cameron spoke to Karen again, calm and resolute. “Michael has infected your family and mine with fear and grief for forty years. He’s gonna die tonight.”
People—including Brackett, the security guard she’d spoken with earlier—had continued to gather around them as the conversation progressed. More than a few murmured agreement with Cameron’s words, but Allyson did her best to ignore them as she tried to make her mother understand.
“Mom, I’m not going to wait here while he’s out there. I don’t want to see another person die. Live in fear… or don’t. Whether it’s a nut with a high-powered rifle, a white nationalist, some radical terrorist… or Michael Myers. Michael killed my father, and I’m not—”
Allyson was cut off as someone shouted, “Please clear the area!”
Everyone turned to see two orderlies, each pushing a gurney toward the crowd. On one gurney was an ashen-faced man, eyes terrified, breathing ragged. A woman, tears streaming down her cheeks, followed close behind him. No one followed the second gurney. The sheet had been pulled up over the occupant’s face, a clear indication that whoever it was hadn’t made it. There were bloodstains on both sheets.
The crowd was slow to disperse, and the crying woman shouted to make them move faster.
“Excuse me. Excuse me! It’s my husband, and he’s been hurt very badly!”
Everyone stepped aside quickly, and the orderlies wheeled the gurneys past them swiftly. The woman gave the crowd a dark look, as if she intended to blame them if her husband didn’t survive the night, and they continued down the hallway, one gurney bound for an operating room, the other for the morgue. When they were lost to sight, Allyson spoke to her mother once more.
“I’m not going to pretend this didn’t happen. It is happening. Now. I love Dad… and somebody loves whoever was lying under that sheet!”
Karen’s expression softened. She gave Allyson a sad look and took hold of her hands.
“We failed, baby. We caught Michael in a trap, set the whole house on fire and he lived through it! Think about that. He’s killed our friends, our families, and he will never stop until he finishes what he started. The police are looking for him. And you think you’re the one that’s going to find him? To stop him?” Her voice grew louder, angry. “You need to go in that room and sit with your grandmother. Now!”
Karen’s voice shook as she spoke this last word, and Allyson understood that her mother wasn’t forbidding her from helping Tommy Doyle because she didn’t like the man or thought that what he wanted to do was crazy—even if she did. She was a woman grieving her dead husband, who feared for her wounded mother’s life, and was terrified that her only child intended to put herself directly in Michael Myers’ path out of some need for revenge. Karen had been through so much already tonight, and Allyson didn’t want to make things worse for her.
She nodded once, then turned and exchanged a glance with Cameron. He stood there awkwardly, as if unsure what—if anything—he should say. He settled for giving her an understanding smile, which she very much appreciated. Then she turned and followed her mother down the hallway. She knew she was doing the right thing, so why did she feel so defeated?
* * *
Allyson sat in a chair at the side of her grandmother’s hospital bed. Laurie was asleep, her breathing soft but regular, and while Allyson couldn’t understand the readouts on the monitoring equipment her grandmother was hooked up to, no alarms were blaring, so she figured that was a good sign. The light in here was dim, the better for Laurie to rest, but Allyson found it ominous. She didn’t like the way shadows collected in the corners of the room, would’ve preferred the light to be blazing bright. She wanted to be able to see all around her. That way, no one could sneak up on her.
She’d tucked Laurie’s bloody shirt and the knife wrapped inside it between her hip and the arm of the chair. She knew the hospital staff would take it from her if they found it, though, so she had to be careful.
She reached out to take Laurie’s hand and was surprised by how light and fragile it felt, like she might break the bones if she squeezed too hard. She looked at her grandmother’s face, and for the first time was struck by how old she appeared. Despite her age, Laurie had always seemed ageless to Allyson—filled with life and fire, haunted by memories of what had happened to her when she was a teenager, yes, but not broken by them. But lying here, after having been almost killed by Michael Myers, she no longer looked larger than life, wasn’t the badass warrior who’d spent decades preparing to battle a knife-wielding maniac. She looked like a woman in her sixties who badly needed to rest and recuperate.
She heard voices then, her mom speaking with Sheriff Barker out in the hallway.
“Sheriff, where’s Security?” Karen said, sounding on the verge of hysteria. “You need to have someone posted outside my mother’s door. Do you understand? Michael is coming!”
Barker kept his tone even. “I need you to calm down, Karen. If this town starts to panic, he wins. That’s all there is to it. I want to help you, but I need you to help me.”
Allyson thought her mother would argue further, but she sighed, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer.
“I know. I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do. I’m sorry.”
“Please,” Barker said. “Go to the waiting room. Get some rest. I’ll have someone get you when your mother wakes up.”
The two were silent for a moment, then Allyson heard her mother’s footsteps as she headed for the waiting area. Allyson was glad. In her mother’s current state, if she tried to stay in the room with Laurie, she might become agitated and disturb her sleep. Her mother had likely thought of this too. She was a therapist, which meant taking care of other people emotionally was her thing.
Allyson thought Barker might enter the room then, maybe to check on Laurie or ask her a few questions that Detective Graham hadn’t gotten around to. But a moment later, she heard him walk away. Michael was out there somewhere making more work for him, and he had more important matters to deal with than talking to her right now.
She thought of what her mother had said to her in the waiting area. We failed, baby. What would her grandmother do when she woke and learned that Michael still lived to stalk the streets of Haddonfield? How could Laurie rest, knowing he was out there somewhere, killing again?
Allyson had seen pictures of her grandmother from when she’d been a teenager. Not only did her mom have some photos, but Laurie Strode was famous in her way, and you could find images of her on the Internet, posted on sites dedicated to serial killers and their crimes. Allyson had never understood the fascination some people had with the darkest aspects of human nature, but she’d been glad to see those pictures. One of the things that had struck her was how happy her grandmother looked in the photographs taken before that Halloween. The way she smiled, big and slightly wry, as if she was in on a joke that no one else knew about. Allyson loved that smile. She had never once seen it on her grandmother’s face in real life, and she knew it had died the night Michael Myers broke into the Doyles’ house. When Allyson thought Michael had burned to death, she’d hoped that smile might return some day. But Michael wasn’t dead, and now she feared Laurie’s smile would remain dead forever.
She looked at her grandmother. She was out of it, probably would be for hours. Allyson wasn’t doing her any good by sitting here and holding her hand. But there was somewhere she could be of use, somewhere she could help make sure that when her grandmother finally woke up, it would be to a world in which Michael Myers no longer existed. A world where Laurie Strode would finally be free.
She picked up the bloody shirt—and the knife— and stood. She didn’t believe, as her mother did, that Michael would come to the hospital tonight seeking to kill her grandmother. But she remembered how no one, herself included, had believed her grandmother when she’d insisted Michael would return one day. She didn’t intend to make the same mistake again. She placed the shirt on the bed next to Laurie.
“This is for you. Whenever you need it.”
She gently touched her grandmother’s cheek, and then she walked out of the room, in search of an exit.