Lonnie leaned against his silver Nissan Altima in the hospital parking lot, arms folded across his chest, gazing out at the road, waiting. The lot was busy with emergency vehicles and sheriff’s cruisers coming and going, as well as scores of civilians rushing into the ER, many of them crying. It was sheer pandemonium, like the aftermath of some terrible town-wide disaster—a violent earthquake or devastating tornado. Despite the chaos, he felt calm, even relaxed. For years, he’d dreaded the prospect of Michael Myers returning to Haddonfield, but now that it had happened, he found himself looking forward to his reunion with the masked motherfucker. He had a score to settle with the Boogeyman, and he wasn’t the only one.
A moment later, he saw a black SUV approach the hospital, engine rumbling. The parking lot was well lit, and when Lonnie waved, Tommy saw, pulled in, and drove directly to him. He parked next to the Altima and got out.
“We found her,” Lonnie said. “Laurie’s here. She’s in recovery.”
“Lucky she survived,” Tommy said. “I just heard from one of the officers at her compound. Eleven dead bodies of first responders.”
Jesus Christ, Lonnie thought. How many more would die before they finally put that bastard down?
“Cameron’s inside,” he said. “Three of his friends have been killed. It’s a madhouse.”
Tommy’s face darkened, and a cold glint came into his eyes that made Lonnie uncomfortable. He knew about Tommy’s temper, what could happen when he lost control. He’d seen it, and it wasn’t pretty.
Tommy, as if sensing his friend’s sudden reluctance, put his hands on Lonnie’s shoulders and squeezed firmly as he spoke.
“The only way we can stop this is if we’re all in it together.”
Slowly, Lonnie nodded. “Yeah. Line up your crowd, Tommy, but I want first crack at Michael. People have always seen me as a fuck-up and an outcast. I was a bully to some and bullied by others, but at the end of the day, I want to be remembered as the one that took down the bad guy.”
Lonnie stepped away from Tommy and opened the trunk of his Altima to reveal a large tackle box and a long object covered by a dirty towel. Tommy opened the tackle box. Inside, amongst actual fishing tackle, were six handguns.
“You got a permit for these?” Tommy asked.
Lonnie grinned. “Some of them.”
He pulled off the towel to reveal a sawed-off shotgun. Tommy whistled a couple notes in appreciation.
“Dad!”
Lonnie and Tommy looked up to see Cameron coming toward them.
“Where’s your girlfriend?” Lonnie asked.
“She’s okay,” Cameron said. “She’s staying with her family.”
“Good for her,” Lonnie said.
“It’s where she should be,” Tommy agreed.
A white Hyundai Elantra pulled into the parking lot. The driver drove up to them and parked on the other side of Tommy’s SUV. Lindsey got out, along with Marion, Marcus, and Vanessa.
The gang’s all here, Lonnie thought. He looked at Marcus and Vanessa.
“You guys coming too?” he asked.
“So many victims in our neighborhood,” Marcus said.
“Close friends of ours,” Vanessa added. “We just want to help. I’m a nurse. And Marcus is a doctor.”
“Of course you are,” Lonnie said skeptically.
“Seriously,” Marcus insisted. “We’ll do whatever we need to do.”
Vanessa reached out, took her husband’s hand, and nodded her agreement.
Lonnie, Tommy, Lindsey, and Marion exchanged glances. Should they let Vanessa and Marcus join them? It was going to be dangerous. Then again, if the two really were medical professionals, they might come in handy before the night was over. No one voiced any objections, and the decision was made.
“Lonnie, let’s make sure these people have protection,” Tommy said. He then gestured at the trunk. “Share your shit, please.”
Lonnie gave a large pistol to Marcus.
“Ever used a firearm before?” he asked.
Before Marcus or Vanessa could answer, Allyson said, “You squeeze the trigger and it goes bang, right?”
Everyone turned to see Allyson come toward them. Cameron looked surprised—and more than a little happy. When Allyson reached Lonnie’s Altima, she reached into the trunk and picked up the sawed-off shotgun. Lonnie expected her to hold it awkwardly, as if she was afraid of it, but she didn’t. She held it comfortably, and he wondered if her grandmother had ever given her shooting lessons on the sly, or if it simply came natural to her because she was a Strode.
“Michael Myers has haunted this town for forty years,” Allyson said. “Tonight we hunt him down.”
Lonnie smiled. Allyson was going to fit in with the rest of them just fine.
* * *
The group split up after that. Lonnie drove Cameron and Allyson, while Lindsey took Marion, Marcus, and Vanessa. The plan was for them to drive around Haddonfield and search for Michael. If they found him, they were to alert the others, and they’d regroup and proceed from there. As for Tommy, he had some recruiting to do.
Michael might’ve escaped them back at Mick’s, but the experience had helped Tommy realize something important. Michael wasn’t just their Boogeyman—his, Lindsey’s, Lonnie’s, Marion’s, and above all, Laurie’s. He was Haddonfield’s monster. Everyone who’d lived in this town, from the night Michael had killed his sister to now, had been affected by the evil bastard in one way or another. Haddonfield itself deserved justice. Michael—however dangerous he might be—was just one man. He couldn’t stand against an entire town determined to hunt him down and end his miserable excuse of a life. Sure, there might be some casualties along the way, but as far as Tommy was concerned, they’d be acceptable losses. All that mattered was that Michael Myers died tonight.
He slowed as he approached a Grab-N-Go convenience store. A couple pickup trucks were parked in front, and a driver was refueling a Mustang at one of the pumps. People stood outside, smoking and shooting the shit, a few wearing half-assed Halloween costumes—a Dracula cape, an army helmet, sunglasses and a fake beard… This looked like as good a place as any to get started. He pulled into the lot, parked next to one of the pickups, and got out. In front of his car was a bench with an advertisement on it. Someone had spray-painted graffiti on it in black—a stylized image of a hand holding a knife— but the advertisement was still legible.
Big John and Little John Home Advantage Realty— From studios to single-family homes, there ain’t no place too big or too little for Little John and Big John!
He approached the group of people, hard-looking men and women who glared at him suspiciously as he came toward them, bodies tensing in preparation to fight if necessary. He smiled. Perfect.
“Excuse me!” he said. “I need a few good people who aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty. Everyone else, go home. There’s a killer on the loose tonight.”
The guy in the Dracula cape—stubbly beard, shaggy brown hair, beer gut—scowled at him.
“What’s wrong with you, man? You high or something?”
His friends laughed at this, but Tommy just smiled.
“You guys ever hear the name Michael Myers?”
That shut them up. Tommy spent the next few minutes introducing himself and filling them in on what had happened over the last twenty-four hours or so: how a group of patients from Smith’s Grove were being transported to a new hospital in Colorado; how there had been an accident; how Michael Myers had escaped, returned to Haddonfield, and picked up where he’d left off forty years ago.
“I actually had an altercation with Myers myself about an hour ago, but he escaped.”
While he’d been talking, more people had gathered around—the driver of the Mustang, and a group of twentysomethings who’d come to the Grab-N-Go to pick up beer for a party they were headed to. All of them listened to Tommy’s story with rapt attention.
When he’d finished, Tommy wrapped up his sales pitch.
“So what do you say? Want to go hunting with me and my friends tonight?”
The man in the Dracula cape exchanged grins with his companions.
“Fuck, yeah! This Myers prick is going down!”
Now it was Tommy’s turn to grin.
“Excellent!”
He told everyone his number, and they quickly programmed it into their phones.
“There is strength in numbers, guys,” he said. “You all cover Spring Creek to the bypass and let me know if you see anything. Myers is a threat, and we need to stop him tonight. The only way to catch him is to play his own game. Use the element of surprise. He thinks you’re going one place and you pop up someplace else. Keep your eyes open.”
They hurried off to their respective vehicles, got in, and roared out of the parking lot. The hunt was on.
Tommy headed back to his SUV. His first recruiting stop had gone well. By the time he was done, he’d have the whole goddamn town on Myers’ ass.
“Trick or treat, motherfucker,” he said.
Whistling a blue jay’s call, he climbed into his SUV, started the engine, and headed off to gather more recruits for his makeshift army.
* * *
Lonnie drove his Altima down a neighborhood street on the north side of town, a few blocks from Marcus and Vanessa’s home. He had no reason to think that Michael would return here, but it was a place to start. Cameron and Allyson sat in the front seat with him. The windows were down, and the cool night air felt good on his face. He sipped periodically from a coffee mug as he drove. It didn’t contain coffee, of course, and he was sure that Cameron and Allyson could ell that by the smell, but neither of them said anything. He didn’t intend to drink very much, just enough to keep the edge off. He couldn’t afford to let his nerves get the better of him tonight.
Lonnie carried one of the handguns in his jacket pocket, and Allyson kept the sawed-off shotgun propped against the side of the passenger door. Cameron had taken one of Lonnie’s guns, and he kept it on the seat next to him, one hand resting on it as if he was afraid it might slip and fall onto the floor if he wasn’t careful. The other guns had been claimed by Tommy, Lindsey, Marion, and Marcus. Vanessa hadn’t been interested in taking a weapon, which worked out well since there weren’t enough for everyone. He’d originally planned on one gun apiece for him and his friends, with a spare, and the shotgun as extra backup.
Next time I go out hunting a serial killer, I’ll make sure to bring more firepower, he thought.
As he drove slowly up and down the streets, they watched for any sign of Michael, listening for any screams or police sirens that might indicate his presence. So far they hadn’t had any luck, but the night was still young.
They drew near a group of men and women standing on the sidewalk, neighbors who’d left their houses to gather together and talk about what was happening in their town, Lonnie surmised, to share their worries and offer one another support. Understandable, if foolish, given the circumstances.
Allyson leaned out the window and called to them.
“Go home. Go inside and lock your doors. It’s not safe to be out. Protect yourself!”
They stared at her as the Altima passed, but they made no move to leave.
Idiots, Lonnie thought, and took another sip of his “coffee.”
“Dad?” Cameron said.
Lonnie turned to his son. The boy had been quiet for the most part since they’d left the hospital. Cameron didn’t talk much—not to him, at any rate—so whenever he chose to speak, Lonnie made it a point to listen.
“I didn’t always believe you about Michael Myers, about your meeting him when you were a kid, I mean. I thought maybe you’d made it up to help you sell your book, you know? But after tonight… well, I just want to say I’m sorry. I didn’t take you seriously, and I should have.”
Lonnie smiled at his son. “I love you too, kiddo.”
He faced forward once more and brought his mug to his lips. He hesitated, then stuck the mug out the window and dumped its contents onto the street. He then placed the empty mug in the cupholder.
Feeling better about himself than he had in a long time, Lonnie drove on.
* * *
Lindsey and her passengers were conducting their part of the search several blocks to the east of Lonnie, Cameron, and Allyson. Marion rode shotgun in the Elantra, while Marcus and Vanessa sat in the back. The couple seemed nervous—shooting glances at each other and fidgeting in their seats—and Marion wondered if they were having second thoughts about their decision to join the hunt for Michael Myers. If so, she didn’t blame them. It was all she could do to keep from freaking out herself. She had a fucking gun sitting on the seat next to her. Would she be able to fire the damn thing at another human being if it came down to it? Even if that human being was a maniac who had killed god knew how many people? She didn’t know, and she hoped she wouldn’t have to find out.
Lindsey had lowered the windows so they could hear anyone who might yell for help, and Marion took advantage of the opportunity to smoke without bothering anyone else in the car. She held her lit cigarette out the window, bringing it in only to take a drag on it, and then blowing the smoke to the side so the breeze would take it away. Lindsey could still smell the smoke, but it wasn’t too bad, and she figured she could tolerate it for one night. Everyone had their own ways of coping with stress. Lindsey relied on anti-anxiety meds. She’d popped a couple Lorazepam in the hospital parking lot before they left, but so far the pills hadn’t done much good. Her nerves still jangled like her body was constantly shrieking an alarm.
Marion blew a stream of smoke out the window, then said, “No one ever took him seriously.”
“Who?” Marcus asked.
“Sam Loomis,” Marion said. “Michael’s first doctor. That man knew a killer when he saw one.”
“I wish we’d all listened,” Lindsey said. She thought of all the lives that might’ve been saved if they had.
They approached a neighborhood park. Husker Park, she thought it was called. There were soccer fields, trees, and, of course, a playground—climbing equipment, a slide, a merry-go-round, several swings, cedar chips on the ground to cushion falls, trash receptacle encased in red brick. As the Elantra’s headlights illuminated the area, Lindsey saw a couple girls sitting on the swings, eating candy bars. One was dressed in orange, the other in black, and there were Halloween masks lying on the cedar chips near their feet—a pumpkin and a witch. A pillowcase lay on the ground as well, presumably where they’d gotten the candy bars from. There were no adults in sight.
Lindsey frowned. “What’s happening over there?”
She pointed at the playground, and Marion, Marcus, and Vanessa looked.
“Better check it out,” Marion said.
Lindsey pulled over to the curb next to the playground. She remembered this place, had brought her son here when he was little. Those had been happy times, and she felt a sharp pang of loss at the knowledge that they were gone forever. Time was a monster too, in its own way, its hunger without end. There were no lights here. It was the kind of playground that people weren’t supposed to use after dark, but kids did all the time, especially teenagers. The moon was full tonight, though, and Lindsey needed no lights to see the girls. She activated the car’s hazard lights, honked her horn to get the girls’ attention, then took a flashlight from her glovebox and shined a beam out the window. The kids seemed like they were all right.
“What’s going on?” she called out. “You guys okay?”
The girls looked at her, but neither answered. Concerned now, Lindsey got out and started walking toward them, shining her flashlight beam ahead of her. She’d left the Elantra running, its headlights on. The girls watched her warily, but they made no move to run. The playground equipment was more rundown than it had looked from the car. The chains of the swings were rusty, and one side of the merry-go-round was higher than the other. It didn’t look like the damn thing could rotate properly. Worst of all was the trash receptacle. The actual container was housed inside a rectangular brick casing, probably to disguise it as well as prevent kids from knocking it over. But the brick was old, the cement that held it together crumbling. Several bricks had fallen onto the ground, and it looked like the remainder of the structure was barely holding together. Not exactly a safe thing to have around in a place where children played.
When Lindsey reached the girls, she addressed them in her Mother-Means-Business voice. It had worked with her son, at least when he was young.
“You guys should not be out right now. It’s not safe out here. Have you seen a man wearing a white mask?”
The girls exchanged glances, and then one of them—the girl in black with shoulder-length light brown hair—looked at Lindsey.
“As a matter of fact, yes,” she said, sounding far more adult than she looked. “We’re playing hide and seek with him.”
Lindsey couldn’t believe what she’d just heard. What was wrong with these girls? They sounded too calm, almost eerily so.
“You’re what?” Lindsey asked.
The other girl—the one in orange, with shorter, darker brown hair—pointed toward Lindsey’s car.
“Oh, look! There he is!”
Lindsey spun around and shined her flashlight at the Elantra. Michael Myers stood at the back of the car, knife gripped at his side. In his other hand he held a skull mask, blood dripping from the inside.
Michael turned to look at her, and she felt cold, as if the temperature had suddenly plunged well below zero. In her mind, she was a little girl again, running alongside a child version of Tommy through his house, both of them screaming, Laurie telling them to hush, that it was going to be all right. Now here he was again, the monster that had chased her through her nightmares for the last forty years. Laurie wasn’t going to be able to save her now. She was going to have to save herself.