Prologue

October 28, 2007, Seattle, WA

"You don't have to do this John," stated a young woman. John Loomis looked at her with a small smirk.

"Don't try to change my mind Stacy," John replied. "I told you, I need to look into this story."

John was in the middle of packing a suitcase full of different things and clothes. He looked at his girlfriend Stacy and tried to read what she felt. He couldn't find the words to explain why he needed to do this but there was no way she'd understand.

"Honey, please don't look at me like that, you know where I'm going, you know what I'm planning but it's impossible to explain why I have to," he said flatly. She stared at him for a long time before speaking.

"I know, I just don't see why you feel like you need to," she said, starting to sob lightly. John walked toward her and took her in his arms. He was silent, holding her, protecting her, feeling the warmth of her body. She was right about one thing, even he didn't really know what was driving him to travel to that small Illinois town, the one where terror once walked, so many years ago. All he knew was that his father started something, something that he needed to look into, questions John needed answered.

Chapter 1

October 30, 2007, Haddonfield, IL

This quiet town was once proud to be a nice, little, out-of-the-way part of Illinois. Now, most people tend to forget the town's past. That past, that history is lost within a timeframe that seems so distant yet it really was only a fraction of a century ago. That history is stained in blood.

People will tell tourists of the horror that once stalked the streets and of the night that started it thirty years prior, the night He came home. They speak of the Strodes, the Myers, and that house that looms still today. That house, with dead vegetation and rotting paneling, scares even the most skeptical people away. It's half the reason why nobody ever tore it down. When people walk by it, they stay on the other side of the road. Nobody in Haddonfield wanted their town to become an attraction; nobody could understand what would drive some people to explore the history that so many have tried to keep locked away.

John got out of the rental car he picked up at the airport in front of that house. He looked at the dust covered façade. He laughed to himself, a house is supposed to be a place of security, warmth, and protection. This house, on the night of October 31, 1963, would be far from considered a warm, secure place. Young Judith Myers, murdered in cold blood, by the most unlikely of murderers. Her six year old brother, Michael, entered her room brandishing a knife, stabbed her.

"I met him so many years ago; I was told there was nothing left: no reason, no conscience, no understanding; not even the most rudimentary sense of life or death, good or evil, right or wrong. I met this six year old child with this blank, pale, emotionless face and the blackest eyes; the Devil's eyes. I spent eight years trying to reach him, and then another seven years trying to keep him locked up because I realized that what was living behind that boy's eyes was purely and simply... evil," his father's words echoed in John's mind. He had asked his father time and time again to tell him of the story of Myers. The one time Dr. Loomis ever said anything, it was that one statement.

He and his father never talked much. John regretted his parents divorcing and his mother taking him to Washington to grow up under the Loomis name. His mother never explained to him why they didn't live under her maiden name. He felt that in some part of her burned a love for her ex-husband Sam. She'd always told him that his father was crazy, driven mad by the determination to put an end to Michael Myers once and for all. John looked down at the pavement, leaves rustling around his feet. He got back into his car and drove towards the center of town.

Pulling up in front of the Haddonfield Police Department, he made a note about how desolate the town seems. The streets are pretty much empty except for a few people moving in and out of the shops along Main Street. He got out of the car and headed into the police station.

"Hello, my name's John Loomis, I should have already made a reservation to speak with the Chief," he said to the receptionist. She looked to be in her early 60s but you could tell that Haddonfield's history had strained her over the course of her life.

"Ok, Mr. Loomis, Chief Doyle will see you in a few moments," the receptionist replied with a weak smile. She knew who he was, or at least who his father was, she had to know. Almost everybody he spoke to when he arrived this afternoon knew who his father was and what he had brought to this town. Sometimes it was a warm welcome but most of the time; he received cold emotions and blank stares.

The chief came out of his office, he looked to be in his late 20s, must have just been elected or not more than 5 years ago. He motioned for John to come into his room. He shook the chief's hand and sat down.

"Hello Chief, my name's…" John started but was cut off by Chief Doyle.

"I know who you are Mr. Loomis," he said sternly. "I don't mean to be harsh, but most people know what your father brought to this town."

"I know Chief, that's why I'm here, I need to find answers to questions he never answered for me," John looked at the chief as sternly as he was to him. He tried to read the chief as he did his girlfriend but found it even harder. The chief looked to be too young to remember much of the Myer's murder, if he was even old enough to have been born. However, he had to have heard the stories or read his father's book.

"Well, I don't know how much good anything you get from here will be," Chief Doyle stated, "Most of the people I talk to, don't like talking about it, much less the son of the man who brought Michael Myers to this town."

"He didn't bring him here, and you know that," John said raising his voice a little bit.

"Don't raise your voice to me, or I'll forget how hospitable I've been," Doyle replied. He stood up to face John; he could tell how much he looked like Sam Loomis, from what he saw in photos.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, it's just that people in this town forget to realize it was Michael who came back, it was Michael who killed those people, and it was Michael who killed my father, that much I'm sure of," John snapped back at the chief. Doyle seemed taken aback by the statement but looked flustered.

"Either way Mr. Loomis, the Strodes have allowed you to stay with them, but if I get any calls of you disturbing or causing any trouble, I will hold you accountable," Doyle said flatly. He motioned for John to leave who obeyed defiantly. He watched him as he exited the building and drove away.