Down the hallway, around the corner and further on Mickey ran, not knowing where he was going but not daring to slow down. He had to get to the kitchen he knew but he wasn't about to do that with Michael on his heels. He needed time to free Vanessa and get her to safety and he had no doubt that Michael would follow him wherever he went.

After all, he'd been following Mickey throughout the whole day. As Mickey skidded to a halt behind a corner to catch his breath, clutching at a stitch in his side he had a terrible understanding of the day's events, seeing it all played out like a film in his mind's eye. The pick up truck, the man watching him and Vanessa from across the parking lot and then later through the window of his own house. He felt cold with dread at the idea that Michael had been so close to Dexter but that fear was almost instantaneously replaced by anger. Michael had scared his little brother. He had hurt Curtis.

He had to pay.

Mickey peered cautiously around the corner, fully prepared to see the behemoth stalking towards him down the dark hallway. There was nothing, nothing but the silence and the oppressive darkness. Mickey stood still, his heart pounding in his ears. He liked this silence far leas than the sound of Michael's footsteps. It was too suggestive for his liking and for half a moment he expected the killer to burst out of the shadows and get him but nothing moved at either end of the hallway.

Mickey's mind set on one grim solution.

Michael must be heading to the kitchens to get Vanessa and Mickey was not about to let the son of a bitch have it all his own way. With grim determination he stole from his hiding spot and ran through the dark corridors, not even bothering to use caution or keep quiet. He had to draw Michael out, to make him leave Vanessa and even Curtis alone and if that meant being live bait then he was more than willing to do so.

He skidded to a halt as he reached the doors of the cafeteria, throwing them open and coming to a halt in the vast, deserted eating space. His leg was throbbing from where Michael had slashed at him in the gym and his shoe was covered in blood but he paid no attention to it. For a second he stood there, catching his breath and looking around for any trace of the killer but there was nothing hiding under any of the tables or behind the soda machines.

Curtis had said that he'd made Vanessa hide in the fridge in the kitchen. Mickey walked carefully towards the serving area, completely prepared to find Michael lurking behind the buffet counter but not even a mouse made itself known as Mickey crept towards the door to the kitchen.

It was locked.

"Come on," he hissed, tugging on the knob with all his strength but it wouldn't budge. He slammed his fists against the door, shouting out Vanessa's name as loudly as he could, hoping that she'd had the sense to leave the fridge.

Nobody answered him.

Mickey looked wildly around the serving area and saw a large aluminum garbage can. It was the only thing that he had available so without a moment's hesitation he grasped it by the handles and slammed it down against the knob again and again, determined to break it down.

The knob broke off after his fifth attempt. Hastily Mickey stooped and worked the now visible lock with his bare fingers, glancing over his shoulder every other second to make sure Michael wasn't lurking anywhere behind him.

Once the bolt clicked Mickey flung the door open and stood in the empty kitchen. The first thing that met his eyes was a large pool of dark red on the floor in front of him. Looking down he saw with a gut-wrenching stab that it continued in a streak to the very spot where he stood. He glanced over his shoulder and noticed spots of blood on the floor that he hadn't when he'd been in the serving room. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know whose blood it was.

Curtis must have been in a lot of pain and Mickey felt a rushing feeling of love for the other boy. He was brave and far stronger than Mickey had ever realized. Not for the first time he sent a wild prayer to whatever was listening that Curtis would have the constitution to pull through until help arrived.

Footsteps sounded from far away. Panicked, Mickey flung open one of the drawers, rifling through the utensils until he found a long knife. Looking wildly around he dove back towards the busted open door and flattened himself around the corner. The footsteps drew closer. Mickey allowed himself to peer around the corner, his eyes fixed on that tiny little window, waiting with baited breath. All at once Michael's face appeared in the small porthole, clearly visible through the glass. The door at the opposite end of the kitchen was flung open and for one wild moment Mickey was fully prepared for the killer to charge him, but he didn't. Mickey had no idea weather or not Michael had seen him. Instead his head turned the smallest fraction of an inch to the refrigerator and somehow Mickey had the feeling that behind that impassive mask was a smile of evil triumph. There was no doubt in his mind that Michael knew that Vanessa was in there.

Mickey's blood boiled in rage. In blind anger he shouted, "MICHAEL," as loudly as he could from around the corner. Flattened against the wall he had no idea if the killer would take the bait or not. A moment later his heavy footsteps on the blood stained floor told Mickey that he had fallen for it. Silently and swiftly as he could ducked behind the serving buffet, his knife gripped tightly in his hand, his ears alert to the sound of Michael's approaching footfalls which drew closer and closer until the man was standing in the serving area.

Mickey remained crouched, his heart beating so loudly that he was surprised Michael hadn't found him. Slowly the killer walked passed the buffet, his head turning from side to side as he searched at eye level for his prey. For half a second Mickey was sure that Michael would find him and he was gripped by a wild, panicked desire to show himself and get it over with but he reeled that notion in. Vanessa was still trapped and he wasn't about to give in without getting her to safety.

Michael walked slowly to the entrance that led back into the cafeteria. He stood there momentarily, scanning the vast space ahead for any sign of the boy he sought.

The next second he staggered forward as Mickey burst out from his hiding spot behind the buffet and plunged his knife into the killer's back. A feeling of elated relief took hold of Mickey and without a pause he stabbed at Michael again and again, his knife cutting through muscle and flesh, sinking deep into the killer's body as he jerked violently around in attempt to get away from his attacker. Blood flew into the air, splattering the front of Mickey's black and white clown costume, staining his straw coloured hair as he let loose in all his fury, the knife an instrument of release as much as it was of defence.

A sound filled the air, a sound that Mickey only become aware of as he withdrew the knife from the front of Michael's body for the umpteenth time. In his crimson rage he hadn't been aware of it but now as he came back down he realized that it was his own frenzied laughter that was echoing off the walls of the cafeteria, a maniacal cackle of delight at the surge of power and the feel of blade sinking through staggered backwards, the last note of the ecstatic, half-deranged sound reverberating through the silence as Michael swayed and finally crumpled to the ground.

Mickey stared with wide eyes at his bloody, shaking hands and the scarlet stained knife. For a split second he stood there, desperately trying to convince himself that he hadn't been laughing and yet he couldn't deny that the feeling of sinking the knife into Michael had been freeing, as though all his frustrations had been unleashed through the meeting of blade and body. He closed his eyes, and tried with all his might to get a grip on himself. Michael was a monster. Michael had killed his friends. He was perfectly justified in feeling euphoric in attacking him with such violent ferocity.

He turned on his heel, still trying to bring himself around. There were more important things than his psychology at the moment. Side-stepping the pool of Curtis' blood he hurried towards the refrigerator and tugged at the metal handle.

It didn't budge.

Had she locked herself in?

"Vanessa!" He yelled, banging in the outside of the fridge as hard as he could. "Open the door! It's Mickey!" He tugged at the handle but it wouldn't move and his fingers, wet with Michael's blood, slipped against the metal surface and he couldn't get proper traction. He pounded on the door with his fists, chilled by the thought that Vanessa had simply frozen to death inside the frigid box but the next second the door was flung open and a blast of cold air hit him square in the face. Vanessa stood there, shivering in the cold, her skin pale, her lips blue. Without another word Mickey grasped her by the wrist and pulled her out of the fridge, slamming the door shut behind her. Her skin was cold to the touch.

"Are you alright?" He asked, reaching over and flicking on the element of the stove. He marched her in front of the warmth and felt somewhat relieved that she could at least move her arms out to the heat that radiated from the burner.

"T-t-totally fine," she stammered, rubbing her hands together. Mickey looked around and swiped a large, dry dish towel from a rack by the sink. He began tousling Vanessa's arms and torso, wishing she'd though better in her choice of her costume. What with her zombie makeup and pale, half frozen skin she looked like a living corpse.

Vanessa glanced down at Mickey's hands.

"Wh-wh-what h-happened to you?"

"Never mind," he said glancing over his shoulder to make sure that Michael wasn't standing behind them. Having attacked the son of a bitch at the door to the cafeteria Mickey couldn't tell if he'd gotten back up from here.

Vanessa, noticing the direction Mickey had looked, glanced at the door to the serving area. She let out a small moan at the blood on the floor.

"He's fine," Mickey told her instantly, continuing to warm her up. "I mean, he got hurt pretty bad but he's conscious." For one terrible moment he wondered if that was still the case. There was so much blood on the floor and he didn't know if Curtis would be able to hold out that long. He shook that thought off. Curtis was still alive and they were all going to make it out of here if it was the last thing he did.

Thinking of her boyfriend seemed to give Vanessa renewed strength. She shrugged off Mickey's attempts to warm her up with the dish towel and flicked off the burner. "I'm okay," she told him. "Probably won't enjoy winter as much this year but I'll live."

"You sure about that?" Mickey asked her levelly. She met his gaze and replied, "Totally," which was more than enough for him. He hooked her arm under his and, letting her lean against him more for warmth than anything else, they made their way across the kitchen to the student entrance and into the hallway beyond. Mickey glanced backwards only once just to make sure that Michael hadn't gotten up but there was nobody in the kitchen.

The added effort of helping Vanessa along meant that Mickey had to lead them back towards the gym slower than he had intended but he preferred it that way. Moving too fast could alert their presence and even though he'd driven his knife into Michael enough times to kill a normal man Mickey wasn't going to fool himself for a moment that the murderous bastard was going down that easily. He kept the knife gripped tightly in the hand that wasn't holding Vanessa against him and made sure to peer around every corner they met before walking around it.

It would be quicker to go back to the technical stage from the gym. He didn't know how advisable it would be to try one of the classrooms to get to a phone and make Vanessa call for help. The only one that he was certain was unlocked was the one where Laney, Pierce and Mr. Doyle had been set up and not only did Mickey know that seeing something that grisly would probably drive Vanessa into hysterics, he himself wasn't itching to go back there either.

They were in the hallway that intersected the foyer and led to the gym when Vanessa let go of his arm. "I'll be alright now," she said softly, her voice oddly hollow and distant. Mickey knew without even having to ask that her thoughts had turned to their friends and sure enough a moment later she asked, "What happened to the others? Pierce and Laney and Mr. Doyle?"

Mickey didn't know how to reply. He kept his eyes on the ground but somehow that seemed to be enough for Vanessa. When he happened to look back up to her he saw with a wrenching feeling in his gut that she wasn't falling apart the way he'd anticipated. She simply stood there, a numb look on her face, her blue eyes hollow.

"I'm sorry," he said softly as a new rush of guilt overwhelmed him. No matter what they said he knew that they would have stood a better chance had he not gone and gotten drunk. He could have kept tabs on everyone through the walkie-talkies, made sure that they were alright and gone to help them.

Vanessa nodded softly at him. "I know," she said quietly. "And it's not totally your fault. It's his."

Mickey nodded in response and turned to walk around the corner.

Michael stepped out from behind the wall, blocking the path in front of them. Mickey gasped and staggered backwards as Vanessa let out a scream of surprised terror. His hands oddly steady Mickey held his knife aloft, prepared to charge at the killer again but with a swipe of his long, powerful arm Michael knocked the knife out of Mickey's grasp. It clattered to the floor, several feet away.

Defenceless now against the behemoth Mickey scrambled backwards, grabbed Vanessa by the arm and tore down the hallway, back towards the foyer. Vanessa seemed to have more of an idea of where she wanted to go than he did and the second they'd cleared the wide open entrance hall she burst into an unlocked utility closet, pulling Mickey in behind her and locking it. She gave a terrified yelp a split second later when Michael's full weight thudded against the outside of the door. Desperately Mickey and Vanessa rifled through the shelves and buckets, trying to find something to use to defend themselves against the killer outside.

Mickey felt his heart leap to his throat when the blade of Michael's knife was shoved through the door near the knob. He was stabbing through the wood, tearing chunks out of the door. Vanessa stumbled over, whether out of fear or because she'd tripped over a bucket or mop Mickey didn't know. Wildly he looked around, wishing he'd kept a better hold on his knife when Michael had surprised them. He had to make one last effort at keeping Vanessa and Curtis safe even if it was stupidly reckless. He grabbed the handle of a nearby mop and held it in front of him, preparing to ram it as hard as he could into Michael the second he got the door open.

A sizeable chunk had been taken out of the door now. Michael shoved his large hand through it and found the lock.

Mickey could scarcely breathe as the door was flung open. Michael stood in the frame, his overalls bloody, the red streaks from his eye socket staining the white like a crimson river. Without knowing how Mickey could tell that the killer no longer cared about stalking him as long as he possibly could. He was royally pissed that Mickey had been able to get the jump on him three times and Mickey knew that however the man chose to kill him it was going to be bloody and long. Behind him Vanessa whimpered, too terrified to try and put up a fight. But it didn't matter to Mickey. He would fight for her.

Mickey gripped the handle of the mop and prepared to lunge at Michael with full force when the man suddenly jerked violently to one side as something attacked him from behind with a sickening squelch. He staggered sideways and with a leap of his heart Mickey saw Curtis standing behind the killer, a fire ax gripped in his hands. He swung once more and the blade connected with Michael's side sending blood flying at Mickey. Michael fell to the ground, blood pouring from him.

Without a thought Mickey turned and pulled Vanessa to her feet. She let out a choked cry and stumbled over Michael's legs, wrapping her arms around Curtis, who let the ax fall numbly to his side. Mickey clambered out of the utility closet, took the ax from his friend's weak hand and wordlessly draped Curtis' arm over his shoulder. The other boy's face was gradually losing colour and his skin was covered in a sheen of sweat. Mickey knew that if they didn't get help soon that it would be too late for his friend.

"C'mon," Mickey said and Vanessa, understanding what he meant held gingerly but firmly onto her boyfriend's other side. Together the three of them moved as quickly down the hallway and to the front door as they could, Mickey checking on Curtis as they went. His lips were moving almost soundlessly but Mickey knew that he was still counting up, determined to keep a hold on his strength and grasp on consciousness.

Triumphantly Mickey threw the front door open, the cool night air a relief after the intensity of the chase throughout the school. They could make it to help now if Curtis could just hang on until they got across the street to one of the houses. As he helped his friends over the threshold Vanessa looked back and let out a sobbing moan.

"Oh fuck, he's up again."

Mickey looked back and saw with a sinking feeling that once more Michael was proving his resilience, staggering to his feet in spite of his injuries. Any and all fear that Mickey felt was replaced by a prickling annoyance. Why couldn't the bastard just stay dead? His fingers closed tightly around the handle of the fire ax and he envisioned himself lobbing off the killer's head, could practically hear the crunch of bone and feel the warm spray of blood.

A distant siren sounded, cutting through his morbid thoughtsnand Mickey felt a flicker of hope.

"Get help," he told Vanessa firmly as he stepped back into the school. The sirens were drawing close and there was no doubt in his mind that they were coming towards the school.

"Are you out of your-"

"He's after me!" Mickey told her earnestly. Already the killer was making his way down the hallway, his movements staggered. "He's been after me all day. Curtis needs help and so do you. Now go."

Vanessa stared at him, her eyes welling up but Mickey didn't have time for sentiment. "GO!" He yelled and obediently she went, Curtis leaning on her as they made their way down the lawn of the school. Mickey watched them go for only a moment before slamming the door shut behind them.

He turned, prepared to face the hell in the school...and saw the flash of steel in front of his face a moment too late.