Chapter 28
Back to Smith's Grove
10:45
The sirens cut through the air as Loomis floored the Brackett's police cruiser down Highway 31, pinning the needle of the tachometer well beyond the red line.
Nelson sat in the passenger's seat of the cruiser while Karl was in the back seat. They had spent the majority of the trip teaching Karl how to work the gun in his hands, and Karl was now rehearsing how to fire the unloaded gun and practice loading it. Nelson was checking to see that his gun was fully loaded and that he had plenty of spare ammo.
"So do we go in stealth, or guns-blazing?" Nelson asked.
"We sneak in, first. My card will get us inside if they haven't locked it out. We head to Starks' office and see what we find there. Then, the three of us will head down into the basement and see what we can find. Save your bullets for when we need them; we want to keep our presence unknown until the last possible second. There it is," Loomis said. They reached the crest of a hill and Loomis pulled the car into a dirt side road that veered off into the woods where he drew it to a stop, shutting off the lights and engine and shrouding them in darkness. He got out of the car and walked around to the trunk.
"We'll go on foot from here," Loomis said as Nelson and Karl got out. "They'll have complete control of the place, and may have watch patrols."
Loomis opened the trunk, looked inside, and said, "God Bless you, Brackett." Loomis reached into the loaded trunk and pulled out a large Buck 120 hunting knife and handed it to Karl, as well as a silenced Beretta pistol.
"Keep things silent," he said as he handed him the pistol. "Do you need me to-" Loomis began to ask him if he needed help with the pistol, but Karl had quickly flipped the safety on and tucked it away in his jeans.
"I think this holster will do you better; less chance of blowing your nuts away. I don't think Emily would like that," Loomis said as Karl grabbed it.
"Stay close and follow me," he said as Nelson loaded himself with ammo.
They crept through the trees and down the hillside, emerging a few yards from the asylum's fence. Loomis looked around and, not seeing any guards, rushed the fence, scrambling over the top and dropping down to the ground on the other side. He turned back to Karl and Nelson and motioned for them to follow the fence to the main gate.
When they got there, Loomis entered the guard house and flipped the switch that opened the gate. Nelson and Karl walked through towards the front door as the gate closed behind them.
"There's nobody out here," Loomis said.
"That means everybody's inside," Nelson said. "And if everyone's inside, then the ritual is about to start."
"Then we'd better hurry," Karl added.
Amber came too on the concrete floor of…
Where the hell was she?
She lifted her head up and began nursing her forehead. She pulled her hand away and saw it was covered in tacky blood. Her head was throbbing, and she was cold.
The room she was in consisted only of a stainless steel toilet and a cot attached to the side of the wall and held there by chains that connected to the ceiling of the cell. She stood, and collapsed on her left leg.
The last thing she remembered was Stephen and her… God, why couldn't she remember?
She remembered running out in front of her dad's car after Stephen… After Stephen and her escaped the Myers house. That much, she remembered. After that, it was only bits and pieces, fragments. There was an alarm sounding from… somewhere, but only in her mind.
"Code black," Amber said.
"Hello!" someone shouted, startling Amber to scream. "Is someone there? Where are you?"
It was a little girl's voice, probably about thirteen or fourteen.
"I'm here, where are you?" Amber asked.
"I'm stuck in this room," said the girl. "I don't know where this room is, though."
"How long have you been here?" Amber asked.
"I've been awake for about an hour. How long before that, I have no fucking clue!"
There was a banging on bars as the girl apparently hit them out of frustration.
"Listen," Amber said. "We're going to get out of here very soon!"
"What makes you so sure?" the girl yelled.
"He's a police officer with the Haddonfield Police. He's going to be looking for me, and when he finds me, he'll rescue both of us!"
"You're from Haddonfield, too?"
"Yeah," Amber said. "My name is Amber. Amber Foster."
"Laurie," the girl said. "Laurie Tate-Strode."
Loomis took the lead through the empty halls of the asylum ground floor. Nelson followed close behind.
"Where's Starks' office?" Karl asked as he brought up the rear.
"Third floor," Loomis said.
"What's there?" Karl asked.
"The office was Wynn's before he vanished and Stark took over. Maybe there's something hidden there," Nelson suggested.
"Or maybe Wynn himself," Loomis said. "You cover the second and fourth floors. I'll check the office myself." Loomis approached the elevator and pressed the button. "If either of you find Stephen, Amber, or anyone else they may have taken, get them out of here and back to the car."
The elevator arrived and opened up, allowing the three of them to step inside. Loomis pressed three buttons as the doors closed.
In the control room, Rain watched the trio step into the elevator on the monitors. Did they really think that Wynn would have nobody watching their every move?
"Wynn," Rain said into his radio.
"Go for Wynn," came the response.
"Wynn, we got three level-two threats inside the lobby, just entered the elevators."
"Where are they going?" Wynn asked.
"The elevator is making stops on levels two, three, and four." Announced another nearby mercenary.
"Loomis will be going to Starks' office. I'll meet him there. Send patrols to the other two floors to kill the other two."
"Will do, sir," Rain said as he smiled. He was going to enjoy killing the nerd almost as much as he enjoyed turning the other kid into Swiss cheese.
He stood up from the monitors and walked over to the gun supply cabinet. He picked out an M16 and checked that it was fully loaded before reaching into his shirt, pulling out a black cord with a small wood block on it; burned into the block was the symbol for Thorn.
"For Thorn," Rain said as he nodded to his subordinates.
"For Thorn," all of them repeated as they, too, locked and loaded their weapons.
"Will do, sir," Rain said as Wynn put the radio down on the altar, a large square stage made of stone with the Thorn painted on three of the four edges. The room had no electric lights, and was instead lit only by hundreds upon hundreds of candles, casting an eerie glow within the room. On the wall behind the chamber was a very large wood Thorn symbol, casting it presence in the room like a crucifix.
The room itself was massive, about a hundred yards square. Wynn stood near the stage, with Stephen tied to a stone rack behind him.
"What the fuck do you want with me?" Stephen shouted, struggling against the leather restraints. "Why did you kill my brother? Huh? What's going on here?!"
"Calm down, Stephen," Wynn said smoothly. "You are part of something much bigger than yourself."
Stephen spat on Wynn, hitting him right between the eyes.
"Blow me! Better yet, get the princess over there to do it!" Stephen nodded over to where a pretty young woman in a very sexy leather nurse outfit (Stephen doubted she was a real nurse) with long brown hair stood by the altar. She had a large knife in her hands and a bowl of… something setting near her.
"As much as I'm sure Dianna wants to perform fellatio on you," Wynn said, oddly without a hint of sarcasm. "I'm afraid we have some important things to discuss first."
"Like what? Like what the big fucking deal with you and your club is? Prepping a little Halloween orgy, you fucking pedophile? Is that what you're keeping Amber and that little girl locked up for?"
"No, they are for something entirely different," Wynn said as he motioned for Dianna to bring the knife and bowl over to the altar.
"You see, Stephen," Wynn continued. "I know you. I know you from a long time ago. So does Dianna here."
Stephen looked confused. Wynn saw this and kept talking.
"I trust that Danny told you that you're adopted, am I correct?"
Stephen nodded. "So?"
"Did he tell you who your real mother is? Who your father is?"
"No," Stephen said, thinking back to the hospital when Danny had told him.
"Well either he didn't know, or he didn't have the heart to tell you the truth. You see, I know your father. I know him very well. I also know… I'm sorry, knew… your birth mother. She was here, in this very same room as we are, when you were conceived."
"You sick bastard," Stephen laughed. "You raped a patient in an asylum, and then put me up for adoption only to come back seventeen years later because you want to have some bonding time? Hhahahahaha! That's fucking great! So when's the family reunion? Is Cousin Ed coming to visit?"
Stephen kept laughing as Wynn became more and more frustrated.
"I'm not done talking yet!" Wynn shouted as he took the knife from Dianna's hand and plunged it towards Stephen's head…
…And embedding the blade a good four inches down into the solid concrete slab Stephen lay on.
Stephen was instantly silenced.
Rock and debris rained on Stephen's face as Wynn leaned in close.
"Your mother resided in these halls, yes, but not as a patient; as my fucking prisoner!"
Wynn's face was bright red now as he pulled back with the knife in hand. "And I am not your father, either."
"Then who?" Stephen shouted. "Captain Kirk? Dracula? Leatherface? Am I close, Winnie? Oh, it's got to be Winnie the Pooh! Am I right? How about my good old friend, Michael Myers?"
Wynn grew silent. Stephen suddenly became very unnerved by it. He lifted his head from the slab and looked at Wynn.
"Is it?" Wynn simply smiled as he turned to leave.
"No! What? No!" Stephen screamed as he suddenly began thrashing about against his restraints. "Michael Myers is my father! What the fuck, man! That's fucking sick, Wynn! You're joking, I know it-"
Dianna placed a length of rope in Stephen's mouth and pulled it tightly around the slab to prevent him from talking. He still thrashed about as Dianna took the knife and pressed it to Stephen's throat.
"Just in case you're wondering, I am a real nurse," Dianna said. "Yes, Myer is your father. I know, because I was the one that…" Dianna thought for a moment, choosing her next words carefully. "…that 'milked' him, for lack of a less crude phrase. Stupid old bastard wouldn't know how to get a girl pregnant to save his life. You, on the other hand, have already done the deed, haven't you? Amber, wasn't it? Back at the hospital? That's why nobody could find you for the longest time; you didn't want to be found..."
Stephen jerked his head around, but Dianna kept the blade at his throat, stopping him. A small droplet of blood welled up around the edge of the blade, dripping down Stephen's throat. Dianna then straddled the stone slab and began grinding on Stephen, still holding the knife to him.
"However, I doubt that you'd be so cooperative as to do it again for us. So, we gotta take it by force…" Dianna took the knife and sliced through Stephen's shirt, cutting it away from his body.
"Don't worry about Amber," Dianna said. "She'll live…"
Stephen struggled to throw her off him, but was strapped tightly to the slab and could do nothing but thrash about in protest as Dianna went to work…
Loomis cautiously walked into Starks' office. He flipped the light switch on and looked around the room; nothing had changed in 24 hours ago except that Starks' body was no longer there.
Loomis shut the door and began rummaging through the drawers in David's desk, flipping through papers and other assorted random objects, not having any clue what he was searching for.
He then flipped through each book on the shelves, hoping to find… something. But there was nothing. The room was completely empty of anything useful.
"You won't find anything here," came Wynn's chill voice.
"Wynn," Loomis said as he turned. "Where are they? Where's Stephen and Amber? WHERE ARE THEY, YOU SON OF A BITCH?" Loomis withdrew his revolver and pointed it at Wynn, cocking back the hammer.
"Now, now, there's no need to get violent, Dr. Loomis," Wynn said. "Dr. Loomis. Now that's a name that's not left my lips in over fifteen years…" Wynn made his way past Loomis, and his gun, and took a seat in David's chair, relaxing as if he were recalling distant, favored memories.
"What's your angle in all this?" Loomis asked. "What's the game? I know about the cult, and the curse, and Thurisaz, but… why?"
"Look around us, Loomis," Wynn said. "It's the End Times we live in. War everywhere… famine, plagues! The whole world is out of whack! And it falls to us, to me, to restore the natural order of things."
"How? Virgin sacrifices, a little ritualistic chanting, some candles for atmosphere, all that good bullshit? Come on, has it ever actually worked?"
"Yes, actually," Wynn said coldly. "Several times over the last millennia, in fact; the most recent in my memory being Godric Roman, Michael's grandfather."
Wynn snapped his fingers, and about half a dozen of his armed guards appeared in the room. One snatched Loomis' gun away from him, while another thrust him face first into the desk, cuffing him before forcing him into a chair before Loomis fully realized what was happening.
"So it's been you from the beginning? What are you, some kind of… witch? Huh, are you Irish, too? That whole Silver Shamrock thing your idea, too?"
"No," Wynn said as he rolled his eyes. "Cochran, though part of our group at the beginning, realized that what we were doing wasn't working fast enough. That whole bit with the Halloween masks; that was all his doing! Fat lot of good it did him; all he wound up with were a bunch of dead kids and lawsuits up his dead ass as his legacy."
"Still doesn't answer my question: what's your angle?" Loomis repeated. "Ooh, a little tighter, if you please." Loomis winked at the guard who was tying a knot into the ropes that held him to the chair.
"My role," Wynn began, "is that of a gatekeeper, of sorts. Think of Smith's Grove, not as a mental hospital, but as a zoo. Cages where all sorts of beasts roam, their minds replaced with nothing but instinct and fear. Some of them return from that fear, like your precious patient Sarah Moyer."
"How do you know about Sarah?" Loomis shouted. Wynn continued as if he ignored the question.
"It's a place full of caged beasts, Myers included. Myers, the ultimate animal. Filled with nothing but rage on a most primal level, anger and hatred fills his lungs like the air he breathes! His thoughts are the most deranged and psychotic, and he hungers for blood, and by the gallons, sir! He must be kept locked away!" Wynn calmed down as he leaned back in the seat.
"Until it's feeding time."
"And the constellation is the alarm," Loomis realized.
"When the Mark of Thorn appears in the skies, we perform a small ritual," Wynn said as he pointed out the window to the stars, where the Thorn shone brightly against all others. "It's not on the same scale as the one you won't be seeing, unfortunately, but it lets Myers know that it is time for him to return. And what he does with that time is his own business. We just let the beast out of the cage; it is the beast that decides what it wants to hunt.
"And I am the gate keeper." Wynn repeated.
"So what does Michael have to do with this?
"Michael has been given the power, the gift of Thorn. But his time is its bearer is at an end. He has borne the curse for far too long, and he is becoming stronger with each passing moment."
"And that's bad, even for you?" Loomis laughed. "I thought Myers was supposed to be this all powerful monster!"
"It is a power of a God that Michael wields. And if left unchecked, that power will grow beyond containment. Soon, Myers himself will be engulfed by its power, understand its true potential. And when that happens… Well, it's in the bible. 'And when he opened the fourth deal, I heard the fourth beast say, "Come and see," and I looked, and behold a pale horse: and His name that sat upon him was Death. And Hell followed with him…'"
"What?" Loomis gasped. "You think Myers is going to bring about the apocalypse?"
"Not think! Know! Halloween, 1978: the night he came home. And if the ritual to transfer the curse is not done before midnight, then this will be the night when no one comes home!"
The basement was a labyrinth of corridors, pipes, and concrete walls, but there were lights. They weren't particularly ideal for seeing where you were going, but sneaking around undetected, they definitely helped his case.
Karl had been left by Loomis and Nelson to fend for himself, which was probably for the best. Loomis believed that any prisoners would be kept in the basement, and had sent Karl down here to find them. But Karl also knew that Myers was somewhere down here: he had seen him.
When he first stepped off the elevator, he heard voices approaching from down the corridor. He ducked into a utility closet and waited until they passed. He heard shackles jingling as they passed and crawled down onto his knees to look through the key hole: he saw Myers, still tranqed and dazed, shuffled down the hall by several burly-looking guards.
When Karl was sure they had passed, he left the room and continued down the halls. He had come to a gate that had been left unlocked and now was proceeding down what seemed like a ramp of some sort. Ahead, he could see faint lights up ahead and kept to the walls to maintain his stealth approach. As he got to the bottom of the ramp, he noticed bars lined the sides of the wall ahead of him. He looked around and, seeing no guards, proceeded to them.
"Amber," Karl whispered. "Are you here?" There was no response.
"Amber, where are you?" Karl hissed a little louder.
"She's not here," said a voice behind him. He turned and lifted his gun… straight at the face of a forty-ish year old woman with curly blond hair who was locked in one of the cells. She stepped forward into the dim light, and Karl could see her clearly for the first time. She had numerous stitches on her body, fresh blood welling within her bandages.
"Where is she?" Karl asked, not lowering the gun.
"They came and got her already, not five minutes ago," she said.
"Which way?" Karl asked.
"That way, towards the elevators," she said. "Can you get me out of here? I have to find my daughter."
"Who is your daughter?" Karl asked.
"Her name is Laurie," the woman said.
"Is there a guard?" Karl asked.
"There's a security office down the hall," came another voice from another cell. "They keep the keys there."
"Nelson?" Karl asked. "Is that you?"
"Yeah, Karl, it's me," Nelson replied. "Get us out of here; they'll be back any second!"
"I'll get those keys," Karl promised. "I'll be back." Karl slinked off into the darkness of the corridor. He soon came to another hallway, this one better lit than the one with the cells. He could see one of the doors was open, and a trio of the soldiers was walking out of it, though the door remained open.
Karl slowly stepped his way to the room, hiding next to the doorframe for a moment before turning into the room and pointing his gun at the head of the man in the chair.
"I'm not surprised you're here, nerd," the man said without turning. Karl looked confused, until the man said, "You're in the security office and you didn't think there would be cameras everywhere? You've made it this far for one reason only…"
The man stood and turned to Karl. He was a black man with a shaved head, who spoke with a rather refined British accent, and he wore a very serious look on his face.
"I want the pleasure of killing you myself."
