-5-
PURSUIT
Benjamin Jo-Hanson grumbled as he wrung the mop out, and continued to work the floor. He was the janitor at the town's fire hall. Although for how much longer, was a question that hung in the air, because Ben was getting sick and tired of those fricken yahoos, and their petty pranks.
He was mopping in the storeroom. Various equipment hung on the walls. One side hosted an arrangement of hooks with fire retardant coats hanging off of them. On the other side, 3 hoses rested in coils, along with several large red firemen's axes.
Ben continued to mop, soaking up the soapy water on the floor. The employees' previous prank had almost been the last straw, two weeks ago. At lunchtime, after he had finished cleaning the toilets in the morning, he opened up his lunch pail to find two rather large turds sitting where his lunch had been. Attached to them was a note: "Hey Benny-boy! You missed these! Next time, don't wait so long to fix the flushers! HAW HAW HAW!! Love, the Gang!"
He had stormed down to city hall screaming over that one. He would have quit then and there, had he not needed his job so badly.
Behind him, a dark figure stood in the shadows, silently observing him.
Ben stiffened, with the sudden eerie feeling that he was being watched. He didn't like working the night shift, but it had seemed like the solution when the city had suggested it, siting the fact that he would have fewer people on call to have to put up with. Gently, he set the mop down, and decided to check the place out. You never know when some punk kid is going to bust in and tear the place up, he muttered under his breath, as he made his way down the hall.
A chill ran down his spine, as the lights from the streets played their tricks through the windows, while the shadows danced in receding and expanding cycles in the dim lit room. Most of the lights needed changing in this part of the building, and Ben found himself wishing he had gotten around to that little chore. The feeling persisted, and Ben was convinced that someone else was in the room with him.
"Ah, Ben," he muttered again, to himself. "You're just being a chicken-shit dumb-ass." Still, he didn't like the feeling he had, so he quickly returned to finish his mopping so he could get the heck out of there.
It was on his way back that he had noticed that two of the axes hanging off of the wall were gone. Damn it, he thought. They'll probably hassle me over that one too.
He continued to mop.
The next day, the sun came up, blazing the night away. All too soon, the afternoon had come, and the thick snow became blinding under the sun's light.
Inside the garage adjacent to the cabin they had rented, Tommy worked at the Skidoo, completing some overdue routine maintenance. It had taken some work; he wasn't the most efficient mechanic, but the introductory course he had taken when he bought the machine 4 years ago was coming in handy. He had just finished replacing the spark plugs that had long since fouled up, and was presently clearing the machine's clogged gas line.
However, he was confident that, as sad of a maintenance man as he was, the Skidoo would be ready to go after dinnertime. Then, maybe, he could take Kara and Stephen for a spin, as he began his restitution for dragging them off to this God-forsaken place.
Winter had come early, to the small cabin in Northern Alaska, with the snow already smothering the ground when they arrived three short weeks ago. Luckily, Tommy had had the truck souped up with snow-mud tires, before they had left.
Snow in October, Tommy thought with dismay. Danny had been right.
Stephen and Kara will never forgive me, Tommy thought again, and continued to work.
However, to his surprise, Stephen and his mother had been taking it quite well and were presently outside building a snowman, making the best out of their frozen environment when the temperature had become mild enough for the snow to get packy.
"Look, Mommy, Stephen giggled mischievously, barely able to contain himself. "It's got a pee-pee!"
"Kara looked down, and blushed slightly when she had saw where Stephen had placed the carrot. "Stephen!" She said with a slightly shocked yet undeniably amused tone, as she gave her adopted son an affectionate nudge. "Smarten up, you little bugger! Give me that!"
Stephen began to giggle madly as his mother pulled the carrot out and put it in its proper place, on the snowman's face. They continued to dress and refine the snowman at the top of the hill, when Stephen's gaze fell to the brush below where he saw a distant figure watching them.
"Mommy, who's that?"
The smile on Kara's face dropped as she spun around to stare in the direction of her son. An edgy expression had taken over her face, and she narrowed her eyes to see what Stephen was talking about. She glanced towards the brush, and saw nothing.
Stephen, honey, I don't see anything."
"But Mommy," Stephen began to speak in protest. "There was somebody there! I…" Stephen looked up to face his mother, and abruptly let out a scream of terror.
Kara spun around, only to come face to face with the familiar guise of a pallid, white Halloween mask. The figure blocking out the sunlight wasn't a man - rather it was just the Shape of a man – a hollow and empty husk, a mockery of the very form it was imitating.
In the Shape's hand, suspended in the air ready to swing, was a machete. A glint of sunlight reflected off of it, and then it was rapidly hurtling towards Kara's head.
Kara ducked, and the head of the snowman disintegrated with one hard decapitating blow, in an explosion of mist and vapour. Before the mist had even cleared, Kara kicked her leg out hard, connecting with the Shape's groin.
The machete dropped and the Shape lurched back, in stunned pain. Kara briskly grabbed the blade, and buried it across the Shape's chest. It toppled over and rolled down the hill. Kara glanced down the hill to observe that the Shape had quickly made it to its feet, and was struggling up the hill in the deep snow of which it was unaccustomed to.
Kara didn't bother to look back again. She took Stephen's hand, and began to run.
Tommy dropped everything and dashed outside, at the sound of Kara and Stephen's screams. "Kara, what is it? What's wrong?" He began. His question was answered for him as the Shape began to close the distance behind them. "Get inside! NOW!"
Tommy barricaded the kitchen door, as Kara grabbed a baseball bat from the corner to defend herself. They had expected the Shape to come crashing in, but silence had filled the room. Cautiously, with Stephen clasped against his mother at the other end of the room, Tommy made his way over to the door, and peered out the window beside him.
Nothing.
He turned his attention to Kara and Stephen, when the Shape came crashing through the door. Wood chips and splinters flew, and it was upon him. Before it could lock that death grip that Tommy knew all to well, Tommy brought his elbow across its head.
Not this time, Michael, he thought.
Immediately, Kara was flying to his aid, as she began to beat the Shape continuously with the baseball bat. With one final loud splintering crack, the bat snapped in two. Kara's hands began to wring from the pain of the bat's reverberation, and the Shape began to rise, unaffected by the beating.
It began towards them, when Tommy grabbed one of the brass candleholders off of the fireplace and hurtled it into the Shape's face. Tommy's aim was impeccable, and the candleholder impacted hard, knocking the Shape over. It staggered for a moment, and then it began to rise when Tommy brought the hardwood kitchen chair over its head, knocking it flat. It fell limp, and lied unconscious, with Tommy on one side, and Stephen and Kara on the other.
Immediately, with tears filling his eyes, Stephen went to run for his father.
"Stephen – NO!" Kara pulled him back. Both her and Tommy knew this game all too well, not trusting the Shape's unconsciousness. It had snared many victims with this game before, and they were not about to make the same mistake as many others had, including themselves.
Tommy reached into his coat and pulled out the keys to the truck, and tossed them to Kara. "Kara, take Stephen and go into town and get help."
"But Tommy…"
"Just go…NOW!"
Kara bit her lip in bitter frustration, and rushed out the door. Seconds later, Tommy heard the truck start up and pull away.
He then swallowed his fear, and tried to make his own way to the door, past the Shape. Sure enough, it lunged suddenly, and grabbed his ankle. With his free foot, Tommy kicked continuously for all he was worth, into the Shape's white facemask.
The Shape's grip gave, and Tommy was running, his ankle throbbing, towards the shed. He slammed the metal door shut, and locked it from the inside. Moments later, the Shape was at the door, and Tommy could hear the metal screech as it slowly began to buckle under the Shape's strength.
Tommy mounted the Skidoo, and revved it into life.
"Come on in, you son of a bitch," he spat as he straddled the Skidoo and waited. "Bust right in – I've got your welcoming wagon, right here."
Once Kara and Stephen had started to drive away in the truck, they turned around the shed's corner, and came face to face with the Shape once again. Kara hit the accelerator, and drove right for it. It leaped at the last moment, narrowly escaping the truck's impact.
What the hell? Kara thought as Stephen cowered and hung his head in his mother's lap. There are two? Two? Just what the hell was going on, here?
The shed's door let out one final screech, as the Shape flung it upwards. The moment the door was clear, Tommy slammed right into the Shape with the Skidoo. The Skidoo lurched over it, and Tommy drove away. He looked back, and the Shape lied still. He turned, and was nearly clotheslined by the second Shape.
He ducked just in time, and circled around to face it. First he thought, how could there be two? Then more madly; what, does Wal-mart give out cultist discounts for pasty white masks?
He considered fleeing, but knew that would be a waste of time. They would keep coming back, if he didn't do something about them now. Besides, right now, he had them in his sight.
The Skidoo roared into life again, and went sailing into the second Shape, as it made madly down the hill. This time, the Shape hung on, and with one hand began to swipe the butcher's knife in it towards Tommy's face. Tommy managed to avoid it once, but the second time, he wasn't so lucky. The blade found its mark, and opened the bridge of Tommy's nose and both of his cheeks. Blood began to seep its warmth onto Tommy's face, and he veered the Skidoo to the left.
The Skidoo brushed towards a large tree, and the tree smashed violently into the Shape's hand, sending the knife into the sky. The Shape began to slip below the blades of the Skidoo, and Tommy found himself smiling maniacally. A warrior's rage had overtaken him, as blood continued to seep down his opened face.
In an act of final desperation, the Shape's hand pistoned forward and brought itself straight into the bridge of Tommy's nose. Tommy felt and heard the cartilage of his nose give, and his head went light. He flew off of the Skidoo, and it crashed into a nearby tree, pinning the Shape to it like a bug in an insect collection.
Sweet Jesus, Tommy thought, as he struggled to keep conscious. An inch closer, and it would have buried my nose in my brain.
Tommy began to crawl, his seeping face leaving a dark red trail in the snow, as he struggled to make it back up the hill. He had made it half way up the hill, hanging his head to the ground, when he stopped before a pair of black work boots. He looked up, to see a dark silhouette blocking the sky. When his eyes adjusted to the sudden loss of light, Tommy made out with sudden horror, the unmistakable face of Michael Myers.
Although he wore no mask, it was unmistakably him. That build, that presence was hard to forget. His scarred pale face still bore the semblance of death, with its protruding cheekbones, and sunken, dark eyes. In his hands, he held two fireman's axes.
With a gesture, Michael raised the ax. Tommy dropped to his knees, and began to laugh, accepting his defeat. Kids, Kara, I love you, he thought. Good luck.
"Michael, my boy, I'm positively seeing you everywhere!" He cackled again, in delirium. He then knelt his head, and had time for one prayer.
Then Michael swung the ax.
PURSUIT
Benjamin Jo-Hanson grumbled as he wrung the mop out, and continued to work the floor. He was the janitor at the town's fire hall. Although for how much longer, was a question that hung in the air, because Ben was getting sick and tired of those fricken yahoos, and their petty pranks.
He was mopping in the storeroom. Various equipment hung on the walls. One side hosted an arrangement of hooks with fire retardant coats hanging off of them. On the other side, 3 hoses rested in coils, along with several large red firemen's axes.
Ben continued to mop, soaking up the soapy water on the floor. The employees' previous prank had almost been the last straw, two weeks ago. At lunchtime, after he had finished cleaning the toilets in the morning, he opened up his lunch pail to find two rather large turds sitting where his lunch had been. Attached to them was a note: "Hey Benny-boy! You missed these! Next time, don't wait so long to fix the flushers! HAW HAW HAW!! Love, the Gang!"
He had stormed down to city hall screaming over that one. He would have quit then and there, had he not needed his job so badly.
Behind him, a dark figure stood in the shadows, silently observing him.
Ben stiffened, with the sudden eerie feeling that he was being watched. He didn't like working the night shift, but it had seemed like the solution when the city had suggested it, siting the fact that he would have fewer people on call to have to put up with. Gently, he set the mop down, and decided to check the place out. You never know when some punk kid is going to bust in and tear the place up, he muttered under his breath, as he made his way down the hall.
A chill ran down his spine, as the lights from the streets played their tricks through the windows, while the shadows danced in receding and expanding cycles in the dim lit room. Most of the lights needed changing in this part of the building, and Ben found himself wishing he had gotten around to that little chore. The feeling persisted, and Ben was convinced that someone else was in the room with him.
"Ah, Ben," he muttered again, to himself. "You're just being a chicken-shit dumb-ass." Still, he didn't like the feeling he had, so he quickly returned to finish his mopping so he could get the heck out of there.
It was on his way back that he had noticed that two of the axes hanging off of the wall were gone. Damn it, he thought. They'll probably hassle me over that one too.
He continued to mop.
The next day, the sun came up, blazing the night away. All too soon, the afternoon had come, and the thick snow became blinding under the sun's light.
Inside the garage adjacent to the cabin they had rented, Tommy worked at the Skidoo, completing some overdue routine maintenance. It had taken some work; he wasn't the most efficient mechanic, but the introductory course he had taken when he bought the machine 4 years ago was coming in handy. He had just finished replacing the spark plugs that had long since fouled up, and was presently clearing the machine's clogged gas line.
However, he was confident that, as sad of a maintenance man as he was, the Skidoo would be ready to go after dinnertime. Then, maybe, he could take Kara and Stephen for a spin, as he began his restitution for dragging them off to this God-forsaken place.
Winter had come early, to the small cabin in Northern Alaska, with the snow already smothering the ground when they arrived three short weeks ago. Luckily, Tommy had had the truck souped up with snow-mud tires, before they had left.
Snow in October, Tommy thought with dismay. Danny had been right.
Stephen and Kara will never forgive me, Tommy thought again, and continued to work.
However, to his surprise, Stephen and his mother had been taking it quite well and were presently outside building a snowman, making the best out of their frozen environment when the temperature had become mild enough for the snow to get packy.
"Look, Mommy, Stephen giggled mischievously, barely able to contain himself. "It's got a pee-pee!"
"Kara looked down, and blushed slightly when she had saw where Stephen had placed the carrot. "Stephen!" She said with a slightly shocked yet undeniably amused tone, as she gave her adopted son an affectionate nudge. "Smarten up, you little bugger! Give me that!"
Stephen began to giggle madly as his mother pulled the carrot out and put it in its proper place, on the snowman's face. They continued to dress and refine the snowman at the top of the hill, when Stephen's gaze fell to the brush below where he saw a distant figure watching them.
"Mommy, who's that?"
The smile on Kara's face dropped as she spun around to stare in the direction of her son. An edgy expression had taken over her face, and she narrowed her eyes to see what Stephen was talking about. She glanced towards the brush, and saw nothing.
Stephen, honey, I don't see anything."
"But Mommy," Stephen began to speak in protest. "There was somebody there! I…" Stephen looked up to face his mother, and abruptly let out a scream of terror.
Kara spun around, only to come face to face with the familiar guise of a pallid, white Halloween mask. The figure blocking out the sunlight wasn't a man - rather it was just the Shape of a man – a hollow and empty husk, a mockery of the very form it was imitating.
In the Shape's hand, suspended in the air ready to swing, was a machete. A glint of sunlight reflected off of it, and then it was rapidly hurtling towards Kara's head.
Kara ducked, and the head of the snowman disintegrated with one hard decapitating blow, in an explosion of mist and vapour. Before the mist had even cleared, Kara kicked her leg out hard, connecting with the Shape's groin.
The machete dropped and the Shape lurched back, in stunned pain. Kara briskly grabbed the blade, and buried it across the Shape's chest. It toppled over and rolled down the hill. Kara glanced down the hill to observe that the Shape had quickly made it to its feet, and was struggling up the hill in the deep snow of which it was unaccustomed to.
Kara didn't bother to look back again. She took Stephen's hand, and began to run.
Tommy dropped everything and dashed outside, at the sound of Kara and Stephen's screams. "Kara, what is it? What's wrong?" He began. His question was answered for him as the Shape began to close the distance behind them. "Get inside! NOW!"
Tommy barricaded the kitchen door, as Kara grabbed a baseball bat from the corner to defend herself. They had expected the Shape to come crashing in, but silence had filled the room. Cautiously, with Stephen clasped against his mother at the other end of the room, Tommy made his way over to the door, and peered out the window beside him.
Nothing.
He turned his attention to Kara and Stephen, when the Shape came crashing through the door. Wood chips and splinters flew, and it was upon him. Before it could lock that death grip that Tommy knew all to well, Tommy brought his elbow across its head.
Not this time, Michael, he thought.
Immediately, Kara was flying to his aid, as she began to beat the Shape continuously with the baseball bat. With one final loud splintering crack, the bat snapped in two. Kara's hands began to wring from the pain of the bat's reverberation, and the Shape began to rise, unaffected by the beating.
It began towards them, when Tommy grabbed one of the brass candleholders off of the fireplace and hurtled it into the Shape's face. Tommy's aim was impeccable, and the candleholder impacted hard, knocking the Shape over. It staggered for a moment, and then it began to rise when Tommy brought the hardwood kitchen chair over its head, knocking it flat. It fell limp, and lied unconscious, with Tommy on one side, and Stephen and Kara on the other.
Immediately, with tears filling his eyes, Stephen went to run for his father.
"Stephen – NO!" Kara pulled him back. Both her and Tommy knew this game all too well, not trusting the Shape's unconsciousness. It had snared many victims with this game before, and they were not about to make the same mistake as many others had, including themselves.
Tommy reached into his coat and pulled out the keys to the truck, and tossed them to Kara. "Kara, take Stephen and go into town and get help."
"But Tommy…"
"Just go…NOW!"
Kara bit her lip in bitter frustration, and rushed out the door. Seconds later, Tommy heard the truck start up and pull away.
He then swallowed his fear, and tried to make his own way to the door, past the Shape. Sure enough, it lunged suddenly, and grabbed his ankle. With his free foot, Tommy kicked continuously for all he was worth, into the Shape's white facemask.
The Shape's grip gave, and Tommy was running, his ankle throbbing, towards the shed. He slammed the metal door shut, and locked it from the inside. Moments later, the Shape was at the door, and Tommy could hear the metal screech as it slowly began to buckle under the Shape's strength.
Tommy mounted the Skidoo, and revved it into life.
"Come on in, you son of a bitch," he spat as he straddled the Skidoo and waited. "Bust right in – I've got your welcoming wagon, right here."
Once Kara and Stephen had started to drive away in the truck, they turned around the shed's corner, and came face to face with the Shape once again. Kara hit the accelerator, and drove right for it. It leaped at the last moment, narrowly escaping the truck's impact.
What the hell? Kara thought as Stephen cowered and hung his head in his mother's lap. There are two? Two? Just what the hell was going on, here?
The shed's door let out one final screech, as the Shape flung it upwards. The moment the door was clear, Tommy slammed right into the Shape with the Skidoo. The Skidoo lurched over it, and Tommy drove away. He looked back, and the Shape lied still. He turned, and was nearly clotheslined by the second Shape.
He ducked just in time, and circled around to face it. First he thought, how could there be two? Then more madly; what, does Wal-mart give out cultist discounts for pasty white masks?
He considered fleeing, but knew that would be a waste of time. They would keep coming back, if he didn't do something about them now. Besides, right now, he had them in his sight.
The Skidoo roared into life again, and went sailing into the second Shape, as it made madly down the hill. This time, the Shape hung on, and with one hand began to swipe the butcher's knife in it towards Tommy's face. Tommy managed to avoid it once, but the second time, he wasn't so lucky. The blade found its mark, and opened the bridge of Tommy's nose and both of his cheeks. Blood began to seep its warmth onto Tommy's face, and he veered the Skidoo to the left.
The Skidoo brushed towards a large tree, and the tree smashed violently into the Shape's hand, sending the knife into the sky. The Shape began to slip below the blades of the Skidoo, and Tommy found himself smiling maniacally. A warrior's rage had overtaken him, as blood continued to seep down his opened face.
In an act of final desperation, the Shape's hand pistoned forward and brought itself straight into the bridge of Tommy's nose. Tommy felt and heard the cartilage of his nose give, and his head went light. He flew off of the Skidoo, and it crashed into a nearby tree, pinning the Shape to it like a bug in an insect collection.
Sweet Jesus, Tommy thought, as he struggled to keep conscious. An inch closer, and it would have buried my nose in my brain.
Tommy began to crawl, his seeping face leaving a dark red trail in the snow, as he struggled to make it back up the hill. He had made it half way up the hill, hanging his head to the ground, when he stopped before a pair of black work boots. He looked up, to see a dark silhouette blocking the sky. When his eyes adjusted to the sudden loss of light, Tommy made out with sudden horror, the unmistakable face of Michael Myers.
Although he wore no mask, it was unmistakably him. That build, that presence was hard to forget. His scarred pale face still bore the semblance of death, with its protruding cheekbones, and sunken, dark eyes. In his hands, he held two fireman's axes.
With a gesture, Michael raised the ax. Tommy dropped to his knees, and began to laugh, accepting his defeat. Kids, Kara, I love you, he thought. Good luck.
"Michael, my boy, I'm positively seeing you everywhere!" He cackled again, in delirium. He then knelt his head, and had time for one prayer.
Then Michael swung the ax.