-11-
THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME
Amidst the chaos, Loomis growled under his breath. Around him, guards scurried back and fourth. Some were attempting to restore the power, and others were covering the grounds and building in a full search for the boy. Everyone was attempting to do their jobs briskly, and none dared to approach him, or even make eye contact with him. They all knew his was very upset, and none of them wanted to be in his way when he got so intensely angry.
So strange that so many would fear this unassuming Doctor, a man past his prime and long past the age of retirement. Then again, no so strange, as they all knew what they were truly dealing with. Besides, the good Doctor Loomis no longer even looked in his 80's – he was somehow revitalized – rejuvenated by the dark force that held its hold on him. His once haggard and unshaven beard was now tapered and well trimmed, and the colour and vitality in his face suggested a man in his mid-50's as opposed to the 85 years of age that he had endured.
Overcome by impatience, he stopped one of the head guards en route.
"Status report. Now."
"I'm sorry sir, but it doesn't appear as if the boy is any longer on the premises." The guard looked down sheepishly, while still feeling the penetrating menace of Loomis' stare. "But one of our on-duty guards managed to pull a plate number off a van that sped away from the premises. We should have no problem locating it within a day."
"You have one hour." Loomis returned. "I want the van found, and I want an address. Have our men ready to move on my mark."
"Yes sir." The guard responded curtly and shuffled quickly on his way.
Loomis turned and walked the other way, towards the altar room. Damn them, he thought, wrestling with his own shortsightedness. He wasn't accustomed to being out maneuvered, and he didn't care for the feeling. He had underestimated them, and they had retrieved the boy, Stephen. But how?
There was only one answer, really. Michael. The wild card. He had predicted many scenarios with respect to what Michael's plans would be, and he had anticipated resistance from him, even an attack. But he had never imagined that he would circumvent the demise of Tommy and Kara and devise a plan for retrieval of the boy. He had to admit, that he was impressed. Oh, so clever.
But they weren't the only ones with tricks up their sleeves, Loomis thought. For one thing, they were unaware of the fact that he still held the Strode boy captive. Loomis breathed a sigh of relief that he had sedated Danny and left him in the office, rather than in the cell with the other child. Also, one of the guards had reported a struggle before seeing the van speed off. They had found explosives engaged to the building with the detonator unassembled. What could have caused the likes of Michael Myers to retreat before finishing his task?
Loomis smiled. Of course. Laurie. He found himself glad he had made the call, and prayed that he would find them before Laurie had a chance to finish him off. The retrieval of Michael, after all, was as paramount as the retrieval of the boy. And finally he could put an end to Laurie. There were too many loose ends, and it was time to clean house.
But first things first. He entered the chamber, and changed into his ritual robes. They thought they had everything figured out. They were wrong. He had one more final surprise in store for them, and it was time to play his trump card.
"Hello, Danny," Loomis greeted the boy, secured to the stone altar in the center of the room. At the sound of Loomis' voice, Danny turned and made a fruitless lunge, as the chains held him securely against the altar.
"Now, now, Danny," Loomis shook his finger back and forth, cautioning the boy. "I would save your strength, if I were you, for the task at hand. You and I are going to do great things, son."
"Go to hell, you traitorous bastard," Danny spat spitefully, glaring with deep hate at the Doctor. "You're nuts if you think I'll go along with anything you ask after what you've done to us."
"Loomis laughed quietly, and cupped Danny's chin with his hand. He then jerked Danny's head sharply to the side, causing the boy to cry out involuntarily. With his teeth emerging in a small growl, Loomis put his lips up to Danny's ear, and whispered.
"My dear boy, you talk as if you had a choice."
A silent tear of fear streamed down Danny's face, and satisfied, the Doctor stepped away.
"Well then, I would say it's time to begin. Wouldn't you?" Loomis brandished a knife, and sliced the tip of his finger. To Danny's horror, Loomis began to use his bleeding tip as a writing utensil, as he began to draw a symbol on Danny's bared chest.
"Get away from me, you fucking pervert! You twisted fuck! I'll…"
"Be silent." Loomis placed the tip of the knife to Danny's throat, and pressed lightly. Fear flooded into Danny's brain, and he did what he was told.
Loomis finished his mark, a shape resembling an arrowhead, one long line with a triangular engagement; the mark of Thorn. He then turned to the end of the altar, and scattered the ruins upon it.
"From the depths of the underworld, I call upon my minion, Moldthurs. The earth giant. Consume the anointed and rise again. By the power of these runes, your keeper commands. Step forward from the shadows, Thurisaz, and be reborn."
Danny released a deep sigh, as the room went cold, and suddenly, he was dimly aware that Loomis and him were no longer alone. A presence unseen, yet familiar was about him, and he panicked with faint recollection. Darkness overshadowed him, and in desperation he turned to Loomis.
"What- what do you want?" He screamed in fear. "What are you doing to me?"
Loomis turned from his benediction, and stared down deeply into Danny's soul. His black eyes pierced the boy with terror, and then Loomis opened his mouth to speak. Except the voice that came out was not his own. It was the voice Danny had heard for the first time 10 years ago – it was the voice of the Nightmare Man.
"Kill for him, Danny."
Danny screamed, as he felt it enter him, seeping its way through his pours. His skin, previously cold with gooseflesh, was suddenly on fire. Danny began to twitch and convulse violently, like a man in the midst of a severe seizure.
In vain, he tried to fight it as it entered his mind and began to smother him in its blackness, and he screamed again when their psyches met and it showed him its true face.
"OH GOD MOM…
OH GOD NO…MOM I'M SORRY,
I'M SO SORRY I LOVE YOU
I'M SORRY OH GOD…"
Danny's spine jerked back one final time, and his struggling thrashing body collapsed to a limp rest. His breathing steadied, and for the last time Danny closed his eyes.
It was the Shape who opened them.
It rose, and faced Loomis, its black eyes taking in its keeper and its newfound Shape. Loomis gestured down to the altar's side, where he had laid a white facemask. The shape bent down, and lightly traced the features of the mask, momentarily marveling at it, in fascination. It tilted its head, in contemplation. It then donned the mask and put it on. It followed suit with its attire, and once fully clothed, it rose again to face its master.
Loomis smiled. Even demons had a sense of fashion, it would seem. Or perhaps its draw to the mask was its featureless and cold unemotional daunting presence – perhaps it saw its true face in its death-like appearance with its hollow empty sockets reflecting back into its own black eyes. Whatever the reason, the thing inside Dr. Loomis had no problem with entertaining its minor fancies. It had lived too long not to be somewhat of a traditionalist, after all. Besides, he wanted them to know when death came knocking on their doorstep.
"Dr. Loomis," Loomis turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Neil had entered the chamber room with Terri, careful not to disturb the ritual in progress.
"We've got a bead on the van. It's heading toward the east end of town on Dundas Street. It's being pursued by another van. We've got a man on it now."
"Very good," Loomis turned to Neil to discuss procedure, when the Shape's gaze fell before Terri. Abruptly, it stepped past Loomis and stood before her.
"Danny?" Terri made out, with a hint of uncertainty. "Is that you?" She placed her hand on the Shape's blue jumpsuit, and traced her finger along its zipper. A naughty smirk crossed her face, and she looked up into the mask of the Shape and stared into its sockets, with her deep blue eyes. "Wow."
The Shape gently placed its hand along her cheek in a gentle embrace. Terri closed her eyes, and gave off the passing resemblance of a purring cat being stroked. The Shape's hand continued to caress, and it ran its fingers past the line of her jaw, and down to her neck. It then clamped down tightly and raised Terri off of the floor.
Terri's eyes bulged open in sudden shock and she kicked and thrashed, to no avail. Neil turned, stunned, and ran towards the Shape to break its grip. "Bloody hell! Let her go! Now!" Neil tried the pressure points at the Shape's wrist, without any positive effects. Absently, the Shape grabbed Neil by the face and pushed him back. The force of the thrust sent Neil crashing into the altar, his shoulder impacting hard. Loomis walked over to altar, and smiling, he knelt down beside Neil.
"Now now, Neil, my dear fellow. You aught to know better than to deny my new disciple his first sacrifice." Neil fashioned Loomis with a less than thrilled glance, then looked down miserably.
Terri's eyes stared down in widened horror, as she desperately gasped for air. Just when she thought she had breathed he last breath, the Shape released her, and she came crashing to the floor. She breathed deep, and just as she was about to crawl away, the Shape grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to the altar. It slammed her violently against the stone surface, and she roared out a series of screams and pleas.
"Neil, Doctor…please make him stop. Please!" Neil continued to stare down in misery.
"Its funny how they all resort to the same tiresome pleas, before the end, don't you think?" Loomis gave Neil a nudge and smiled.
The Shape grabbed the dagger Loomis had used to cut his finger, and holding Terri down by the throat, it slammed the knife into her, over and over, each stroke leaving a resounding puncture in its wake. Terri's screams went on undaunted, until finally, the Shape slid the blade deeply across her throat and finished the job.
Terri's hands which had been flailing like talons, dropped limply to the altar's tone surface, making the smacking noise of dead meat. The Shape stood back from the altar, and stared intently on the result of its handiwork.
Neil rose and left without a word.
THE SHAPE OF THINGS TO COME
Amidst the chaos, Loomis growled under his breath. Around him, guards scurried back and fourth. Some were attempting to restore the power, and others were covering the grounds and building in a full search for the boy. Everyone was attempting to do their jobs briskly, and none dared to approach him, or even make eye contact with him. They all knew his was very upset, and none of them wanted to be in his way when he got so intensely angry.
So strange that so many would fear this unassuming Doctor, a man past his prime and long past the age of retirement. Then again, no so strange, as they all knew what they were truly dealing with. Besides, the good Doctor Loomis no longer even looked in his 80's – he was somehow revitalized – rejuvenated by the dark force that held its hold on him. His once haggard and unshaven beard was now tapered and well trimmed, and the colour and vitality in his face suggested a man in his mid-50's as opposed to the 85 years of age that he had endured.
Overcome by impatience, he stopped one of the head guards en route.
"Status report. Now."
"I'm sorry sir, but it doesn't appear as if the boy is any longer on the premises." The guard looked down sheepishly, while still feeling the penetrating menace of Loomis' stare. "But one of our on-duty guards managed to pull a plate number off a van that sped away from the premises. We should have no problem locating it within a day."
"You have one hour." Loomis returned. "I want the van found, and I want an address. Have our men ready to move on my mark."
"Yes sir." The guard responded curtly and shuffled quickly on his way.
Loomis turned and walked the other way, towards the altar room. Damn them, he thought, wrestling with his own shortsightedness. He wasn't accustomed to being out maneuvered, and he didn't care for the feeling. He had underestimated them, and they had retrieved the boy, Stephen. But how?
There was only one answer, really. Michael. The wild card. He had predicted many scenarios with respect to what Michael's plans would be, and he had anticipated resistance from him, even an attack. But he had never imagined that he would circumvent the demise of Tommy and Kara and devise a plan for retrieval of the boy. He had to admit, that he was impressed. Oh, so clever.
But they weren't the only ones with tricks up their sleeves, Loomis thought. For one thing, they were unaware of the fact that he still held the Strode boy captive. Loomis breathed a sigh of relief that he had sedated Danny and left him in the office, rather than in the cell with the other child. Also, one of the guards had reported a struggle before seeing the van speed off. They had found explosives engaged to the building with the detonator unassembled. What could have caused the likes of Michael Myers to retreat before finishing his task?
Loomis smiled. Of course. Laurie. He found himself glad he had made the call, and prayed that he would find them before Laurie had a chance to finish him off. The retrieval of Michael, after all, was as paramount as the retrieval of the boy. And finally he could put an end to Laurie. There were too many loose ends, and it was time to clean house.
But first things first. He entered the chamber, and changed into his ritual robes. They thought they had everything figured out. They were wrong. He had one more final surprise in store for them, and it was time to play his trump card.
"Hello, Danny," Loomis greeted the boy, secured to the stone altar in the center of the room. At the sound of Loomis' voice, Danny turned and made a fruitless lunge, as the chains held him securely against the altar.
"Now, now, Danny," Loomis shook his finger back and forth, cautioning the boy. "I would save your strength, if I were you, for the task at hand. You and I are going to do great things, son."
"Go to hell, you traitorous bastard," Danny spat spitefully, glaring with deep hate at the Doctor. "You're nuts if you think I'll go along with anything you ask after what you've done to us."
"Loomis laughed quietly, and cupped Danny's chin with his hand. He then jerked Danny's head sharply to the side, causing the boy to cry out involuntarily. With his teeth emerging in a small growl, Loomis put his lips up to Danny's ear, and whispered.
"My dear boy, you talk as if you had a choice."
A silent tear of fear streamed down Danny's face, and satisfied, the Doctor stepped away.
"Well then, I would say it's time to begin. Wouldn't you?" Loomis brandished a knife, and sliced the tip of his finger. To Danny's horror, Loomis began to use his bleeding tip as a writing utensil, as he began to draw a symbol on Danny's bared chest.
"Get away from me, you fucking pervert! You twisted fuck! I'll…"
"Be silent." Loomis placed the tip of the knife to Danny's throat, and pressed lightly. Fear flooded into Danny's brain, and he did what he was told.
Loomis finished his mark, a shape resembling an arrowhead, one long line with a triangular engagement; the mark of Thorn. He then turned to the end of the altar, and scattered the ruins upon it.
"From the depths of the underworld, I call upon my minion, Moldthurs. The earth giant. Consume the anointed and rise again. By the power of these runes, your keeper commands. Step forward from the shadows, Thurisaz, and be reborn."
Danny released a deep sigh, as the room went cold, and suddenly, he was dimly aware that Loomis and him were no longer alone. A presence unseen, yet familiar was about him, and he panicked with faint recollection. Darkness overshadowed him, and in desperation he turned to Loomis.
"What- what do you want?" He screamed in fear. "What are you doing to me?"
Loomis turned from his benediction, and stared down deeply into Danny's soul. His black eyes pierced the boy with terror, and then Loomis opened his mouth to speak. Except the voice that came out was not his own. It was the voice Danny had heard for the first time 10 years ago – it was the voice of the Nightmare Man.
"Kill for him, Danny."
Danny screamed, as he felt it enter him, seeping its way through his pours. His skin, previously cold with gooseflesh, was suddenly on fire. Danny began to twitch and convulse violently, like a man in the midst of a severe seizure.
In vain, he tried to fight it as it entered his mind and began to smother him in its blackness, and he screamed again when their psyches met and it showed him its true face.
"OH GOD MOM…
OH GOD NO…MOM I'M SORRY,
I'M SO SORRY I LOVE YOU
I'M SORRY OH GOD…"
Danny's spine jerked back one final time, and his struggling thrashing body collapsed to a limp rest. His breathing steadied, and for the last time Danny closed his eyes.
It was the Shape who opened them.
It rose, and faced Loomis, its black eyes taking in its keeper and its newfound Shape. Loomis gestured down to the altar's side, where he had laid a white facemask. The shape bent down, and lightly traced the features of the mask, momentarily marveling at it, in fascination. It tilted its head, in contemplation. It then donned the mask and put it on. It followed suit with its attire, and once fully clothed, it rose again to face its master.
Loomis smiled. Even demons had a sense of fashion, it would seem. Or perhaps its draw to the mask was its featureless and cold unemotional daunting presence – perhaps it saw its true face in its death-like appearance with its hollow empty sockets reflecting back into its own black eyes. Whatever the reason, the thing inside Dr. Loomis had no problem with entertaining its minor fancies. It had lived too long not to be somewhat of a traditionalist, after all. Besides, he wanted them to know when death came knocking on their doorstep.
"Dr. Loomis," Loomis turned at the sound of a familiar voice. Neil had entered the chamber room with Terri, careful not to disturb the ritual in progress.
"We've got a bead on the van. It's heading toward the east end of town on Dundas Street. It's being pursued by another van. We've got a man on it now."
"Very good," Loomis turned to Neil to discuss procedure, when the Shape's gaze fell before Terri. Abruptly, it stepped past Loomis and stood before her.
"Danny?" Terri made out, with a hint of uncertainty. "Is that you?" She placed her hand on the Shape's blue jumpsuit, and traced her finger along its zipper. A naughty smirk crossed her face, and she looked up into the mask of the Shape and stared into its sockets, with her deep blue eyes. "Wow."
The Shape gently placed its hand along her cheek in a gentle embrace. Terri closed her eyes, and gave off the passing resemblance of a purring cat being stroked. The Shape's hand continued to caress, and it ran its fingers past the line of her jaw, and down to her neck. It then clamped down tightly and raised Terri off of the floor.
Terri's eyes bulged open in sudden shock and she kicked and thrashed, to no avail. Neil turned, stunned, and ran towards the Shape to break its grip. "Bloody hell! Let her go! Now!" Neil tried the pressure points at the Shape's wrist, without any positive effects. Absently, the Shape grabbed Neil by the face and pushed him back. The force of the thrust sent Neil crashing into the altar, his shoulder impacting hard. Loomis walked over to altar, and smiling, he knelt down beside Neil.
"Now now, Neil, my dear fellow. You aught to know better than to deny my new disciple his first sacrifice." Neil fashioned Loomis with a less than thrilled glance, then looked down miserably.
Terri's eyes stared down in widened horror, as she desperately gasped for air. Just when she thought she had breathed he last breath, the Shape released her, and she came crashing to the floor. She breathed deep, and just as she was about to crawl away, the Shape grabbed her by the hair and dragged her over to the altar. It slammed her violently against the stone surface, and she roared out a series of screams and pleas.
"Neil, Doctor…please make him stop. Please!" Neil continued to stare down in misery.
"Its funny how they all resort to the same tiresome pleas, before the end, don't you think?" Loomis gave Neil a nudge and smiled.
The Shape grabbed the dagger Loomis had used to cut his finger, and holding Terri down by the throat, it slammed the knife into her, over and over, each stroke leaving a resounding puncture in its wake. Terri's screams went on undaunted, until finally, the Shape slid the blade deeply across her throat and finished the job.
Terri's hands which had been flailing like talons, dropped limply to the altar's tone surface, making the smacking noise of dead meat. The Shape stood back from the altar, and stared intently on the result of its handiwork.
Neil rose and left without a word.