9:16 p.m.
Michael kicked in the back door to the hardware store across town. He'd managed to wrench out a large power conductor from the Bainbridge Power Substation after he'd stopped there on the way back to Haddonfield. He'd dropped it and Dr. Clugg's former items (plus Vett's corpse) back at the Myers house once he'd made it back to Haddonfield and ditched Vett's van into the lake outside town. Now he just needed a few small items to complete his plan.
He took note of the clock on the wall in the manager's office. By now his past self had broken out of Smith's Grove and was about a quarter of the way to Haddonfield. He knew he needed to be back in the torture chamber before the Michael of 1978 came home. But first things first.
He strolled up and down the aisles, eyeing the merchandise on display. First stop was the lock section, where he swiped several additional locks; better safe than sorry, he figured. Then he snatched up several long lengths of rope, a fistful of thick handkerchiefs, and a few bottles of chloroform. Lastly came a few cans of gasoline from the lawnmower display; he'd come up with an intriguing idea on the drive back he wanted to try out.
His arms full, he turned to leave, but it was then he heard the scream of sirens getting closer to the store. The flashing lights of two police cruisers slid to a stop right outside. Michael threw himself against the wall, away from the front window. The crunching of footsteps on the gravel in the alley behind the store grew ever louder. "...say happened here?" he heard an unfamiliar voice say.
"Mr. Thorpe says he got a trigger on the silent alarm," Sheriff Brackett's voice rang out. There was a pause before he added, "Oh yeah, someone's definitely been through here. You take the left, Danny, I'll take the right. Yell if see him in here."
Footsteps cautiously entered the darkened store. Michael looked around for an exit of some kind. He noticed a display in the front window filled with various scary figures. Shoving his mask over his face and his ill-gotten gains under his robe, he jumped up on the platform and struck a menacing pose with his knife just as Sheriff Brackett appeared at the top of the aisle, gun in hand. He was aiming his flashlight at the shelves and floor and apparently did not notice Michael, who was standing stock still at any rate. He stopped right in front of the display and glanced out the window for any sign of the intruder.
"Hey Sheriff," the deputy called from the other end of the aisle, causing Sheriff Brackett to jump in shock. "Oh, sorry Sheriff," the deputy apologized, bustling up the aisle, "I searched everywhere; he's gone now, whoever he was."
"Anything missing?"
"Just some small stuff here and there; register's intact too. What do you suppose he came in here for?"
"I really don't know," Sheriff Brackett admitted, leaning against the pillar right next to Michael, still not aware he was real. "Whoever he is, he sure works fast, being gone already when we're just six blocks away. And why wouldn't he touch the money?" He scratched his head hard, perhaps searching for the answer, then shrugged and continued, "Well, looks like our job's done in here. Let's circle up the block and see if anyone saw anything."
The two of them turned to leave, but the deputy stopped after a few steps. Michael sucked in his breath. "What?" the sheriff asked, sounding impatient.
"Oh, it's just, you have to love the job Mr. Thorpe does with this display every year," the deputy said admiringly, "I mean look at this," he tapped Michael on the arm, "This one looks so real I'd swear it was human."
"Well it's not, Danny, so let's get going; we've still got business to take care of," Sheriff Brackett waved him towards the back exit. Michael remained froze in place until their cruisers drove off from in front of the store before climbing down off the platform. That had been close-too close. It was time to head back home before he got into any more fixes.
9:39 p.m.
"And you're sure you didn't get a good look at his face?" the officer dispatched to the Strodes asked Laurie, by now all dried off and changed into her nightgown and robe for the evening.
"It was dark and he had his head hung down," she told him, still not willing to admit she hadn't seen a face on her pursuer at all, "But I could tell he meant to do something terrible, it was in his gestures."
"Well you do realize, Miss Strode, that this," the officer turned around the sketch he'd drawn of the hooded figure, "isn't really that much for us to go on. It just might have been someone getting the jump on Halloween a day early."
"But what about that homeless man Laurie said was after her too?" Mr. Strode spoke up, concerned, "Surely you're going to at least try and do something with him?"
"Now him we can go after," the officer hefted another sketch of the homeless man as Laurie had described him, "I personally don't recall seeing him before, but maybe a quick check through the files'll give us a name or two. In the meantime, Miss Strode, I'd just advise you to be careful when you go out, and try and keep in touch with your folks here as much as you can."
"I will," she nodded, "Thank you for coming, officer."
"You have a good night now," he flashed a smile as he got up to go, "We'll let you know if we get anything."
He closed the door softly. All three Strodes took deep, simultaneous nervous breaths. "I don't know if I should take that trip to Carbondale tomorrow," Mrs. Strode spoke up first, "Maybe I'm needed more..."
"It's OK, Mom, you don't have to cancel anything," Laurie tried to reassure her, "I'll be all right, really I will."
"You're absolutely sure about that?" her father raised an eyebrow. Laurie thought it over carefully. "Yes," she nodded, "Now that the police are on it, I think I'll be fine. I'll just take his advice and be more careful." She looked up at them quizzically. "Do you have any idea what's going on here?"
"Your guess would be as good as ours, honey," her mother shrugged. And yet, Laurie thought for the briefest of seconds that she saw her exchange a worried glance with her father-or maybe it wasn't. "Anyway," Mr. Strode spoke up, "I think it would be best if you'd wait at the Doyles tomorrow night until one of us comes by to pick you up, if that's OK."
"I can manage that," she nodded again.
"OK then, you go have a good night sleep, and we'll try and get through Halloween in one piece," he kissed her. Her mother followed suit. "Sleep well, Laurie," she told her daughter as she started for the stairs.
"You too," Laurie called back. She still couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Reaching her room, she instinctively glanced out the window. No one was visible in the darkness through the driving rain at all. And yet, she still couldn't help feeling that some dark force was lurking there just out of sight, waiting.
With a pronounced shiver, she shoved the window closed and drew the blinds shut as far as they would go. She bustled over to the nightstand, dug a nightlight out of the top drawer-one she hadn't used in at least nine years-plugged it into the nearest outlet and flicked it on. She then rifled through her record collection for the most soothing record she had. Settling on James Taylor's Greatest Hits, she dropped the record into place on her player, set the volume low, and lowered the needle, not noticing her hands were slightly shaking from the shocking events of the day. She couldn't help taking one last check out the window before she turned out the light. Still no sign of anyone.
"Maybe it's all just some bad dream," she thought to herself as she climbed into bed without bothering to take off her robe and slippers and pulled the blankets completely over her head, "Maybe when I wake up in the morning it'll all be over with."
12:31 a.m.
Michael finished connecting the final set of wires on the power conductor to the electric chair in the torture chamber. It was now poised to deliver several hundred fatal kilowatts to anyone unlucky enough to be sitting in it. Still, he wanted to test it to be sure. With no living subjects present, he dragged a decomposing skeleton into the chair and attached the electrodes to its head. He walked over to the switch, and after counting down from ten in his head threw it. In less than five seconds the skeleton was completely reduced to ash and dust. Michael nodded in triumph. Everything was falling into place.
He walked towards the center of the room, accidentally bumping his head off Vett's dangling legs. Michael had strung his corpse up from the ceiling to make the torture chamber's atmosphere all the more chilling. He'd also managed to replace the old straps on the operating table and electric chair with the newer ones from Dr. Clugg's restraint collection. In addition, he'd set up the water torture cell and the coffin at opposite ends of the chamber; he wanted there to be no chance his victims could help each other at all.
And then he heard the creaking of floorboards above him. His past self had come home. Michael heard a loud thump on the floor that he knew to be Judith's tombstone, which he'd yanked up out of the ground with his bare hands back in the day. And even from under the house he could make out his own heavy breathing as his former self became accustomed to familiar surroundings for the first time in fifteen years.
The best thing to do, the future Michael rationalized as he leaned against the wall, his work for the day finished, would be to wait until his former self left tomorrow morning to go stalking before leaving the chamber again; no point in taking a risk by coming face to face with himself, assuming that would do any harm at all. And besides, he had all the time in the world now. No one could stop him now, since no one knew of his plans.
Or so he thought...