"Hamlet." Danny said.
He shot a finger toward Mindy. His cadence carried his confidence throughout the lecture hall. Waiting for his judge's satisfaction with the play he mentioned. The thought stirred in Mindy's head as she circled away from the desk sitting in the middle of the hall. Shooting a glance at the teacher who sat there—eventually returning the stare. The teacher gave a shrug, before returning to her magazine. Mindy cringed—the thoughts turned poisonous. Her audible grimace echoed to the imaginary audience.
"Nahhh, it doesn't work. Hamlet's reluctance to kill Claudius sooner, gets everyone else killed. And then when he does do it, it's not even rewarding."
"Then what about Lion King?" Danny added.
"Danny, it's a kids movie. Of course they're gonna frame Simba's vengeance as a good thing," Mindy said.
"Are you saying it wasn't?" Bait added. Who sat amongst the invisible jury.
"Not helping."
Bait put his hands up, dismissive of his alignment with either party. "What are y'all even talking about anyway?"
"Danny thinks stories of revenge should be glorified."
"Damnit Mindy! Not glorification! I just think there are too many stories where revenge is seen as a bad thing. Unless it's for a good cause."
"Like, Lion King?" Bait asked.
"Exactly. Can you imagine if Lion King ended with Simba killing Scar and he just gave up on life cus he realizes his only purpose was to avenge his father?"
"I don't have to, because Disney would never do something like that," Mindy groaned. She paused. Giving herself time to open a strawberry-flavored lollipop. She offered a green apple one to Bait—he accepts. Danny declines the cherry flavored 'pop he was offered.
"Alright movie boy, what else you got?" Mindy asked. She sunk into one of the chairs amongst the ghostly judges that listened to Danny's argument.
"Wrench 8! Jill Kramer's first apprentice; Zepp, murders the detective that killed his husband and gets away with it!"
"Okay, okay not bad! Although all those people in those movies are either bad people or cops so…" Mindy shrugs.
"Don't you mean John Kramer, Danny?" Bait asked
"No no! John Kramer was the real jigsaw murderer. But when they made movies about it, they made it his wife instead to curb the 'glorifying the real thing' allegations," Danny corrected.
"And yet those allegations still exist today." Mindy said,
A futile effort on the part of the company to sympathize with an incident they continued to profit off of. Mindy couldn't help but laugh. Danny joined her.
"Don't waste your time Danny. Even if revenge was praised as much as forgiveness, that'll only give those that are 'holier than thou' more fuel."
A cloud of smoke escaped her lungs as the teacher at the desk spoke. She sunk into the chair and propped her legs onto the desk's smooth oak surface. The nicotine burned into Danny and Mindy's nostrils. Soaking into their clothes and irritating their eyes. Bait avoided the worst of it. The chairs of the lecture hall were far enough from the center that the smell was more bearable.
"Fuck, Anna. You could at least smoke some weed," Danny groaned.
Anna held her place in the magazine with a finger as she stared at Danny. Her brows curved with playfulness.
"Well Danny, if it bothers you so much—Mr. Delver loves having the windows open for his night class."
Anna pointed to the windows on the right. Displaying the beauty of dusk. As the sun began to turn in for the night. Danny sighed and looked over to Bait. His eyebrows arched with a plea and Bait groaned with contempt.
"I heard weed gave you nightmares," Bait said. He pushed his shoulder into Danny's as he walked past. Danny stumbled and rubbed the resentment off his shoulder.
"Y'know it wasn't my fault Lenny and his friends are locked up, right?"
"You're right, I guess I should be blaming your Peepaw, huh?"
"If anything you should be thanking him." Danny quickly uttered.
Bait turned to Danny. His eyes widened with indescribable confusion and disgust. Hoping Danny would go on to try and explain the argument he presented. Danny felt no need to explain himself. He knew better than anyone that what happened two days ago could've gone a lot worse.
"Get a grip you two," Mindy groaned. "Danny, do you have another shitty example from a movie or what?"
"One more. And not from a movie."
Danny pulled out an old newspaper and gave it to Mindy. Boogeyman Disappears After Haddonfield Massacre, it said in dark letters.
"Danny…"
"Laurie Strode attempted to find and murder—61-year-old at the time—Smith's Grove inmate, Michael Myers, after he escaped from the bus that was meant to transfer him to Glass Hill Behavioral Health. She tried killing him by leaving him to die in her house after setting it ablaze. Revenge, for killing her friends and terrorizing her all the way back in 1978." A pause. Danny shifted his posture. His voice turned grim as he edged closer to Mindy. "And after he escaped. He went off to kill at least 23 more people."
"Fuck, Danny!"
"What?!"
"We're talking about revenge in fictional stories. Not real life."
"I think he has a point," Anna started. Her chair creaked as she hoisted herself up. Leaning toward Danny's musings with a hungry ear.
"Laurie waited for the day to kill Michael. And despite losing a great number of people—including her own daughter—she managed to kill him. Freeing herself from his curse."
Anna's head tilted. An inquisitive breath left her as she thought over the last part of Danny's words. "'Killed,' huh…"
Anna paused. Smothering the last of her cigarette into the ashtray.
"I heard at the very last second. When Michael was being carried toward a car crusher—he awoke. Killing various members of the crowd. And before anyone could find him. He walked away. Disappearing into a nearby bundle of trees. Like a true boogeyman; never to be seen again"
"Okay, but Laurie won! Even if, somehow, Michael Myers still walks the Earth, Laurie got her revenge. Despite losing everything."
Anna huffed in agreement. Nodding at Danny's words. She looked toward the sky. The sun began its descent toward the horizon. Causing the crisp blue of midday to soften into a fleeting pink.
"I wonder where he ended up," Anna said.
"You two are insane," Mindy growled.
She marched out of the lecture hall. Danny and Bait rushed behind her after grabbing their things. Danny struggled to find the words that could console her. He knew anything he could say could be seen as callous. Maybe just this once he can attempt to be empathetic. But once Mindy's heels to her combat boots marked the ground as she turned. Danny knew he was in for an earful.
"It's one thing to question the themes in movies or whatever, but a real person's life? How would you feel if I made fun of that fire you were in as a kid?"
"Fuck you, Mindy!" Danny started. The heat in his face came quick. Boiling his blood. "You think if you said something like that to Laurie Strode she wouldn't try to fuck you up too?"
"I know she wouldn't, cause she actually managed to get over her dead relative."
And there it was. Silence fell on Danny, but it was unable to quell his anger. His body moved of its own accord. Pulling his taser out of his bag. The metal morphed under his heated grip. He held the button and the electricity crackled in Mindy's face. Bait tried to stop Danny. Backing away once Danny waved the taser in his direction.
"Hey!"
The three turned to the voice belonging to Anna. Her black heels clacked against the hard concrete. Thickening the air.
"Back off Mindy. You were out of line."
"I'm out of line? And Danny was completely justified pulling out his taser on me? What gives you any say in the matter? " Mindy yelled.
"Being your mother certainly helps," Anna said.
Her brow fell over her eyes as she shot a chilling glance. Mindy's stare hardened toward Anna's. "Were…you were our mother…" She said, through gritted teeth.
The air worsened. Danny's chest tightened. Freezing him in place. Oxygen was scarce. His eyes retreated to the ground as his breathing quickened. He felt a touch on his shoulder. Danny pushed Bait's hand away from his right shoulder and hugged it close to his body. Then, Anna's voice broke the silence.
"Who is that?"
Danny looked up toward the Campus gates. The heat in his face retreated to his legs and feet. The chill lurched down his spine and froze the steam in his lungs. Turning it into pure ice. Danny's skin greyed at the sight before him. An unbearable, retched sight that caused him to shake. Danny only knew death as a burning inferno. A seething rage that could snuff out the best people. But only now has he realized that death can be chilling too. An oppressive chill that has trapped him in its grip. Forcing him to look toward the horror.
It was Michael, in nothing but his homely attire. But his face, Michael's face contorted into an insidious form. His deep black pits for eyes creased. Tightening into smaller slits. His brows raised. Wrinkling his forehead. And his cheeks pulled the corners of his mouth to impossible lengths. Revealing a toothy grin.
What has Danny done to deserve this? What did he do wrong? Michael didn't come up from his room before Danny left. And the last thing Danny did was text Michael to pick him up. Is Michael upset? Did he expect a greeting when the sun rose from its slumber? Danny gulped at the thoughts. All he knew for sure, was that he didn't want to step any closer toward Michael.
"Earth to bitch!" Mindy yelled. Scaring Danny out of his stupor. "What has gotten into you?"
"Is that your Peepaw?" Bait asked. Before Danny could even attempt to speak.
"Peepaw?" Anna asked.
"Some old man Danny decided to personally care for." Mindy paused. Lamenting toward the ground before continuing. "He used to be a friend of James."
"James…" Anna repeated. The curse of James silenced her too. Leaving Danny to the terror before him.
"Well Danny?" Bait said.
"Well, what?
"Aren't you gonna go to him?" Mindy asked. "He's probably freezing over there."
"Are you kidding?! Not with that smile!"
"And you're supposed to be his caretaker…" Bait shook his head.
"Stop being a pussy, Danny!"
Mindy pushed Danny closer to the campus gates. Closer to Michael. The wrinkles in Michael's face deepened. Seconds away from splitting the veil of flesh into pieces. Revealing that his face was simply a mask to hide a monstrous form, that'd rip Danny apart. Anything would be better than watching Michael's facial muscles slowly come undone.
Once Danny was finally close enough. Michael looked toward Anna, Bait and Mindy. Mindy called out to Michael. Saying goodbye to a "Mr. Audrey." Bait waved as well. Anna remained silent. Her eyes locked with Michael's. The seconds slowed into minutes, forcing Michael to turn away to the driver's side. Danny sunk into the car. Avoiding eye-contact. The build-up of the accelerator rang in Danny's ears as the car slid away from the university. Now that he was away from family and friend, he could drop his facade. Joining Michael as a wolf in sheep's clothing. Danny turned once the car reached a stoplight. Noticing that Michael's face finally fell to its usual expression.
"Look, I'm glad you came. I really am. But could you not make that face again?" Danny asked.
Michael doesn't respond. He remained focused on the road. Danny followed in Michael's silence. Unwilling to feud with a 3rd person today; especially one like Michael. Danny kept an eye on the street signs. And once Michael stopped at the yellow light, he began to talk again.
"Turn right at the end of the block," Danny said.
Michael turned to him. Understandably confused.. Danny shrunk at his glance.
"I was thinking of eating out today." A pause. Danny rubbed the nape of his neck. "There's not much at home right now."
Michael didn't like the idea, but Danny was right about there not being anything to eat at home. Michael did as he asked. Turning at the end of the block past the green light. The car glided five blocks down before turning left. Michael parked the car in front of the diner that sat to his right. Many people gathered around the lawn in front of the steps; either waiting to go inside or to leave. The sight of this many people unsettled Michael. He sighed as he reminisced about the basement Danny kept him in. The silence that carried itself through the damp air will be missed. All for a bite to eat of all things. Michael was willing to starve—but he knew his shorter companion wouldn't.
The passenger door unbuckled as Danny exited the car. Unfazed by the horde of victims before them. He waited as Michael fell into a stance. Unable to take his eyes off the horde. Danny called for him, and led him toward the back.
"You didn't think we were going through the front, did you?"
Michael's face reddened. Ruining his attempt to hide his embarrassment. Danny laughed it off. He knew better than to throw Michael in the middle of a crowded area. The two scurried down a hallway after entering the restaurant. Finding a host stand responsible for the rooms in the back. Danny was surprised to find Sade there. Unaware of the men before her—too invested in the paper she was coloring on with a few crayons.
"Y'know I heard Bill was managing today. He'd be pretty pissed if he saw you not tending to a customer's needs," Danny said. His smirk widened as Sade finally looked up. Her face remained unamused.
"Not as long as the customer in question minds their business," Sade quickly commented. Danny chuckled. Michael didn't share in his amusement. Sade noticed that, and looked as Michael's frame towered over Danny's.
"Who's this guy?" Sade asked.
"My peepaw? Y'know, the guy you attacked in my house the other night?"
"His face…"
Sade squinted. Michael felt the piercing gaze that her eyes brought. He quickly tried to move away from the stand, before Danny pulled him back. Danny, quickly changing the subject, "Is it normally empty today?"
"No, but you know, the recent string of 'murders from nightmares' isn't doing anyone any favors," Sade sighed. She continued after a moment of silence. "Look, can I seat you guys or not?"
"We were hoping for one of the secret tables."
Sade rolled her eyes. But a smile broke through her annoyance. "Of course you would know about the secret tables…"
"You're talking to an ex-employee over here," Danny said.
Sade led them behind a red curtain at the back of the seating area. A dimly-lit performance hall filled with booth seating surrounding a thrust stage that extends toward the middle of the room. A bar was not too far from these amenities, but was missing its tender. Danny and Michael picked one of the booths furthest from the door. Sade grew suspicious of this choice.
"Peepaw likes it quiet," Danny responded.
"Danny the restaurant is nearly deserted. I'm sure he'll live."
"Hey you never know. Still a few hours 'till happy hour."
"Right…" Sade said. "In that case. I might as well take your orders. Take it away maestro."
"A small pizza—half bacon half cheese. A side of fries with buffalo sauce on the side. And for drinks, a chardonnay for me and a pepsi for the oldhead."
Sade stopped writing for a second. She clicked her tongue. "The thing is… Bill fucked up our shipment for soft drinks. There's no Pepsi, but we have Dr. Pepper."
Michael was surprised by how quickly his head moved up and down. Unaware of what came over him. Sade and Danny were caught off guard as well. The two settled on the moment before continuing on.
"Dr. Pepper it is then. I'll get ur drinks and your food'll be out in a moment."
Sade retreated to the bar. Grabbing a bottle and pouring into a glass. She fell out of sight for a second. As a door underneath the bar was opened and closed. And she emerged in view again with a can of Dr. Pepper. She disappeared after the drinks were set on the table. Danny wasn't convinced she was gone. He tapped the table with a finger. Every few seconds the tapping sound reverberated through the empty performance hall. Accompanied by the soft hum of the lights that shared Danny and Michael's company. Twenty seconds have passed, four times his finger was beat against the table. Michael's eyes glanced over to him. Now it was safe to talk.
"I didn't bring us here just to have a nice place to eat," Danny said. Still keeping his voice low. Who knows who could be listening, he thought.
Danny dug around in his bag. Pulling out more newspaper clippings. He arranged them around the table for Michael to see. One after the other they followed each other. Michael read them all. From "Halloween Night Massacre," to "Boogeyman Laid to Rest After 44 years." All by the Haddonfield Herald. And in the aged pages of time, in the black abyss positioned next to the words that spoke of the Boogeyman's death—a man with blotched skin and dark eyes. A web of flesh covered the left side of his face. Michael's left eye twitched, remembering the terrible itch of disease that riddled his prior form. A relief it was when Michael rubbed his current form—finding a layer of hair in the form of a beard, covering his rougher, but cleaner flesh.
"Y'know, I was just talkin' about this event moments ago," Danny started.
It was his favorite way to avoid what he really wanted to say. Michael noticed that little habit of his. Immediately growing disinterested in whatever he was gonna say next.
"And to think, after leaving the entire state of Illinois, you wind up in a very similar situation as before."
Michael continued to ignore him. Reading through the musings about the damage he'd done to a town as quiet and boring as Haddonfield. A picture stood out. The man with amateur darkness was pulled from Michael's memory and plastered onto the newspaper clipping. A black liquid flowed out of his mouth and circled him into harsh edges that spaced itself from the words. Michael read the words below.
Corey Cunningham (age 24) found dead with 6 shots to the chest and a snapped neck.
Michael flexed his hands. An audible exhale came from him as he read the final words. Michael left his trance as Danny covered Corey's face.
"I can't help but wonder… if the man in front of me is even Michael Myers?"
Michael tilted his head. Assuming he is an imposter is quite peculiar. Michael spent a long time observing how others have interacted. Even those deemed as "weird" and "insane," were quick to socialize, quick to group together, quick to feel some semblance of control and safety. Michael never had an interest in such a thing. He was aware of how distinct he was from even the people he was locked up with. No one ever bothered to accept his abnormal behavior, let alone try to impersonate it for long-term gain. Danny laughed for a moment shaking his head.
"Who am I kidding, of course you're the real deal! The vibe you give off is always giving 'deranged killer.' And that's not even going into the way you sent Leonard and his friends running." Danny raised the glass of Chardonnay toward Michael.
The red curtain swished through the air again as Sade rushed in with a cart of food. She handed each item to Danny as he replaced the newspaper clippings with the warm plates of food. He tries to grab the final one, but he drops it. Sade manages to get her hands on it before it touched the ground. She peeked at its contents for a moment. Before tossing it back in Danny's direction.
"Jesus Danny, what the fuck are you into?"
"What? There's nothing wrong with keeping hold of things that inspire you."
"Murder and vengeance inspire you?"
"Employees should also mind their business."
Sade rolled her eyes.
"Speaking of shit like this. I heard Mr. Gilda was done grading our articles. Lemme know if my grade is higher than yours."
"Fat chance, Sade."
"Right," she giggled. As she left the performance hall again. The silence fell back in, and Danny resumed his prior conversation. Now with pizza and fries in hand.
"I still can't help but wonder… the Herald mentions you were put into the car crusher. That Laurie crucified you on her kitchen island and bled you like a pig. You should've been dead," Danny paused. "But that's not the real story is it?""
One ear out the other Danny's words went as Michael poked at one of the slices with bacon on it. Much too salty, but the taste of succulent pork was irresistible. Maybe just one for now. Danny kept going.
"I mean, look at Jason. I've read all of what he's been through. Especially after he came back from the dead. Neck broken by motorboat rotor? House explosion? His remains found destroyed on the shores of Jersey City? Just for them to wind up missing the next day? And ofc that makes sense right? Jason's a walking corpse. But you're just…"
Michael's expression hardened toward Danny. He didn't survive being impaled in the stomach by that same 'walking corpse,' just for Danny to be flippant. Danny frowned as well. The silence fled as he spoke again in a sterner voice. Confident that no one's listening..
"Now that I know you're paying attention," Danny started. He huffed. Taking out the article again that celebrated Michael's death. Handing it to the dead man in question. "Mike. How did you survive?"
Michael stayed unresponsive. Frozen under the gaze of the picture he was transfixed on. It was a woman looming over the crowd atop a car crusher. She made no look toward the crowd. More focused on the backwoods that began outside the perimeter of the junkyard. The hairs on Michael's neck raised. He turned back to the sight of nothing but the stage. A vacancy similar to Michael's own. How hard it must be for a stage to be missing its players. And what of Michael? A player, barely able to remember his stage. The pieces were scattered too far for him to reach. His face—perhaps if he had his face—then maybe… He looked toward his hands. Imagining the latex sensation rub across the palms of his hand.
"Look," Danny's voice crept in. "It's okay if you don't remember. I just—"
Silence.
Michael watched as Danny leaned back. His left hand traveled up his right arm and hugged his right shoulder close. As his right hand sat under his left elbow. Michael shifted his eyes to Danny's right side. Once he finally caught on, Danny decided to hide his true face once again.
"Trying to squeeze a secret out of me? Nice try."
Danny reached for a fry. Drowning it in the small cup of buffalo sauce. Once he was satisfied, he tried to move it toward his mouth, but Michael snatched it from him.
"Hey what the—!"
Before Danny could even complain the fry was completely consumed. Damned to the acid of Michael's stomach. But not without a vicious attack to Michael's throat. The back of his throat shriveled as the smoke of his breath went to his nose. Michael coughed up a breath of fire. Forcing a laugh out of Danny; who urged for Michael to drink his glass of water.
Danny and Michael smuggled the now leftovers out of the restaurant. Leaving behind the money for it—followed by a hefty tip. Michael planted into the driver's seat. A brow raised as Danny growled. Filling the air with a bitter swear and heavy breaths. He seemed to be reading something on his phone. Michael drove off; occasionally shifting his eyes to the side as Danny grumbled to himself.
Smoke expelled from Danny's lungs as the car ride came to an end. An overwhelming heat spread throughout his face and tightened his chest. He remembered Sade's words, he knew she was being coy at the time but what he saw was anything but. A fifteen out of one hundred—a failed grade. And for what? The words stood uncaring of Danny's feelings about the excuse.
An insensitive piece of work, especially during a time of conflict.
Bullshit. The ongoing case of deadly nightmares had nothing to do with Danny—only bothering a handful of citizens currently. No one at the school has even been killed by such a thing. Danny stormed out of the car. Leaving seared footprints on the concrete. The keys jumped out of his hand out of fear. Making him even angrier. He picked them up and the door swung open on his command. He slammed the leftovers onto the counter and threw his coat on the couch. Danny stomped toward the stairs. Michael pulled him aside at the bottom.
"What!?" Danny yelled.
Michael paid no mind to his tone, but stared deep into Danny's eyes. The brown surrounding the small pupil was dark, almost black. Light became harder to reflect from Danny's eyes. Michael walked away from him. Shambling toward the living room.
Danny continued his march to his room and deflated onto his bed. He knew this would happen, ever since Michael showed up he knew how much more busy things would become. And now, it's affecting his school life. Constantly berated for his ambivalence, as if it's his fault. Punished for not backing down from his actions. Resented by Bait because Leonard was stupid enough to break into his house while Michael was here. And speaking of Michael—the need to remain on his good side. To uphold Danny's end of the deal and hide him here. To never give Michael a reason to kill him.
The expectations crushed Danny. He moved on his side as his heart tightened. Short breaths escaped him as the realization crept in. If he messes up even once, he's finished. And Mr. Gilda has made that window of perfection even smaller. For the last few weeks, Danny's been moving on autopilot. In the noise of Danny's mind, Mindy's words came through.
"She actually managed to get over her dead relative."
Danny jumped up. His voice escalated into a scream. Failing to push Mindy's voice out of his head. But she already made her way deep into his mind—stabbing at his heart until it bled. Festering in the cloud of rage and regret that already followed Danny. All sourced from the picture frame that sat on his dresser. Protected by the various things that laid across the top. He looked at one specific thing: a leg sheath. Danny picked it up and took out the knife that laid in it. It was a gift from Portius years ago. Danny hasn't been in possession of the other half for years and Portius thought he could replace it with something new. Danny tightened his hand on the black grip as he looked once more at the picture of him and his parents.
Maybe it was time to move on.
There were more important things to do. A particular person to kill. A new person Danny has his sights on. He rushed down to the basement. Passing by Michael and entering the room separated by a thick black curtain. The faint smell of chemicals reawakened as Danny mixed and poured some into 3 trays. Once he was done, he shined a piece of paper under the enlarger. A period of five seconds for four shines. He places it into the developer, then the stop, and then the fixer. Once he was done he eyed the paper under the devilish red light. Deciding to go with the second darkest exposure. He repeated the process again: shine, developer, stopper, and finally, fixer. He hung the picture next to a row of others on a hanging piece of string. All revealing a bald african-american man, who's frame filled the suit coat that he wore days ago. A walrus mustache hid his mouth, and his brows fell harshly on his eyes. A real stick in the mud, Danny thought.
Danny yelped as Michael reached at his arm. Michael froze once Danny landed his gaze on him. Danny's arms sank as his exhale calmed him.
"You need a bell," Danny said.
Danny resigned himself to cleaning up the darkroom. Washing the bins and stacking them, wiping down the enlarger and putting away the paper. He watched as Michael scanned the photos he hung.
"Michael," Danny started. Earning a turn from the man he called to. "It's time to uphold your end of the deal."
Michael mulled over the deal as Danny disappeared from the darkroom. He walked aimlessly past the curtain and near the couch, where his mask sat—deflated. Michael's pair of coveralls—now clean—flew through the air and into his hands. He looked from where they came from and found Danny at the bottom of the stairs. With a black cloak draped over his same-colored clothing.
"Come on, stop being so slow!"
Danny rushed back upstairs and Michael followed him after putting on his coveralls and his face. He collected his boots next to the front door and headed for the garage. Michael sat with the door to the passenger seat opened. As he finished getting ready, Danny turned on the car. Closing the garage door as they zoomed down the street—arriving in a new neighborhood. Danny exits the car with Michael shadowing him. The two travel through multiple backyards. Stumbling upon a house five blocks away from the car.
Michael never put much thought into this. If it were him, the car would've been closer to the house. But Danny seemed less lackadaisical. Acting as if there was an eye watching over them as they finally began to engage in the worst taboo. The house barely grew as big as Danny's. Matching in height, but lacking in width. The garage sat separate to the actual house and a long strip of brick extended toward the sidewalk. The trees and foliage looked on as Danny and Michael moved near the garage. Danny warned Michael of the other house across that sat a little too close to Gilda's abode. Danny took out his phone and began to type in Gilda's number. Michael, uninterested in remaining idle, approaches toward the backdoor. Danny stops him, extinguishing Michael's excitement.
"Leave it all to me," Danny started. "I want you to see what I can do."
Michael huffed. The darkness in Danny's eyes couldn't help but show itself to Michael. Promising the young pupil will get the job done. Michael is interested in what Danny'll do, but he has no intention of going the rest of the night without a kill. Michael resigned from pondering on a target and opted to listen to Danny mutter to himself.
"If my notes on Gilda are correct then he should be reading in his living room. Which means he'll pick up right about…"
The vibrating of the phone died and a harsh voice took its place—inquiring on who it could be this time of night. Danny answered that it was just him.
"You couldn't've picked a more inconvenient time Danny. I was just beginning to read."
"My mistake," Danny laughed. "What'cha reading?"
"The Stranger Beside Me."
"The book about Ted Bundy? You're into True-Crime?""
Gilda went on to scold Danny. About how the True-Crime genre offered a perspective into real-life events without exploiting them. Danny ignored the irony of that statement and signed to Michael: "Take that rock closer to the front." Danny pointed to a rock near the bush in front of them. "Use it to break the windows when I do this…" Danny tensed his hand in a crushing motion. Michael nodded. Moving toward one of the windows near the front.
"Now don't be like that Mr. Gilda. Horror still has a place in media. The need for intense, fantastical situations to provide emotional catharsis. Or, to use those same situations as a metaphor for societal failings.
"You're right. Some manage to accomplish that. Others, however, do nothing but crumble into neverending gorefests."
"How misguided!" Danny paused. "Never took you as someone who'd be so dismissive of the variety that horror provides."
Gilda took a pause as well. Much longer than Danny's. Danny leaned closer into the phone. Waiting for Gilda to utter a word of any kind. He kept his eye on Michael in the meantime, who in turn, kept an eye on him.
Gilda finally spoke; "Danny, you can't possibly be calling about your grade on the article assignment?"
No use in playing dumb, Danny guessed. He could be coy and fight against the claim, but why else would he call his teacher so late in the afternoon.
"Of course I am! You know me; one thing leads to another."
"Well I hope you know, I have no intention of retracting it. I don't want to read an article pertaining to real events that you and your peers are suffering through."
"Then what about a new article?" Danny pulled away from his phone. Donning the ghostly mask that matches his shadowy garb. Between the fabric crushing his fro-hawk and squeezing on his face, he heard Mr. Gilda further inquired on the article's name. He switched on the voice changer hidden behind the mouth of the mask speaking into it with a new headline.
"59 year old teacher, Humpty Dumpty. Cannot Be Put Back Together Again."
"That isn't funny Danny."
"Who's Danny?"
"My—"
Gilda's voice cut off. His voice fled from the house phone; eventually, the line went dead. Catching Danny off guard. Danny tries to call him again. He groans as the line goes to voicemail. It was time to put the rest of the plan into action. He looked to Michael and crushed the air in his grip. And Michael followed suit. Michael shattered the front window, and moved back to his spot with Danny.
"Leave the rest to me," Danny said.
Michael remained complacent, as Danny disappeared into the house through the back. It's just as he thought; the back was locked. No problem for someone like him. After watching Gilda for weeks, he was able to replicate the key. The means of entry was easy, now for the harder part, Danny thought. It was easy for Danny to slither into the living room as he heard Gilda investigate the front. He rushed past the loveseat and the couch to the house phone on Gilda's desk. Danny rested it next to his ear. Hearing nothing but vacant pleas for a response from an operator. Danny ended the call, and turned away. Freezing at the living room's entrance at the sight of the book Gilda began to read. The blank pages past the hardcover asked to be defaced as Danny snagged a pen.
"You're going to die tonight!" Danny wrote onto the blank pages.
Short, sweet, and without grammatical error. Danny wasted no time admiring his work as he heard Gilda's footsteps reenter the house. Just in time, he managed to slip upstairs before Gilda could see him. Danny saw no smartphone nearby. He had a bet to make. Either Gilda had it on his person, or it was placed somewhere upstairs. He called it anyway, and hoped for the best. The universe, rewarding him with luck, as he heard Gilda's ringer from downstairs. Gilda picks up the phone and Danny immediately begins.
"Let's play a game Gilda."
"You ilk! I have no intention of playing along."
"Oh come on. It's not so hard." Danny eyed the door lined with darkness at the crack. He quickly entered and resumed his devilish offer. "There's three doors downstairs that I could be hiding in. You have two choices. Good luck!"
"And what happens if I flee, instead of playing your game?"
"Edgar, I would like to think you've seen at least one stab movie. There's always more than one killer. If you find me, you'll have a better chance escaping me than the second killer hidden outside. Ready to crack your egg shaped skul—!"
With great luck came great blunder. Danny fell to the floor with a thud. Loud enough for Gilda to hear. He looked to see the culprit of his recent descent and was surprised to see a messy binder. Pictures escaped from the space between the boards—talking about a "nightmare demon." Danny added that to the pile of things he'll worry about later. Meanwhile, his biggest concern creaked up the stairs and inched closer to the room he was stationed in. He hid beside the bed as the door flew open. Gilda's breath shook like a runner after a marathon. Danny could feel Gilda's heart beat out of his chest. He could envision his middle-aged mug grey with terror. From his shrouded lips to the fleshy top of his head that reflected the light from the hallway. All while the bottom of the bed shrunk. Closing in on Danny as he waited.
Danny held his breath and crawled to the other side of the bed. Gilda turned on the lights and investigated the rest of the room. Danny froze once Gilda made note of the binder's mess. Danny watched as Gilda swept the contents back into the binder before moving it onto the bed. Looking on as Gilda's feet moved toward the closet. Danny leaked from the bed's underside as the closet doors flew open.
Danny's mind raced as the target on Gilda's back became clear. The gentle hum of his knife rang in his ear. Danny's heart grew into a stone that pulled the rest of his body with it. His hands shook at the thought of Gilda's blood—pooling to the floor—baptizing him into something more. The grip on the knife grew tight. Singing the flesh that hugged Danny's leather gloves. The costume, the mask—everything slowly gave way. Collapsing in on itself as the weight became too much. As Danny's mind ran to preserve himself. All while his body suffocated in place.
Gilda screamed at the sight of Danny—snapping Danny out of his hypnosis. Gilda smacks him with a glass candlestick. The candlestick shatters as Danny falls to the floor. Danny groaned as his vision fogged. The room assumed a gelatinous form. But his mind already accepted what needed to be done.
Danny caught up with Gilda. Carving a hole into the back of Gilda's shoulder. His cries tightened Danny's chest. Danny kicks Gilda over the banister and he crashes onto the stairs.
Danny swipes the blood off his knife. As his feet drummed toward the top of the stairs. His eyes peered from the top. He witnessed Gilda's groveling as he held his wound. Danny rushed down the stairs. Gilda rushed out of the way; causing Danny to run into the door.
Danny turned. Catching a glimpse of Gilda running into the kitchen. He gave chase. Gilda floors him with a frying pan. But Danny recovered quick. He reached for Gilda's legs as soon as he hit the ground. Gilda screamed as he fell onto his damaged scapula.
Danny wasted no time as he grabbed Gilda's collar and threw him into the door to the backyard. The door gave way. Gilda fell off the short steps and shattered onto the dirt. Danny picked up a shattered piece of glass and stabbed Gilda in the back of his leg. Gilda's cry echoes throughout the quiet neighborhood. Danny quickly covers his mouth. Stabbing Gilda in his back. A slow but constant rhythm consumed Danny. Two holes—then three—now five. The blood fumed from Gilda's body into Danny's nose. The metallic smell mixed with the rubbery smell of the mask. Pulling Danny deeper into the feverish haze that zombified him.
Gilda bit into Danny's hand. Danny yelped. And with a final burst of adrenaline; Gilda pushes Danny off of him and into the back porch steps.
Danny made no effort to continue the chase. While he couldn't hear Gilda's breathing, he could see the multiple wounds in his back ooze with the remainder of Gilda's life. The further he got away, the thicker the trail of blood. Until his legs buckled and he collapsed on the ground. Danny crept toward Gilda. Eyeing the shallow holes he made. They were perfectly survivable, once proper medical attention was given. Danny flipped Gilda and looked up to Michael—who walked out of the bushes placed in Gilda's backyard. They both watched as Gilda's lungs collapsed with every exhale, and his skin greyed. His eyes remained open—staring off into nothing. His mouth uttered for help in the silent void toward Michael—who continued to feed off of Gilda's agony.
"So, how'd I do?" Danny asked.
The feverish haze escaped to the edges of Danny's vision. He waited patiently as Michael tilted his head back and forth toward Gilda's dying body. A lull in Danny's chest began that shook his body. Danny's breathing quickened as Michael looked into the eyes of his mask. He held out his arms, presenting his work. Michael looked down to Gilda one last time. Noticing that the man laying before him was still alive. A slight problem that was easy enough to fix. Michael slammed his foot into Gilda's head. Cracking it like an egg as Danny predicted.
"Fuck! What the fuck, Mike! You can't… do that!" Danny yelled.
Zero effort was made as the hypocrisy passed through Danny's lips and into Michael's ears. Danny shed the new person he became. Welcoming the old, as his curls popped out of the cowl. Michael tilted his head at Danny's reaction. The stone in Danny's chest sunk past his stomach. Entering the depths of hell, and dragging his body with it. Foaming out of the pit a disgusting wave of nausea. Danny looked away from it all. From Michael. From Gilda. All of it. He couldn't stomach seeing anymore of it.
"What now..?" Danny said.
Michael barely heard him as Danny tried to keep it together. Michael heard a ring of police sirens and a cascade of annoyed dogs. They didn't seem to be heading toward their direction, however. Something else must've happened tonight—giving them the perfect chance to slip away. Michael began to walk. Only turning back when he realized Danny didn't occupy his shadow. Michael dragged Danny back through the backyards they snuck through; successfully pulling off in their car.
Danny remained unresponsive. He could do nothing but look at his gloves. Bathed in crimson. Left with the remnant of Gilda's being—imprinted on his soul. He thought back to before the phone call, before Danny found out about the stupid grade, before this Gilda would be one of the first teachers at school, seldom leaving his classroom besides for lunch or the bathroom. At the end of the day, he would converse with Anna and leave for a sandwich at the Papi's store near his house. Danny knew Gilda's schedule by heart. All he needed was a reason—a stupid reason—and now, he's will they do before this is uncovered? After? What about Danny's classmates? The memory of Gilda will ring in everyone's heart. A heavy burden that will pass. But his ghost will haunt Danny forever. Latching onto Danny's soul until his final days.
Danny didn't even realize when he was at the front door. His body acted beside his rattled mind. The door swung open—revealing Michael's frame. Danny fled into the house and rushed to the laundry room. Throwing his cloak into the washer—the gloves were thrown in the trash. The trash will be handled on trash day, maybe Danny'll bury it—maybe he'll even burn it.
Before Danny could even hope to escape to his room, Michael stops him outside the laundry room's door. Michael grabbed Danny's chin and forced Danny to look at him. This is it, Danny thought. Michael must've been upset by Danny's reaction to Gilda's death. Michael's eyes shined unusually bright. Illuminated by some force. Was it rage? Curiosity? Danny didn't know. And the time that passed to figure it out agonized him. He tried to fight off Michael's grip. But Michael was too strong. Danny's exhales shortened into a whine, which animated Michael. Michael let go. Danny fell to the floor. The brightness in Michael's eyes dimmed back to the usual lifeless gray. And Michael marched back to the living room.
Danny deflated with relief. His hands were quick to push his curls back. He could barely make it up the stairs, down the hall. As the door opened, he shambled to his bed and collapsed. Gilda's ghost already started its work on sowing Danny's guilt. Mindy lent her aid in Danny's torment. He thought over her words again. How could she say something so cruel, Danny thought. How could Leonard be so cruel to him, how could Gilda be so cruel. Maybe Gilda got what he deserved, Danny thought. No one deserves to die over something like that, another thought retorted. A cyclone of self-pity, of denial. No sense of accountability sat in the eye. Only a deep formless hatred, that flooded the floor below Danny.
Once he stood, the bed was gone. The storm closed in on him. Forcing him to his knees. Where even was he? Lightning struck at his audacity to ask such a question. Out of the pit of hatred emerged Danny's prize possession; the picture frame with the two people holding him as a baby. Not just any two people. The woman, still young, had yet to let the challenge of parenting age her. But the father was nothing but bone. His eyes left a vacuous stare that reached into Danny's chest and his mouth sat agape. The father pointed away. Lining his finger up with a hole in the picture. Danny looked through it, and found the man who produced the black goop he stood in.
It was Portius, motionless like a statue. But filled with more vitality than Danny's father—than James. Danny flexed his hand, and was shocked when he found a knife in it. It was different from the black one Portius gave one. The blade was white, with a hilt that was black with white at the bottom. Just like the knife from the stab movies.
Right, the Stab movies.
A series of movies first based on the murders of Billy Loomis and Stu Macher. All in an attempt to kill Sidney for her mother's transgressions. Then it was Billy's mother, then it was Roman Bridger, then it was Jill Roberts. Maybe it was Danny's turn to end up just like them. If any of them were alive, would they say it was worth it? To give so much of yourself to that hatred. Was it worth it to lose it all?
A weight fell upon Danny's shoulder. He gasped, and in a flash the storm was gone. The cushions returned under Danny's form. He quickly sat up and turned to the hand's originator.
"Jesus, Mike!" Danny yelled. "Jumpscaring me around the house is one thing—but my room? That's off limits!"
Michael thought nothing of Danny's anger. "Bad dream," he replied. Before turning toward the window.
Danny was surprised by the response. It lacked any sense of inquiry, and was more matter-of-fact. Danny looked to his now empty left-hand. The knife was gone. He closed his eyes as his brows pinched together.
"A bad dream is not gonna kill me, Mike." Danny ignored the irony in that sentence. Opting instead to check the time and see that he was indeed late. "Fuck me," he muttered.
Already have clothes on, Danny thought. He'll stick around the university for a class or two and then dip. He threw on his beige coat and stumbled out the door with his bag. He almost walked further down the block—only stopped by Michael, who exited the garage with Danny's black car. Michael rolled down the window once he found himself next to Danny. Staring at him until Danny moseyed into the passenger seat.
Danny prepared for what was next when he saw a crowd of people in front of Reeves hall with the dean—Craig Miller—at a podium with pictures of people grayed out behind him. One of them being the newly deceased, Edgar Gilda. Portius stood beside him. Looking away from the crowd. Danny almost didn't see Anna when he exited the car and got closer to the gate. The black man she was talking to walked away a sobbing mess.
"What's up with him?" Danny asked.
Anna took a drag before speaking. "We lost another one, kiddo…"
Word got around fast. I guess with the nightmares, the police are already working overtime, Danny thought. His hand tightened around the strap of his bag. He was unable to look Anna in the face—not without speaking, anyway.
"When did it happen?"
"Last night. The police found Eggy's body around 4am. They've been at his house ever since."
"And that guy you were just talking to?"
"His boyfriend."
Danny fell silent. And continued walking toward the crowd.
"Hold it," Anna said.
Danny thought it was directed toward him for a moment, but just as quickly, he realized who hid in his shadow. Michael attempted to follow him toward the crowd. Danny was baffled by Michael's willingness to stick out in such a situation—let alone do it with his face exposed to the elements. Anna had a finger pressed against Michael's chest. Freezing him in between the gates leading to Centuary's campus.
"You're that guy that gave Leonard's group a beating," Anna started. She eyed Michael's figure for a moment before continuing. "It's hard to tell, but I can definitely see it. Normally, I wouldn't let someone like you through these gates. But you did a favor for Danny so get moving. "
Her voice was stern but the wink she gave toward Michael sent a different message. It fell on deaf ears. Michael and Danny continued toward the crowd. They noticed Mindy stood opposite of the crowd with Portius. She scanned the audience; eventually locking eyes with Danny. He stayed in his place as the conference continued on. Miller went on about how the assailant will be stopped, and that peace will return to Hatchetstown. Many members of the crowd weren't impressed.
"You've said this 3 times already!" one annoyed student yelled. "You're not gonna do anything about this until one of us is found on campus like Tillie Smith!" another one yelled. And finally, out of the cacophony of young adult rage; "Hatchetstown: The place you go to die!"
Had a nice ring to it, at least, that's what Danny thought. Portius tried his best to ring in the crowd, but they only grew angrier. Between Jason Voorhees just an hour away and the nightmare killings happening right at home? What could Hatchetstown citizens even hope to do? One voice managed to break through it all and silence the crowd. A voice Danny swore he had heard before. He couldn't put a finger on it—the familiarity however, was all-consuming. The thought gnawed on him, until the voice gave itself a name.
"I, Steve Christy Jr, have a solution to our problems," The voice boomed through the speakers.
The silence festered into an ocean of mumbles, but for Danny, it all made sense. Everyone remembered Christy Jr. Who—instead of saving the fortune that was left from the death of Christy Sr.—wasted it all on sketchy innovations and a gambling problem. The clean-cut suit, polished square chin, and slicked-back hair hid the most rambunctious and unpleasant child to ever come from the clan of Christys. A title that Danny mantled for the Haman family after CJ skipped town.
"My mother, Catherine Christy and I, have mourned the loss of all the students that ran to Camp Crystal Lake to fight a losing battle," he started. "That battle reminds us of my uncle's attempt at opening the aforementioned Lake. Because they both share the same endpoint… Voorhees."
And that was the real kicker. CJ wasn't even the original Christy's son. Catherine named him after her brother—overcome with grief. Danny remembered how everyone teased that Christy Sr. and Cathy fornicated to create Jr. The incestuous bastard Christy. You would hear that name every five people if you walked around town near CJ.
But here he was with a plan. A plan that sounded much better in the ears of Centuary's students than whatever Portius was devising. A bout of nightmares has actually plagued this town before, twenty years ago. And that was after sightings of Jason Voorhees near Hatchetstown were released at the same time. If people are being killed by nightmares then Jason is the prime suspect and must be detained, per Christy Jr's words.
"Once Mr. Voorhees is detained, he will be taken and studied by the developing Crystal Lake Research Facility under head scientist; Rowan LaFontaine."
Rowan nodded her head at the sound of her name. She scanned the crowd for a quick glance before disappearing back behind CJ.
When questions came around few were concerned. Asking if this could be done before the nightmares do any more damage. What should they do if nightmares are already following them. Christy gave reassurance. Asking that they head to the Hatchetstown Medical Center for testing, and an interview. All data would be helpful in investigating how to suppress the nightmares. Not much was asked after that. It seemed the students were content with having Christy deal with the problem.
Danny wasn't convinced, however. It's been said that Christy disappeared a little before the first surge of nightmare deaths ended in '04. It was time for Danny to do what he is best known for. Unable to let go of the past.
"A question?" CJ asked. His eyes squinted at the mercy of the sun. Hiding any attempt of friendliness from Christy.
"Mr. Christy," Danny started. "I'm curious as to why you've decided to take such an endeavor upon your shoulders. It was believed the first surge of 'deaths by nightmare' were caused by an experimental drug that'd help you sleep. A drug that you invested a lot of money into and spent a hefty amount of time advertising throughout town."
"My suitors and I have put that case to rest," Christy corrected. "If you wanna ask something mor—"
"I'll just cut to the chase then," Danny interrupted. "Your drive to handle this issue; is it done out of care for the community you've previously harmed? Or are you taking this as a chance to get revenge on Jason Voorhees: Son of the woman, Pamela Voorhees, that murdered your uncle."
Christy's face fell at the provocation. Portius placed an arm in front of Christy; his face reddened and a vein protruded just above his brow.
"That'll be enough questions at this time. All students must report to any classes they have or return home if you feel unsafe at this time! Thank you!"
The crowd dispersed. But not before Danny caught a glimpse of CJ turning to him. Portius already had his eyes locked on Danny. A stinging mix of anger and embarrassment that Danny was way too used to. But Christy remained cool; seemingly unbothered by Danny's words. Danny began to walk away, and Michael tailed him. But Danny's heel screeched to the sound of his name.
"Fuck me," he muttered. Pleasantly surprised once he turned around to see Christy approaching him with a handshake. Portius remained at the podium, where Mindy began to calm him down. Maybe this Christy guy will be a breath of fresh air for Danny.
"I'm assuming you're the 'resident snitch' I've heard about that 'took my place' in Hatchetstown's shitlist." Christy said.
That short breath left Danny with a sigh as he confirmed Christy's suspicions.
Christy laughed. "Then you're just the man I've waited to see."