Chapter 46: Return to Smith's Grove
…
After Colin had finished speaking there was a short silence, which was broken by Dave letting out a long, low whistle.
"Christ son, you don't do things by half do you? It's one thing to tell a man you've got feelings for his girl, but Michael Myers?"
Colin smiled humourlessly. "Yeah, I know. Shit my conscience was screaming at me, asking if I had a death wish! But once I'd started, I couldn't stop! I just felt so… angry, jealous."
Tim said nothing. If he was honest with himself, he privately thought Colin a little selfish. Here they were, sitting at Charlotte's bedside while she lay in a coma, and he was talking about how he hadn't acted fast enough to stop Danielle loving another man. It sounded like a wo is me act, attention seeking and self-pitying. He knew Dave would stand by his son of course but couldn't help wondering if he was also thinking the same thing. The only sounds in the room were the beeping of Charlotte's heart monitor and hiss of her oxygen tanks.
"But surely you're not telling me," Dave said slowly. "That Michael held you against that wall because you told him you love Danielle? I mean yeah, he wouldn't like that, and this is Michael Myers, but…"
"Your right dad," Colin confirmed. That wasn't all." He took a deep breath. "Fucking hell. I…" he paused and looked down at the floor again before looking back up at them. "I asked him why he killed Judith in 1963 and those guys in 1978."
"Jesus Christ!" Dave and Tim said in unison. Now, as much as he really didn't want to think this of Colin, Tim was starting to think he was a stupid, jealous petty idiot.
"I have to ask you now," Dave said quietly, looking his son straight in the eyes. "Do you, in fact have a death wish? Fuck son! Charlotte's fighting for her life, we couldn't lose you as well! Think of your mother! I'm sorry son, but that was selfish and stupid."
"I'm afraid I have to agree," Tim said quietly. "I think it's only because you're Charlotte's brother and her adopted one you're still breathing."
"I told him to just get on with it," Colin said, now unable to look at either of them or his unconscious sister. Instead, he focused his gaze firmly on the door. "I fell to the ground, feeling so defeated, hopeless. Charlotte's… Charlotte's possibly d… dying, and I…"
Now, he did start to cry. Dave sighed and moved towards him, putting a strong arm around his shoulders. Colin clung to his father, trying desperately to get his emotions under control.
"I was sure Michael was going to kill me," Colin just managed to say, his voice hardly audible. "But he grabbed my collar and pulled me to my feet, turned me away from the wall and shoved me as hard as he could, or at least I think as hard as he could, but thinking back on it I have doubts. He could've shoved me a lot harder. Anyway, I would've fallen if Rick hadn't grabbed and caught me. I don't know what the fuck was wrong with me! I was even stupid enough to say if he killed me, Danielle would leave him! Was that what I wanted all along or something? Thinking back on it now, she actually might understand! In her shoes I think I would!"
"Colin," Dave said gently, still holding his son. "All our emotions are high, and I believe Michael understands this. That's another reason you're still alive, I don't think he took all of what you said personally. But I do think that was a ridiculous move to talk to Michael about 63 and 78. The rest, ok maybe I can understand. But that? Suicide! You're just damn lucky Michael let you go."
"I know," Colin held up his hands in either defence or surrender, Tim wasn't exactly sure which. "I know, I'm lucky to be alive!"
Tim looked Colin straight in the eyes, trying to keep a lid on his own emotions and feelings. He was trying not to get angry, but… He took a deep breath. "How could you have even thought of doing that to your mother? Getting yourself killed? You're lucky your mother is still here, and your father." Without another word, he left the room closing the door quietly behind him. Colin stared after him.
"What does that mean?"
Dave didn't answer. He knew Tim's mother was deceased but didn't know the circumstances, as he hadn't asked. That was one subject he would wait for Tim to bring up on his own.
Just then, there was a knock on the door. Dave stood and opened it, to reveal Danielle, supported by Emma and Joanne. Michael, Dr Loomis, Jack and Rick were standing a little behind them. Colin couldn't look at Michael, and hoped his feelings didn't show on his face.
"I've been cleared," she said to Dave and Colin. "Dr Merrick says I can leave when we're ready. My skull is still bruised, but I don't have a bleed on the brain anymore."
"That's great news babes," Dave said, moving forward to hug her close to him. "I am also under strict orders to let you know Nigel will be here in about an hour to see you. He says he's more than happy to give you a lift to the airport."
She beamed, and Colin felt a tear run down his cheek.
"Can I come in?"
"What kind of question is that?" Dave said, as Emma and Joanne guided her through.
"I can wait outside…" Joanne began.
"Oh no you don't," Dave said firmly. Charlotte thinks a lot of you too, you know."
Joanne smiled sadly as the group approached Charlotte's head. It was then she realised the male guards, Dr Loomis and Michael hadn't come in with them.
"Hey Charlotte," she said as cheerfully as she could. "Come on girl you need to wake up, I have some amazing news to tell you! We're sisters! Yes, we are, for real! So, hurry up and wake up so we can celebrate!" She tried as hard as she could to keep the cheerful act up, but it didn't take long for it to change to tears. Emma pulled her into a hug, as the two women wept silently. Dave gently moved in between them after a moment, so he could hold them both. Colin took his sister's warm hand and softly kissed it.
"Come on C," he murmured, his own voice cracking. "We need you back, please?"
…
Tim slowly walked back from the hospital café, having drunk a coffee. He hadn't meant to say to Colin what he had, but his emotions had just come spilling out after Colin's stupid and dangerous move. Emma would be inconsolable. How he could've even dared talk to Michael Myers of all people about his killing spree was beyond Tim. It sounded as though Myers had more sense than Colin right now. Ok Myers was outside the circle of emotion so to speak, but Tim was just thankful the killer had stopped to think before acting. That aside, he could understand why Myers would be angry. He would've acted exactly the same if that'd been him who was being so cruelly bated, and over a girl? Seriously Colin? How fucking old was he? Right now, of all times when, like he'd said, Charlotte was possibly dying?
When he reached the corridor down to Charlotte's private room, he was surprised to see Michael, Rick, Jack and Dr Loomis standing outside.
"Hey gentlemen," Tim greeted.
It was then he noticed Jack was standing closest to the door, looking fully alert and with his gun drawn. Tim felt a jolt of both sadness and gratitude. Jack was protecting them, just in case someone else tried to reach them, a final request from Adam from beyond the grave.
"Thanks man," he breathed to the guard. "We owe you."
"How's she doing?" Dr Loomis asked.
"Still no change yet," Tim confirmed. "She's still unconscious."
"But she's still breathing," the psychiatrist reminded him gently. "Which is more than the doctors said she would be last night."
Tim nodded and gave the psychiatrist a small smile. "This is true."
At that moment the room door opened, and Danielle, Dave, Colin and Emma stepped out, Joanne behind them.
"I can't stay in there anymore," Danielle's voice shook with tears. "It… it breaks my heart!"
"I know babes," Emma hugged her close tightly. "Believe me, I know! But any updates at all we'll let you know immediately, I promise!"
She blinked back tears as Dave hugged her tightly, then Colin. As he did so, he moved his head, so she was touching his ears. She managed a weak, but genuine laugh. Dave watched his son closely and noticed he was very reluctant to release her. He was now whispering something into her ear.
Only Tim and Dave saw it when Dr Loomis laid a hand on Michael's arm. Dave glanced over and saw the killer had tensed. Dave felt a crushing sensation in his heart, feeling sorry for both men. But he couldn't get away from the fact Colin should have acted sooner if he'd wanted to be with her. He knew from the little Joanne had told him it'd taken months for them to get to the level of trust they had now, not to mention falling in love. It'd been natural, slow and not without hardships. It was clear she adored the killer, and if it made her happy Dave was only wishing her the best. Colin had to realise he'd acted too late.
It was Tim who stepped up to Michael's other side and lightly touched his arm. Immediately the killer's intense gaze was on him, and Dave could only watch in admiration and respect as Tim looked straight back at Michael Myers with not a trace of fear.
"Hey man," Tim said, his voice soft, not the slightest antagonistic. "Bet no one's ever looked at Michael Myers like this, right?" He smiled grimly. "You can put your infamous mask on if you want, won't change a damn thing. I've got my own death story." He undid his shirt to show the killer a huge scar across his chest. Dave couldn't stop a soft gasp and was sure Rick also had. Dr Loomis was also watching closely now.
"I got this when I was ten," Tim continued, his voice sad. "I survived my own serial killer."
They all saw Michael's eyes widen. Dr Loomis stepped forwards and handed Michael a notepad, then softly told the others to step back and give them privacy. Charlotte's door closed softly as they all went inside, apart from Jack who kept his eyes firmly on the corridor ahead of them.
…
"No," Tim smiled but without humour. "It wasn't you."
Michael's gaze didn't leave his face. The scar stretched all the way across his chest from one side to the other. "This was caused by your favourite weapon, a kitchen knife. A fucking long butcher one at that. How I survived, I haven't got a fucking clue! He did a fucking good job of killing my mother, then he came after me."
Myers simply looked at him, but Tim was sure he could see… something in the killer's gaze, though he wasn't sure what. Sympathy? Curiosity? Both? "You probably know him," Tim said. "After all, how many serial killers are there in this damn town of Haddonfield? Few more infamous than Mr. Michael Myers, huh? Though he's a bit older than you, this was in 1976. His name, was Graham Chadwick."
Now Michael's face bore an expression Tim could see. Surprise. Then to the other man's shock, the killer raised his notepad to him. How many people had Michael Myers ever written a message to in his life and he, Tim Jennings was one of them?
Chadwick?
"Oh yes," Tim said grimly. "Mr. Graham Chadwick. The Irish charmer killer, as he was dubbed by the press. Charm to die for fucking bullshit! I complained and helped get that stupid journalist fired! Talk about bad fucking taste! It was a woman, of course! She wouldn't have said that if she'd met him, because she wouldn't have fucking survived to say it!"
Tim stared up the corridor, lost in the past. As a result, he started when to his shock he felt Myers' hand gently touch his arm this time. "Shit, sorry man! I… I was just thinking. Fuck! My… my mother was on a date, of course, with… with him!" He spat the word 'him' in utter contempt. "I was with my older brother, who's now gone off to be in the military, currently working in India or somewhere. We were never that close, but he would babysit me if necessary, providing he got paid with money or the latest video game," Tim rolled his eyes.
"I don't know what Chadwick was thinking that night," Tim continued, his feelings as raw as they had been on that fateful night. "But for some reason he played the perfect gentleman," Tim almost snarled the last word. "The fucking piece of shit drove mom home. Of course, she was smitten already, I mean fuck! This was Graham fucking Chadwick! He got into any woman's heart or pants he wanted to! So of course, mom didn't think twice of letting this gorgeous, sexy man" he made air quotes around the adjectives. "Into our house. I imagine they fucked, wouldn't surprise me, then he… turned. Just like that. I heard mom scream and I jumped out of bed to run to her, my brother Adrian behind me. We got there to see…" He swallowed hard. "To see him, slitting mom's throat. I desperately tried to get him off, fight him, do anything I could, but fuck Mr. Myers I was fucking ten! What the hell could I do? He slashed me straight to the chest. Thank God Adrian even at thirteen had the forethought to call a fucking ambulance! Chadwick couldn't attack all three of us at once! Fuck knows how I survived and mom, mom…"
Now, he felt the tears start coming. He hadn't talked about this for years, after refusing to attend his counselling any further despite constant encouragement and sometimes even orders from his schoolteachers. He had to, wanted to cope with it alone.
"It was my fucking fault," Tim said, now slumping against the wall. "All my fucking fault! I should have got there faster, the first time she screamed I thought it was just… you know, during sex. If I'd only moved then I could have fought him off, or taken mom's place, or…
There was nothing you could have done.
Tim had to read this message twice due to his tears.
"What the fuck man?" He stared at Michael incredulously. "Of course, there fucking was! I could've pushed mom back, or taken the knife to the throat myself, or…
On this, you need to believe me. Once the kill starts, it won't stop for anything or anyone.
Tim stared at Myers, knowing Michael Myers of all people was better than any councillor, as terribly ironic as that fact was. It was all because of her that Michael Myers was talking to him, Tim Jennings in this way, not to mention not slashing him to pieces right now.
Chadwick wanted your mother dead, and nothing you said or did would've stopped him, unless you'd physically restrained him.
"Fat fucking chance," Tim scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "I was fucking ten!"
Exactly. So no, it is not your fault.
"Tell me that for the next ten years and maybe I'll start to believe you," Tim shook his head in self-disgust.
Ok, then I shall do so.
Tim stared in disbelief at the message, then the killer who'd written it. Had words of such kindness really just come from the hand of Michael Myers?
"Good luck," Tim this time managed a genuine smile at Myers. "That fucking Chadwick. I tell you something Mr. Myers, I cheered when those fucking fifty thousand vaults went through his murdering ass!"
I'm sure you did, you and many others I have no doubt.
"Sorry man," Tim said. "I didn't mean…"
What? I can't say I was terribly sorry to see the back of him. I don't take it personally, believe me.
"Didn't…" Tim hesitated, but he felt he and the killer had some sort of mutual respect, plus he'd started now so had to ask. "Didn't Dr Loomis want to execute you in 1978?"
Michael shrugged, and Tim felt a jolt of… awe? How the hell was Myers so cool about the possibility of his own death?
Because he can't die! Tim's mind shouted. Tim swallowed again.
Perhaps he did, but he obviously did not in the end.
"Touché," Tim chuckled shakily.
"Mr. Myers, I…"
Why are you addressing me as Mr. Myers? After all, we may be brothers in law someday, correct?
Tim blushed. "Uh, good point. I just…" he took another deep breath.
"Michael, what… what gives… people like you, Chadwick, Chancer, the… the need to kill? Is… Is it the thrill? Or anger? Or what?"
If Tim was honest even with himself, he'd dreamed of having a conversation with a real-life serial killer to ask this very question ever since his mother had been cruelly and mercilessly taken from him and Adrian, but had obviously never thought he'd really want, never mind actually get the chance to do so. Yet here he was, talking to Michael Myers of all damn serial killers! Probably only the most infamous and notorious in America, if not the world. If he didn't know any better, he'd think he was having some kind of fucked up dream.
You're asking me why your mother was killed aren't you?
"Got me," Tim could only nod. "That's exactly what I'm doing."
Now Tim honestly did think he could very well be dreaming, because Michael Myers himself now stepped forward and took Tim's hand in his. Tim's mouth fell open in shock as he gaped at the killer. He was sure a small, amused smile tugged at Michael's lips.
"Uh, sorry," Tim stalled, trying to think of what he could say. You're a serial killer so I thought you might know why one of you killed mom? Yeah, not likely. He didn't want to die today, he had way too much to live for.
Tim, it's ok.
"I… I didn't mean it like that, like how it sounded I…"
Michael shook his head, and Tim shut up.
I understand, I do. No hard feelings. Chadwick's M.O was women Tim, as you doubtlessly know. He did it for the sex and the thrill. Your mother was just one of his many victims, and for this I am very sorry for your loss.
Tim was sure this was the longest message Myers had ever written. He read it once, then twice, before he looked back at the killer. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "Thanks, Michael."
For what?
"I mean it's just… you're a damn serial killer man, how many victims are on your hands? Yet Charlotte's best friend has made you into a man no one recognises. I know you kill the bad guys, fucking awesome cutting Adam's head off by the way, well done Sir! Are you…" Tim was sure he was going too far, but he couldn't stop himself? "Are you regretting your own victims?"
There was silence, and Tim was certain he'd angered the killer. Then, a reply was raised to Tim's eyes.
Perhaps some.
"Well fucking done Danielle," Tim breathed.
Charlotte will pull through; of this I am certain.
"Thank you," Tim said again, blinking back tears once more. "Thank you."
What is your mother's name?
Again, Tim felt that rush of respect, Michael hadn't written was.
"Amy," Tim answered. Who are you and what have you done with Michael Myers, he thought?
Something of his thoughts must've shown on his face because he saw the killer was smirking at him. Tim blushed and made to apologise, but Myers raised his notepad before he could speak.
I am sure Amy would be happy for you Tim. You are living your life the best you can, that is all she would have wanted, as is Adrian from what you are telling me.
"That's why he went to the military, well the main reason. He was so angry after mom's death, he took it… the anger harder than I did, we got a lot closer after that of course, dad had buggered off and abandoned us for a new woman when we were babies, so there was no way we were going to tell him what'd happened. But Adrian, he took wanting revenge to a whole new level. Now he kills for a living. Whereas I just wallowed in it for years."
But look at you now. Good job and partner.
"Thanks," Tim said again. "It doesn't take the pain away though."
I am sure it doesn't, nothing will I shouldn't think. But you're living, Tim. You're not letting it control you and rule your life.
"Sorry but I have to say this," Tim chuckled and looked Michael straight in the eyes now. "Who are you and what have you done with Michael Myers?"
Tim could've sworn he heard Michael softly chuckle. He stepped forward and did something he also thought he'd never do, extended his hand to the serial killer. Myers took it his grip firm, and they shook hands.
"Don't worry about Colin," Tim murmured after a moment's silence. "He's a hot-headed idiot, but all he wants is her happiness when all is said and done. If you bring her this, he won't stand in your way. Respect for not hurting him last night Michael, I'm serious. I respect you big time for your control there, and you talk about control. If that'd been me, the guy would've hit the fucking ground!"
Which would achieve nothing.
"This is true, but I couldn't blame you for it and if I'm honest, I don't think Dave would have either. I'm not saying kill him, of course I'm not, Emma would've died too losing both her children, but damn, I'd have given him a good beating. How the fuck could he bring up 63 and 78? Jesus! It's one thing to talk about loving a man's girl, but that?"
Charlotte is not dead, and they are weak shots, that's all.
Tim felt himself shiver. 'Weak shots' they may be, but they were still the truth, whether Colin should have said it or not. People had indeed died those terrible nights, just as his mother had in 1976.
…
Time. That was the one thing Derek Chancer finally was running out of, but for the first time in his lifetime was something he wanted plenty of. As he lay in his tiny Death Watch cell, which he'd been moved to the previous night, time, was running out. Once again, he found himself regretting his actions in Smith's Grove. At least there he didn't have a clock ticking loudly over his head, pointing towards his death. If he could turn back time, he'd go back to Smith's Grove and change some of the things he'd said and done there. One of which was not get involved with that twat Dawson, money be damned.
He would never change all his rapes and killings; they had been some of the most thrilling times in his life. The thrills, the erections, the sex… the fact he was doing it against the will of his victims turned him on even more. Numerous times he'd lane in bed remembering their screams, desperate pleas for him to stop. Ah, the masturbation when he remembered this had been one of the small pleasures, he'd had left in that nut house. Now he was on Death Watch, he wasn't going to give the guards watching him around the clock a masturbation shows for their evening coffee!
He knew he had precisely seventy-two hours until his execution as soon as he was moved to Death Watch. All he could hope, as much as he despised the prick, was that Thompson was still working on his appeals, to at the very least get him life without parole. Sure, get him out completely and Derek might change his opinion of the Lawyer, but that was just an impossible dream on his part and even he wasn't stupid enough to think it wasn't. Whether he lived or died in three days' time, he knew he wasn't going anywhere.
The only thing he liked about being on Death Watch was the silence. He didn't miss the constant sounds of other inmates' radios, TV's, fans and so on. Here, in almost total isolation apart from his own private guards, (he'd scoffed at this), he couldn't hear anything except the occasional voices of the guards, footsteps, or the crackle of their radios.
Thinking about it as he'd been forced to over the last few weeks, Derek wished for only one thing. That he'd been given a choice re his execution method. He knew some states allowed prisoners condemned to death to choose between the electric chair and Lethal Injection. But this damn state of Illinois did not! Chancer hated this fact! He wouldn't have so much if they'd defaulted to Lethal injection rather than the electric chair, but why did they have to default to such a terrible way of dying? Derek would much rather be strapped to that gurney, filled up with drugs and to go peacefully off to sleep and never wake up again. Even as a boy, he'd had a deep-seated fear of electricity, which was probably why he'd used it as a torture method for so many of his victims. As long as he didn't have to feel it, he didn't care, but hearing them scream as he'd electrocuted them had been heaven to his ears. So maybe if he was totally honest, what was about to happen to him was Carma. Not that that fact made him feel any better about it of course.
Talking of ears, that fucking bitch. His ears hadn't stopped hurting for a week after that bitch had pulled them nearly off his head, saying he had 'nice ears.' What the fuck was that about? The bitch was crazy! He hoped one day someone would slowly and deliberately cut her fucking ears right off! That would serve her right. But then he remembered who her man was, only Michael fucking Myers! So, there was little if no chance of Hayward getting hurt, most unfortunately. He could only hope that Dawson got to her somehow, just as he'd wanted from the beginning. Too bad he'd never find out the results. He could only wish Adam Dawson the very best of luck in grabbing the bitch and showing her who was boss. He was just sorry it couldn't have been him.
…
Danielle was standing outside Charlotte's room, when she heard a happy, tuneful whistle. Without thinking she ran forward, straight into the arms she knew would be there. Sure enough, she was lifted off her feet into a tight hug. It was Nigel, that was their signature whistle. She felt tears of affection run down her face at the fact he'd remembered to do this for her. He'd done it while she was staying in the DASC, after she told him she loved the sound of someone whistling.
"Hey you!" He twirled her around as he hugged her, making her feel like a child all over again. But she didn't mind this, affectionately calling Nigel "grandad."
"Hey grandad," she said back, hugging him as tightly as she could. She of course didn't see him blink back tears at this.
"It's so nice to see you again," she said, a lump forming in her throat as she realised just how much she meant this.
"Ditto darling," Nigel said, laying her on her feet. She now looked on in a mixture of anticipation and apprehension, as Nigel turned towards Michael. He knew who he was of course, everyone did.
"Mr. Myers, my name is Nigel Manning, I was Danielle's neighbour next door to her and… him!" He spat the last word in a snarl.
She couldn't believe her ears when she heard Michael writing on his notepad. So, he was actually going to respond to Nigel, this warmed her heart. As if knowing what was happening, Joanne gently took her arm and guided her back into Charlotte's room.
"Did you read my mind?" she breathed to her guard. "Thanks! I wanted to give them privacy."
…
You saved Danielle's life that day.
Nigel read the message and then looked back at the killer. "Yeah," he said softly. "Thanks to that prick Dawson! I was desperate to help in the rescue, but your Dr Loomis said it would be too dangerous as Adam knows me. I know he's right, but Jesus I want to kill him!"
I think the word you need there is 'knew,' and as for wanting to kill him I'm afraid that's not possible, not unless he's able to die twice.
Nigel looked up at him for a second, his face confused. Then he took a sharp breath.
"No way! I… was it… did you kill him?"
Ah, some things must remain secrets.
Nigel could hardly believe Michael Myers himself was having banter with him. This was confirmed when he looked up into Michael's face and saw the slight smirk on his lips.
"You did, didn't you?" He said softly, unable to stop himself when he extended his hand to Myers. "Well fucking done man, what I wouldn't have given to do it for you though! Slowly, painfully." He lowered his voice. "How did you do it?"
Decapitation.
"Fuck!" Nigel gasped. "Fucking awesome man! I hope he felt every second of it!"
Well, let's just say I had… a little fun with him first.
Michael took Nigel's offered hand, and they shook.
"It's nice to meet you Mr. Myers. Danielle's told me so much about you," the older man said with a wink. "She adores you and you make her so happy. Those were her exact words."
Mr. Myers?
"Well, you know," Nigel smiled. "In my generation it's just politeness when you have just met someone, that's all."
Well scrap it with me, my name is Michael.
"Thanks Michael, call me Nigel."
It is nice to meet you too, Nigel.
The other man read this message and without knowing it of course, had the same thoughts as Colin. Michael Myers would never have spoken to him like this pre-Danielle, in fact Nigel suspected if not for her, if he'd crossed paths with Myers under any other circumstances, he'd be dead by now.
Something of his thoughts must've shown on his face because he was sure he heard Michael chuckle quietly. "What?" He asked.
You are thinking I'd have normally killed you by now, aren't you?
"Got me," Nigel laughed. "That's exactly what I was thinking. Didn't Dr Loomis ever tell you how dangerous love can be? Or did you just not care until a certain woman walked into your life?"
You sound just like him actually.
At this, Nigel burst out laughing. "Well thanks! I'm not a doctor, but it's nice to know he'd agree with me."
As if on cue, Dr Loomis stepped out of Charlotte's room. Nigel smiled and offered his hand, which the psychiatrist shook with a warm smile. Nigel then told him what Michael had just said, and Dr Loomis chuckled.
"You see Michael," he said. "If someone you've just met tells you what I've been saying for many years, doesn't that tell you there is indeed truth in it?"
Nigel could've sworn Michael rolled his eyes, and both he and Dr Loomis laughed.
The door to Charlotte's room opened again and Joanne, Danielle, Emma, Dave and Colin stepped out. Nigel was greeted warmly by all of them.
"Nige," Danielle said. "I have to ask this. I keep forgetting! Were you living next door to Adam when he and Charlotte were together?"
"Thank Christ no! If I had been, I would've told Charlotte everything you went through and told her to get the fuck out of there! No, I'd already moved by that point."
"Wise man," Dave muttered.
"Either that or I would've killed him," Nigel added.
"Again, wise man," Dave repeated.
"Ok," Dr Loomis said with a smile. "Are we ready to make a move?"
"In some ways no," she admitted. "I hate leaving you guys and Charlotte like this."
Emma stepped forward and hugged her tightly. "Listen my daughter," she stressed the word daughter. "We will let you know as soon as your sister wakes up, we promise!"
"Here here," Dave and Colin said in unison.
"Speaking of which, Dr Loomis said, "that is now official!" He passed Nigel a piece of paper, which he passed to Dave. Everyone cheered and further hugs were exchanged. She reached out, pulling Nigel and Michael into the tight group.
"You deserve it Dan," Nigel said. "I'm so happy for you all. A great addition to the family, and someone else's loss!"
"Thanks." Tim stepped out having heard the news and also hugged her.
Dr Loomis saw a look pass between Tim and Michael, then a respectful nod between the two men. He didn't know what had been said between them, but obviously some kind of bond had formed. This was good for Michael.
A few minutes later, she was in Nigel's car with Joanne, Rick, Jack and Michael leading them to the airport in the Smith's Grove vehicle. Once they got there, Nigel hugged her again and kissed her on the cheek.
"Love you Nige," she hugged him tightly. "See you really soon."
"You got that right D," the older man guided her towards the Smith's Grove plane. "Very soon. In the meantime, though, I'm only a call away."
"Thanks, same to you. Are you going back to the hospital?"
"Yes, I want to be there to help your family in any way I can. But I will promise you, I or one of them will call you if there's even the slightest news!"
"I know, please let me know if I can do anything, even from Smith's Grove?"
"Of course, darling," Nigel said as he gave her his shoulder to lean on to support her up the high step into the aircraft beside Michael. Silently, the killer held out his hand, so he was helping her from the other side.
"Such gentlemen," she smiled at both of them, as they'd moved before Jack or Rick could even stand to aid. "Thank you."
"Take care all," Nigel said. "Give me a call if you need anything."
"It's been lovely to meet you," Joanne, Rick and Jack said together.
"I echo this," Dr Loomis said.
Nigel saw the killer nod to him and smiled at him. He whistled tunefully again then closed the passenger's door, hearing Danielle's laughter. He blinked back tears. Damn he loved that woman and was fast becoming to feel the same way about the whole Avery family. They'd been nothing but kind and loving to him since the first time they'd met him, treating him as if they'd known him all their lives. As for what Dawson had done to Charlotte, it made his blood boil with anger.
"Good fucking riddance," he muttered as he headed back towards his own car. He thought of Michael's words, how he'd 'had a little fun with him first.' Nigel hoped the 'fun' had hurt like hell and the last thing they'd heard were Adam Dawson's screams, just as he'd made countless women scream in terror in his life. "Carma is a bitch Dawson," he breathed with a grim smile. He closed his driver's door and watched through his car window, as the plane took off into the afternoon sunlight.
…
Dr Stark stood in her office, looking out towards the guard's desk where William and Jordan were currently sitting. Before she could stop herself, her eyes had wandered to the door of the high security cell at the end of the corridor and the two-armed guards, armed with real guns, standing on either side of it.
Gemma stark despite being an experienced doctor and psychiatrist, couldn't stop the shiver which went down her spine at the side of that door and the thought of who currently was behind it. The cell hadn't been used for three years and was only used for the most dangerous patients. This guy made Michael Myers, Derek Chancer, Chadwick and all the rest of them look kind. Dr Stark had actually been reluctant to allow this man in the ward. Dr Loomis had spoken to her at length by phone from Haddonfield, telling her why they had to do it. Two additional doctors Dr Evans and Dr Radar had been temporarily reassigned to the MSU, purely to help care for him, along with three additional guards.
His name was Charlie Greggory, and he was one of the most dangerous criminals in the world. He was from the US, but had attacked in Europe and Africa too, making him infamous worldwide. The press had given him a nickname of course, which Dr Stark hated but which she also couldn't deny was accurate. The Cannable killer.
…
Greggory was just that, a Cannable. But his MO extended much further than that. He would grab lone women out at night and sexually assault them. The problem was, he did it in such a way it made them feel good. He would proposition them for sex and if they consented, he would finger them and lick them out to climax, before fucking them. If they didn't consent however, that was a different story. He would pretend he was asking, but actually, he was telling. They were going to have sex with him one way or the other. But if they consented, they got pleasure out of it too. The one thing he didn't tell them however was that sexual pleasure would be the last pleasure of their lives.
After he'd raped or had sex with them consensually, (more often raped) he would slit their throats with a knife, making the actual death as quick as he could. He'd take them back to his house and they'd fuck in his bedroom, before he'd slit their throats and take them down to his basement.
It looked just like a kitchen and indeed it was, it just had human flesh on the menu. He would drag in his latest victim and cut them up with deadly sharp knives, before starting to cook some of their organs. The brain had fast become his favourite.
The 'kitchen' was in his house in the USA where most of his victims were, but that didn't mean his record didn't extend outside of the United States. He'd also attacked women in Africa and Europe. He didn't just attack women though, he also targeted men. The only difference with them was there was no sexual activity before their death. Greggory would often tell them he needed help with carrying or moving something or help them if they were working on something themselves. He would then find a way to lure them to a secluded location and slit their throats.
If a person was dead before reaching his house, he would load them into his vehicle and drive them there. He enjoyed cooking men in his 'kitchen' as much as women. Although the sex with women before they died was an added bonus.
In Africa he'd cooked them over campfires in the huge stretches of rural wilderness and once or twice in Europe, he'd eaten victims raw. To him, raw or cooked people tasted good, but cooked was better as far as he was concerned. He didn't however target children.
Unfortunately, he'd finally been caught two weeks ago and held in a maximum-security prison, while lawyers argued back and forth about where he would go. Eventually he was admitted to Smith's Grove. It came as no surprise to him he was now in the maximum-security cell, with two armed guards standing either side of the locked entrance door. This made Greggory laugh inwardly. It wasn't like he could get out; the fucking door was locked. In fact, Greggory suspected it was more to protect others than to keep him away. They clearly didn't want unarmed people anywhere near him, not even the door he was locked behind.
Everything in the cell from the toilet to the desk was securely bolted down to the floor. He'd been told he would only be allowed in the exercise yard at night, when everyone else was asleep. So, if he wanted his exercise, he'd have to be willing to get up in the middle of the night. Greggory half suspected this was punishment for his crimes, but maybe it was in fact to protect the rest of the population. Whatever it was he didn't care, as long as he got his exercise. They weren't violating his rights!
The main problem for him was he was getting hungry, and not for food. He wanted flesh, human flesh. But it was fast becoming pretty clear to him that he would have to wait, very patiently at that, to get any. All his meals were delivered through a hatch in the door, the door was never opened until he was handcuffed, and leg shackled, a lower hatch in the door allowed guards to apply the leg irons, in such a way that his mouth was never near any of them. They'd already warned him they had a guard for his mouth which would be applied whenever he was out of his cell, if he made even one attempt on anyone, he only got one chance. On this, he believed them.
He didn't know who he was sharing the ward with, nor did he care. They weren't locked up like an animal like he was, but then, he mused, to them he was an animal. He ate humans for fuck's sake! How much more of an animal could one get? As much as he hated it, he of course knew why they were taking all these precautions against him. Nor would he be able to blame them if he was one of the guards out there.
He strongly believed some court judge somewhere was trying their damn best to have him executed, and again he wasn't surprised. But for now, some stupid high and mighty doctor thought they could treat him. It almost made him laugh.
Every doctor's session was conducted from within his cell, the doctor talking to him via a speaker system from another room. There wasn't even a screen so he could see who he was talking to. It seemed as though they were trying to limit him from face-to-face contact with people as much as possible and again, that made sense. They of course didn't want to risk getting eaten, alive.