Abruptly, the light winked off, shrouding Oscar in darkness.
And a moment later, his arms gave way.
So close to escape and freedom, he fell on the fence. The sharp iron spike on the post underneath him ripped through the soft flesh under his chin, impaling his jaw on the fence…
Despite her reservations about traversing the dark alley again, Allyson couldn’t ignore the scream, fearing Oscar had hurt himself and needed help. Even though he was largely responsible for ruining her night, she couldn’t let him suffer alone in the dark. If she couldn’t help him, at least she could assess the situation and get help—which would be so much easier if Cameron hadn’t tossed my phone in the damn nacho cheese bowl.
“Oscar?” she called. “Oscar!”
Walking blind, she hurried down the alley, gritting her teeth each time she passed a smelly dumpster. At least she knew from her first pass that nobody was hiding by any of them. When she reached the far end of the alley, Elrod’s motion-detecting lights flicked on again and—
Allyson froze in horror.
She’d found Oscar—stuck on the fence. One of the sharp iron spikes atop had pierced the underside of his chin and come out between his lower and upper teeth. His jaw protruded far enough that the spike stuck out in front of his face. She shook off the gruesome thought that his jawbone had detached from his skull, held in place only by the skin of his face.
Standing on tiptoe, Oscar sagged against the fence, one trembling foot propped on the lower rail. Beneath his feet, a spreading pool of blood stained the ground.
He choked, gargling his own blood.
With half-lidded eyes, fading, he tried to speak, “Guh-guh…”
Go? Get help? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t help him. Not alone. She caught herself hyperventilating, panicked by indecision, and looked around, hoping to find anyone—she hadn’t expected—
Out of the corner of her eye, for a split second, she noticed a dark shape standing on her side of the fence, holding a bloody knife—
Then the lights winked out.
Allyson screamed.
Overwhelmed by the horror of Oscar’s plight, the terror of the stranger standing beside her, Allyson whirled around and sprinted down the alley, running faster than she’d ever run before. Colliding painfully with the corner of a dumpster, she spun away from the glancing blow, staggering to catch her balance, then course-correcting to continue her desperate flight through the dark passage.
She burst onto the street at full speed, too fast to turn onto the sidewalk, veering across both lanes, fortunate not to have been hit by a car. But if a car had hit her, she thought insanely, she might have rolled across the hood, landed on her feet and kept going without a glance at the driver.
Though she was by no means dressed for a run, she’d had plenty of practice and, if she hadn’t been running to save her life, she might have slipped into her natural gait and cadence. Instead, she sprinted at maximum effort as if within sight of a finish line that retreated with every stride she took. But maximum effort had a price. She couldn’t maintain this speed forever.
Her eyes darted left and right, settling on the first home with downstairs lights aglow. Veering left, she jumped over the curb, cut across the sidewalk, ran up the front lawn and bounded up the porch steps, almost slamming bodily into the front door before halting her forward momentum. With her fists curled, she pounded on the door, casting a quick glance over her shoulder before shouting, “Help me! Open the door!”
A second light inside the house switched on.
“Please open the door!”
Allyson continued to pound on the door, her excess energy pouring out through her fists.
A nervous face appeared in the window.
Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!
Officer Phillips drove the patrol car, with Officer Francis beside him. Laurie, Karen, and Ray sat in the back. A shared nervous silence kept everyone on edge. Even within the safe confines of a police cruiser, sitting behind two well-armed law enforcement professionals, they couldn’t relax, not with Allyson missing.
Laurie tried not to think about Allyson out there alone at night with Michael on the loose. She’s the one at risk, the most vulnerable among us, while we get a police escort to my house.
At least Allyson was on the move. Maybe she’s less of a target—for now. But she had a hard time buying her own reasoning. Skepticism born of experience. I should be the one out there, she thought. Allyson should be safely locked in my house. I fortified my home specifically to stop him when the time came. And right now, it sits unoccupied. A cruel irony.
Karen’s cellphone rang, startling them.
Laurie glanced over at the display before Karen answered. Unknown caller.
Karen’s hand shook as she pressed the button to answer the call. “This is Karen… Allyson?” She smiled with relief, the pent-up tension draining from her shoulders, her free hand gripping Ray’s. “Thank God you’re all right. The police are looking for you. Where are you? Where are you?”
Laurie stared at her own reflection in the window as Karen listened to Allyson’s story. With Allyson safe and accounted for, Laurie could turn her attention to her primary goal, stopping Michael once and for all.
Standing behind the bole of a large tree next to a sidewalk, The Shape turns from left to right and back again, looking for any sign of her. Or anyone walking alone on the street. But the roads are deserted.
Suddenly, The Shape hears the roar of a powerful car engine approaching, speeding down the suburban street.
The Shape lost sight of her when she exited the alley but knows which way she ran. So The Shape follows in the same direction. No doubt, no concerns. Steady breathing. And an unrelenting purpose.
As The Shape steps out from behind the tree, the police car speeds past, answering some other call. Turning to the left, The Shape looks at the blue-and-white car, glimpses the two faces inside. Familiar faces.
They do not notice The Shape.
Officer Hawkins turned onto the street where the emergency call had originated. At last, Allyson had been located, frightened but apparently unharmed. He had orders to get her to Laurie Strode’s house. After that, he could return his full attention to apprehending Michael Myers. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered in front of the house in question. Safety in numbers, he supposed.
He pulled up at the curb in front of the onlookers but pressed the button to give a short yelp of the siren to make sure everyone stayed clear. As he climbed out of the patrol car, a young woman broke from the crowd and ran toward him. Even if he hadn’t seen the photo her mother had provided to the police, he would have recognized Allyson. Considering the family’s history, specifically Laurie’s infamous encounter with Myers forty years ago, he had kept tabs on the family out of professional curiosity.
“Officer!” Allyson called as she neared him. “I saw him. My friend was attacked! He came out of nowhere—”
Allyson was breathing heavily. Hawkins felt her fear, the tension rolling off her in waves, panic finally giving way to relief. Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, Hawkins said, “Take a deep breath, Allyson. You’re going to be all right. Take a deep breath.”