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A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 01

By: bluefox07



A NIGHTMARE REBORN: FREDDY VS. JASON 2

CHAPTER 01

BASED UPON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:

WES CRAVEN: A Nightmare on Elm Street

VICTOR MILLER: Friday the 13th

JOHN CARPENTER: Halloween

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANT:

Sean Renaud, Tessa Alexander and Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

This story takes place after "Freddy vs. Jason," but before the events of "New Nightmare" and "Jason X."

*

RETURN TO CRYSTAL LAKE

Thursday, May 12th 2005

"What was the name of this place again?" Cheryl Willick asked as she settled back against the faux-leather covering of the passenger side seat. She ran a hand through her curly black hair, still uncertain she wanted her first time with Teddy to be here. She was twenty-one now, and she had waited so long for just the right guy. She wanted just the right place too. 

"It was called Forest Green for awhile back in 1985, but it's mostly known as Crystal Lake. There used to be a summer camp here," Teddy Revell explained as he turned off the ignition. The engine died down and all was quiet, save for their anticipation and the passing of an almost tangible sexual tension.

"And you picked this place because?" she looked doubtfully out at the weathered campground around them. Burned out cabins and overgrowth creeping in from the forest gave the place an eerie quality of desolation that made Cheryl uncomfortable. She nodded to the fiery pink sunset lighting up the flat, placid surface of the lake, "I mean the view is beautiful and all, but come on Teddy."

"No on ever comes up here. That's why it's perfect. We're miles away from anyone."

"Looks like the kind of place psychos might hide out," she commented dryly and shivered, "Maybe that's why no one ever comes up here."

"Actually," Teddy laughed, leaning over and putting his arm around her as subtly as a horny college freshman could manage, "The guy who told me about this place said it was cursed."

Cheryl looked at him. "Cursed?"

"Spooky, eh?"

"Cursed with what?"

"All he would say is that this was a bad place, and that we shouldn't go here no matter what."

"And so naturally, you picked this place," she rolled her eyes, "This is a road trip, you could have picked somewhere else. I liked the last stop just fine."

"A motel in Cincinnati is not my idea of romance," Teddy frowned. The windows were beginning to fog up from their breath, steadily growing opaque patches of condensation that crawled up the panes of glass.

"We could have seen the WKRP radio tower," Cheryl said.

"No," Teddy shook his head and leaned his broad, muscular frame back against the driver's seat, "That tower doesn't exist. WKRP isn't a real radio station."

"No shit?" Cheryl asked sarcastically and gently punched his chest.

"Come on," Teddy pulled her close, looking at her with his trademark big brown puppy dog eyes "This is nice, isn't it?"

"Yeah, I guess," she smiled and slid her hand down to his crotch. She rubbed him gently through his khakis, feeling the stony length contained within. Apparently Teddy was ready, willing and able. But then, so was she.

"I like that," he commented softly as Cheryl rubbed him back and forth.

"I thought you would," she smiled and kissed him. Teddy returned the kiss fully and slipped his tongue past her lips into the hot depths of her mouth. Cheryl never stopped rubbing him as they began kissing passionately, their tongues rolling wetly together. Teddy ran his hands through her thick hair as she encouraged his already healthy erection.

Cheryl paused to remove her jacket and Teddy immediately pulled on the bottom of her t-shirt. The Mickey Mouse shirt was tight across her considerable bust line, her breasts causing the famous mouse's head to warp and balloon out. Teddy pulled it up as Cheryl raised her arms above her head, allowing it to pass off easily. Her creamy breasts were full and round in her black lacy bra, the nipples hard and pointed in the flimsy fabric. Teddy rubbed the sensitive nubs back and forth with his fingers as he suckled on her neck.

"Maybe I should lose this?" Cheryl asked innocently as she reached behind and unclasped the three small hooks. The straps fell away and with one motion she removed her bra. Teddy watched as her large, milky breasts hung free. Her erect nipples stood out prominently, framed by small dark areolas, waiting to be sucked on. Cheryl placed her bra on the dashboard and gave a secret smile of acquiescence.

Teddy wasted no time and immediately set to work on her tits. He cupped them gently and began licking, flicking her nipples with his tongue. Cheryl murmured her approval and leaned forward, her hands playing with his silky brown hair. Her heart was pounding in her chest, a sultry rhythm that she hoped would be every bit as strong and electrifying as the pace of their lovemaking. She felt a familiar wetness growing within her sex, becoming hot and slick and causing an unbelievable friction every time she moved.

Teddy's hand found it's way down to her pants, past the waistband and under the elastic of her panties. His strong fingers worked their way down to her slit, shaven bare and swollen. Cheryl gasped a little as he stimulated her clit, coaxing it out to a growing hardness. She undid his pants, fumbling with the zipper for a moment and then yanking the fly down with a loud *zip* sound. His cock was sticking up past the waistband of his blue boxers, and she slid the underwear down to release his member. Teddy lifted his hips up to allow his pants and shorts an easier slide. 

"You're so hard," she whispered in his ear. It felt thick and hot in her small hands, the veins throbbing against her skin. She began to stroke up and down his shaft.

Teddy finally worked his way out of his pants, pushing them down to his ankles along with his boxers as Cheryl gave him the most intense hand job he had ever known. He undid the buttons of her jeans and feverishly pushed them off. His hands followed the curve of her shapely ass as he removed her pants. His thumbs hooked her panties and pulled them along too. 

He felt like he might cum right then and there as he felt her naked body, starting at the crest of her ass and up the sides to her breasts. After a few moments, he returned his attention to her cunt and gently inserted two fingers into her impossible tight pussy. Teddy had never been with a virgin before, and the narrow fit of her sex sent a shiver up his body. He couldn't wait to put his cock into her.

"Oh God," she whispered as Teddy fingered her. Her hips were beginning to ride and anticipate his motions, slowly moving to his speed. Teddy continued to suckle on her tits as he worked his fingers in and out, paying extra attention to her clit. Cheryl braced herself as well as she could in the seat, on her knees and legs parted enough to give him access to her sex. A sweet musky scent was filling the car. The windows were now completely fogged over, the last hints of the sunset coloring the rapidly approaching night.

"Yes," she moaned, pressing her breasts into his face, losing herself in the moment. If he was this good at simply fingering her, how great would he be at the actual act?

"You feel so fucking-"

Teddy's compliment was interrupted as the car suddenly shook and seemed to jump upwards. Cheryl hit her head hard on the roof hard and cringed. Teddy's fingers stabbed painfully into her vagina as the car finished its jump and slammed down on its shocks. She cried out in pain and recoiled, her hands slapping to her throbbing cunt. Teddy sat back, eyes wide and scared as his finger wetly grasped the steering wheel.

"Fuck, are you okay?" he shouted, his voice apologetic. He looked down at her hands and asked, "Oh shit, are you okay?"

"No," she breathed and shook her head, her face squinted with pain and hand protectively over her crotch, "Hurts like hell."

"What the fuck was that?" Teddy growled, looking around the fogged-over windows. As if in response to his question, a large shadow passed the passenger side of the car in the waning sunlight. Both of them sat there, watching the hulking figure move by like some silent leviathan. A horrific stench of decay filtered into the car through the vents. A long moment of silence filled the musky air of the interior as Cheryl was torn between the pain in her crotch and the fear threatening to grip her throat.

Finally, Teddy said, "Lock your door."

Cheryl locked it and started getting dressed, her fingers fumbling for her shirt and bra. She was dimly aware that she was beginning to tremble. "Who is it?"

"Probably some local asshole trying to mess with us," Teddy ventured as he pulled his pants back on, his voice laced with a furious growl. "I'm gonna talk to him."

"Teddy!" Her hand pistoned out and grabbed his forearm as he buttoned his jeans, "No you're not. That was a huge shadow. Just start the car and lets go."

Teddy thought for a moment, looking at the keys in the ignition. He hated being made to look bad, let alone being made to look bad in front of his girl. He wanted to go pound the shit out of this guy for ruining their moment, and he almost did. But then he took a breath and put his hand on Cheryl's arm. He looked at her beautiful face and her killer body as she put her bra back on. Teddy knew that he loved her, and if there was some lunatic out there, was it really worth it to risk everything for being harassed?

Teddy smiled. Cheryl was worth staying alive for.

"You're right," Teddy agreed and made to start the car. A loud popping sound reported from the rear of the drivers' side, startling them both again. Slowly, the entire car began leaning to one side as the left rear tire deflated. Teddy listened with awe as the hissing sound of air escaping his tire filled the night.

"Mother fucker," Teddy looked in the rearview mirror, his mouth gaped open. The large shadow moved behind them, and then off to the left. "Asshole popped my tire."

Cheryl looked over her shoulder, face pinched and white with worry. "We'll ride the rim," she said, "Let's just go."

"We are not riding the rim," Teddy said flatly, becoming angry and annoyed as he reached for the door handle. "I'm just going to talk to the guy and fix the tire."

"No, Teddy," she pleaded.

"Just stay here, okay?"

"I don't think he wants to talk."

"Cheryl..."

"Teddy!"

"It's nothing I can't handle," he said.

"Please?" she appealed to him, "Let's just go."

"Babe," he gripped her shoulders gently, "It's probably some drunk asshole redneck who thinks he owns the place looking for a fight. He's probably pissing on my bumper right now."

Cheryl wasn't convinced.

"If things get hairy, we'll get the hell out of here, okay?"

"Shit," Cheryl shook her head and sat back in her seat.

The door opened and Teddy put one foot out into the night. He looked at her as he started to get out of the car. "I'll be right back."

'Famous last words,' she thought absently.

"Hello?" Teddy called out to the mystery man, "What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Then there was hiss of metal slicing through the air and a sudden spray of blood. Cheryl felt the hot liquid explode over her face and shirtless body, spattering her and turning the interior of the car red. She looked over and saw Teddy shaking violently, his arms spasming wildly and legs kicking spastically. A long machete was buried in his skull, splitting his head like a piece of fresh greenwood clear down to his chin. His eyes rolled wetly in their sockets as blood and a thick, vile clear liquid spurted from the fatal wound, drenching him. His hands batted at the steering wheel as the blade lodged in his head.

"Oh my God! Teddy!" she shrieked and then felt the air in her lungs grow icy cold. 

Beyond Teddy's dying body stood a tall, impossibly large figure. The man must have been over seven feet tall, for all she could see of him were his upper legs clad in dirty, worn pants and the massive black-gloved hand that wielded the handle of the weapon. Powerful, thick fingers held the machete with an iron grip, and when the attacker pulled the blade free of her boyfriend's head, he appeared to have wasted no energy doing it. It simply came out with a sick, squelching sound.

Teddy sat upright for a moment as the dripping instrument withdrew from his skull. Cheryl could see his brain, cleaved and separated into a cross-section. His broken head fell away to both sides, his halved neck unable to support the uneven weight. He tipped over onto her, the contents of his head spilling and splashing out across her naked lap. Cheryl let loose a scream so primal it caused every bird within three miles to flee. She fumbled with the lock on her door, trying to shove Teddy's corpse away from her.

"Open up!" she screamed at the lock and gave it a mighty pull. 

The lock disengaged with a well oiled *pop* and the door released. No sooner than she had the door open did the figure lurch into view from behind the car. She made to run and was cut off as the long machete found its mark in her shoulder, embedding nearly a foot down her torso. She tried to scream, but found she had no air. The attacker pulled the blade out and she was yanked backwards. Cold mud soaked her back as her life's blood spilled out of her body and mingled with the puddles of stagnant water.

She looked up and saw the huge man standing over her, his blade raised high, paused for a moment. From behind a battered and stained white hockey mask two cold eyes regarded her with a dead impartiality. Her killer cocked his head to one side in predatorial yet thoughtful consideration. She tried to utter a plea of mercy, but saw no more as the machete came swooping down, ending her pain.

***

Friday, May 13th, 2005

A quiet mist floated over the glassy black waters of Crystal Lake. The thick plumes of ground-level clouds seemed to be standing still, as though waiting for something to happen. The fog was unwilling to lazily curl through the trees and skeletal cabins that surrounded the lonely lake as it normally did. It simply hung there, suspended by a supernatural power that refused to allow the natural progression of movement to continue forward. It was as if though nature herself were being made to wait somehow, restrained by forces unseen. 

But that had always been the case here. The power and beauty of the natural world ended under the rotting entrance to Camp Crystal Lake.

It was true that one could walk the shores of this lake, explore the neglected and moss-eaten cabins and still hear echoes of the many happy memories that had once defined the camp before the dark times. If one did not linger too long, the original purpose and intent of the place could be felt and even longed for. But more than a few minutes of walking this desolate place was like marking yourself for death. For death, it seemed, had staked a claim over the waters of this lake and the land that surrounded it. Even over the people who came here. Camp Crystal Lake was never a good place to be, no matter what time of the year it was. 

Especially today.

Dr. John Bilk knew this as he cautiously stepped out of his Jeep Cherokee, zipped up his red jacket and pulled his blue knit cap down firmly over his scalp. His boots sunk into the bloated mud and grass of what used to be the lawn separating the dock from the main grounds of camp. The door closed with muted slam that produced no echo, the headlights still burning brightly, cutting through the soupy fog for a moment then shutting down.

"Why are we here again?" he asked, looking to the driver's side of the jeep.

"Because if you want to understand a man, you have to see where he lives," Mary Stilfreeze smiled as she closed the passenger side door.

John scratched his closely trimmed brown beard thoughtfully as he looked out over the water, "And why would you want to understand this guy any better than the world already does?"

"Jason Voorhees is an enigma," Mary explained as they walked across the lawn, the ground sucking at their boots with long, needful slurps. She pulled her camera out of her backpack and uncapped the lens. "He's been a mystery ever since he drowned here back in '57."

"The man's a psycho, Mary," John mussed, "And he would have to be like sixty years old by now. Enigma isn't the word I'd use. Bullshit is more like it."

Mary's bright blue eyes turned to him, shocked. "How can you say that?"

"I don't believe for a minute it's the same guy who did all the killing back in the eighties, that's all."

"Why not?" she asked incredulously.

"First off, his mother was the one who committed the initial murders in'58 and then again in '80, right?" he asked, feeling a chill tickle up his spine, "Sure, we know it was Jason behind the sprees in '82 and '84, but who's to say someone didn't start copycatting Jason after he died?"

"He didn't die, John."

"He was buried at the Eternal Peace Cemetery in 1984," John shook his head, "The body was buried."

"And was exhumed the next year," Mary corrected him noticing a set of fresh tire tracks in the mud. She thought that was odd as she followed the progression of the tracks and said, "Don't forget that."

"Remember the ambulance driver who masqueraded around in a hockey mask and killed those kids in '87? What about him? He was a copycat."

"Roy Burns," Mary conceded, "But he was confirmed dead after that incident, and his grave remains untouched..."

"Okay," John countered, "Lets say Mr. Voorhees somehow survived being killed and buried, and let's say he was the genuine article that did all the hacking in '88, '93, and that incident aboard the cruise ship in '94. The FBI blew him away later that month when they finally tracked him down back here at Crystal Lake. I mean they literally shot him to pieces."

"In some of the footnotes to that report," Mary smiled, "People claimed Jason's spirit was able to jump from person to person, keeping him alive."

"God, you make the X-Files sound like the six o'clock news... It's all bullshit," John laughed. He looked over and saw the burnt out hollows of the cabins. He pointed, "Is that where it all happened?"

Mary brushed her long blonde hair out of her face. "Yep. According to the two survivors, Jason and Krueger started their fight in the rec room. A fire burnt out most of the cabins and other structures. The locals didn't mind seeing it burn, either. County government had shut down the camp permanently after the '88 incident, but still tried to cash in on this being the site of the Voorhees murders. In fact, until what happened here two years ago, the town manager had been hoping to rebuild and open the site again someday," she said and snapped a photo of the blackened framework. She looked at the wreckage with a clear sense of awe and then turned to the shoreline. She motioned to the dock, "But it all ended there."

"Those kids made a hell of a mess. It's amazing they didn't blow themselves up too in the process," John remarked as he looked around and then to his right. Where there had once been a propane tank near the water's edge was a large crater, scorched deep into the earth. The plants had started growing back, a few green sprouts here and there, but the trees caught in the blast were still singed and barren facing ground zero. Bits and pieces of construction equipment, smaller propane tanks and scaffolding were littered all over the place. Apparently, no one had bothered to clean up after the dust settled.

"No kidding," Mary continued snapping shots of the wreckage as they walked on, "But it could have been worse. Only two kids died here that night, both victims of Jason and Krueger."

"Yeah," John agreed, "And over thirty wiped out between what the copy cat did on Elm Street, Westin Hills and that kegger out at the corn field."

"Wasn't a copycat..."


A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 01



"Okay, Voorhees," John said, "Whoever he was, he did a lot of damage."

"It wasn't just Voorhees, John. You know that."

John picked up several smooth stones and started skipping them on the lake as they neared the shore. He looked at Mary and laughed. "Hey, I'll believe Jason Voorhees is sixty and still kicking ass before I believe that Freddy Krueger is anywhere but hell. The good citizens of Springwood made sure of that."

"And the fact that there are over fifty reports of him being in Springwood since his death in 1970 make no never mind to you?"

"Mass hysteria," John replied, "Or mass delusions."

"Why did I invite you along on this expedition?" Mary frowned.

"I'm the voice of reason," he smiled and pulled her to him, holding her as the mist began to curl and sweep around their feet unnoticed. 

Mary pressed her body against him and laughed. "You have a one track mind, Dr. Bilk," she said playfully.

"We could be back at the hotel, in bed, naked and exploring each other instead of this God-forsaken place," he ran his hands down to her ass, squeezing her cheeks through the rough denim material.

"That sounds nice," she smiled and kissed him, "But no."

"We could watch a scary movie from the comfort of a bed instead of living one out here in the sticks."

"Work first, play later," she licked his lips and kissed him, "Besides, you know the rules."

"Rules?" he sighed as they continued towards the dock. "What rules?"

She raised a curious brow, "If you ever want to get in my pants again, you'll play by the rules."

"That's what I like about you, Mary. Always keep our sex life simple and stress free."

"Whatever," Mary laughed and rolled her eyes, continuing to snap pictures. The wood that composed the dock was old and waterlogged. Their boots didn't so much strike against it as they seemed to sink in as far as the grain would allow. She explained, "Just think of it as verbal foreplay for the scholarly."

"I didn't know we eggheads had any foreplay," he grunted.

"Look at these tire tracks," she pointed back at the shoreline, now almost totally lost in the fog, "You see those?" 

John squinted. "Yeah... it looks like someone drove into the lake."

"That's weird," Mary said, "The tracks looked fresh too."

John offered, "Maybe someone launched a boat?"

Somewhere beyond the swirling canvas of thick fog, a branch snapped and echoed through the morning air.

John immediately froze. "You hear that?"

Mary nodded unconcerned. "Yes I did."

He looked at her, his eyes wide, "And the fact that we're at Camp Crystal Lake with strange noises means nothing?"

"But honey," she patted his face, "You said Jason was dead."

John stood back, reasserting himself. "I know. I know."

"Relax," she squeezed his hand, "You've got your gun right?"

John felt for the handle of the revolver in his coat pocket. The cold steel was heavy and reassuring in his hand as he looked around. The fog was now coiling and rolling like a nest of large, fat phantom snakes. It seemed to be reaching out for them and surrounding them with insidious precision. John could feel his heart pounding out of irrational fear, and he knew in that moment they should've left. But for whatever reason, he said nothing.

"This fog is seriously freaky," Mary commented.

"They never found the copycat, sorry, Jason or the guy he was fighting," John remarked quietly, straining to listen for more sounds.

"Freddy Krueger," Mary corrected.

"Shit, Mary," John shrugged, "Freddy Krueger or Freddy Mercury, who gives a fuck? What I'm saying is there were no bodies."

"You changing your mind on Voorhees?" Mary asked slyly, kneeling down and touching the flat surface of the water. She could only see a few feet beyond her own nose, but it was enough to catch a glimpse of the cold, black and secretive liquid. The surface was completely flat, like glass.

"Maybe," he said and glanced back at the cabins, "Or maybe I don't want to bump into a copycat. It is Friday the 13th today, you know."

"Yes it is," Mary frowned, still looking at the water.

"Most killers are really nostalgic about this shit," he said, "Voorhees always seemed to attack on or around Friday the 13th. It's a psycho-serial killer prerequisite, babe. Remember the Haddonfield murders in Illinois? That fucker always did his shit on Halloween..."

"The water," she said, her voice suddenly quiet.

"What about it?"

"Well," she stood up straight and looked around blindly. Fog that hung so motionlessly now curled around them to where she couldn't see more than ten feet away. "The fog is starting to moving, like there's a wind. But the water isn't moving."

John peered through the soupy mist and saw the waters' surface, glassy and still. He said, "So?"

"Do you feel any wind?"

"No," John frowned, "No I don't."

"If there is a wind blowing to stir up the mist like this, shouldn't the water be moving too? Shouldn't we feel it?"

Mary tried to peer past the dense mist that was closing in on them. 

"We need to go," John whispered.

"Don't be a pussy," Mary replied.

"The only pussy here is yours," he shook his head, "And this cock is gonna walk."

"John, relax-"

Then the dock suddenly shook, scaring them and causing a brief sensation of off balanced vertigo. Mary steadied herself as something heavy stepped onto the old wood construct with them. The chains coupling the platforms together shook and rattled as heavy footsteps slowly and methodically marched towards them. John felt his heart almost stop completely as he listened to the sound of hard rubber soles digging into the rotting wood. He looked over at Mary, unsure of what to say. His mouth had gone dry and his throat tight with fear. His heart hammered in his chest as he put one hand on her shoulder and pulled her close again.

"Were you expecting anyone?" he whispered.

"No," she shook her head, her voice betraying her confidence.

"What do we do?"

Mary licked her lips. "Say hello?"

John listened to the approaching steps, slow and heavy. "I don't think so. I don't like this."

"Well what would you like?"

"I'm 43," he whispered, "I'd like to make 44." 

"Hello?" she called out.

The footsteps stopped for a moment, and then resumed. Whoever it was, their mystery guest was getting closer. More unnerving than the sounds of the person approaching them was the lack of vision. All they could see were rolling volumes of white fog, so close now that when John held his hand out in front of him, it was faded and nearly hidden. The dock shook as footstep after footstep sent tremors through the aging structure.

A foul odor caught Mary's attention. She nearly gagged, the stench of rot and infection began circling them as heavily as the fog. Something smelled of death just a few feet away, something large and something that was still very much alive. John covered his mouth and nose, eyes watering from the smell as the footsteps became louder, more real to him. They seemed to reverberate through the fog and echo for an impossibly long time as the two scientists stood paralyzed on the dock. 

He hadn't believed that Jason Voorhees could still be alive after all these years, still able to kill. When he had heard about the massacre in Springwood in 2003 and the official belief that Voorhees was to blame, he was skeptical. Only his love for and professional relationship with Mary had brought him out here to investigate the possibility of the killer still being alive. He had no real interest in proving the infamous killer was here, let alone still living. It was a ridiculous notion to him, a secret disgust that he withheld from Mary. 

Profiling these monsters was her job, her passion. He could not bring himself to outwardly debunk her belief that men like Fred Krueger, Michael Myers and Jason Voorhees had found someway to cheat death. They had been killed, in one form or another, and in John Bilk's book, when you're dead you're dead. Krueger had been burned to death, Voorhees was either drowned or blown away by the FBI and Myers had his head chopped off. It was simple mathematics, the mathematics of life. As a psychologist, John held to those equations like a man in the ocean holds to his life preserver.

There were a lot of strange things in this world, but maniacs who attacked you in your dreams and invincible knife-wielding psychos didn't exist save for what Hollywood slopped on the movie screens. 

Another footstep jarred John back to reality, and as much as he wanted to believe that Jason Voorhees was dead, he found himself beginning to shake. Mary noticed this, and squeezed his arm.

"Let's back up a little," she whispered and nudged him back, "We should have a few more feet of dock..."

John nodded. 

He craned his neck around to see behind his back only to find a wall of milky white fog. They could fall off into the water if they weren't careful, and the prospect of swimming in Crystal Lake didn't appeal to him in the slightest. He grasped Mary's hand tightly and turned with her as they felt their way slowly to the edge of the dock. Behind them, the footsteps sounded as if they were no more than a few feet behind them. The smell was unbearable, and Mary felt certain she was going to throw-up her breakfast.

"We have to slip into the water," Mary whispered, her face becoming a faded out white ghost as the fog enveloped them.

"No," John said.

"If this is Voorhees, he won't get in the water," she reasoned, "He has a fear of water."

"That's a fucking urban legend," he hissed back, "And he's afraid of drowning, not water."

Another heavy footstep sounded out, and also the sound of labored breathing.

"What if it's not him?" John asked, the tip of his boots feeling for the rapidly approaching edge.

"We'll be safer in the water than here-" Mary said, and then was cut off. 

John heard a brief whistling sound of metal cutting though air and then a thick thud. He thought for sure something had happened to Mary. In his mind, he could see her having been cut in two by a rusty blade. He knew the sound of metal cutting though air. He opened his mouth the call her name, and then realized something was wrong.

"I think..." he grunted and then knew. 

He registered a moment of pain in his back and then felt nothing else. His spinal column severed as a mammoth machete blade punctured his back, pushed through his midsection and exploded out the front of his jacket. Blood erupted from his mouth in a silent scream as he went limp, his head falling back and lolling like a broken marionette might. 

"John?" Mary watched, her eyes wide with terror as John rose into the air, bleeding and dying. 

The mist rolling around John began to clear just enough for her to see a huge shape behind him. Mary forced her self to look at the shape, to lay her eyes on the man she already knew in her heart was there. She had to know if it was him or not. If it was he, then she was already dead. The mist briefly thinned out in skeletal wisps and revealed a muddy, bloodstained hockey mask. Four long blade marks cut deeply across the expressionless facade. The mask was fastened to a misshapen head that sat atop a hulking seven to eight foot frame, powerful and horribly real. 

With a flip of his powerful wrist, Jason Voorhees whipped the convulsing body of Dr. John Bilk into the placid waters of Crystal Lake, where he joined the ranks of the killer's dead. John landed in the filthy water with a splash, and Jason cocked his misshapen head, coolly regarding Mary with an impassive dead stare.

Mary screamed and jumped from the dock just as the machete sliced past her head. The camera fell from her hands and dropped into the depths of the lake. The freezing water jolted her body, feeling like a thousand pins jabbing into her skin as she sank into the lake. With frantic determination, she forced herself upwards towards the surface. 

As she ascended, she began swimming away from the dock. Through the distorted surface, she could see hulking mass of Jason looking down into the water, waiting for her. She looked off to her left and saw something floating lazily. She didn't need to look any longer than a second. John's body was slowly being dragged down by the weight of his thick heavy clothes in a billowing crimson cloud.

Beyond him, in the shadows made by a drop-off, she saw a yellow car resting nose first in the soft, muddy bottom. It was a Volkswagen Beetle, embedded up to the doors in the slope of the lake bottom. She realized that this was the car that had made the tire tracks on the shore. Someone had driven into the lake. Or perhaps been pushed into the lake?

'The gun!' she remembered suddenly, and quickly struggled to reach her lover's corpse. Her lungs were beginning to burn as she grabbed his jacket and pulled him to her. His face was frozen, mouth open and contorted into his final scream of pain, eyes wide and glassy. She felt in the pocket and found the butt of the revolver. She yanked it out and shoved off him for extra gain. 

'I'm so sorry John,' she thought. With all her strength, she swam as far away as she could and finally broke the surface.

Her lungs filled with the harsh, crisp air as she came up. She gasped, her skin immediately attacked by a new cold as she surfaced. She opened her eyes and looked for the dock, trying to get her bearings. She could see nothing, and was overwhelmed by disorientation as she kicked off her boots and began to tread water. As the morning sun broke over the trees, shadows filtered into the fog creating a bizarre display of moving shapes and confusion. 

Mary treaded the water, tears burning her eyes as the fog started to succumb to the morning. Rays of sunlight burned the thick mist away, allowing more and more of a view around her. She jumped as movement to the left caught her eye. A crow flew past the massive silhouette of Jason Voorhees, still standing on the dock, silent and unmoving. The crow cawed and cackled as it arced into the air, fading away into the mist and sunlight. She wasn't certain, but she felt as if thought even through the curling fog Voorhees could see her.

Mary pulled the gun out of the water and took aim at Jason, her hands shaking badly as she tried to stay above water. Her fingers were as numb as her toes as she tried to line the barrel of the gun up to her attacker. She squeezed the trigger and fired. The deafening blast stabbed her ears and rang throughout Crystal Lake. The figure on the dock remained where he was, unmoved and unafraid. She knew she had missed and took aim again.

This time, her shot found its target. She saw Jason jerk to the left as an audible *smack* sounded off and a spray of red blood misted from his shoulder in the fog, illuminated by the sunlight. Still, the killer remained standing.

She fired again, and tagged his leg.

She fired again, this time catching him in the chest (at least, that's what she assumed as he jerked backwards slightly when the bullet hit).

She was preparing to fire her fourth round when something beneath her moved. She reflexively jerked upward and the gun fell from her grasp. It landed in the water with a splash and was gone. She screamed and desperately tried to grab it before it sank out of reach, but no avail. Her reflexes were slow and clumsy as she tried to move in the icy water. It was like a bad dream, a nightmare from her childhood where she couldn't move fast enough. 

She felt her eyes becoming heavy and weak as she fought against the cold. Mary looked around her, the black calm waters of Crystal Lake growing more and more visible as the fog burned away. She could even see the shoreline now, and the forest beyond. She turned back to the dock and saw Jason still standing there. 

His clothes were tattered and dirty, his hand clenched around the machete. Mary could see bright red blood dripping from the blade in fat droplets to the cracked white painted wood of the dock. The skin visible at the sides of the mask was gray and bloated, the bald scalp dotted with a few long, stringy strands of hair that had caught the morning light. 

He stood there, waiting for her. 

And why not? 

Jason had all the time the world.

Something brushed by her again, and she instinctively kicked with her legs at it. She was horrified to find her feet slam into something meaty and very much alive. Mary cried out and tried to turn, to swim away. Something broke out of the water in front of her, as though it had been shot from a cannon. A hand reached out for her, the skin eaten away and angry red muscles flexing beneath. 

She thought it might be a man when she saw the red and green sweater covering the basic shape of a torso. But there was no head. A ragged, gored stump was all that remained of the neck. It was missing its right arm as well, yet this did nothing to slow it down as its remaining hand grasped her neck, squeezed tightly and pushed her down with all its weight.

Mary screamed and choked on the icy water as the living corpse took her to the depths of the lake. She briefly heard a voice in her head as she felt something cold and purely evil pass into her head like the essence of a rapist to his victim. She convulsed once, and then twice as things went slowly dark.

"You're mine, bitch," a deep, guttural voice echoed in her mind.

Mary Stilfreeze jerked once more as she and her attacker went limp and floated at the muddy bottom of the lake.

"You're the way home," it laughed in the darkness.

***

From the dock, Jason waited silently for the woman to resurface, but knew she would not. The dark man was in the lake, the one in his dreams. Jason could not comprehend how the dark man could be in there still, but like an animal can sense a natural disaster coming long before the actual event, he knew that the dark man, the dream killer was not finished yet. He would return, and when he did, the fight would resume.

Jason's dull eyes flashed with anger. 

The dream killer was a trespasser, as the woman and her man had been. As the kids the night before had been. These were scared grounds, even hallowed grounds and were precious to Jason. They were all he had left of his mother who had loved and protected him so. They were his home, and because he had so little, and because so much had been taken from him here, he would defend it from all trespassers. Jason could never find the words to express this, but on the concept he was perfectly clear.

Jason turned and slowly walked back to the shoreline, his one-track mind focused on the dark man and the one name he could remember from their last meeting. The name burned in his mind and fueled his unbridled rage, finally a focusing point for fifty years of retribution.

That name was "Freddy."

***

Lori Campbell-Rollins lay in her bed, spooning closely with her husband Will. She ran her hands over his broad, muscular shoulders and looked to the green LED display of her bedside clock. It was one in the morning, and she still had not been able to go to sleep. In fact, she hadn't been able to really sleep since May two years ago. Her nightmares had come to life and tried to kill her, along with everyone else in her life. Every time she closed her eyes, she could see his burnt face, the horrific scars and purely hateful white eyes glaring at her.

Freddy Krueger had tried to take her, and she had escaped. So it seemed, anyway. 

She had finally stopped crying about three months ago. The crying had been an everyday occurrence for her, an inevitable side effect of remembering friends long since gone. It was unfair that they should have met their end the way they did, and Lori hated that asshole Krueger every minute of every day. It had all happened so fast that now, in retrospect, it felt like something out of a relentlessly paced horror movie. No matter how much she hated Krueger, she felt there was a part of her that hated herself even more for what had happened. 




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 01



First Trey had been killed in her own house, stabbed and folded up in a bed so that his back snapped backwards. Blake was cleaved in two a few hours later at his home along with his dad. Even now, Lori still felt a pang of personal guilt over Blake. He had only shown up that night to get to close to her. Lori hadn't been interested, and now she felt she might have been a little mean about it. She wished she hadn't. It wouldn't have changed how she felt, but it might have given her a little peace later.

Mark Davis, who had only been interested in helping Will find her and then getting them out of town, was slashed and burned in his sleep. She could remember the look on his face, those blue eyes wide as he smashed against the window separating her and Will from him. Freddy had burned his message to the world in Mark's back, officially announcing his return. Then Gibb was killed at the party out at the old cornfield... and then Freeburg, Linderman and finally Kia. 

'Kia,' she thought weakly.

Lori forced the thoughts out her mind as she felt the despair rising again inside her, the fear that Freddy Krueger would return one night and take her. Sometimes she would see him in the shadows of her apartment, sometimes as a ghostly apparition in the mirror of the bathroom as she brushed her teeth before bed. Her mind could not accept that Krueger would just leave her and Will alone. "Happily ever after" just didn't seem to be a realistic expectation, at least not in her world. 

New York was the furthest away from Springwood she and Will could have gotten on their limited means. Taking a job as an accountant and trying to raise a family with her husband was the most direct defiance of her fear she could imagine. But for all the success in her job, and for all the good things she and Will shared together, her heart would not let her rest. Freddy was out there somewhere still. And if he didn't get her, then Jason Voorhees would.

'Stop it,' her mind whispered.

She had watched them die, Krueger and Jason. Her therapist reminded her of that every time she saw him. She had seen Freddy lose his head that night on the dock by her own hand, using Jason's machete. She had watched Jason drown, disappearing into the murky depths of Crystal Lake, sinking like a huge boulder. She and Will both walked away from camp grounds clinging to the hope that maybe this time, surely this time evil could be put away for good. She wanted to desperately move on with her life, to be happy with Will and to put the horror of that week behind her forever. 

Mostly, she just wanted to forget. If she couldn't remember the pain, then she couldn't be ruled by the fear. But how do you forget something like that?

"Babe?" Will asked, his voice heavy with sleep, "What's wrong?"

"Can't sleep," she sighed, kissing his shoulder blade. His body was warm against her bare breasts and stomach. He felt so safe to her, and she supposed that she had known that about him since they first met. That was why she waited so long for him. She knew he would come back to her. Will would always protect her, always stand by her when others ran.

"Bad dreams again?" he rolled over and faced her, his dark eyes trying to focus on her.

"Not yet," Lori replied and tried to smile, "The night is young."

"Let it go," he slid his hand over her bare hip, "We can't let this be a part of our lives forever."

"I know," she nodded, propping herself up on her arm, her thick blonde hair falling loosely at her shoulders. She wondered how Will dealt with it so much better than she ever could? She sighed, "I think its getting better, right? We moved from Springwood to New York, that's a good start... lots of miles in between..."

"Yep," Will nodded, and then asked, "You been taking your hypnocil?"

Lori smiled. "Yes, Dr. Rollins," she laughed, wedging her smooth thigh between his legs, "Every night."

"Then there's no way Freddy can get to you," Will reassured her, "Besides, you chopped the fuckers head off. I don't think he's gonna recover from that."

"He's been killed before, Will," she reminded him.

"Lori," Will put a finger to her lips, "Let it go."

Will positioned himself closer to her and kissed her gently on her full, rosy lips. Lori murmured against him slightly as she pulled him close, her hands grasping his firm ass as his hardening member pressed against her belly. Their tongues slid sensually around each other, caressing and stimulating. Their kissing grew more frantic as Will cupped her large breasts began massaging them, his thumbs rubbing her hard, pink nipples. Lori moaned into his ear as Will necked on her, licking and kissing and suckling.

"You going to help me focus on other things?" she breathed, sliding her hand down his trim torso, over his stomach and to the base of his cock. She grasped his thick shaft in one hand and began slowly stroking back and forth along his seven-inch length.

"Absolutely," Will smiled, thoroughly enjoying the hand job.

"And what would you recommend, Dr. Rollins?" she laughed, a lusty need permeating her voice as her sex grew warm and delightfully wet.

"A healthy dose of me," he replied as seriously as he could. They both started laughing as Lori continued stroking his cock.

"Are you taken orally?" she looked at him innocently.

"Orally, vaginally, rectally" he smiled, "Any way you please."

Lori smiled and pushed him back on the bed. She shoved the blankets away and began kissing down his chest, dragging her tongue over his body, licking and nibbling on his nipples as her hands caressed his neck and face. She made sure to drag her heavy, full breasts over his naked body as she descended him. She planted hot, wet kisses with every inch of skin she covered. His cock slid between her tits, and she pushed them together, briefly tit-fucking him. Will smiled and ran his large hands through her hair as the soft flesh rubbed against his throbbing member.

"God, Lori," Will groaned as she worked her breasts on him a moment more and resumed her course. She finally brought her lips to his swollen, purple head and started licking. She grasped his shaft and pulled his cock upright, standing it straight up in the air like some phallic monument. She flicked the sensitive head with her tongue and alternated blowing on him. She massaged his scrotum, gently kneading his testicles, preparing them for the finale of her oral adventure. His cock slid into her mouth and she began sucking on him, rolling her tongue over and under and around him.

Will's breathing was heavy and fast as she began bobbing up and down on his shaft, slurping and sucking. His fingers laced through her hair as she worked him over, his nipples going hard and his muscles pulling tight as she summoned the orgasm from his body. Periodically, she would uncouple from his now fully rigid cock and suck one of his balls into her mouth, and then the other before returning. 

Loris hands slid up Will's body, feeling every inch of him and committing him to memory as she had done hundreds of times before with him. Each time was like the first for her, and each time she wanted to make sure she missed nothing. She felt the scar on his back side, puckered and bold from Jason's blade. It was the companion wound to the set of scars on her chest from Freddy's razor-tipped glove. It was not only a permanent mark, but also a symbol of their shared experience.

Wills hips bucked slightly, and she knew he was close. She began sucking faster on him, deep throating him as his cock went rigid like steel in her mouth. She pulled back a little and felt the spurts of cum erupt in her mouth. Will hissed and tensed up as his load exploded, salty and sweet. 

She pulled her mouth off him with a satisfyingly wet *pop* as he ejaculated his always healthy load of semen on her face, neck and breasts. Will released a primal groan as he rode the orgasm to its conclusion. Lori knew exactly how to keep him from getting tired, and sat up on her knees.

"You liked that?" she whispered as Will opened his eyes and smiled at her.

"Oh yeah," he laughed and watched her cup her left breast. She brought it towards her face as she lowered her head, her eyes fixed on Will. She licked the gobs of semen off her tit, from around her sensitive nipple and swallowed it. Will could only watch, thoroughly engrossed in her teasing of him.

"Ready for more?" she cocked her brow as she massaged her breasts.

"Are you kidding?" Will laughed and pulled her to him.

Then, something happened that she would never forget. A cold chill seized her spine and arced through her like electricity. She gasped and tensed up, her muscles frozen. Lori's mouth opened and closed as though she couldn't breathe, her nipple suddenly hard like two chips of ice. Will's expression changed from lust to fear as she stared helplessly at him with her wide, blue eyes. 

"Lori?" Will squeezed her arms, "Lori what's wrong, baby?"

Lori's eyes clouded over, rolling back into her head and she was overcome with images, memories that were not her own. They flashed in front of her so fast they blurred, and she could only make out glimpses of what she was seeing. 

She saw a bed explode with blood, a fiery boiler room... a black boy in a junkyard with a white dog... a woman on a ceiling being torn to pieces... a naked man in a locker room tied to the shower heads... and then a woman in a lake, trying to swim in her clothes, shooting at a figure in the mist... and on and on. Lori tried to speak, but could only shake in her husband's arms. A wet gurgle escaped her open mouth as her body began to convulse.

Will turned Lori on her back and was reaching for the phone when her hand pistoned out and grabbed him by the wrist hard. Her eyes seemed to roll like loose balls in their sockets until finally they returned to normal, her deep blue corneas wide and suddenly bloodshot. She stared at him blankly for a moment, her convulsions stopped and her body quiet. 

Will felt a fear rising within him he hadn't known since his stay at Westin Hills, the night he had seen the news report about the killing at Lori's house two years ago. He knew then there was nothing he could do. He was locked away, accused of being crazy for having seen what he thought was Lori's father murdering her mother. In the end, it had been Krueger who planted the image in his mind. It was because of his contact with Krueger, like every other child at Westin Hills who had seen the madman, that he had been locked away. He had been quarantined, and separated from Lori. He had been desperate to protect her, but couldn't. 

That same desperation reached out for him now as he looked down at his wife, uncertain of what to do and scared to death.

"Lori?" he slowly tried to pull his hand away, but her grip was like a vice, "Baby?"

"One... two," Lori began singing, her voice far off and distant as she stared at him, "Freddy's coming for you... three four, better lock your door..."

"Lori, stop," Will winced at the pain in his arm as her grip tightened.

"Five six, get a crucifix..." she giggled insanely, her breasts jiggling as blood began to seep from her tear ducts.

"Lori, what's wrong?"

"Seven eight better stay up late..."

"Lori!" Will shouted, "Snap out of it!"

"Nine ten..." she laughed and then squeezed his wrist so tight Will thought the bones were going to shatter. She grabbed his neck with her free hand and jerked him down to her so that her lips pressed against his ear lobe. Will struggled to breathe as Lori whispered in a deep, guttural voice that was not her own, but that of the dream killer himself, "...Freddy's back again."

"Lori!" Will cried and jerked himself up. He then did something he never thought he would ever have to do. He slapped her hard with his free hand. The sound echoed through their bedroom, and Lori immediately came to, her eyes frantically darting about the room. Bloody tears were swelling in her eyes and spilling down her cheeks in pink trails as she looked at Will, shocked.

"Baby, I'm sorry," he pulled her to him and hugged her tightly, "Jesus what happened to you?"

"What happened?" she demanded, her voice shaking and choked with fear.

Will was silent for a moment before he spoke. Any hope he had of leaving Springwood, Krueger and nightmares behind would be dashed forever if he told her the truth. He sat her up and stroked her face, tenderly caressing the red welt on her cheek and wiping away her blood. He closed his eyes, "You were singing that fucking song."

"What?" she asked.

"The song the kids used to sing about Freddy, remember?"

"No," she shook her head, though she knew that song by heart. She could still remember the first time she had heard the song in her dreams. She had seen little girls in white dresses jumping rope and singing the ghostly chestnut as both a warning and a calling card. Lori looked at him, "No no."

"You said Freddy was back, but it wasn't your voice," Will looked at her with as much love and understanding as he had, but could not hide his fear. "It was his."

"Krueger," she whispered.

In her mind, she could hear him laughing at her, taunting her.

***

In the blackness of the world that lies beyond ours, a place where life and death meet in a rolling void, Freddy Krueger smiled to himself. He had reached out and found her finally, after such a long and strenuous search. It had taxed every fiber of his murderous being to engage the quest. Following his defeat at Crystal Lake, he had stewed in his own impotent rage and frustrations as perditions flames seared his flesh once more.

He hated Lori almost as much as he hated his own mother.

He knew he was powerful, but he wasn't all-powerful. His hopes in finding her were fueled by the belief that while he wasn't the cock of the walk yet, that didn't mean things couldn't change. The endeavor had been painful and frustrating, equal to the torment of his first death at the hands of the good righteous parents of Springwood. They took his life and they took his daughter from him, so he took the lives of their children as payment in full.

Only the score could never be settled.

He was filled with far too much hate, far too much unbridled evil for such a simple act of retribution. He wanted more. As before, he needed a way back, and the bitch at the lake, Mary, was the perfect way out. She would be his vessel and in accomplishing that task Freddy was confident. But Lori? She was the wild card and he would allow for no surprises this time. So he had summoned all his power and rage, focusing on her and searching the ends of reality for her.

She had gotten older, which had hidden her from him. Like magic, dreams are most effective to those who believe. When people grew up, they stopped believing in the Easter Bunny, Santa Claus and the Boogeyman. Most of them anyway. That's why the children were easier to prey upon. They have such innocent belief in the fantastic. Freddy also knew that the little bitch was probably taking the drug that numbed dreams to dull shadows of what they might have been, making it impossible for him to enter her mind that way. And for a while, it seemed to be a hopeless search.

But, he hadn't counted on her being so afraid of him. Lori's fear of him had been like a beacon, a fire lit on the beach so he might better be able to see her through the smoke and brimstone of Hell. He found it ironic that had she only left him and the memory of Springwood behind, she would have been safe from him. How unfortunate for her and incredibly fortunate for him that such a strong woman should be so filled with fear. She was like the Dream Master had been, slow to understand and even slower to learn from the mistakes of those before her. Freddy laughed in the vast expanse as others passed by him.

The link to her mind had been held long enough to make his point, to goose her a little. He wanted her to know that he hadn't forgotten about her. He had spent plenty of time in Hell thinking about her and plotting his revenge. Freddy wanted her as badly as he wanted to free himself of Springwood in favor of sweeter meat. This time, he would be careful and cautious. This time it would be perfect.

Freddy closed his eyes and focused.

...to be continued...



A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 02



A NIGHTMARE REBORN: FREDDY VS. JASON 2

CHAPTER 02

BASED UPON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:

WES CRAVEN: A Nightmare on Elm Street

VICTOR MILLER: Friday the 13th

JOHN CARPENTER: Halloween

STEPHEN KING: It

VICTOR SALVA: Jeepers Creepers

KEVIN WILLIAMSON: Scream

CLIVE BARKER: Candyman

ALFRED HITCHCOCK: Psycho

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS:

Sean Renaud, Tessa Alexander and Miriam Belle

EDITOR:

Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

-"There have been a few questions regarding the fate of Dr. Loomis at the end of 'Halloween 6.' There was a producer's cut of the film that showed Loomis being possessed by the spirit of the Thorn, the evil that drives Michael Myers. I found this ending to be ridiculous and the idea a spit in the eye of the story and characters. Thus, I base my assertion that Dr. Loomis died in the final moments of the movie, killed by Michael Myers.

Also, a lot of die-hard "Nightmare" fans have written me in regards to Freddy Krueger's abilities, as they vary from movie to movie. The inconsistencies of the film franchise pose a lot of problems, especially in the last two films, "Freddy's Dead" and "New Nightmare." To bring together the loose ends and conflictions in the stories, I decided to portray Freddy as an evolving evil. He's constantly changing and learning, growing in his abilities to be a more efficient killer.

Finally, Michael enters this story shortly after the end of 'Halloween: Resurrection.'

Enjoy!" –bluefox07

***

BAD DREAMS

At first, Mary Stilfreeze wasn't sure where she was. 

The stinging cold water of the lake had been biting at her flesh mere moments ago, unrelenting and painfully all encompassing. She remembered the water sucking into her throat and then her lungs, as she finally could no longer hold off the impulse to breath. She had choked and drowned in the lake, surrounded by enemies and horribly alone. 

She even remembered the fat, red drops of blood dripping off the machete...

"Jason!" she screamed and sat up. 

Mary clenched her fists and found she was holding onto a sheet, dry and safe. In fact, it was one of her red satin sheets she had bought a year ago, smooth and comforting on her naked skin. Mary flipped the covers back and was amazed to find she was no longer wet or drowning. Indeed, there was no sign she ever had been anywhere but her bed in the last twelve hours. A frantic look around the room revealed no hockey-masked killer and certainly no headless corpses grabbing her from depths of the Crystal Lake. 

"What the hell?" she whispered to herself, looking around the empty room.

Bright morning sunlight poured through the windows. Mary stood up and walked over to the shafts of illumination. She stretched her hand out to the light and felt the soft heat. She smiled.

"A dream," she sighed, "Jesus save me, what a dream."

She ran a hand through her long, blonde hair and shuffled over to the bureau. She stopped for a moment to look at herself in the mirror attached the ancient oak dresser, turning herself slightly. Her breasts were pert and athletic, the nipples still at rigid attention from the nightmare she had just been subjected to. She cupped them for a moment, trying to warm them up. But the sensation of her fingers against the sensitive buds only caused an electric sexual tingle to spark deep inside her.

She heard the shower running down the hall, and smiled to herself. John would be in there, naked and wet. Mary felt the start of undeniable hot moisture in her sex, slick and persuasive. She walked down the hall, her bare feet sliding against the hardwood and echoing slightly in the narrow passage. The water was pounding hard and steam lazily rolled out from the open bathroom doorway. She stood there for a moment, admiring the blurred form of his body behind the opaque glass of the shower door. 

She had met John a few years ago when she hosted a symposium on serial killers at Windsor College in California. She had always admired his work and had long been an admirer of his theories and ideas of what made serial killers tick. Serial killers had fascinated Mary since her childhood and she had felt a certain connection to John Bilk from the moment she read his published findings on the Haddonfield murders. But when they had met in person, Mary discovered that her appreciation of John ran much deeper than simple professional admiration.

It also transcended the fact that she was married at the time.

They were in bed together four hours after first meeting, fucking like there was no tomorrow. Mary had always found that odd, as she never had been so sexually aggressive or forthright before in her thirty-nine years of life. But John had been irresistible and she discovered that she could be wild and uninhibited with him. And since she was unable to have children, their sex had been reckless, careless and absolutely wonderful. It was so unlike the routine and predictable sexual exercises she and her husband had shared for so many years. In ten years of marriage, he'd never once brought her to an orgasm once with his cock. John managed it in the first five minutes.

John turned in the shower, and Mary noticed that his hand was working hard, back and forth near his crotch. She heard some barely audible moans and realized that he was masturbating. Mary smiled broadly and allowed herself to enjoy watching him jerk off. John had the biggest cock she had ever seen, crowning out at ten inches long and thick enough to stretch her out within an inch of her life every time they fucked. She felt her pussy becoming even more hot and demanding as she watched his hand stroking his dick, working towards his climax.

She found her fingers gently yet earnestly kneading the outer lips of her pussy, slowly working back and forth over the moist skin. Her nipples were erect and in desperate need of John's touch, of his hands and mouth. She walked over to the shower door and pressed her body against the glass. It was both cold and warm at the same time, the vibrations from the pelting water on the other side enticing her skin.

"John," she whispered, "You need any help?"

No answer. John sped up his jerking motions, as if in some kind of response to her question.

She smiled. "Is that a yes?"

No answer.

Mary frowned. 

John wasn't one for cute little games when it came to sex, at least since she had known him. He was always direct and vocal about his wants and desires. Mary ran her fingers over the glass and decided to play along. She could play just as hard to get as he could, if not harder. 

She smiled devilishly and tapped the glass.

"I guess you don't want me to suck you off, then?" she sighed, still keeping her breasts pressed against the glass. John made no effort to turn around. She continued, "I suppose I can just go back to bed and let you finish up by yourself... you seem to be so experienced at flying solo..."

No answer.

The steam in the shower room was now turning into a thick fog. She felt a cold shudder run up her spine and she felt a sudden sense of déjà vu.

"John," she slapped the glass impatiently, "Look, you want to fuck or not?"

No answer.

"John?"

Now she was getting a little pissed off.

"John," she shook her head and tried to open the glass door. It wouldn't open. Mary pulled on the handle and then she tugged on it. 

"Open the door, John," she said, jiggling the handle. 

Still no answer. 

The fleshy blur of John's naked body was still by the glass enclosure, furiously working his cock over.

"John, goddamit," she yelled and slapped her hand against the glass carefully again, yet forcefully enough to make it vibrate.

Mary suddenly became aware that the temperature in the bathroom had dropped. It had dropped from a steaming shower to a frigid chill. She hugged her breasts to her body, arms crossed and tensed.

"John, what-" she had meant to finish speaking, but she saw something that she couldn't quite believe at first. 

In the blurry world of the glass door, she saw John still feverishly jerking off. She saw his body stiffen and his head throw back, as he always did when he orgasmed. But instead of seeing a blur of white semen, a dark fluid spurted out. Mary jumped back, shocked. 

John turned so his body was facing the glass separation. Blood erupted onto the glass and ran down slowly. The water from the shower at first began rinsing the blood away, and then Mary realized that the water itself was running dark. The spray turned crimson as John stood there, motionless in a downpour of blood.

"No," she croaked, taking a step back. The steam of the shower was still billowing, becoming cold and harsh like the mist she had seen at Crystal Lake.

"It was a dream," she whispered to herself.

There was a thud as John slumped against the shower stall. His face pressed against the glass, smearing the bloody water around. It seemed that his eyes were gone; only two dark sockets were looking at her through the distorted glass. She could see blood spilling from the sockets in thick, almost black trails down his face. It pooled against the glass for a moment and then found another route down, slowly trickling and being redirected by his face and the glass.

"No no no no no," she shook her head, chanting the simple word over and over.

"What's the matter?" a gurgling voice called from the shower. 

Mary's voice hitched silently in her throat.

"Don't you want me, Mary?" the voice asked. It sounded like John, but his lips were not moving. They were pressed into the glass separation.

Mary tried to make her legs work, to start moving and carry her right the fuck out of the bathroom. But they were frozen in place, unwilling to obey.

The voice chuckled, gurgling and seeping with malice. It was no longer John's voice she heard. It was someone completely different.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" the voice hissed. 

John's hand came up and slapped against the shower wall hard, his fingers spread out wide. Only when his fingers hit the glass, she heard a series of metallic scratches. Mary cautiously leaned in close and saw the distorted image of four, long metal blades slowly extending from John's fingertips. She knew they were metal because as they reached out, the glass squealed and shrieked against their edges. Her chest was heaving now, her lungs rapidly carrying her towards hyperventilation.

John's body began to move, the razor-tipped hand still flat against the glass.

"Not real," Mary shook her head, repeating her words with all the intensity of a child clapping her hands together to save a dying fairy. "Not real, not real, not real..."

The glass bowed outward for a moment and then shattered to the floor, scattering and sliding to every corner of the bathroom. The bloody water spilled out in a wave, washing across the floor and soaking Mary's bare feet and legs. Standing in the mist of the red shower was John, naked and very clearly dead. She could see a long, ugly wound from the base of his neck down to his left pectoral. When he moved, his entire torso seemed to slide along that deep cut. She frantically realized that if he were to get moving too much he might just split into two separate pieces.

The dead man laughed

Mary was wheezing now. 

John's eyes were gone, about that she had been right. His face was smeared red while the gaping eye sockets regarded her impassively. She could see a wet, spongy blackness in those holes, devoid of humanity and yet filled with horrific amusement. He still had his right hand up, and she saw that he indeed had sprouted four long, metal blades from his fingers. They glistened in the harsh bathroom lighting, looking as real and as deadly as the set of knives she kept in the kitchen.

"Now that I have your attention," John gurgled. 

His face began to change, dripping like hot wax. His entire form morphed and melted together as he stepped out of the shower. Mary's body had committed mutiny against her. She couldn't move, or even hardly breath for that matter. Her lungs were only able to suck in quick, shallow breaths. Her hands trembled at her sides, shaking violently as the thing that was once John approached her.

It was only a few feet away now.

Where there had once been the illusion of skin on his torso there was now fibrous cloth forming. A ribbed sweater surfaced from the swirling liquid mass of its body. Red and green stripes quickly streaked across the surface, at first brilliant in color and then fading to an aged, dusted tint. Mary could actually smell mothballs as the fabric of the sweater became real, loose threads and all. Dirty brown work pants, probably something a blue-collar utilitarian might have worn to his job slowly appeared and covered the legs. Boots, sturdy and black appeared from nowhere and covered the creature's feet.

It kept its right hand in the air, blades poised as if for a strike. The bubbling mass of flesh covering the hand textured out to thick leather. The grease-stained glove hardened and became real. Metal attachments to the glove emerged from the leather and settled into place quickly, joining with the gleaming blades.

She could smell a horrendous stink on it, some sort of vile carrion that made her stomach flip over. From the running mass of it's face came another countenance. Burned and twisted flesh coalesced and hardened into features. Large patches of the ruined skin were gone, revealing strong, angry red muscle beneath. The mouth was filled with rotted brown teeth, the lips drawn back in a gruesome parody of a smile. She tried to look away, but found her eyes frozen and held by the monster's yellow corneas.

"What's the matter?" it asked again and chuckled softly, the deep feral voice dripping with fascinated sarcasm.

"Who are you?" she managed, her legs beginning to shake badly.

"I'm the stuff nightmares are made of, bitch," the man scraped his claws at her menacingly with a vicious flip of his wrist. His voice seemed to echo throughout her mind as he talked.

"Krueger," she whispered, "Freddy Krueger."

"The one and only," he bowed irreverently. As he straightened himself out, he pulled a beaten brown fedora out from behind his back. He elegantly whipped the hat out and shook a plume of dust from it. Freddy never took his eyes off her as he slowly put the hat on and pulled it snug. 

Mary nearly pissed herself as he mockingly tipped it to her.

"What do you want?" she asked, surprised to find her voice choking.

"What everyone wants," he walked calmly towards her, "What everyone should have. I want to live."

"You're dead," she said, eyes wide with fear as Freddy circled her. He was like a shark swimming in for the kill, taking his time and enjoying every moment.

"Death doesn't mean shit to me," he said and ran his blades gently over her bare shoulder. She shivered as the cool metal tickled across her flesh and raised gooesbumps. "I want my children back..."

"This isn't real," she shook her head insistently. "Not real."

"Oh?" Freddy laughed and waved his hand like a magician getting ready to show his next trick to the unbelieving masses. "Isn't it?"

Mary felt a sudden hot wetness around her toes. Then followed the sensation of something cold and scaly sliding over to tops of her bare feet. She could hear something writhing below her, making small splashes in the bloody liquid. A long muscular tail wrapped around her leg from the ankle to mid thigh in one smooth motion. She commanded her eyes not look down, not look and see what Freddy had conjured up for her. She knew that this had to be a dream and that dreams only had as much power as you give them. 

But she also knew that she was on the verge of a breakdown, and that right now she didn't have the discipline to balance a check book let alone fight off Krueger.

Mary cried as her eyes looked down anyway.

Tangles dark slimy snakes were slithering below her in a boiling pool of blood. Large bubbles formed and exploded with sick popping sounds as her feet disappeared beneath the squirming mass of serpents. Small wiry snakes were trying to work their way up her leg as the large ones wrapped themselves around her calves and knees, slowly working their way up. One of the bigger ones, a boa constrictor maybe, was lifting its blood soaked head up and looking at her with icy black eyes. The mouth opened to reveal huge wicked fangs. 

It hissed.

"Oh shit," she whimpered. Her stomach turned again, threatening to heave everything she had ever eaten up in one volley.

"What is reality?" Freddy asked rhetorically as the boa wrapped itself around her leg, "A dream can be just real as anything else."

"Please don't hurt me," she begged, all of her courage and rationale fleeing her. All of her training and experience, all her knowledge about killers like Krueger meant nothing now. She had prepared herself to deal with the things other people couldn't her whole life and yet here she was at the moment of truth utterly afraid and unable to move. She was pleading for her life from a dead man.

"Hurt you?" Freddy bellowed, throwing his head back and guffawing a hearty series of laughs, "Why no, doctor. I need you alive. You and I have a lot to do."

"Why?" she asked, tears flooding her cheeks. The boa was up around her inner thigh now, pulling tight.

Freddy stood in front of her and got right in her face. His horrible breath singed her nose and he snapped his bare hand to her cheek, caressing her, "I almost had it all and I fucked it up. You see, I couldn't control him and that was my mistake. I underestimated him. I thought I could muzzle him... but this time, I don't plan to control him..."

"Who?" she cried, her chest hitching with each sob as the boa's head grazed her naked crotch and left a slimy trail across her labia.

"Jason," he sneered, "That asshole is the fucking Energizer Bunny. But then you already know that, don't you? So this time, I'm going to play it smart and prepare myself... with your help."

"I don't understand."

"You don't have to," Freddy reassured her and suddenly sliced her left cheek with one sharp finger. She shrieked as the razor blade cut her flesh open. Freddy grasped her face hard and squeezed, his grip as powerful as the boa on her leg. "When you wake up, you'll need to remember who you belong to..."

Freddy cut her again, extending his first wound sideways. From the top of the cut he pulled back towards her ear and stopped short.

"You belong to me now," Freddy said and made another smaller cut below the second one, forming a bloody "F" on her left cheek. He regarded her thoughtfully as he studied his handiwork like a master artist would his prized canvas.

"Please no..." she sobbed. The snake was pressing its snout against her moist sex now.

"Sorry," Freddy shrugged, "But I gotta get inside..."

She screamed as it pushed inside her, its cold wet body invading her and painfully stretching her out with its passage.

"It's just a trouser snake," Freddy smiled and laughed.

"Please!"

"Bring him to me, Mary," Freddy bellowed, "Bring him here!"

"Who?! I don't understand what you want!"

Freddy laughed manically as she became hysterical, yelping and screaming. He watched the six-foot long snake slowly continue plowing into her body. It defied the laws of nature and physics as it buried two feet and then three feet of its long body into her. Mary screamed and convulsed as the snake buried itself another two feet into her vagina. Finally, the tail slithered up her inner thighs and disappeared into her sex. Mary stood there, no longer screaming and dead silent. Her eyes were rolled back in her head, her mouth hanging open loosely.

"Now," Freddy whispered, his scarred lips less than an inch from hers, "Let's see what you've got for me..."

***

The world was dark and cold again.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 02



Mary could no longer feel the snake in her body. She tried to open her eyes but found they would not work. She knew she was lying face up into the sky as her head throbbed with the worst headache she had ever known. She could feel rain splattering her face and running down her cheeks. She could also hear voices, muted and a thousand miles away. She tried to open her eyes again and couldn't. Mary took her hand and felt the mud beside her, thick and viscous.

Thud... thud... thud... thud...

She thought maybe she was hearing her heartbeat, slow and irregular, ready to quit. Her left cheek flared with pain.

Thud... thud... THUD...

It was something else. She strained to hear the pounding noise as her eyes swam in darkness. She made an effort to roll over but found her body was weak and not up to the task. She felt a sick, heavy thickness in her stomach, as though she had eaten too much.

THUD... THUD! THUD!

She could hear splashing with each sound, the voices coming closer and getting louder. It was footfalls she was hearing, people running to her. She tried to call out for help. Her voice cracked and eeked a pathetic, hollow rasp. She could hear them even better now as she felt hands on her body.

"... she alive?" someone asked nearby.

A moment of silence.

"Yes, but she ..."

"What the fuck is that..."

"-good God... get her up..."

"Her face, Sean..."

The voices faded in and out as she struggled with her eyes.

"-better get her rolling... this is Officer Alexander out at Crystal Lake on evening patrol we have a Caucasian female in serious-"

Mary swirled in the darkness as strong hands moved her to a dry place. The voice floated around her and before long sirens were screaming and bright colors filled her eyes. Strong straps were tightened around her arms and legs, securing her and grounding her in reality. She felt her body shaking violently as her rescuers tried to save her. She tried to remember what had happened to her. She recalled the shore, walking along the shore and to the dock with John... all the fog rolling in... she tried to remember, but only could see red blood and feel cold lake water.

And she could hear him laughing at her.

"Ma'am? Ma'am can you hear me?"

Mary shuddered.

"Ma'am?" the voice was female, but so far away...

She could still hear Freddy laughing like a maniac in the back of her mind.

"-ambulance is here-"

Mary tried to speak.

"-get over here guys, she's in a bad way!"

The words fought to escape her throat.

"-she's been cut real bad-"

"Matthew" she whispered as the paramedics took her to the ambulance, the gurney wheels rattling over the uneven ground of the dirt road. Mary called out for her ex-husband, not knowing why she needed him so badly. She only knew that she needed him to be here with her now. She called out again, her voice overpowered by the wail of the ambulance.

"Matthew!"

"Ma'am?" came a soft feminine voice, "Ma'am hello?"

Mary muttered something inaudible.

"Ma'am do you know where you are?"

Mary closed her eyes and drifted off again.

"Ma'am?"

***

Saturday, May 14th, 2005

Dr. Matthew Loomis rarely did sessions on the weekend, but for this case, he had made a special exception.

He sat back in his chair, slightly reclined and maintaining his aura of calm observation. Now into his forties, Loomis had all but lost his once thick mane of chestnut colored hair. While he knew that baldness was typically inherited from the mother's side of the gene pool, he still suspected that his father had somehow passed the trait along to him. What remained was a closely trimmed fringe around the sides of his skull. His closely trimmed beard was full and peppered with gray. His face was strong and compassionate, a countenance worthy of a man who had dedicated his life to the science of psychology.

Across from him, beyond the top of his large oak desk and sitting quietly in the large antique wing-backed chair was Lori Campbell-Rollins. Her normally beautiful face was shadowed by more uncertainty and fear than any twenty-one year-old should ever have to experience. When he had first met her six months ago, she had been able to hide the fear better, more efficiently. But as he had forced her to explore the trauma she had endured her final year of high school, her ability to mask that fear fell away day by day.

Loomis knew all about uncertainty and fear. As his father had told him in a letter shortly before he was murdered, they very often went together hand in hand enabling each other. Loomis didn't quite understand the meaning of that at first, but as he continued his father's work, he slowly came to live by that philosophy. Now, he treated his few, carefully chosen patients exclusively by that line of reasoning. 

Lori wasn't making eye contact with him, instead choosing to fix her roaming gaze over the shelves of books and texts he had collected over the years.

"Lori," Loomis spoke softly.

Lori jumped, as though startled from a dream. Loomis noticed that dark circles had formed just under her brilliant blue eyes.

"Yes?" she smiled hesitantly, "Sorry. I drifted off."

"It's quite alright," Loomis reassured her, "You were telling me that you haven't been doing well?"

Lori looked down at her hands, folded neatly in her lap. "No, I guess I haven't."

"Please continue."

Lori looked to him, "It's been two years now, and I thought we had moved on from what happened."

"You and Will?"

"Yes," she replied.

"And you've had no nightmares since just before you and Will married, yes?"

"No," she shook her head, "Yes... I mean...only one... I think."

Loomis looked at her quietly and expectantly.

Lori began, "Last night, while Will and I were being... intimate, I felt something happen to me. It was frightening. At first I thought I was dreaming, but then..."

She hesitated.

"Take your time, Lori."

Lori smiled appreciatively, brushing a lock of her thick blonde hair back out of her face. "I think Freddy is back," she said simply, "I started singing that song I told you about before, the one I heard in my dreams before it all started. In my dream, there were little girls playing in front of my father's house, jumping rope and it looked like they were just having fun. But then they start singing that song... last night I started singing it. Will said it was like I wasn't even there, like someone was talking through me. And then my eyes bled."

"They bled?" Loomis said and leaned forward, "Good God, have you seen a doctor?"

"Just before I came here."

"And?"

"The doctor said it was a weak hemorrhage, caused by stress."

Loomis nodded, "That's possible, I suppose."

"What happened next?"

Lori seemed to visibly shrink in her chair. She looked right at Loomis, trying to find the courage to continue. She said, "I pinned Will down and nearly broke his wrists while I was singing, and I said that Freddy was back. But Will said I sounded like Freddy, not me."

"You don't remember?"

"No, Dr. Loomis," she shook her head, "I don't remember at all. It's like I blacked out or something."

"Isn't it possible you had a waking dream?" Loomis theorized, his faint British accent somehow soothing to Lori's troubled mind. He had often been told his voice was half the reason he had successful counseled so many of his patients. Lori sat back for a moment, considering the possibility of a waking dream. 

Loomis continued, "You've been through a traumatic experience, Lori. Both you and Will survived an incredible ordeal in which most of your friends were murdered. As I've said before, I do believe that you both may suffer from a mild form of Survivor's Guilt. Extreme nightmares, sleepwalking and waking dreams can be common side effects. The mind is replaying those events over and over to understand and process the event so you can move on."

"But Doctor," Lori said, "Will and I take hypnocil. That drug doesn't allow us to dream."

"For all we know... but hypnocil may not have long lasting effects," Loomis interjected, "It was just approved by the FDA a year ago, and you've been on it consistently for two years now thanks to your father's illegal, but well-meaning connections. Perhaps your body has built up a resistance to it?"

"I don't think so," Lori disagreed. The thought of the dream-suppressant being rendered useless scared her to death. She had never considered that she might build up a tolerance to it. 

"Either way," Loomis stood up and walked around to the corner of his desk, resting there and looking down to Lori, "Maybe hypnocil isn't the way to go anymore."

"What?" Lori stared at him incredulously.

Loomis straightened his dark suit out with one hand and said, "Dreaming is a normal and essential function of the human brain. Beyond that, we don't understand dreams anymore than we understand the brain itself. Dreams and nightmares are mysteries save for a lot of conjecture and guesswork. Still, for all we don't know, it's been proven that people must be able to dream in order to stay mentally balanced. Very often, what we can't deal with while conscious our subconscious handles for us. It's a survival tool, Lori. You and Will both have been cutting off that tool."

"But if Freddy is back-," Lori began.

"Lori," Loomis smiled warmly, "I'll be honest. I don't know if this Freddy Krueger character exists or not. I've read the stories and heard reports on him. When I took you in as a patient, I made it a point to research him. Over the years there's been a lot of stories about him coming out of Springwood. But again, there's no real concrete proof."

"No concrete proof?" Lori asked incredulously, "Dr. Loomis, I saw him. Will saw him."

"I don't doubt what you saw, Lori."

Lori felt like crying again.

"Just hear me out, Lori. Now, this Jason Voorhees... he seems to be the real deal. His death was never satisfactorily determined and proven. And from what you've told me, he died in the lake that night, yes?"

"That's how it looked."

"Then logically, if he drowned in that lake and you beheaded your attacker, Krueger or not, then doesn't it stand to reason you're safe from harm?"

Lori looked to him in frustration, tears brimming fully on her bottom lids, "How can you help me if you don't believe me, Dr. Loomis?"

"I do believe you, Lori."

Lori closed her eyes and the tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Would you consider that maybe a man masquerading as Krueger attacked you?"

Lori shook her head, her eyes glassy and angry, "If you had been there, you would understand."

"You're right," Loomis nodded, "I wasn't there."

Lori sighed.

Loomis sat quietly for a moment, "I believe that you and your husband were nearly murdered by a serial killer named Jason Voorhees. I believe that this experience scarred you, both physically and emotionally. It's very likely that Freddy Krueger was your mind's way of explaining things you still can't come to terms with. I think it's certain that your were part of a mass hysteria caused by Voorhees."

Lori pulled the V-neck of her blue sweater down with her hand suddenly. Loomis saw a series of wicked slash marks, healed over yet prominent across her chest and the tops of her breasts. He winced in a moment of sympathetic pain, suddenly reminded of the scars on his father's face. 

Fire or metal, they both can leave equally permanent legacies on those they touch. 

Lori held her gaze on him, sweater pulled down tight and asked, "Does this look like mass hysteria to you? He did this with his glove."

"Lori," Loomis looked away from her chest, "The bottom line here is that you can't rely on a drug to normalize your life. The circumstances that brought you here are relatively inconsequential against how you choose deal with this and move on. Eventually, you will have to confront your fear. You will have to find a way to do it without hypnocil or any other false talisman. The greatest weapon you have against this is your honesty and courage."

"You might feel different if you'd seen what I've seen," Lori said dryly.

Loomis smiled and knelt down beside her chair, placing his hand on hers. He looked at her and decided to commit a breach of practice. He said, "I know all about ghosts that won't disappear, monsters that won't go away. My father was killed by one."

Lori was silent, unsure of what to say.

"Have you ever heard of Michael Myers?"

Lori nodded. "The Halloween killer. He was in the news a little while ago..."

"Then allow me to tell you a short story?"

Lori nodded.

"He found and killed his sister Laurie Strode," Loomis said softly, "Twenty-five years after he made his first attempt on her life. Twenty-five years he waited and pursued her. He's been shot, burned, maimed and stabbed in the process, even declared dead on several occasions. Yet, he always comes back. He seems to be super-human, much like this Jason Voorhees character. You see my father was his doctor. When Michael escaped in 1978, my father chased him, seeking to put an end to him. Father knew, more than anyone I think, that Michael was beyond reason, beyond reach or help of anyone on this earth. 

His pursuit of Michael was more personal than official. He felt responsible for him and thus sought to end the madness himself. Few believed in his crusade, and many of his colleagues shunned him. My mother even turned away from him and took me back to England. My father spent the rest of his life chasing Michael, always clinging to his obsession and very much alone. One by one, more and more people fell under Michael's blade until finally, father cornered him in a hospital. But, Michael stabbed him to death right there, and that was end of his crusade."

"Oh doctor," Lori whispered, "I am so sorry."

"I tell you this not to scare you and make light of your experience," Loomis patted her hand, "But to show you what can come from holding onto the past too hard. My father could not let Michael Myers go. In the end, it cost him his family, his friends and his life. Don't make that mistake, Lori. Don't try to control what can't be controlled."

Lori sighed, rubbing her temples gently.

"Let yourself begin dreaming again. You may just find the strength you need to face this and be done with it, so you and Will can move on and have a life."

Lori squeezed his hand. "I am so scared."

"There will always be monsters," Loomis said, his eyes filled with nothing but honesty and sympathy, "There's nothing we can do about that. I know Michael Myers is still out there somewhere, but I don't lose sleep over him. You keep telling me you know that Freddy Krueger is still out there somewhere. Let's say that he really did come back from the dead and can come after you in your dreams. If he really is drawing power from your fear, then isn't it prudent to release that fear? No fear, no danger, yes?"

Lori smiled half-heartedly, "No fear, no danger."

Loomis could see she wasn't close to buying into his suggestion. He supposed that she might have even known he was lying about not losing sleep over Michael Myers. Loomis wondered when the last time was he actually slept through a whole night without waking up in a cold sweat, the image of that ghostly white mask still burning in his mind. 

He stood up and walked around to his chair again, sitting down and hands clasped together. He said, "It will take time, Lori. Healing always does. I can't force you off the hypnocil, but I strongly recommend you and Will both confront this together sans dream suppressants. There's great strength in your dreams. Don't be afraid to explore that."

Lori smiled the best fake smile she could muster. "Thank you, Dr. Loomis."

"Same time next week?"

Lori stood up from that chair and gathered her jacket. "No," she said, "Will and I are going to be out of town."

"And where are you two off to?"

"Springwood," she said, the name of the town tasting bitter and harsh on her tongue, "The two year memorial for our friends is being held on Monday afternoon at the cemetery. I wasn't going to go, but Will says it would be good for us."

"It sounds like your husband and I would get along famously," Loomis said. "Perhaps you could face some old ghosts and lay them to rest?"

"Maybe," she said, and then added, "Maybe just to say hello."

Loomis nodded. "This will take time, of that I have no doubt. But you will prevail. You're a survivor, Lori."

Lori slipped into her dark jacket and paused, "If I need you, can I call?"

Loomis nodded. "Of course you can. I'm you're doctor, Lori. I want to help you with this in anyway that I can."

"Thank you again, Dr. Loomis," she smiled, this time the smile actually touching her eyes. She turned and left his office as rain began pelting the window of his 15th floor office. She seemed so alone, her hand buried deep in the pockets of the coat. Loomis felt such a great swell of pity for her. He thought of his father's case files, and of how he had written of trying to help a young girl named Jamie Lloyd from being taken by Michael Myers. He also recounted the pain in his father's notes about his failure to save her, as though his pen had captured the blood of his broken heart and used it to write with. 

The little girl had been the daughter of Laurie Strode, Michael's sister.

He had believed he could save her.

Loomis turned and looked out the large window at the city sprawled below. New York was getting another shower, and the people below rushed about to find places to stay dry. The clouds hovering above the city reached beyond the horizon, swirling and colored to a deep steel gray. They seemed to be swollen, bursting at the seams and dumping their load on the metropolis below without mercy.

He wondered if he could save Lori from this?

Loomis scratched his bearded chin and thought of his father again. What he must have gone through, living all those years alone here in the states on the trail of a madman? Loomis remembered that even when he was a child, he bore his father no ill will when his parents separated that hot summer in 1981. His mother had been a cast-iron bitch that really henpecked more than she supported the elder Loomis. He could even see how the separation might have been a relief. He could recall many times he had wanted to distance himself from his mother growing up.

When his father had died in 1995, Loomis had immediately taken the first flight available back to the states. At the age of twenty-two, he finally found the courage to escape his mother and at least see to it his father was laid to rest by family. He had spent the entire flight in tears, not only over the death of his father but also over the intention he had of never returning to London, or more to the point, never to return to his mother or her relentless negativity. He had grown up hearing her speak of nothing other than what an ass Sam Loomis was, a fool for chasing Michael Myers. She would rant and rave and try to portray him as an unfeeling monster, no better than Myers himself.

But he remembered the letters from his father, and he remembered the magazine and newspaper articles he had collected over the years. While some agreed that Sam Loomis was just as loony as Myers, others, many others in fact saw him as an unsung hero. He had suffered horrible burns and the metal of Myers blade in his pursuit, and in the end he had suffered a horrible death at the hands of his obsession. Loomis had often imagined his father as being the Van Helsing to Myers's Dracula. Even now, he tried to hold on to that image in his head. 

"Oh Lori, let this go," he sighed to himself as rainwater sheeted down the windowpane, blurring and distorting the outside world. Loomis wondered if this was how they saw the world. He tried to imagine what men like Myers really saw when they looked at the people around them, all form and reason warped into something else vague and uncertain. Instead of rain, their own individual obsessions distorted all that surrounded them and kept them from ever seeing things for what they really were. Obsession fueled them to go on living, driving them to act out on their feelings and kill.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 02



He supposed that was the only similarity between him and them: obsession.

Like his father, Matthew Loomis knew all about obsession, just as he knew that if he were to seriously tell Lori to move on, he should be prepared to take his own advice. His career choice hadn't been random, and when his father had died, he made the decision to succeed where he had failed. The legacy of Sam Loomis would not die in that godforsaken asylum with his body. He was determined to complete what his father had set out to do. After he had attained his PhD in criminal psychology, he used his practice as a platform to begin the study what he and a few others had termed "super-killers."

Loomis had decided very early on if he were going to catch and kill Myers, he would have to broaden his scope. He would have to understand how he thought, what his reasoning was and what ultimately gave him his legendary resilience. His father had never delved into this, and he feared it was a lack of knowledge that killed him in the end. It was clear that Myers wasn't a normal person, and because of that the normal rules didn't apply. He had some kind of an edge that transformed him into an unstoppable juggernaut that always managed to cheat and elude death somehow. 

It was all beyond rational explanation, so Loomis started thinking beyond Myers himself. As it would turn out, Myers wasn't the only super-killer out there with more lives than a cat.

In his research, he had come across names like Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger and other more obscure cases. He had read of a bizarre case in Florida in which local officials found over three hundred bodies in an abandoned church basement after a fire. They had all been sewn together and somehow preserved, displayed all over the walls and ceiling. No one knew who did it really, but there were a lot of strange reports about a man in a trench coat, who had wings no less, driving an old truck and hunting down his victims. 

Loomis was surprised to find that even the local police had confirmed claims of a man with wings who kidnapped a young boy from their precinct station. Several days after the incident at the police station, 'a man with wings' who seemed to enjoy eating his victims, or at least the parts he liked, attacked a busload of college freshman basketball players on Route 9. 

It was fantastic and wholly unbelievable. And yet, so many people had given the same story about this winged man. So many people had seen the same thing. How could that many people share a delusion so specific and bizarre? Why would the police lie and feed into a mass hysteria? The logical conclusion was that there wasn't a mass delusion. It really happened.

The stranger the truth, the less apt people will be to believe.

He thought of Lori and her story about fighting Freddy Krueger. He had told her it could be a mass delusion, but in his heart he knew better. Loomis comforted himself over the lie by telling himself that he was thinking of Lori's sake, Lori's future. He knew deep down that Freddy Krueger was as real today as he was in his heyday of murder. Loomis knew the truth, but had hoped to spare Lori from it.

He supposed covering the truth to protect Lori was a fine idea, but in the end it couldn't succeed. How could it?

As with Krueger himself, the whole disaster in Florida was covered up, and only Loomis's reputation and clout as a psychiatrist had allowed him access to the files. This case, like so many others regarding super-killers was labeled "unsolved" and quickly buried. The authorities decided that everything about the entire ordeal was just too fantastic. They relied too heavily on rational explanations in an irrational world.

And yet, it was no more fantastic than, say, a long dead serial killer who hunts children in their dreams. No more fantastic than a hockey-masked killer that stalked the shores of a lake in Middle America for over twenty years, apparently invulnerable and killing anyone who violated the sanctity of his grounds? Or a knife-wielding psycho in a Halloween mask whose only purpose in life it seems is to hunt down every living relative of his family? All of them impervious to death...

Loomis couldn't believe how people could so blatantly hide the truth about these sorts of things. If it couldn't be explained in ten minutes on the evening news, then they didn't want any part of it. If it made them look bad on television or challenged their beliefs, it simply didn't exist. In almost every case he had looked at, people had turned their backs to the horrific events unfolding around them. 

The most appalling example of this sort of mentality was the hushed series of murders in Derry, Maine. Every thirty years counting backwards from 1985 there had been gruesome outbreaks of disappearances and murders in the small city. The last one that Loomis had read about was an outbreak of murders and disappearances in 1985 (the spree of madness ending with a storm that dropped a better portion of the downtown area into a large sinkhole). Most of the victims (children more often than not) this killer claimed were never found. And when they were, they were mutilated and sometimes much, much worse. This series of events was so secret, he actually had to call the local police department and request the case files with the backing of governmental influences.  

And yet, the Derry Murders never made national headlines.

And then there were examples of super-killers being turned into urban legends and almost mythological figures in the national conscience. 

'The Crystal Lake Murderer' Jason Voorhees and his mother were the best example of this, followed by Fred Krueger, "The Springwood Slasher." There was the bizarre case of Norman Bates and his hotel, as well as the Woodsboro Slasher and the Candyman in Chicago. The list of unsolved murders relating to 'super-killers' was staggering, going on and on. Loomis had combed through as many of these cases as he could find, searching for a common link or element that might help identify what made this strange breed tick. He had hoped to shed some light on them, to help recognize them before they lashed out. 

In his many years of pursuing the truth, he had only found three common factors that he could safely apply to them all. 

They left few survivors and those they did miss, they eventually came back for. They all were without remorse or conscience over their deeds. And no matter what, despite the laws of physics and nature, they always seemed to come back from death. Somehow, they always came back.

Loomis knew that this last fact was what kept most people from being able to handle them. The average person just could not believe that sometimes the evil these killers harbored was more than the flesh could contain. He had told Lori that Freddy Krueger coming back from the dead was fantasy, but he didn't really believe that. With rare exception, a super-killer found no restrictions in death. If anything, dying somehow made them stronger, able to bend and even break the rules of reality. And if the killer did fall, another would rise to take the mantle of his madness.

How many lives could have been saved if those in authority had just opened their eyes to the truth? Perhaps conventional thinking could catch your nastier killers like Dahmer, Bundy and Gacy. But with these super-killers, conventional thinking was what got most people killed. 

Loomis thought of poor Lori again, her suffering over knowing what she saw and the fact that so few believed her. Loomis had no doubt that she and Will saw Freddy Krueger that night, just as he knew that Jason Voorhees was probably out there at Crystal Lake somewhere still. He knew that death meant little to these killers. Death held no sway over them, because as his father had once written about Michael Myers, they were "evil, pure evil."

Evil does not answer to the flesh.

Loomis muttered as he opened his file cabinet and thumbed through the folders inside. He finally came to the one he wanted towards the back and pulled it out, opening the folder wide on his desk. The folder was filled to capacity with newspaper clippings, articles, crime scene photos and reports on Michael Myers. He flipped through the pile of documents until he came to a black and white photograph of the killer. Loomis felt a chill run through his spine as he gazed into the lifeless eyes behind the white Halloween mask. It looked so impassive, so cold to everyone and everything. The hair jutting out above the pasty white forehead of the mask was wild and untamed.

"Untamed," Loomis muttered as he stared at the picture. He had a similar picture of Jason Voorhees in his file cabinet as well, along with an equally thick case history. Loomis sat the photo down and rubbed his eyes.

"Heaven won't take you," he told the photo of Michael, "Hell won't have anything to do with you. Where else could you possibly go?"

The phone rang. Loomis let it ring for a minute, something in the back of his mind telling him not to pick the phone up, not to answer. A part of him calmly suggested he ignore the call, pack in his papers for the night and go have a beer.

"Dr. Matthew Loomis speaking," he said into the phone.

"Matt?" came a shaking, feminine voice.

Loomis frowned. "Yes..."

There was silence on the end of the line, but he knew whoever it was hadn't hung up yet. He could hear water in the background, maybe a shower or bathtub filling up.

"Who is this?" he asked.

Another moment of silence, and then the woman spoke again, as though she had been forced to, "It's Mary, I'm sorry. My brain is scattered today."

"Mary," he smiled ruefully, not sure as to why in the world his ex-wife would be calling him, "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Research," she said and paused, "I've found something I think only you could appreciate."

Loomis felt his interest peak despite himself. "Such as?"

"I understand you've been working with one of the Springwood Massacre victims from a few years back?"

Suspicion was tugging at his ear. "Yes, I am. How did you know that?"

Another odd silence. "You mentioned it to me last time John and I were in New York. Last month, don't you remember?"

"Oh yes," Loomis leaned back in his chair, still not sure he remembered telling Mary about Lori. He did, however, remember John. Bitterly, he asked, "How is John, anyway?"

"I'm sorry, but I can't talk long, Matt," she said suddenly, "Can you spare me a few days?"

Now he knew something was up. Mary had always worked solo, even before their marriage had fallen apart. It was Mary's stubborn commitment to solitude that had led to their eventual breakup. And of course, there was that little extra-marital affair she had committed to with John Bilk on the side. Loomis had resigned himself to losing Mary to her work, but when he found out she was not only working with but sleeping with his rival John Bilk, he had been crushed. The end result wasn't remotely amiable, and it had led to a long period of silence between the two. Only their mutual interest in serial super-killers had brought them back together a few years back. And even then, she still preferred her distance.

To be honest, so did he.

"I thought you worked alone," Loomis said, testing the water.

"Matt," she said impatiently, "I need you here. I'm on to something big, and if you want in on it you'd better come to Springwood immediately."

"Springwood?" he repeated, the coincidence of Lori's destination being this same place causing alarms to sound in his head like an aircraft carrier going into battle.

"Yes," she said, and then more kindly, "Please, Matt. I need you here."

"No, Mary," he shook his head.

"Please," she insisted.

"It would be as awkward as the last time I saw you two," he declined, feeling a familiar rush of jealousy and betrayal, "I don't need to see John."

"He isn't here, Matt," she said.

"Strange," he mussed, "You two were always attached at the hip..."

"Please Matt."

Loomis still remembered walking in on them, his wife atop John and riding him like some crazed cowgirl on a bull. She had brought that man into the bed Loomis had always believed would be theirs and had sex. From the sounds of her screams and moans, probably better sex than he had ever been able to give her. The jealousy stung at him again and he sighed.

"What have you found?" he asked.

"Evidence."

Loomis knew she was being deliberately vague, which wasn't like her at all.

"Evidence of what?"

He could hear Mary grinding her teeth. "Evidence that will validate our work and maybe help you in your personal pursuits."

"Our work?" Loomis laughed, "Our worked ended when you fucked that hack, Mary."

"You want in or not?"

Loomis breathed deeply. 

The convergence of events here was too pronounced to ignore. Mary's request for his presence in Springwood at the same time as the two-year memorial of the massacre was strange enough. John not being there with her was even more bizarre. But the fact that Lori and Will would be there at the same time made him uneasy. If he had learned anything from his father, it was that if you find yourself with a coincidence; the odds are it isn't a coincidence at all. And there was also Mary's sudden willingness to bring him back into her loop...

If had simply been Mary asking him to go, he would have refused. But Loomis had developed a special liking for Lori, protectiveness if one wanted to put a finer point on it. If something bad was going to happen, as Lori seemed to believe, then perhaps he should be there. He had no doubt John would be there as well, that Mary was lying just to get him out there. He knew that John hated seeing him as much he hated seeing John.

If nothing else, it was a golden opportunity to get under that prick's skin. Loomis smiled and took comfort in the fact that he wasn't above a little needling to those who deserved it. He flipped through his desk calendar for a moment, though he didn't need to look at the days. He already knew his answer, just as he had picked up the phone when it rang earlier, despite his gut instinct to skip the call.

"I can be there by tomorrow afternoon," Loomis said.

"Excellent," she said, a strange combination of happiness and what he thought to be sorrow in her voice.

"What evidence Mary?" he asked again, "What have you found?"

"Matthew," she began wearily.

"Give me something to work with here."

"Freddy Krueger," Mary said flatly, "And Jason Voorhees. You want proof or not?"

Loomis considered calling Lori, and warning her about what he had just been told. 'Coincidence?' he thought dismally, 'I think not...'

"Mary," he asked, "are you feeling well?"

"Never better, Matt. See you tomorrow."

"Of course," Loomis said, "Good evening."

The phone clicked on the other end and the connection was broken.

Loomis sat there for a few minutes, hands flat on his desk and eyes fixed into the space in front of him. The hair on the back of his neck had prickled and risen, anticipating a danger that he wanted to say was probably just in his head. No one could see the future, and nothing was set in stone. Still, with all the amazing things this world was capable of letting happen, he could allow for intuition. He wondered if this was how his father had felt the first time he realized Michael Myers wasn't going to just go trick-or-treating that night he escaped from the hospital back in 1978. No, Loomis imagined this was feeling his father had felt the night he went back into the asylum in 1995 to find Michael. 

His intuition told him not to go.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he whispered, looking down at the photo of Michael. He went to his file cabinet and thumbed through the case files. Pulling out the thick rubber band sealed dossier on the Camp Crystal Lake murders, he sat down again. He thumbed through the vast piled of police reports and newspaper clippings until he found what he was looking for. He held the black and white police photo up and away from him.

"Where are you, my friend?" he asked the picture of Jason Voorhees. The darkened eyeholes of the hockey-masked monster stared back at him, even through him to the rainy window beyond. Loomis placed the picture next to the one of Michael and began to see eerie similarities between them. Both of them possessed by lifeless eyes that were cold and calculating like a shark. Both men hiding behind non-descript white masks, perhaps consumed by shame and guilt, compelling them to hide their faces? 

The two photos had been taken by crime scene photographers who believed them to be dead at the time, in actuality only the killers waiting for an opportune moment to strike. These were headshots of the undead, and yet even in the stillness of their supposed end, Loomis could see life in their eyes. It was impossible, but there it was. They were life beyond death, surviving and preying on the ignorance of those around them. 

"Michael always came back for Halloween," Loomis spoke to Voorhees picture and laughed nervously, "Will you come back for-"

Loomis suddenly stopped, seized by the birth of realization. He fingered through the old police reports quickly, searching for the dates on them. He spent the next five minutes almost frantically shuffling through the folder until he had what he was looking for. The Crystal Lake police department had compiled a list, a hit list if one pleased, of all of Jason's killing sprees. One date, no, one particular day on the list kept screaming for Loomis' attention like a radioactive isotope under a Geiger counter.

"Friday the 13th," Loomis muttered and looked at his desk calendar, "Yesterday was Friday the 13th."

Loomis quickly pulled his super-killer files from the cabinet and placed them in a large storage box. He hastily put on his tan overcoat and sat the heavy box on the desk. His mind raced with horrific possibilities as he gathered himself for the trip, taking as much care as time would allow collecting his work. Mary's voice during their conversation had been more than enough to give him pause. But beyond that, she had asked him to go to a place that was marked with blood. He was heading into a great unknown where super-killers had committed horrendous crimes. He was going to well-treaded ground for two of the most infamous and violent killers ever.

It was both exhilarating and frightening. If his scientific curiosity was chomping at the bit to go, then his common sense was equally opposed to leaving.

He looked down at the picture of Jason Voorhees.

"Right," Loomis picked up the phone, and then sat it down again in it's cradle.

He looked into black eyes of the hockey mask, and in his heart he knew. Mary knew his quest to find Michael Myers better than anyone, and she would never call him into the field lightly. If Mary really had discovered something, then he knew it would help him find his father's killer.

Loomis prayed a silent prayer for Mary and picked up the phone again.

"United Airlines," the pleasant woman on the other end of the line greeted him, "How can I help you?"

"I need a seat on your first available flight to Ohio," Loomis closed his eyes, his heart pounding in his ears like a muffled jackhammer. He had no idea what to expect from the next few days, but he was sure that it wouldn't be good. 

Not when you're in a place like Springwood anywhere near a Friday landing on the 13th. 

***

Jason Voorhees was motionless, laid out flat on his back in a thick patch of bushes just beyond the gravely south shore of Crystal Lake. Not one of his powerful muscles moved as he watched the night sky. The ambulance that had picked up the woman had been gone for hours now, but he waited for the others that would follow. He had watched the woman surface in the middle of the lake and float over to the shore, looking like she was very much dead. 




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 02



Jason had turned away and disregarded her.

She was dead, just like her man.

But then she had risen and stumbled into the forest. In her hand she had carried something he couldn't quite make out. Jason had followed her, slowly and cautiously through the woods as she made her way to the road. Instead of going to her truck and driving away, she had abandoned the vehicle on the shore and went crashing through the woods. Jason wondered how she could still be alive after being underwater for so long.

But then, he also knew that drowning didn't always equate to death. He didn't know much, but of that fact he was perfectly aware.

As he had approached her, his machete held firmly in his left hand, his good hand that still had all its fingers, he suddenly smelled a familiar stench. The smell had repulsed him and made him angry, forcing him to stop in his tracks. 

It was the smell of the man in his dreams, a strange otherworldly odor that Jason had come to hate and even fear. The man in his dreams had almost killed him, succeeding where so many others had failed. He had forced him to relive the drowning in the lake, and for Jason it was as frightening and violent as it had been the first time. He could still taste the water in his throat, and as he stood there watching the woman run, he felt his lungs hitch involuntarily.

Jason lowered his machete and watched her, trying to understand why she wreaked of the dream man. 

Was the dream man still alive?

No, he had to be dead. Jason had set his severed head in his dwelling, a hard-earned trophy.

Still, he knew that death didn't mean much here at Crystal Lake. The dream man was very good at disguising himself.

He recalled the image of his mother, and how the dream man had worn her face. He had believed his mother was there, talking to him, telling him to go to Elm Street where the children had been bad. They had been bad like the counselors at the lake had been that day. Bad like they had been when the cut his mother's head off on the shores of his lake. Bad like they had been ever since he found his true purpose in life. 

For Jason, all he had was his purpose, what his heart raged every waking moment for him to do.

He would punish.

Jason's eyes didn't blink once as a Brown Recluse spider crawled across his mask slowly. The strange arachnid skittered along on its strong legs and stopped just below his left eyehole. Jason regarded the spider for a moment and they seemed to stare at each other. The spider then turned and scurried away. It fell from his head and into the flattened brush crushed beneath the bulk of his powerful frame. 

Jason looked back to the sky.

He had watched the woman fall into a ditch by the road that led up to the Camp Crystal Lake entry. There she had lain until a car pulled up. Jason impassively watched a man get out and cautiously approach the woman. He poked at her with his foot for a moment and talked to her. After a moment, he pulled out a cell phone and frantically called for help. And then the ambulance had arrived, picked her up and took her away. There had been a police car too, but it left with the ambulance.

The smell was still here though.

Even as Jason laid low in the brush, waiting for the men that would soon come to investigate, he could smell the dream man. The odor angered him and filled him with a blind, hot rage. Jason gripped his machete so hard his knuckles popped loudly like pieces of tempered steel snapping.

He hated the dream man. 

He hated the dream man so much.

The flashing lights of approaching police cars caught his attention, and Jason remained still. They were here now, intruding on the sacred ground of the lake. They would come with their guns and bullets and they would do as many had done before. They would shoot and scream and try to kill him. But in the end, he would split them all open. Every last one of them. Jason would cut through them like a force of nature, unchained and bowing to no one.

And once he was finished with them, he would go back to Elm Street and find the dream man. He would rid himself of that stench and finally be free of him. Jason had known almost no fear since that day in the lake, since he had choked on the murky water festering at the bottom. He had left his fear of the water behind with his humanity, buried it with his rage as he had done with everything else in his life. The dream man had used him, exploited him and then tried to kill him. 

If Jason had been able to smile, he would have.

But then, what did smiles mean to him anyway?

***

"You okay?" Will asked. 

He smiled warmly at his wife and pulled the elegant chair out for her. The restaurant was thick with the smell of Italian food and even heavier with its non-stop play list of Frank Sinatra music. At the moment, Old Blue Eyes was crooning his heart out about Luck being a lady tonight. Any Sinatra tune, this one particular brought back memories of his father before he died. Will hadn't really known Stephen Rollins all that well before he keeled over and died of a heart attack at age forty-five, but he carried some very good memories. Will had only been seven years old when Stephen passed. Long before he ever moved to Springwood, long before Westin Hills and certainly long before Freddy Krueger.

But he could always remember his father playing Frank Sinatra on the turntable on warm summer evenings for him and his mom. He always felt good whenever that music was playing, and he clung to those few precious memories like they were made of gold. The music made him feel almost as good as Lori made him feel.

Almost.

He smiled at her, loving her so completely it scared him sometimes.

"I'm fine," Lori smiled as Will seated her and pushed her chair in. She was clad in an elegant white dress that hugged her curves as though the dress had been designed specifically with her in mind. Her thick blonde hair had been pulled up in a simple French styling. As always, Will was pretty much speechless around her. To this day, he still couldn't believe he had somehow managed to win her over, much less marry her.

Still, she was wearing the two rings he had put on her finger. 

"Dr. Loomis discover anything ground breaking?" he asked and opened his menu.

Lori shrugged and glanced at his wrists. "We talked about what happened last night mostly."

Will looked at her. "Look, forget about that, okay? I'm fine."

"No Will," she shook her head, "It's not okay. You've got bruises on your arms from me..."

She held his hands and pulled the cuffs of his blue dress shirt back. His wrists and forearms were bruised and purple. Her fingers had left clear marks where she had grabbed him and squeezed. Lori ran her fingertips gently over the swollen skin, her guilt concerning the incident plainly etched on her face. She said, "... see? God Will, I am so sorry."

"You had a bad dream," Will reassured her. "That's all. It's probably the memorial coming up that's got you spooked."

"Is it?" she asked.

"Positive."

"And what about how hard I squeezed you? I almost broke your wrists..."

"You're freakishly strong, babe," Will said after a moment, "Nothing wrong with that."

The waiter approached their table. He was a stocky man, with dark hair and a severely receding hairline. His glasses were wire-rimmed and magnified his small, beady eyes. Lori wondered how small his eyes actually were without magnification. His round belly seemed to reach the table before he did. The waiter smiled genuinely and said, "Are you ready?"

"Uh, no, not yet," Will told him, "A few more minutes..."

"Of course sir," the waiter bowed and left.

Will turned to Lori. "Babe," he said, "We've come along way from what happened two years ago. Your dad supplies us with hypnocil, we're hundreds of miles away from Springwood and Crystal Lake and we've started a new life. If Freddy was going to come back, he would have done it by now."

"How can you be sure?" Lori stirred her water with her index finger.

Will opened his mouth to argue, and then thought better of it. "I don't know for sure. But I do know that even if he did come back, he can't touch us. We're using the hypnocil."

"Dr. Loomis said we might building up and immunity to it," Lori replied.

"How does he know?" Will asked. "How does he know for certain?"

"Still, he told me that maybe I, no maybe we need to face this and get past it," Lori reached out and took his hand again, "We can't just bury Freddy like everyone else did and forget about him. It doesn't work that way. We have to come off the hypnocil eventually, Will. Maybe when we go back, we should visit-"

"No," Will said, "No way."

"But Will..."

"Lori," Will laughed, half scared that she might be serious, "I am not going back to Crystal Lake or that house you used to live in or Westin Hills."

"Don't you think that maybe we should go back and prove nothing is wrong? Just to see?"

"No, I don't want to see, Lori," Will said a little too loudly. Several people around them turned and watched with passing interest and then resumed their meals. Will looked at the tablecloth for a moment, embarrassed. He said, "The first time I came across Freddy Krueger I got locked up in Westin Hills. I lost five years of my life. The second time I lost almost everyone I ever cared about. Damn near got chopped up and came this close to losing you again. I can't risk all that a third a time. We can go to the memorial... fine. We can go and see everyone's families and all that stuff... fine. But we can't go sight seeing, okay?"

Lori said nothing, simply looking at Will with her large beautiful blue eyes.

"I won't risk losing you, Lori," Will repeated, "You're my life. You kept me going when your dad had me locked away at Westin Hills. I love you so much."

There were times when Lori tried to imagine what Will must have gone through during his forced stay at Westin Hills Psychiatric Hospital. He had never really gone into detail much about what happened there, save for he met his best friend Mark there and spent most of his time brooding over the fact he had been given a raw deal. 

Will had seen what he thought was her father murdering her mother one night. Will had been convinced of her father's guilt, but in truth Freddy Krueger had mind-fucked him and blurred the truth. Krueger killed her mother and her father covered it up to protect her. Her father didn't want her near anything to do with Freddy Krueger, lest her fear give him power over her.

So Will had been carted away to the funny farm to protect Lori.

"I love you too," she smiled.

"What happened last night was freaky, okay?" he said quietly, "But we were both tired, and I think it all happened so fast that-"

"You mistook my voice for Freddy's voice?"

"I love you sweetie," he said, "Let's just forget about it all for now, okay?" 

She did love him very much, more than anyone else in the world. Even when her father objected so strenuously to their marriage and threatened to disown her it was never really a hard choice. Will had stuck by her the whole time, even while locked away. Lori supposed she knew that he was the only one all along which is why she never really dated or was interested in anyone else.

It was just right.

"Besides," Will shrugged, "I feel like we're tempting fate going back as it is anyway..."

Lori tilted her head lovingly and dismissed the notion. "I'm sorry."

Will kissed her hand gently, "It's okay."

"You ready to order?" Lori asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah," Will said and motioned for the waiter.

Lori took another drink of water and picked one of the long bread sticks from the small wicker basket in the middle of the table. "You ever think about them?"

"Who?" Will asked.

"Mark," Lori felt a sadness hanging over her heart as she spoke, "Kia, Linderman..."

"Every day," Will said quietly.

Lori closed her eyes for a moment. 

She felt so tired, so worn out. She felt like she had been running a non-stop marathon from the night she and Will had escaped from Crystal Lake. She had taken Freddy's head from his body with Jason's machete and watched the corpse fall into the lake. She wanted to believe he was dead, she wanted so fucking badly to believe he was dead. 

But belief always seemed to work better in the light for her, during the daytime when everything is illuminated. There were no secrets during the day. Lori always took what little comfort she could from knowing that during the day, everything seemed a little clearer to her.

Then night came, and she wasn't sure anymore. Uncertainty and fear, that's what Dr. Loomis had warned her about. When the sun went down and shadow claimed everything she felt cold and alone, sometimes even when Will was right there next to her in bed. She would doubt what she had seen with her own eyes and wonder whether Freddy had survived the decapitation. 

Suppose he had? Then he would eventually seek out his revenge. Men like him always did.

It wasn't so much that she feared having to fight him in the real world again. That in and of itself was it's own nightmare. 

The hard part was facing him in dreams because Freddy could make anything happen. In that strange in-between world of dreams and nightmares, Freddy Krueger ruled with unchallenged power and imagination. No, other people's imaginations. That was his real power, imagination and fear. Somewhere deep down Lori knew that from the beginning. It was the unspoken logic behind her being tranquilized that night into a deep sleep so she could catch Freddy and pull him out into the real world.

But facing Freddy Krueger again was only a small part of it. 

Lori feared losing the life she had fought so hard for. She feared losing Will most of all, never being able to touch him again or kiss him or talk to him. Lori couldn't bear to think of Will not being in her life. She had become so thoroughly attached to him through this ordeal, so hopelessly in love with him that she wondered if Freddy ever did come back would he use her love for him against her?

And would she be quick enough to realize it was happening?

"Lori?"

Lori snapped back out her thoughts.

A hot plate of spaghetti sat in front of her, steaming and smelling delicious. The waiter was handing Will his generous portion of lasagna and making sure everything was to their satisfaction. Lori inhaled the scent of the thick, red sauce and smiled. Her mother used to make the best spaghetti ever. Lori had never been able to find another bowl of pasta that compared to what her mother could cook up. As she twirled the noodles around her fork, she thought maybe this might come close.

"This smells great," Lori commented, gently blowing on the pasta.

The waiter nodded politely. "I should hope so, Lori."

Lori took a bite and savored the flavor of the sauce. It was very good, and while it made her mouth water, it still didn't measure up to her mother's home cooking. 

She frowned and looked to the waiter, "How did you know my name?"

The waiter regarded her thoughtfully for a moment, as though he had lost his train of thought. "I'm sorry, I overheard your boyfriend talking to you."

"He's my husband," Lori smiled and raised her hand, waving her ring finger, "And it's alright really-"

A strange mewling sound drifted up to her ears and she stopped mid-sentence.

"You married him?" the waiter chuckled.

Lori's eyes suddenly fixed on her plate of pasta. The sauce had been an orange-red color when the waiter brought it out. But now, it was the deep crimson shade of blood, almost looking black in some places. She poked at the pasta with her fork and when she moved the long, stringy noodles aside the sauce stretched with it in gooey ropes. It pulled and quivered like a thick wet membrane. Lori felt her stomach turn over as she tasted something metallic in her mouth. She spit the food out of her mouth onto the white tablecloth. It looked like chunks of bloody gore.

"Is everything alright, miss?" the waiter asked nonchalantly.

Lori shook her head, "No, I don't..."

And then she felt something in her mouth. Her entire body went rigid as her heart jumped and froze. Something prickly and hard was poking at her tongue. She could feel not one, not two but six pinpricks on her tongue as something smooth and cold skittered inside her mouth. Lori opened her mouth wide and screamed. A large cockroach fell from her mouth, bloody and covered with bits of chewed food. It landed on the table with a wet slapping sound and began running wildly in small irregular circles.

"Will," Lori gasped, her hands on her stomach protectively.

Will continued eating his lasagna, either unaware or not caring that a large insect had just fallen out of his wife's mouth. He shoved bite after bite of lasagna into his mouth, dripping the same blood red sauce onto his face and shirt. 

Lori looked down at her own plate again. The roach had been joined by several equally repugnant cousins, all of them swarming her food and clattering against the ceramic plate. As she looked at the spaghetti, she realized that the thick, strange sauce was oozing out from the pasta and onto the white cloth. It was as if her dinner were bleeding to death, hemorrhaging all over the table. The viscous red liquid dripped and spread out as more cockroaches birthed themselves from the mound of pasta. The noodles made small sucking noises as each progressive roach worked its way out and onto the table.

"Will!" she screamed.

There was no reply from him. Will was covered by roaches, all of them bloody and iridescent in the low, yellow moody lighting of the restaurant. They swarmed over his face, a moving mass of live alien-like creatures. Lori screamed and stood up, grabbing the tablecloth from the table nearest them. The dishes and glasses crashed to the floor and shattered into a million pieces. The shards seem to ricochet off the floor in slow motion as she ran to Will, spinning and tumbling away at their own impossibly retarded speed.

"Help me!" she shouted to the waiter and made to swat the bugs off her convulsing husband. She could hear him screaming beneath the roaches, his voice pathetic and desperate.

"Miss, is there a problem?" the waiter asked impatiently and grabbed her arm so hard that Lori was jerked back mid-run. 

She turned and was ready to scream at the waiter when she looked into his eyes and stopped. Her fingers went limp and the tablecloth dropped to the floor as her blood ran ice cold. She knew who it was even before she had turned to face the man holding her. There was a sickening familiarity about those eyes even before the kind visage of the waiter melted away to be replaced by burned flesh.

"Hello princess," Freddy Krueger leered, still dressed in the waiter's sharply pressed black and white outfit.

Lori could only gape at him.

"Ohhhhh... not enjoying your dinner tonight?" he pouted and tightened his grip on her arm. One of the roaches climbed the front of his shirt, leaving a small bloody trail up the white fabric.

Lori looked back down at the ever-expanding pile of roaches on the table. She could hear their hard shells clattering together, their rough legs scraping against each other as they swarmed the table. The entire tabletop was buried in a moving mass of insects, working their way to Will. She could no longer see any of his body, nothing recognizable as the roaches enveloped him. 

Lori squirmed against Freddy's grip.

"Looks like your dinner is enjoying Will, though..."

"Let me go!" she found her voice, screaming into his face.

"So demanding," Freddy mocked and brought his bladed hand to bear. The knives gleamed in the warm lighting of the restaurant. Lori could hear them slicing through air as he whipped his hand up, sharp and deadly as ever. She noticed that the waiter's outfit had started turning red with green stripes, as though someone had poured water on him and magically brought his true colors to life.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 02



"Fuck you!" Lori sucked in and hocked up the biggest, greenest lunger she had ever made in her life. With a sneer, she spat it onto Freddy's face. It landed with a heavy splat and stuck to his cheek. Freddy casually looked down at the gob, amused and even a little impressed at her defiance.

"Always a spitfire," Freddy nodded as his tongue snaked out and licked the ball of snot off his face, "You getting a cold, Lori?"

Lori turned in his grip, hoping to slip away, but to no avail.

"This is a dream," she growled and then looked up into the air, "Someone wake me up!"

Freddy bellowed with maniacal laughter, holding his stomach with his gloved hand.

"Wake me up!" she screamed frantically.

Freddy glared at her, his eyes burning yellow and haggard, rotten teeth gleaming behind his drawn back fleshy lips. He pulled her to him and held her there as though they were about to dance. His breath seeped into her nose and mouth and filled her with nausea. The dead man smiled wickedly and came within and inch of her face. Lori knew he was going to kiss her, that he was going to plant his decaying mouth on her lip. She felt her mind slipping away to panic, to the overwhelming fear.

"Don't lose it now, bitch," Freddy growled and tapped his bladed index finger on her cheek, "I have a lot to do tonight, so just think of this as a courtesy call."

"What do you want?" she asked, slowly regaining her composure.

"It's time," he said, tilting his head slightly with a predatory regard, "I've been away from my children for far too long, Lori."

"I'm so sorry for you," Lori glared at him. She realized she was standing with her back to the table and could feel the edge of it pressing against her ass. Roaches were climbing up her dress, clinging to the fabric with their hooked legs and working their way up. She let her right hand fall back to the table. The roaches were still swarming, immediately burying her hand. She quietly slipped her hand deep into the mass of them, keeping her attention focused on Freddy.

"I'm not strong enough to kill you yet," Freddy said, his voice filled with deep resentment and disappointment, "But the time will come. You and I... we have a score to settle."

"What?" Lori asked, feeling her way through the mass of bugs, "You killed all my friends and then I killed you... sounds like we're even."

She didn't dare look over at Will, even though she could hear him convulsing violently in his chair, shaking the mound of cockroaches covering him. She could hear them eating his flesh, the wet sounds of meat being opened and ripped away.

"No," he shook his head and ran his sharp index finger down over the scars he had given her and then to her cleavage. The blade was cool and deadly against her silky flesh. He said, "You, like all the others, are mine. Mine and mine alone. Jason wouldn't fucking stop when he was supposed to. He served his purpose, but he pissed on my plans. You're MY children..."

Lori finally found what she was looking for. She grasped the butter knife tightly and slowly started pulling it back towards her. She could feel countless little legs tickling her neck and squirming into her hair as she tried to keep Freddy talking. She wanted to scream, to have a conniption fit and flee. She forced herself to stay cool, to keep her eyes level with Freddy.

The roaches were beginning to bite her skin, nibbling and pulling. 

'Do roaches bite?' she thought crazily as she drew the butter knife to her.

"I want my children back," Freddy said evenly, "And you're going to help me."

"Bullshit," she replied. A roach was working into her ear. She could here it scratching and clawing, the sound magnified a hundred times over as it invaded her ear canal. She summoned all her strength and resolve, reminding herself it was only a dream, only a dream only a fucking stupid dream!

"But you will," Freddy purred and opened his hand over her stomach. He placed the blades gently across her belly and rested his palm there.

"It doesn't matter," Lori said, bringing the knife to her back, "Everyone thinks Jason did all the killings and you had nothing to do with it. No one believes me that you were there. You need people to be afraid of you before can do jack shit."

"Things change," Freddy sneered, "I've always believed in second chances. Besides, this time around, I've bought myself a little insurance in case Jason run amuck again..."

"Again?" she repeated.

Freddy nodded.

Lori smiled broadly at him. The eerie quality to her grin made the dream killer pause for a moment, his face marked with uncertainty.

"Want to know what I think?" Lori whispered, steeling herself for what she knew she had to do next.

Freddy furrowed his brow and leaned in close to her, "Do tell..."

"Jason kicked your ass."

Lori brought the butter knife up high into the air and plunged it into Krueger's left eye. The eyeball popped and gushed a yellow, foul puss out across his face. Freddy released her and staggered back as his mutilated eye spewed gore across the dining room. In the moments that followed, Lori saw that no one was noticing what was happening. They all simply sat there and carried on about their meals and business.

Gore spattered expensive suits and hairdo's as droplets of puss rained down on the guests filling the dining room. A large hunk of Krueger's eye landed on to the plate of an older woman a few feet away. The jelly like substance had come to rest right on her salad. The old woman took her fork and poked the ruined eye along with her romaine lettuce. 

Lori almost vomited as the old lady ate it. 

She whirled around and kicked Freddy as hard she could in the crotch and shoved him back. He reeled backwards, off balance and about to crash into a nearby table when he stopped suddenly. He was doubled over, his face hidden by his bladed hand. His shoulders were shaking a little at first, and then violently. Lori thought maybe she had really dealt him a serious blow as Krueger shook. He then pulled the butter knife out of his socket and as his hand uncovered his face, Lori realized he was laughing at her. 

The knife fell to the floor with a musical rebound.

He stared with his one good eye, face wet with the nasty liquid spurting from his socket and pointed at her.

"Eye for an eye, Lori!" Freddy rushed forward and slashed at her. She ducked and then felt an incredible, searing pain in her left eye socket. Lori stumbled backwards and crashed into the table. She landed hard on her ass as cockroaches went flying everywhere from the collapsing table. Freddy was on top of her immediately, straddling her and pinning her down. Freddy raised his hand, poised for the strike.

Lori looked to her left and saw one of the candles from the table still burning right by her hand. A crimson teardrop birthed from her left eye as broken blood vessels splintered across the soft jelly.

"Get ready for the rematch," Freddy said.

Lori reached out and grabbed the candle, cupping the flame in her palm. She screamed as her hand burned. She could hear Krueger bringing his clawed hand down for the final blow. Metal hissed in front of her face.

"Lori?!"

She screamed.

"Lori?! Wake up!"

Her eyes bolted open and she found herself looking at the white, scared face of her husband. Will was holding her close, and Lori became aware that she was lying on the floor of the restaurant. Lori began scratching at her self wildly, kicking her legs and flailing her arms. She could still feel the roaches on her, crawling and biting her. Will held her close, trying to restrain her.

"Lori!" Will shouted, holding her tight as her legs kicked. "It's okay! Stop, baby! It's okay!"

"Roaches Will!"

"Baby, it's okay!"

Through her frenzy, she heard him somehow and began calming down. She took deep, full breaths as her arms and legs realized that she was out of danger. She looked around wildly, her eyes darting back and forth. No cockroaches were anywhere to be seen. Not on the table, which was standing up right and in a very unbroken state. There were no roaches on her husband devouring him alive either. More importantly, Freddy Krueger was nowhere to be seen. She moved to readjust her position and felt hot pain arch in her hand. 

She brought her hand up to her face and saw a quarter-sized burn mark on her palm.

"Are you okay?" Will asked. A crowd of waiters and patrons had surrounded them, all of them looking at Lori as if she were an alien.

"What happened?" Lori whispered, beads of sweat pouring down her forehead. She looked and saw that spaghetti was all over her new dress, the white fabric stained and ruined by the sauce.

"You fell asleep," he explained.

Lori kept staring at her hand and realized something important had happened. She had made her body do what she had done in her dream. The smoldering flesh in the middle of her hand was proof. If Freddy could impose his will in nightmares and cause thing to happen in the real world, then maybe it worked both ways. Maybe she could control her own body while she was sleeping. She wasn't sure if she was on to anything helpful, but she knew if nothing else it was important. 

She looked to her left and saw the candle lying there, extinguished and smoking. Lori looked to Will, tears in her eyes.

"Was it him?" Will asked, clearly already knowing the answer.

"It was him," Lori nodded.

Will took a deep breath and said exactly what she was thinking, "Fuck."

***

As long as it had taken Freddy to find Jason Voorhees, it was taking even longer to find this new asshole. 

Freddy walked the open planes of the dream world, his eyes searching for the man he had seen in memories of Mary's past. Stiff, cold winds wailed past him as he moved forward, his brown fedora pulled down low over his eyes. He knew that time was short, and he could sense that Jason would be coming soon. Their fight at the lake had been brutal and fierce, and Krueger had not forgotten what Lori had so eloquently reminded him of. 

Jason had in fact kicked his ass.

And Jason didn't forget those who crossed him.

But then Krueger had never planned on facing the freak in the real world. And that was the problem. He kept underestimating his pawns, he kept taking things for granted and in the end it cost him his victory over and over. As close as he had come to attaining his goals, to filling his needs, he had always fallen short because of some small damned detail he had over looked. Freddy snorted with disgust, remembering all the children he had worked so hard for over the years. How many had slipped away from him? 

And what of the parents of Springwood? They had burned him alive like pagans at some fucking witch trial, all of them self-righteous and under God's protection to be certain. But then they hadn't counted on him coming back. They had underestimated him and he made them all pay, even that pompous prick of a sheriff. God, how he had hated that man. Whenever he felt bad, Freddy would just remember what it was like to impale that fucker and see look of surprise on his face.

They had tried to keep him from his children.

From his daughter.

From life.

But he had killed them all, every last one of them until the Elm Street children were no more.

Freddy never could have imagined how unfulfilling his quest ultimately had been. He needed new blood, fresh nightmares and most importantly, more children. He had to branch out from Springwood and burn his name into the subconscious of a broader world. He had to make them remember who he was and what he had become. He would spread like a plague and soon he would take the children of every small town and big city like a wolf does a lamb from an untended flock of scared sheep. 

Jason had done well in stirring up their fear. But like the parents of Springwood had underestimated him, he had underestimated Jason. He had also underestimated that little bitch Lori. She had caused more trouble than she was worth, and had she just stayed out of his business, he could have sent Jason's ass back to Crystal Lake in a sling. He fumed and raged at her annoying interference, his bellows echoing through the corners of hell itself. Freddy would deal with her soon enough, of that he was sure. He had big plans for her, plans even bigger than what he had planned for Mary Stilfreeze.

Freddy paused, floating in the netherworld between sleep and awake. Before him a dark expanse, pitch black and seeming to have a life all it's own. There wasn't much of anything that scared Freddy Krueger, but he had been made to feel uneasy a few times in his life. He recalled being burned alive, he hesitated to remember his defeat at the hands of the "dream master" and of course, there was that shining moment when Jason shoved his own gloved hand through his torso. 

As he stared into this open abyss, he felt uneasy. Freddy could feel the evil radiating off this life force in strong, frigid waves. Almost all of the minds around this one were possessed of their own warmth, their own unique properties. They appeared here as glowing lights, maybe stars even. But here in the middle of all that life was a black hole, an inescapable chasm. He laughed and knew he had found the one he was looking for.

'Thank you, Mary...' he thought.

Still, he felt uneasy.

Freddy reached out with his razor tipped finger and touched the surface of the black expanse, his blade slowly disappearing into it. It was as though he were dipping his finger into a thick, ichor oil slick. He felt a rush of adrenaline and was energized by the pure malice that resided inside. It was slumbering and quiet for the moment, either unaware or indifferent to his presence. The essence of this man pulsed through him, as it had with Jason when he had first resurrected him two years ago.

Freddy smiled, believing he had found his match against Jason.

"This time," Freddy chuckled, "When Jason has outlived his usefulness, I'll have someone to take out the trash..."

Freddy now realized that his mistake hadn't been in summoning Jason from hell. It had been thinking Jason would simply return to Crystal Lake and stay like a good little dog. Ultimately, Jason had been far too single-minded to do that. He was like a perpetual motion machine, an unstoppable juggernaut. If he was going to use Jason again as he had done before, he would have to make sure that the retard was disposed of. Freddy knew it would require a person of great physical power in the real world. 

This man here, if he could even be called a man, would insure that.

They would destroy each other while Freddy basked in the gore and the glory.

***

His slumber had been long and peaceful, though he didn't really understand or have any use for the concept of peace. His whole life he had never known what the elusive word meant as he had never experienced it. He had no context for understanding the word or it's purpose. He remembered people telling him about it as a child, but as much as they said it was what he was looking for, he knew in his heart he wanted nothing to do with it. He found his calling and purpose from simply doing what he knew he must do. 

That to him was as close to the concept of peace he would ever come.

He slowly opened his eyes and looked around. 

He was awake.

A nurse, looking so much like the ones he killed before, was staring down at him, shocked. She turned to run, the heels of her shoes squeaking on the tile floor. He instinctively pistoned his large hand out and clasped his gritty fingers around her neck. He dug into her soft flesh and squeezed hard, her fists balled and hitting him as hard she could. He could feel her tendons and bones compressing and snapping in his iron grip. His muscles throbbed and flesh screamed, still scorched from fire, as he killed the attractive blonde nurse.

The nurse gurgled some desperate cry for help, but the scream rattled and died in her throat. Finally, her neck snapped and her head lolled to one side. Her bright blue eyes stared at him, as if though to question him. He could very well have imagined her asking, "Why, why me? What did I ever do to you?"

Even if she had asked, he never would have answered. It was not within him to speak anymore, to say anything to anyone. He simply was and accepted what drove him to take life. 

He tossed the nurse to one side. Her body landed in a crumpled heap on the other side of the room. He slowly sat up on the long gurney. His movements were precise like a machine. He touched his face and realized the mask had been burned as much as his skin had been. The only profound emotional attachment he had ever known was for this particular mask. He could not explain it. 

He would have to find another.

In the corner of the room, much to his surprise was a woman in a white hospital gown. Her long, brown hair was disheveled and frayed, her dark eyes sunken and tired. She stood defiantly in front of him, staring at him. He realized he could see through her body to the wall beyond. She seemed to glow with a strange, internal light. 

She raised one hand and pointed to the dark corner of the room.

"Look, Michael," his dead sister Laurie Strode said. 

Michael turned his head and saw his other sister, Judith, sitting at her dresser. She was topless as she had been the night he had embraced his destiny. Her perky breasts hung freely and swayed with each stroke of her arm as she brushed her long hair. Michael was filled with unholy rage as he watched her. He had never understood why he hated her so much. Maybe it was what he had seen her doing with her boyfriend just before, or maybe it was just that the forces that possessed him didn't like her. Either way, her very presence infuriated him. It infuriated him almost as much as his other sister's presence, standing there and talking to him despite the fact he had killed her.

He had killed them both.

He had seen them both die.

Michael stood up and searched for his knife. It was nowhere to be seen, so he settled for the large saw lying on the cart next to him. He gripped its rubber handle and turned to Judith. If she weren't yet dead, then he would kill her now.

"Michael," Laurie called to him, her ghostly face kind and yet hiding some deep secret.

He stopped, giving a sideways glance to his dead sister.

"It's not over yet," she whispered, her voice filled with amusement, "You failed."

Michael looked at her questioningly, the jagged saw blade gleaming in the blue light of the room. Michael now remembered where he was, and that he was in a morgue. They had thought he was dead and brought him here after he had killed the ones in his house. Michael remembered the fire, much like the fire so long ago that had burned him and the doctor. 

He hated the doctor as much as he hated his sisters.

He raised his hand again to his mask, feeling the heat-warped rubber. His skin ached from being charred, flaking away and falling like ash.

"It's time, Michael," Laurie encouraged him, "It's time to finish..."

Next to Judith, he saw a man emerge from the shadows. 

At first, Michael thought it was the doctor. The man looked just like him. He felt fury igniting in his soul as he watched the man caress Judith's bare shoulders. He caressed her the way her boyfriend had that night so long ago. And Judith seemed to enjoy it as she pulled the bald man's hands down to her breasts and urged him to massage her.

Judith stood up and pulled her panties down, revealing her neatly trimmed sex. The man smiled lustily and laid her naked body back into a flat position on the bed opposite the dresser. He lowered his face to her pussy and began licking. She was covered in a light film of sweat, her hourglass figure gleaming in the harsh blue light of the morgue. She ran her hands through her dark hair as the man slipped off his coat and flicked her clit with his tongue. He was suckling on her, his fingers sliding in and out of her slowly. She grasped her breasts and massaged them, her mouth open in an otherworldly ecstasy as she relished his tongue.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 03



A NIGHTMARE REBORN: FREDDY VS. JASON 2

 CHAPTER 03

BASED ON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:

WES CRAVEN: A Nightmare on Elm Street

VICTOR MILLER: Friday the 13th

JOHN CARPENTER: Halloween

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS:

Sean Renaud, Tessa Alexander and Miriam Belle

EDITOR:

Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

-"The characters of Sean and Tessa are obviously based on two fellow Literotica writers, Sean Renaud and Tessa Alexander. Though they are not a couple in real life, nor have they ever met, they made a hell of a couple in the story. I attribute a lot of the success of this series to their input both behind the scenes and then the richness of their characters. I didn't have to work very hard on their characters. They seemed to write themselves, which I think says a lot about Sean and Tessa in real life. Thanks guys. You're the best!" –bluefox07

***

THE INNOCENT

Saturday, May 14th, 2005

The long stretch of back road that connected Springwood and Elm Grove was narrow, neglected and surrounded by cornfields on both sides for about sixteen of the seventeen miles that composed its length. It was not used all that often, especially in the last few years since the incident out at the old silo that saw over twenty kids butchered. The road, once a busy side highway had been renamed many times over the years since the freeway was built back in the early forties that made it obsolete. The one name that stuck despite the changes was Saxon Avenue, and that was what Mike Terrell had always known it as and probably always would.

He wasn't afraid of the stories that people spun about this road, and he figured that if some lunatic was out there with a hockey mask and machete waiting to hack people up, then as long as he was on the blacktop doing sixty-five he'd be fine. It was going on eight o'clock, and the nine kids he was transporting in the large blue Dodge van were either asleep already or getting close to it. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw them all, each kid resting in positions ranging from comfortable to pain inducing.

"Fucking chess team," he muttered under his breath and shook his head. Mike had hoped to land the job of transporting the basketball team to their all-state tournament in Dayton, but had lost the coin flip to the other driver. Now, he was babysitting a group of nerds that represented the smartest strategists in the Springwood High senior class of 2005. 

"Damn coin toss. What the hell was I thinking?" He wanted to smoke a cigarette, but knew if he pulled over they'd be late and he'd get it from the principal the next morning.

In the back seat of the van, hidden by the tall seat backs and the shadows of the interior, Mickey Selleck and Nicole Hanes were comfortably snuggled together under her colorful plaid blanket. Mickey looked over at Tom Sims, who sat peacefully asleep on the outer part of their bench seat. His head was tilted back and his mouth open, snoring softly and bouncing along with the van as they sped down the old highway. Mickey fought the urge to take a wad of paper and drop it in Tom's mouth. Besides, he had more pressing matters to attend to than messing with him.

"He sleeping?" Nicole whispered in his ear, her fingers slowly massaging his throbbing cock as her lips pressed against his ear.

Mickey nodded discreetly and turned back to face her as best he could, trying to keep himself as flat as he could to get the full effect of her jerking motions.

"Out like a light," he said and returned to sliding his hands up under her t-shirt, a journey Mickey had been planning on making ever since they started dating. Nicole smiled, her thin lips almost disappearing in her grin as her rapid breathing fogged up his thick glasses. Mickey licked his lips as he felt her smooth stomach with his finger tips and then finally found the lace of her bra. He shivered, his heart racing as he ran his fingers over the cups and then gently cupped her.

"I like that," she smiled and suppressed a giggle.

"We're eighteen year old virgins," Mickey massaged her tits through the bra, "I think anything we do to each other is going to be the best we ever had."

Tom jerked in his sleep and absently elbowed Mickey.

"Moron," he laughed silently and then heard Tom moaning slightly.

Mickey looked to Nicole, his blue eyes wide with amusement. Tom shifted his weight a little, and from the throaty sounds he was making it seemed he was in the middle of very good dream. Nicole squeezed the bulbous head of Mickey's cock slightly, making him groan under his breath.

"Sounds like we're not only ones getting fresh," he kissed Nicole.

Nicole looked at Tom's face and smiled, "Must be a great dream."

***

Tom knew he was dreaming.

He had to be.

He was behind the podium on stage at graduation, dressed in his cap and gown with his classmates. The stage lights were bright and hot on his face, making him sweat a little as he gave his valedictorian speech to a massive crowd of family, friends and townsfolk. They loved his witty remarks, thrown in like a little salt to a fine meal. His words were moving and true, touching the parents of his classmates in ways they had never known. Even the jocks, who had taken such great pleasure in giving him double-jock blocks and atomic wedgies were nodding their heads in agreement.

He was entertaining them and summing up the importance of the last year in words so succinct and accurate that people doubted his speech would ever be topped. But more importantly, he had their respect. He smiled broadly as they applauded the end of his speech, rising and giving him the standing ovation he so desperately wanted and deserved. He raised his hand in gratitude, feeling like a king calming his subjects.

"Thank you," he smiled and bowed, the applause almost deafening in his ears, "To the class of two-thousand-five!"

Down in the front row, he spied an attractive woman looking at him and smiling. Tom felt his stomach jump as she waved to him discreetly in a small motion with her fingers. The woman's red dress was sexy and form-fitted to her tight body, and Tom took great pleasure in looking at her sizable cleavage. She sat there in complete contrast to the rest of the crowd, reclined back with her shapely legs crossed in a tantalizing tease. Her perfect red lips mouthed something to him. Tom strained to see what she was saying as the audience continued their exaltation of him. He shook his head to her.

'I want to fuck you,' the mystery woman mouthed and licked her lips slowly.

Tom pointed to himself hesitantly.

The blonde nodded and winked.

"Holy shit," Tom smiled nervously and then covered the microphone blushing.

Then, from the back of the huge gymnasium, somehow carrying over the heavy clapping came a guffawing laughter. Tom strained to hear it better, and realized it was getting louder. Someone was having one hell of a belly laugh out there, his voice echoing through the gym and nearly competing with the applause for sound. Tom felt a twinge of anger cross his face as he looked out into the audience, trying to see the inconsiderate asshole pissing on his moment.

"What do you think this is, the academy awards?" the heckler bellowed and roared.

"Who the fuck is that?" Tom shouted into the microphone. The blonde suppressed a laugh by covering her mouth.

"It's you're Aunty Em!" the heckler shouted back, this time much closer in the crowd, but still out of his sight, "It's your Momma Cass, your fucking Father Knows Best!"

Tom stood back, the tassel from his cap swaying beside his ear. In the crowd of nicely dressed people there was a man walking, no he was almost elegantly dancing his way towards the stage. He was a dark man, hidden in shadows that seemed to follow him despite the stage lighting. Tom looked to his classmates, eyes wide and found them equally focused on the jerk. He looked to the blonde, who had suddenly lost interest in him. She was looking to the heckler.

"You need to sit down!" Tom cried out. 'Don't ruin this for me, please,' he thought desperately. He noticed the gym had gone silent save for the footsteps of the heckler as he finally made it to the center aisle created by the hundreds of fold out chairs. He stood defiantly in the middle, one hand behind his back and his face hidden by a dark fedora. Tom squinted to see him better, but found he couldn't see much more than that.

"I'll sit down when I'm goddam good and ready, fancy pants," the heckler growled, his voice rumbling the walls of the gym and making Tom's teeth chatter.

"Who are you?" Tom asked quietly into the microphone as it hissed and popped a distorting feedback that overloaded the speakers.

The stranger walked towards him, head cocked quizzically, "I'm the guy they all forgot. I'm the guy they all killed. But when it came time to pay the piper, I'm the guy they all had to reckon with."

"What?" Tom stood back a little. He could feel the heckler coming towards him like a cold, brutal draft of wind that chilled him to the bone.

"Don't worry, Tommy Boy," the heckler laughed sympathetically and jumped the remaining fifteen feet to the stage, soaring in the air as though gravity meant nothing to him. His boots landed with a heavy thud on the wooden floor that echoed through the gym and shook Tom. The heckler still had his face turned downward, hidden by a dusty fedora and a sinister purpose. He said, "It'll all be over so very soon."

The man looked up and Tom's voice hitched in his throat. Burnt flesh, oily and scarred stretched in a deadly leer around the heckler's mouth, revealing misshapen yellow and brown teeth. Cold, gray eyes regarded him with impish amusement as the man withdrew his right hand from behind his back. He wore a glove tipped with razor sharp knives. They gleamed in the multicolored stage lights, reflecting light all around him and his classmates.

Freddy Krueger pointed at Tom and his classmates with one sharp index finger, singling them out and said, "Boo."

They screamed and startled back a bit.

Tom looked into the audience and instead of seeing the happy faces of Springwood, he saw decayed corpses and rotted zombies. The cadavers were obscenely propped in their chairs, watching the proceedings with milky eyes and hollowed sockets that dribbled an unspeakable black fluid. He could smell the rotting flesh, a powerful mix of sour gases and rank odors. The blonde was still there, but she was a skeletal representation of her former beauty. She raised one bony hand, the tips of her fingers gone to reveal gleaming white bone. She pointed at Tom and laughed. The rest of her dead companions followed suit, pointing and laughing as Krueger stood in front of them, his arms raised high like a conductor to an orchestra of the undead.

Tom screamed.

***

Mickey had managed to slip his hand into Nicole's bra, pushing aside the cup and finally putting his fingers to her silky warm flesh. He felt her hard nipple against his palm as she vigorously stroked his cock. He could feel his orgasm building up far too fast and powerfully for him to control. He looked at the rearview mirror up front and saw Mike's eyes firmly focused on the road as he drove. Mickey looked at Nicole and whispered, "You're to make me cum."

"Good," Nicole licked his lips and squeezed his six-inch cock a little harder.

"I'll make a mess," he moaned into her ear, pinching her nipple slightly.

"I'll clean it up for you," she swirled her tongue around the ridges of his ear as she broke a sweat from their combined body heat trapped under the blanket. Mickey buried his face in her neck as she gazed up at the ceiling. She marveled at the hot radiance in deep inside her, glowing like a fire and heating her up in preparation for something she didn't know if she was ready for.

A small, worried groan from in front of the van caught her attention, and she noticed that not only was Tom having a whopper of a dream, but so was everyone else on the van. She saw her teammates rolling their heads from side to say and muttering incoherent babble under their breath. Someone was even crying, and that made her motion for Tom to stop suckling on her neck. She pulled her hand away from his dick and listened.

"What's wrong with them?" she whispered.

***

Tom fell over backwards on the stage, his head hitting the wall hard and making him see stars. He scrambled to get on his feet as the heckler walked towards him, bladed hand wide open and a sadistic grin contorting his face. The man grabbed him by the robe and hauled him up into the air with his left hand as though he weighed nothing. Tom screamed as the heckler drew his right arm back, the bladed fingers poised like the stinger on a scorpions tail. He grabbed the musty ribbed sweater and pulled, fighting desperately to get loose.

"I'll make them remember," he laughed. Rancid spittle landed on Tom's face as the man glared at him, and he knew he was about to die. Tom felt hot urine run down his pant leg and splash to the floor. The heckler looked down at the puddle on the floor and frowned, "Oh, did old Rusty Zipper have an accident?"

Tom felt his mind slipping away, falling away into a dark mental abyss of fear. He screamed for help, but no one in the gym lifted a finger or batted an eye as they watched the stage intently.

"Tell them my name!" the man shouted and gestured to his horrified classmates.

"I don't know your name!" Tom cried, tears flooding down his cheeks.

The man jerked him down and he felt his feet touch the floor again. For a moment, he insanely thought that maybe he was going to be released, that maybe he was going to be okay. When the sharp pain of one of the man's bladed fingers pierced his left temple and drove into his skull, he realized the folly of his thinking. Tom tried to scream, but couldn't as the cold steel slid into the soft matter of his brain and lodged there. Then, he heard the name of the man in his head, loud and horrible.

"Freddy Krueger!" he screamed.

***

Mike damn near ran the van off the road as someone in the back screamed, waking him from his sleepy thoughts.

"Freddy Krueger!"

The tires squealed and smoked on the blacktop as he struggled to regain control over the van. He looked in the rearview mirror and saw Tom convulsing. He had no time to react though as he fought the steering wheel for control speeding down the old highway at seventy miles an hour. The kids in back leaned and rolled with the tilt of the van, strangely enough not even waking up despite the squealing of the tires and the high-pitch screams of Tom Sims.

"Fuck me!" Mike shouted, "Holy fucking shit!"

Tom squealed a broken report of a pain and jerked left to right. Mickey scooted himself over so far against the window that he was crushing Nicole. Blood was erupting from Tom's face in a geyser and splattering the ceiling. The boy flailed his arms about as gore erupted from his mouth, an acidic smelling bile that spurted out in phlegmy chunks. He gurgled on the substance as he violently shook. His hand found Mickey's leg and held so tight that Mickey though his bones were going to shatter.

"Get the fuck off me!" he yelled and kicked at Tom as blood rained down on them, "Get the fuck off, man!"

"What is going on?!" Mike called back as he regained control of the van. He flipped on the interior lights and was immediately sorry he had.

***

Freddy Krueger planted two blades deep into Tom's eyes, popping the soft gelatin of the orbs and punching into his skull once more. Tom howled, his hands beating against Krueger mercilessly as blood gorged from the wounds. He drew the blades back, leaving Tom blinded. Tom fell to the floor and convulsed, his tongue poking out of his mouth. Freddy kicked him square in the stomach and caused him to bite down so hard the last quarter of his tongue came off and landed wetly on the floor.

"My children!" he turned to the graduating class of 2005 and opened his arms, "Welcome home!"

Everyone scattered from the rows of chairs, so neatly arranged and now flipped over and abandoned. Screams filled the gym as Freddy went after his new flock, letting his name saturate them and his presence terrify them. He leapt across the stage and grabbed a young girl, pretty and blonde, by the hair and jerked her backwards as she ran. Her feet flew out from beneath her and she landed hard on her ass. Freddy raised his blades and sliced, his fury and rage unleashed on the children of Springwood once again.

"You're all mine!" he laughed manically, "You're not safe anywhere!"

Freddy chased after the children of Springwood, their shared dream powerful, deadly and ultimately fatal. 

***

Blood was spouting up from the sleeping kids left and right as Mike watched in a horrified paralysis. Wounds were opening up on their faces as if though by magic, the skin splitting and gushing blood. He screamed, truly terrified for the first time in his life since he had been a teenager and found his father dead in bed. His felt his lips go numb as he saw them all kicking and screaming, their eyes not open but howling nonetheless. He turned around to look behind him and saw Billy Phelps, the star of the chess team sit straight up and rigid.

"Billy!"

Billy opened his mouth as though trying to say something, but only seized suddenly and grabbed the back of the drivers seat. His knuckles turned white and his teeth grinded painfully, an animalistic growl escaped his throat that evolved into a full-fledged scream of agony. He fell back against the seat, as though some invisible hand had shoved him. His stomach exploded outwards, spraying blood all over Mike and the windshield.

"Fuck fuck fuck!" he screamed and found his hands weren't able to grasp the steering wheel anymore. Blood had soaked the console and wheel, making everything slick and dangerous. He turned and stupidly realized he needed to stop the van. He raised his foot and before he could depress the pedal, something caught his eye in the road about twenty feet ahead. Through the red spattered windshield, he saw that a man was standing there, his face white as snow, waiting for them.

Mike hit the brake and swerved.

The van flipped on it's side and toppled across the road. The momentum caused the front bumper to catch on the cracked blacktop and launch the van up into a flip. It sailed over the seemingly unconcerned stranger, only inches above his head as glass and metal and plastic broke off and flew away into the night. The passenger door slid open for a moment and the van ejected two of the kids into the sky. Their bloody bodies sailed away as though they had been shot from a cannon and fell into the cornfield with two heavy, wet thuds. A thunderous silence filled the air before the wrecked van upended midair and smashed to the blacktop. Chunks of pavement were gouged out and scattered as the van skidded on it's left side down the road, sparks spewing from the screeching tortured metal.

***

Freddy knelt down over one of the injured graduates and smiled, "Just think of yourself as an appetizer..."

The boy screamed and then suddenly disappeared, vanished from the dream. He looked and saw that several others had disappeared suddenly. He knew something must have happened in the real world that took them away. He tapped his claws against the stage floor and sighed. He had hoped to get them all in one fell swoop, but would have to settle on as many as he could get.

He turned and looked at the panicking children of Springwood, so alone and so frightened of the boogeyman. They were trying to run off the stage to safety but were finding locked doors, slippery blood puddles and their special nightmare banes. Freddy basked in the glory of their torment and felt for the first time he was truly coming home. He already felt himself growing stronger as he picked them off one by one.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 03



He pictured the parents going to see what was wrong with their children and finding them bloody and diced in their soft little beds. The screams and the anguish that would follow would be like a fine wine, though it had been years since Krueger had actually tasted a fine wine. But more importantly, they would be scared. And where they were fearful there was a door into their dreams. And were there were dreams there was power. And then they would pay... oh, how they were going to pay.

Freddy licked his bladed fingers clean and went to collect the remainders of his flock.

***

Mickey slowly came around, his vision blurred and limited. After a disorienting moment of vertigo, he realized the entire van was on its side. His head throbbed mercilessly as he tried to move. Tom was on top of him and dripping some godforsaken warm fluid on him. Mickey pushed at him, trying to wedge his way out. As he worked his body back and forth, he suddenly looked down past his shoulder.

"Nicole?" he croaked.

No answer.

"Nicole, baby talk to me," Mickey managed and shoved Tom's body away into a heap against the up righted floorboard. Tom's destroyed face seemed to be looking at him despite the fact that his eyes were gone. The dead boy's sightless stare was full of accusation, as though angry at him for having survived the wreck. Mickey shuddered and turned, his head spinning and flashing with stars as he re-orientated himself, and found he was actually lying on top of Nicole. At first, he didn't think anything was wrong beyond she wasn't talking.

"Nicole, are you okay?" He shook her shoulders and then found out why she hadn't responded. It wasn't so much that she was unconscious or that she had taken a blow to her larynx or couldn't breathe. Indeed, this were all conditions that could have been applied to her had her head still been attached to her neck.

"No no no," Mickey wheezed as he looked at the grounded out stump that had once been his girlfriend's neck. The stump was topped with gristly ends, trailing veins and drizzling, churned meat. The window below was broken out and he realized her head had probably been grounded off into hamburger between the weight of the people above her and the road beneath.

"Help!" Mickey called frantically as he tried to pull himself up, panic seizing his mind. He grabbed the back of the seat in front of him and pulled. The fabric was saturated with blood and dribbled the red fluid as he squeezed. He finally up righted himself inside the side-lying van, being careful not to step on Nicole or Tom's bodies. He fought off the urge to vomit as the stench of urine, bile and burned rubber reached his nose in a disgusting wisp. 

He looked at his teammates; all of them piled to the left side of the van in a mangled bloody heap and all of them very much dead as far as he could tell. He looked to the front of the van, and beyond the mound of twisted bodies he could the see the road illuminated by the headlights. He worked his way around the rear seat back, deciding he couldn't crawl over the bodies to go out the front. He grabbed the door handle and was relieved to find it opening easily. The door swung wide and slammed to the ground with a resounding bang.

Mickey tumbled out of the wreck and onto the pavement. The night air filled his nose and he breathed deep. He rolled over onto his stomach and pressed his face against the cool blacktop. He could smell fuel and the burned rubber still, but he could handle that over the more organic aromas in the van. He looked down and saw a red streak underneath under his hands, wet and shining in the moonlight. It almost looked like black ink had been smeared down the road behind them in a wide line. Mickey sat up and looked to the van, where the wet ink line disappeared under the wreck.

"Oh fuck," he cried and jumped back. The remains of Nicole's head were trailed behind in the skid marks of the van. He could see bits of flesh and clumps of dark hair embedded in the road. He wiped his hands on his white shirt and stood there for moment, shouting and cleaning himself off.

"Mickey," came a weak voice.

He almost jumped out his skin as he turned and saw Mike staggering from around the front of the van. He was as bloodied as Mickey, but he was up and walking and that meant he wasn't the sole survivor anymore. Mickey rushed to Mike and grabbed him, trying to support the older man's weight. His brown hair was slick with blood, his face bruised and swollen.

"What the fuck happened, Mike?"

"Man in the road," he grimaced, "In the middle of the damn road."

Mickey looked around, "Where?"

"Not sure now..." Mike's eyes couldn't adjust, blurry and out of focus as he and Mickey limped away from the van.

"Some guy caused the wreck?" Mickey asked Mike, his head swimming in anger.

They sat down on the side of the road, exhausted and shell-shocked. Mickey thought back to the moments before the accident, to just before Tom had started screaming. No, maybe a guy in the road didn't cause the accident. Tom had shouted out a name before he exploded, some weird name that had rang a bell in his mind but couldn't quite be remembered.

"Freddy Krueger," he whispered suddenly.

"What?" Mike grunted as he laid down on his back.

"Tom shouted that name out before he started bleeding," Mickey remembered.

"Bleeding?" Mike frowned, and then remembered. He had seen someone bleeding. In fact, all of them looked they were being murdered right there in the van before he turned around and saw the man with that white face in the road, "I remember-"

Mike didn't finish his sentence as slow, methodical footsteps crunched in the gravel beside road a few feet down from them. Mickey turned his head slowly and saw a tall figure walking towards them. A fire had caught on the undercarriage of the van and was silhouetting the shape walking towards them. Mickey saw wild hair and what he was sure the blank white pale expression of a mask. The eyes were dark and empty as it stepped up to them, taking time and wasting no effort.

"Hello?" Mike asked and sat up.

The figure only stood before them and looked down. Now that he close enough, Mickey could see that he was indeed wearing a mask. It was ghostly simple, the mouth expressionless and the glittering eyes behind the latex devoid of life. Moonlight cast an eerie glow over the man's face, lighting up the pallid mask and contrasting his dark, winded hair. He wore a dark blue set of coveralls, smudged with grease and maybe some other, more viscous fluid. Heavy boots rested in the gravel as his hand came up and revealed a huge kitchen knife, the blade at least twelve inches long. It glimmered in the full moon light as he raised it high.

"What the fuck?" Mike scowled and then shouted, "Mickey run!"

The knife swooped down and hissed through the air. It landed in the forehead plate of Mike's skull and split the bone beneath in a mighty crack. Mike trembled and convulsed on the end of the blade like a fish on a prong, and the killer steadied himself against his violent jerks and spasms. Mickey rolled away, eyes wide and ready to scream as he stood up on wobbly legs.

The man in the mask lifted Mike up by his knife, the blade still deeply rooted in his head. Mike gurgled and shook as his body was caught in its death throes. Mickey was amazed by the strength the killer had to accomplish lifting a heavy man like Mike into the air by just one arm and a knife. Finally, Mike's boots stopped clicking together and his body fell silently limp, now hanging in the air like a rag doll. Faster than Mickey could follow, the killer whipped the knife out of Mike's forehead and the body fell to the ground in crumpled heap. 

The killer turned and looked at Mickey silently, contemplating him as though he couldn't decide in which manner to kill him. Mickey could only stand there, frozen in time and space as the world went quiet. He felt his hand twitch as the man walked towards him, so slowly and purposefully, the knife pointed down and raised in the air, his thick wild hair blowing in the night breeze as van burned in the background.

"Not yet," Mickey cried as his paralysis broke, "Don't kill me man!"

He turned to run

***

If there was one thing Officer Sean Renaud hated more than pulling a dog watch, it was pulling a dull and utterly boring dog watch. He sat in the passenger seat of the Springwood Police Department cruiser leaning against the door, his face resting heavily in his hand. He rubbed his dark eyes and looked at the clock on the dashboard. The shift had started at ten that night and had been dragging along at a mind-numbing pace. It was only a few minutes after midnight with six hours left to go. He yawned broadly and looked over at his partner.

"Don," he said, "what the fuck are we doing out here?"

Don Frank, his partner since Sean transferred from the Chicago Metro Unit, regarded him with a shrug, "You'd think I'd have an answer for that."

"This road goes nowhere, man. I'll bet we end up in Elm Wood before we see anything more criminal that a lost motorist taking piss on the side of the road," Sean sighed and looked out the window. The cornfields that spanned the seventeen miles between Springwood and Elm Grove blurred by in the misty early morning hours. The world was still shaded a dark blue while the waning full moon beamed down it's spectral light. Sean had been used to not seeing very many stars during his time in Chicago. Smog and fucked up air quality usually blotted out all but the most brightly burning stars and occasionally a planet or two.

Ever since he had moved to Springwood two years ago, he had been taken with the view of the night sky. The town was large but not much more developed beyond a very small city if one wanted to be ambitious in appraisal. Thus, the smog here was about as thick as the reason for them to be out here on Saxon Avenue patrolling a god forsaken stretch of road that no one drove down anyway. Lately though, it seemed the stars were slowly blinking out, fading away into the dark. He hadn't really noticed it until tonight, now that he had time to ponder it.

"When I got here," Sean frowned, "There were stars everywhere. Now, I can't see shit. Ever since a few months ago, its like a veil dropped over the city."

"Strange shit is always a foot in Springwood, Sean," Don said and then looked over at his friend, "Didn't you come out for peace and quiet?"

"I got tired of getting shot at," Sean laughed, "Cops aren't popular anymore, man. You know that."

"Depends on where you live," Don observed.

"Yeah, here Springwood you're all saints. But where I come from, cops are the bad guys as much as drug dealers and murderers. Common folk get cynical."

"So how did you last so long?"

Sean smirked. "I'm a wise black man, my friend. I let my white brothers go first."

"Asshole," Don flipped him off.

"Whatever," Sean laughed and felt around his jacket pockets for a moment, "Ah shit, man..."

"What?"

Sean kicked the floorboard. "I forgot my damn smokes."

"I got you covered," Don reached into his jacket and pulled out a pack of Camel Lights. He handed them to Sean and said, "I'm a smart white man, dog. I know my black brothers will forget their smokes."

"Dog?" Sean pulled one of the cigarettes out and flipped his Zippo lighter on, "Are you trying to use slang?"

Don shrugged. "What? It doesn't work for me?"

"It works for you like rap worked for Vanilla Ice."

"That's cold," Don laughed, "You're saying we white people can't use slang?"

Sean looked at Don, eyes wide with amusement. "How many brothers do you see chattin' up Oakie at a Garth Brooks concert?"

"Touché."

"Damn straight," Sean inhaled deeply and let the smoke fill his lungs, "Nothing racial about it. We all got our own thing, that's all."

There was a moment of silence as they continued down the road. Sean rolled down the window more to let his smoke vent a little more quickly. He flicked a few ashes out the window and watched in the side mirror as the burned bright for a moment in the air, swirling and flying haphazardly in the wake of the cruiser before snuffing out. He scratched his well-trimmed goatee and took another drag, looking up at the sky. 

Still no stars. 

"So, if we all got our own thing," Don pondered as he ran a hand over his bald pate, "Then why don't all black people talk slang?"

"You ignorant mother fucker," Sean laughed, "It's the difference between a Harvard grad and a man who dropped out in the eighth grade."

"So, a good example would be Colin Powell versus, say P. Diddle?"

"P. Diddy," Sean corrected, "And yes, that works."

Don nodded and smiled to himself, "Did he drop out in the eighth grade?"

"I don't know," Sean shrugged, "For as many times as that asshole has been in court it wouldn't surprise me."

Don laughed.

"Albert Einstein versus Gomer Pyle?" Sean offered.

"Leave Pyle out of this," Don said and then stopped mid-laugh. He muttered, "What the fuck?"

Sean looked to his friend and saw his eyes wide open, looking straight ahead. Sean turned and saw beyond the window of the rapidly slowly cruiser. A van was burning in the middle of the road, blocking both lanes and completely flat on its side. Don flipped on the lights and the night was light up with red and blue flashes as they rolled to a stop twenty feet away from the wreck. Sean breathed deeply as Don picked up the radio and called in the accident.

"Central this is six-Baker-six," Don spoke clearly into the radio, "We have an eleven-eighty about seven miles south of Springwood on Saxon Avenue. Request eleven-forty-one and report eleven-seventy-one, over."

"Understood, six-Baker-six" came the crackling and distorted response from the station, "Investigate and report back, over."

"Ten-four, over and out." Don clipped the radio back into place. He flipped on the take down lights and the powerful overhead spotlights that sat in the light bar with the wigs and wags further illuminated the night.

Sean opened his door and stepped out, his boots clicking against the blacktop as he walked around the front of the cruiser. He unzipped his jacket and un-holstered his Sig-9 millimeter automatic. He checked his magazine and chambered a round. He flipped the safety off and squeezed the grip of the handle. He waited in front of the cruiser as Don checked his sidearm and joined him. They stood there for a moment, listening for signs of yelling or the sounds of an impending explosion. Sean took another drag on his smoke.

"You gonna put that out?" Don asked as they walked towards the wreck.

"Yep," Sean nodded and pitched the butt away and behind him.

"Hey," Don whispered as they approached the van, "I got a question."

"What?"

"Why do they call them wigs and wags?"

"What?"

Don shrugged, his eyes locked on the van, "Wigs and wags, the red and blue lights we use."

Sean gave a Don an incredulous sideways glance, "What?"

Don looked thoughtful for a moment, and then, "What?"

"One wigs and one wags, get it?"

Don was quiet for a moment, the only sound that of smoldering metal and popping glass. He finally said, "That's stupid."

"Shut up the fuck up."

The van was a complete loss, and if anyone was inside, they were fucked. Both officers had known that from the moment they saw the wreck. The heat was intense as they rounded the wreckage, keeping their distance, arms up to protect their faces. The tires were burning now, still spinning under the remaining momentum of the crash. Debris was scattered all over the road, glass crunching under their boots as they turned on their flashlights and looked around.

"Sweet Jesus," Sean said under his breath and then shouted, "Hello?"

"Anyone in there?" Don yelled, his voice echoing through the cornfield.

No response. But then, they didn't expect a reply.

They came around the bumper of the van and found only more shattered glass. A long line from underneath the grounded side of the van stretched back at least thirty yards down the road and into the shadows. The moonlight had illuminated the landscape and allowed for an eerie night vision. Sean knelt down and touched the black fluid on the road, rubbing it together between his fingers. He put his fingers under the beam of the flashlight, expecting to see oil or some other engine fluid and instead found crimson blood.

"Ah shit," he cringed and wiped his fingers on the road, "Fucking blood."

"What the blue hell happened?" Don flashed his around.

Sean looked back at the van and noticed the back doors were open. He walked over to the doors and flashed his light inside as best he could, the fire consuming the interior rapidly. He could smell the strange meaty stench of burning human flesh. Underneath that aroma was unmistakable stench of burning hair. He covered his nose and mouth, pointing down at the ground, "Someone walked out."

"How do you know?" Don asked, coming closer and then waving his hand in front of his face as he got a whiff what was cooking in the van.

"Door is open," Sean said.

"Could've opened in the wreck..."Don guessed and then spoke into his shoulder mounted radio, "Dispatch, this is six-baker-six out on Saxon, we have multiple ten-fifty-four-Ds, over."

After a moment, "Six-Baker-six received and understood. Emergency crews are on their way, over."

"Ten-four." 

"Okay Colombo, then explain the bloody size elevens leading away to the side of the road," Sean couldn't stomach being that close to the van anymore. He followed the bloody prints and then saw a brief set other prints running along side. Don noticed them too.

"Two survivors," he said and looked around, "But where are they?"

"Couldn't have gone far," Sean shook his head and then nearly jumped out of his boots as something came crashing out of the cornfield behind them.

"Help me!"

They swiveled and drew their guns, their eyes fixed and fingers resting on the triggers. A bloody kid came barreling out the field, eyes the size of dinner plates and nearly tripping over himself as he ran up the small embankment of the drainage ditch and onto the road. Sean noticed his pants were unzipped and damn near falling down as he ran to them, screaming and babbling like a maniac. Sean lowered his gun, but motioned for Don to keep his ready. He grabbed the kid by the shoulders as he haphazardly ran over to them and said, "Hold up! You okay?"

"He's after me!"

"Kid, get a fucking grip!" Sean shouted and shook him a little, "What happened? Were you in the van?"

"Fucker with a big knife," the kid screamed, "Killed Mike! Run!"

Don looked at Sean with a disbelieving cock of his brow. Sean shrugged. The kid was probably so shook up from the wreck he couldn't even see straight. He looked back at the burning wreck and realized that some of the people in there were probably his friends. Sean took a deep breath as he struggled with the kid. He'd probably be a little goofy too if he had just been through what this guy had just been through.

"Okay slow down," Don said firmly yet softly, "Calm down a little."

"He's coming!" the kid screeched, scared out his mind. Sean looked around for anyone that might be coming up on them and saw no one.

"Okay, get him to the car," he told Don. 

But Don was looking beyond him to the side of the road where Mickey and Mike had been sitting earlier. Don's jaw dropped open, his eyes wide with utter shock. Sean looked at him, and then turned to see what the big deal was. At first, he didn't even see what Don was gawking at as he quickly scanned the shadows of the roadside. And then, he saw the mile marker post. It was stained red and now protruding up from the midsection of a dead man. Sean shined his light on the corpse and was greeted with the gristly remains of several ravaged internal organs clinging wetly to the metal of the marker. The man's lifeless eyes looked at them in a dead stare.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 03



There seemed to be a deep stab wound in his forehead.

"Mike!" the kid screamed and broke into desperate sobs, "Mike!"

Suddenly, a burst of radio chatter hissed on their Motorola's, "Attention all units attention all units in the area of Springwood we have a code thirteen. All units please respond, over."

A code thirteen was a major disaster activation, and it meant that the shit had just hit the fan in Springwood. Sean swallowed hard and looked at Don.

"What the fuck is going on?" Don asked.

"I don't know, man," Sean said as the approaching sounds of sirens filled the night and drowned out Mickey's agonized screams.

***

Mary sat alone outside Westin Hills Mental Institution in the blue Celica she had borrowed form the hospital parking lot. She had parked in the far corner of the north lot, the car hidden in shadows. She really didn't remember leaving the hospital at all, but she was sure however she had escaped it had been bloody and horrible. She could feel Krueger inside her, nesting in her soul like some festering cancer, eating away at her and forcing her to do his will. She touched her hospital gown, the harsh fabric uncomfortable against her naked body as she contemplated her next move.

"Why here?" she asked out loud, "Why this place?"

She only half-expected an answer from her captor, and when he didn't say anything, she wasn't all that surprised. She looked at the small clock on the dashboard and found it was now one in the morning. Her eyes burned with fatigue, and she fought off the urge to sleep. She knew the moment she dozed off, Krueger would take control again and begin his work.

'Not that he doesn't have full control anyway,' she thought dismally.

She leaned back in the seat and looked outside at the forbidding evening. She smiled, thinking how stupid it was to be afraid of the dark. Mary could remember needing a nightlight until she was twelve, her little mind so convinced that the boogeyman would jump out from her closet or ooze out from underneath her bed and grab her. The terror had been very real, and that night light was protection against the dark, a talisman to ward off evil spirits and deviant creatures from the grave. Mary tried to remember the last time she had known such innocent faith in such a ridiculous notion.

"Doesn't matter," she yawned and rubbed her temples, "The boogeyman found me anyway."

She closed her eyes for a moment.

She thought of Matthew Loomis, her former husband and colleague. Why had she called him here? When had she done it? She knew she had called him from the phone in her room and told him to come out here from New York, but for the life of her she could remember how or when. Her last clear memory was of a nightmare that Freddy Krueger had cooked up for her. And that posed another question that as a student of "super-killers" like Krueger, she could not ignore.

How was he able to invade her dreams? Krueger hunted children, and from what she had read in the classified and uncensored documents from the last twenty-years, children that were directly descended from the original Elm Street families that killed him. Of course, these were just the inferred conclusions she and others like her had come to. There were certain holes, especially when she interviewed Jesse Walsh, a survivor of Krueger's second killing spree back in '85, fifteen years after he supposedly died. She still remembered the haunted look in his eyes, that sleepless and tired exhaustion that had ruled his life ever since encountering the dream killer. Jesse had never even heard of Elm Street until his family moved into the house once owned by Donald Thompson, the cop who led the lynch mob against Krueger.

"What am I missing here?" Mary muttered to herself, and opened her eyes to find the blood shot yellow corneas of Freddy Krueger looking right back at her. She was no longer in the car, but in a chair, strapped down as though she were going to be electrocuted and completely lost in a dream.

"Deep thoughts, doctor?" Krueger's foul breath attacked her nose as he rested his hands on her forearms.

"Just trying to figure you out," she replied.

Freddy smiled and ran a bladed finger down the front of her hospital gown, his eyes never leaving hers, "You know, I tried once to use one of you to do my work once. I failed miserably."

"Jesse Walsh?" Mary asked and struggled against her bonds.

"He was a girly little prick," Freddy chuckled and shook his head, "Took it all so personally."

"Cut the bullshit," she glared at the dream killer, "What do you want from me?"

Freddy stood back, looking at her thoughtfully and said, "You already gave it to me, doctor."

"Gave you what?"

Freddy laughed to himself, tapping his blades on his shoulder slowly. Her looked up into the void of the dream world, a rolling expanse of viscous black clouds and empty space. He said, "Evil, doctor... that's what I needed from you. I scoured the bowels of hell to find Jason Voorhees and when I did I underestimated him. I admit that. A goddam mountain of a retard that can't stop once he's started. But Jason was only human, and he still is only human... as much as he can be I guess. I needed someone who was beyond that..." Freddy waved his blades around as his face scrunched into a look of pure disgust, "... that weakness you call humanity."

Mary laughed. "Jason Voorhees has a weakness?"

Freddy nodded, "The dumb asshole."

Mary looked to Krueger, "So how did I help you again?"

"Why Mary," Freddy pointed at her head and laughed, "You're a fucking library of lunatics and murderers. I just picked out the one who fit the bill."

Mary suddenly felt ill. There weren't many out there who could rival Jason in terms of strength and resilience. She shook her head, "No, you didn't."

Freddy leered at her and slowly nodded, his eyes wide and filled with a devilish glee, "They'll regret the night he came home to Springwood."

"He can't be controlled," Mary warned Krueger, "He can't."

"No shit," Freddy rolled his eyes as more than a hint of contempt crept into his demonic voice, "But he'll do what I couldn't. He and Jason can go fuck up the entire state for all I care, but as they do they'll leave a trail of death and fear in their wake. And from the ashes of those ruined lives I can stake my claim on new children."

Mary closed her eyes.

"I want out," Freddy growled, his voice deep and thundering in this world between sleep and awake, "I need new blood and if I have to hire some thugs and hang out in the mind of a cast-iron bitch for a few days to do it, so be it."

"You can't," she pulled at the restraints, "You don't have any souls yet. You have no power."

Freddy grabbed the shoulder of his sweater and ripped it down, exposing the boiled flesh of his torso. Underneath the scarred skin Mary saw at least two-dozen faces pressed up against the surface. Their mouths were open in silent screams as they floated in the netherworld contained in Krueger's abdomen, the most literal representation of his evil she had seen yet. She wanted to believe it was a trick, but as she looked at them and saw them wordlessly calling to her for help, she knew that Krueger had already made his first kills. Mary held back hot tears of frustration and said through gritted teeth, "But they weren't Elm Street children, you fuck. They weren't."

"I've branched out," he chuckled and ran his fingers over the small, tormented faces bubbling under his skin, "In this day and age, you gotta be able to learn a few new tricks."

"Impossible," Mary shook her head violently, "Only the Elm Street kids!"

"If that's true," Freddy lower his voice confidentially, "Then why is half the graduating class off Springwood High dead tonight?"

"Fuck you," she cried.

Krueger laughed triumphantly, basking in her misery. "A shared dream, doctor. It happens rarely, but when it does you gotta seize your opportunity.

"You've got what you want!" Mary screamed at him, "Why keep me alive?"

Freddy walked over to her and traced the line of her jaw and neck with his bladed index finger. He leaned in and flicked his tongue out across her lips in a wet kiss that left a bitter sting on her skin. He said, "Because there's one more thing I need you to do."

Mary found her voice after a moment, and though she knew that she really didn't want to know what Krueger had in mind for her, she asked anyway, "What?"

"A personal score to settle," Freddy said, "And I'll need a body to do it."

Mary thought of when Jason attacked her and John on the dock at Crystal Lake. After she'd gone into the water, someone had grabbed her. She remembered the rotting, headless corpse that had grabbed her with one fleshy arm and pulled her down to the depths. She remembered the sweater now, faded and eaten by fish but the same red and green sweater Krueger now wore before her. It hit her with the same force that the stagnant lake water had done as it filled her lungs and drowned her. 

"You have to be born into the real world," she whispered.

"Jesse was too weak to handle it," Freddy shrugged, "But you're so much stronger than he ever was. I won't lie to you though Mary..."

Mary looked at him, her eyes wide.

"This first time tends to get a little messy..."

Mary fought against the restraints of her chair, the leather bands rubbing against her skin and burning as she twisted and pulled. She could feel the fear rolling over her mind and submersing her. Freddy grabbed her face and put his slick left hand to her nose, pinching it shut. Mary resisted opening her mouth for as long as she could, until the pressure in her lungs and need for air became too much to handle. She watched helplessly as he drew his bladed hand back and rammed it into her mouth.

She braced herself for the sharp stabs of the knives in the back of her throat, but instead felt the strange icy caress of cold, malleable metal. She could feel the blades bending to follow the curve of her throat as they traveled down her esophagus. She gagged as his arm slid into her mouth to the elbow, the horrible dry taste of moth-eaten fabric drying her mouth out. Her eyes nearly popped out of her skull as she felt his bicep pass through, scraping her teeth. The skin of her lips began to split open as his shoulder began to force its way through.

Her neck bulged out as bones snapped like thick, dry branches and echoed through her mind. She could feel her chest expanding out, the rib cage warping and bending under the increased internal mass. Freddy winked at her, his face pressed against hers as he worked his shoulder in. He removed his hat and gently sat it in her lap. He ducked his head down and somehow shoved into her. A pathetic scream of agony rattled in her compressed larynx as her jaw popped out of place and her skin stretched out to an impossible length. Freddy squirmed his way into her body. She wanted to vomit as she tasted his slimy epidermis, and in fact made every effort to expel him and failed.

"What have you been eating?" Freddy's muffled disembodied voice mocked her, "And holy shit, look at your lungs! Stop smoking!"

Mary began to lose consciousness as her lungs flattened and she could no longer breathe. Her whole body was screaming in pain as Freddy invaded her and filled her up, crushing her bones and rupturing her organs. Blood exploded from her eyes and nose as his torso passed into her grotesquely distended mouth and neck. The skin gave way and began tearing into angry red wounds. 

Before she passed out, she saw Freddy's other hand grab his fedora and politely wave to her as he finished sliding into her broken and bloated body. Mary felt a hand grasp her intestines and pull, and then all went black and silent.

***

Angela Beck smoked her cigarette as she leaned against her Plymouth Duster in the parking lot. She had just taken her first break for the evening, and the loons of Westin Hills were taking their toll on her. She had passed all their meds by midnight, and now she was just counting down to the six o'clock hour when she could clock out and go home. Her eyes felt tired and she knew she probably looked like shit. No matter how much she'd tried to adjust, working the Noc-shift was just too much.

"Excuse me," came a watery voice from behind her. Angela flipped around, her heart pounding in her throat and her long red hair whipping in tow.

A woman in her late thirties, maybe even early forties was standing at her rear bumper. What distressed Angela the most wasn't the fact that her eyes were almost black with broken veins or that her matted blonde hair looked as though someone had dipped her in a vat of grease and called it good. It wasn't that her breathing was labored and she seemed to be drooling a black, nasty tar from her cracked lips. She noticed the hospital gown and the wrist I.D. and immediately saw the red flags go up in her mind.

She'd seen enough escaped patients to know what one looked like in the movies alone, and she cautiously took a step back as the woman slowly shuffled towards her.

"Do you need help?" Angela asked as she steeled herself for a good run back to the entrance.

"Yes I do," Mary croaked as her voice changed and began to coalesce into something more guttural, low and heinous, "I need your clothes."

Angela stared into her darkly shaded eyes as her trembling fingers lost their hold on her smoke. It dropped to the moonlit ground and smoldered there uselessly. She backed up to the open door of her car, her ass pressing against the interior lining. She said, "What?"

Suddenly Mary lunged forward and tackled the nurse to the ground with the full force of a professional NFL lineman. The door busted off its hinges and crashed to the ground and Mary raised her balled up fist and hit Angela square in the face. Angela cried out as her nose broke and drained blood. She felt her attacker undoing her uniform and opening it up to reveal her breasts. She thought maybe she was going to be raped, but as she noticed the care the woman used in removing her clothes, she realized that she was being robbed.

"Leave me alone!" Angela screamed and then was silenced as Mary slammed her fist into her throat and destroyed her voice. Angela silently wheezed and gurgled as Mary stripped her uniform off her and then took her shoes and socks as well. She lay there by her car, naked save for her underwear and watching as this insane woman took off the hospital gown and slipped into her uniform.

Mary looked down at Angela and adjusted her breasts in the tight white uniform. She raised a brow and said in deep voice that was not her own, "A little tight in the tits..."

Angela clawed at her throat as her wind pipe collapsed.

"Of course," Mary leaned over the dying nurse, picking her up and dragging her to the back of the car commented, "Now that I have tits I can feel myself up any time I like."

Angela wept as her attacker guffawed with inhuman laughter. She watched as a long metal blade popped out the woman's index finger like a hidden claw. Mary winked at her and jammed the blade into the lock on the trunk. With a few simple twists and pushes, the lock sprang and the trunk opened. As the world became faded and silent and she no longer had the will to fight, Angela felt herself lifted up and tossed into the trunk. She was only dimly aware that the back of her skull smashed against the tire iron and cracked. She no longer cared anymore.

"Your shift is over," Mary slammed the trunk hatch down and pushed on it hard. She rounded the car and found Angela's keys splayed on the concrete. Mary grabbed them and fixed her hair as best she could in the rear view mirror of the car, pulling her sweat soaked blonde locks into a ponytail with a rubber band she found on the dashboard.

"Beautiful," she crooned and walked to the side entrance of Westin Hills, Angela's name tag and door pass firmly pinned over her breast.

***

"Okay" Will laughed and looked up at Lori, "You can let me up now."

"What's the magic word?" Lori smiled innocently as she pinned Will down and straddled him. She loved wrestling with him. It was one of their pet games that was just a fun façade for foreplay, but Lori loved it all the same. She grinded her crotch against Will and felt his cock hardening underneath her.

"You're the best," Will offered, and the added, "You're beautiful? You're my sunlight, my moon, my starlit skies...?"

"Pathetic," Lori tossed her long, blonde hair back and made sure the v-neck of her shirt was exposing enough of her cleavage to keep Will off balance.

"Three hours on a plane and the drive here from the airport and you expect me to think?" Will sighed and as she rubbed herself against him added, "And when you're doing that?"

"Are we at a loss for words?" Lori leaned down and licked his lips as she became considerably more warm and definitely a little more slick.

Will rolled his eyes, "Uh, You're a princess?"

"Try again."

"My queen?"

Lori squeezed her thighs around him, her jeans tight around her figure, "Try again."

"My inspiration?"

Lori shook her head and kissed his neck.

"How about I love you?" Will asked hopefully.

Lori sat up and let his arms go. She cocked her eyebrow and looked down at her husband with a mix of amusement and blossoming lust. "That's the last time you can use that."

"Well, I had to do something," he shrugged and ran his hands over her full breasts. Lori put her hands to his and guided his massage of her chest, her eyes closed and mouth slightly open. Will added, "You are freakishly strong."

"Does that turn you on?" she smiled and began hinting at the humping she was about to give him by rocking herself back and forth along his bulge.

"Lori, you could be taking out the trash and I'd get turned on," Will breathed as he raised his hips to meet her.

"That may be the single most romantic thing you've ever said to me," she laughed through a throaty moan as they worked their hips together in a sensual rhythm.

"It came from the heart," he grasped her hips with his strong hands and held her there as they turned each other on.

Lori graced him that sexy half-smile of hers that he could never say no to. It was her trump card, her guaranteed "pass go and collect two-hundred" card that he found irresistible. But that to him was common of everything about Lori when he really thought about it. Lori slid her fingers under her shirt and pulled the bottom up. Will savored each time she undressed in front of him. He had grown up sneaking peeks at women like this in magazines when people weren't looking. He never imagined he could even get to close to a woman like this, let alone be with one. And now, here he was with Lori, who managed to put every centerfold he had ever seen to shame so effortlessly. She revealed her breasts to him slowly, teasing him and taunting him, daring him to touch her and take her as his own.

Every time was like the first time.

Her tits caught on the shirt and pulled up with the fabric for a moment. As she freed herself of her top, her large milky breasts bounced back into place. He ran his hands over her skin and cupped them lovingly, gently and with the greatest appreciation. In turn, she ran her hands up under his shirt and to his pecs where she squeezed and then began playing with his nipples. Will smiled and began playing with hers, rolling her nubs back and forth between his fingers.

"I love it when you do that" she sighed happily.

"Tit for tat," Will smiled and rubbed his aching cock against her through their pants. 

"Suck on them Will," she encouraged. Will leaned her back on the bed and switched their positions, so that he was now between her open legs. He licked her left nipple, circling it and flicking it with his tongue. Lori closed her eyes and rested against the fresh pillows enjoying her husband's stimulations. Will took his shirt off and undid his slacks to allow for a little room as he licked and kissed around the large swells of her tits. He began kissing his way down her torso, planting hot wet French kisses on her tits, stomach and below her navel.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 03



"We can lose these now," he told her and unbuttoned her jeans. Lori lifted her hips up and Will slid them off along with her panties. He tossed the clothes into the corner and touched her creamy white thighs, admiring her naked body. He lowered his face down to her clean-shaven sex and inhaled her.

Will licked her lips slowly, teasing her as he varied the pressure and twist of his tongue against her. He let his tongue gently slip into her pussy, tasting the sweet nectar of her inner sex. Lori moaned a little and shifted as he teased, and he could see her playing with her nipples, pulling and teasing them. He began exploring every fold, every inch of her vagina with his tongue until his reach could go no further. His chin was dripping with her fluids as her wetness slowly dribbled down his neck. 

"I love you so much," he murmured into her pussy and rested her soft thighs on his shoulders. He started on her clit, flicking it and rubbing it with his tongue, gently attacking it and making her moan loudly.

"I love you too, baby," she moaned as she pulled at her nipples and bit her lower lip, "Fuck yes, just like that."

Will wasn't sure how long he spent down there, and truth be told he didn't really care. He enjoyed eating her out almost as much as she did. Her moans and whimpering, her desperate "yes's" were causing his cock to become like a piece of tempered steel as he ate her out. Finally, with a scream that echoed throughout the hotel room, she orgasmed hard and scooted her self across the bed as her body was wracked with a powerful orgasm. A flood of her cum splashed Will's mouth as she screamed, her hands grasping the blankets and mattress so hard that her veins popped out, her muscles flexing in shock.

"Yes baby, yes," she whispered, pulling Will to her as he worked his pants off. His cock slid against her wetness as he kissed her breasts, licking them and suckling them. 

"Fuck me," she said as she pulled his face to hers, "Fuck me."

As Will positioned himself against his wife and began pressing to enter her, there was the sudden blare of sirens. The room lit up with blue and red lights and Will nearly fell off the bed as an air horn sounded. He looked at Lori, their eyes wide and completely shocked as they lay there on the bed naked and profoundly upset they had been disturbed.

"What the fuck?" Will grunted and hurried over to the window. He pulled the drapes open slightly as to not give the world a view of him nude. He saw not only an ambulance in the parking lot two stories down but also across the street there was a police car with its lights flashing. He looked down the street and could see another police cruiser go speeding by, it's lights flashing and siren wailing. He felt a familiar dread forming in the pit of his stomach as he looked further over and saw flashing points of red and blue light several blocks away.

"Lori," he said, "Come look at this."

Lori wrapped the blanket around herself and walked over to the window. She said, "Oh my God, what happened?"

"There are police, ambulances and even fire trucks out there," Will said quietly, "All over town."

"Jesus," Lori swallowed and put her hand on his shoulder, "I hope no one is hurt."

Will looked down at the parking lot again and after a few minutes saw the paramedics pulling out a long gurney from the front entrance. The body was wrapped from head to toe in a white sheet, and they both didn't a need a doctor to tell them the large stains on the sheet were blood. Huge crimson spots had soaked the sheet and Lori thought of that night her mother was butchered in that house on Elm Street. The sheets looked not all that dissimilar from when the paramedics had carted her mother's body away.  

Lori took a deep breath.

"Could mean anything," Will said unconvincingly.

"We both know what it means," Lori shook her head.

Another vehicle pulled into the parking lot, swerving with no regard for those working in the area. The white van had multiple broadcast and reception arrays bolted to the top of it as it screeched to a halt and men with cameras hopped out. Will shut the curtains and went to the television. He turned it on and flipped through the channels until he found the local station.

"...now live to the Springwood Inn where Kate Hunt has the latest on this bizarre event," the newscaster reported as the volume and picture blurred and then came into focus. Lori joined Will as they sat on the edge of the bed and watched the television. 

The image switched to the familiar setting of the Inn and the ambulance they had just seen outside. Paramedics ran around in the background behind the petite newswoman holding the large microphone. She brushed her short red hair out her face and looked into the camera, "Good evening. I am standing in the reception area of the Springwood Inn as the body of yet another victim who died tonight under strange and unexplained circumstances is being taken away. Authorities have not yet commented on amazing details of this event as reportedly thirty young people died in their sleep tonight."

"No," Lori said flatly, her lips numb and fingers cold.

"Shit," Will shook his head.

"As strange as this phenomenon has been," Kate Hunt reported as the camera caught a glimpse of the body being wheeled and prepared for the ambulance ride behind her, "The most puzzling aspect has been the grisly condition of the bodies. Early reports from the crime scenes seem to indicate that a straight razor or knife was used in all the killings while the children slept. All of the victims so far appear to be from the graduating class at Springwood High, scheduled for commence this next month..."

Lori looked away, unable to watch the screen. She hugged the blanket close to her body as a chill gripped her spine and shook her. She knew it wasn't over. In her heart, she'd known that Freddy Krueger wasn't dead and that he'd come back. And she was right.

"You okay, Lori?" Will hugged her.

"No I'm not," she whispered into his shoulder.

Will tried to smile, "Me neither."

"... behind me is the body of young member of the Springwood Inn janitorial staff," the reported motioned to the bloody mess on the gurney as it was loaded into the ambulance, "No names have been released yet, but the Springwood Police Department has asked that every parent check their children immediately and wake them up. This is Kate Hunt, channel seven news Springwood."

"Thirty kids?" Will turned the set off, stunned, "How did he get so many all at once?"

Lori looked at him, her eyes glimmering in the soft lamplight, "Jason?"

"I hope not," Will laughed nervously, his fear betraying him, "If that fucking goalie is back then we have more problems than I thought."

"Either way, we gotta do something."

Will turned to her, reaching for his discarded pants. He hated it when she got like this. He shook his head and said, "Lori, the only thing we're going to do is get the righteous fuck out of here before Krueger realizes we're in town."

"How can you say that?"

"I can say it because if he's pissed at anyone right now, it's us," Will motioned his finger between the two of them to drive the point home, "Let's just get the hell out of here now while we can."

Lori looked at him in disbelief. "Will, these people need our help. We can't just turn our backs on them."

"No no," Will shook his head again and knelt down in front of her, holding her hands. He said softly, "This isn't about you saving lives. This is about you facing your fears like Dr. Loomis told you to do..."

Lori wasn't beyond being honest with her husband, and she knew that even if she had wanted to, she couldn't have lied to him. She said, "Yes, Will, okay? Yes. I need to find some closure."

"You cut his head off, Lori," Will exclaimed, "How much more closure do you need? What are you looking for? An apology?"

She pulled Will to her and stroked his face, looking into his dark eyes with her own and trying to say everything she couldn't. She knew that staying in Springwood was a risk, but she also knew that she was tired of living in constant fear of Freddy Krueger. She was tired of wondering if when she went to sleep it would be for the last time or not. She needed to know he was dead, buried and gone. She needed to move on with her life, with their life together.

"Will," she hugged him close and stroked the back of his neck as he returned the embrace, "I'm tired of being afraid. I can't live like this anymore, and neither can you. Let's face this and be done with it."

Will shut his eyes. He wished he could have shut his ears too, but the damage was done. As scared as he was to stay here with Krueger and maybe Jason on the loose too, he knew in his heart she was right. He asked himself if he could live with her being so edgy and fearful of a ghost all the time. He could see the strain on their marriage already from this problem, and he couldn't deny that he and Lori both needed to deal with it.

"You can go if you want," Lori told him, her voice cracking a little, "But I have to stay."

Will kissed her neck, "Staying here and picking a fight with Freddy Krueger is insane, but doing it alone is just fucking stupid. You're not going anywhere without me."

Lori kissed will passionately and thankfully. "We're doing the right thing," she whispered, "We're doing the right thing."

"You might feel different if we get killed," Will said dismally.

"We beat him once," she said, "We can beat him again."

"We beat him with an assist from Jason," Will reminded her and turned to show her the scar on his back from where the hockey-masked killer had sliced him, "And I don't think he'll be interested in a rematch on our behalf.

***

Mary Stilfreeze, or rather the body of Mary Stilfreeze, walked the silent halls of the Westin Hills Institution, so far undiscovered and quietly looking for her secret destination. She passed several nurses stations and tilted her face away as she went, not eager to draw any unnecessary attention. Well, at least not yet anyway. Her face was twitching, the muscles involuntarily reacting the alien presence of Freddy Krueger in her system. He was like a disease firmly planted her mind, using her body to navigate the real world.

Through Mary's eyes, Freddy looked down at the flesh covering his arms. Mary's skin was beginning to deteriorate already, becoming soft and mushy to the touch. He could feel his own anatomy growing inside her, absorbing her tissues, blood and bone to create a new body for himself. He struggled to keep his balance as Mary's body reacted violently to his control of her.

If there was anything left of Mary inside, even Freddy couldn't see it anymore. He believed she had died screaming and cursing his name as he fed himself to her in the nightmare. Her fear had been delicious, if a little too aged for his preferences. He likened it to the difference between fresh milk and old milk. You could survive on old milk if you had to for a little while, but you can live a long time on milk fresh off the tit. Mary was curdling a bit in her old age, but still spry enough to keep him going. 

He finally arrived at the supply room on the third floor and swiped the passkey that had once belonged to a nurse named Angela. Mary's fingers were clumsy and damn near uncooperative as he fumbled with the pass for a moment and then finally was able to grip it and slide it through the lock. The door chimed and the small light on the locking mechanism flashed green. The door unbolted and opened.

"Fucking technology," Freddy growled and closed the door behind him.

He looked up at the vast rows of unopened medicines and drugs, all in clearly marked non-descript cardboard boxes. Freddy walked Mary's body over to the shelves and began looking. A light sweat broke out on Mary's face as he searched for the specific drug that he hated more than any other. He noticed that as he checked the boxes and cabinets, Mary's fingers were leaving wet prints all over everything as her skin slowly broke down. Finally he came upon a long row of neatly stacked boxes marked in bold letters with the word, "HYPNOCYL."

"It's been a long time," Freddy smiled and raised Mary's hand into the air. His blades unsheathed from her fingertips in a wet splash of clear funk and blood.

"Let's level the playing field."

Freddy went to work.

***

Three police cruisers had formed a barricade across the road that led out of Springwood and to the freeway heading south. Sean and Don had parked their cruiser in the middle of the street sideways while Officers Trent and Briggs met their bumper at an angel on the rear end and Officers Ramirez and Ford mimicked on the other bumper. Their lights were brightly flashing in through the early morning as the three o'clock hour came nigh. All six men stood confidently by their cruisers and waited for anyone trying to get in or out.

"This shit is insane," Briggs commented as he warmed his hands by cupping them and blowing into them.

"Sheriff Williams wanted the road blocks up and ready," Trent said and patted his portly stomach.

"What the fuck is the deal here, guys?" Sean looked up from the hood of his cruiser. Don stood back a little and remained quiet while Trent and Briggs exchanged a pained look. Sean still couldn't get the image of that van wreck or the dead body that had been impaled on the mile marker out on Saxon Avenue, and as the crazy reports of sudden teen murders multiplied all at once in the span of an hour and they were suddenly on roadblock detail, he found he had a few questions.

"You haven't told him?" Ramirez asked Don, his Hispanic accent a borderline racial slur in Sean's opinion.

Don looked up and Sean was surprised, even hurt when he shook his head no.

"What don't I know?" Sean glared at his friend.

Don swallowed hard and looked away.

"Come on Don," Ford called from the seat of his car as he checked his sidearm and slapped a magazine in, "We don't want another Stubbs."

"Who the fuck is Stubbs?"

Trent stepped forward and looked at Sean, "Deputy Paul Stubbs. He transferred in two years ago about a month before all that shit went down at the silo and on Elm Street. Sheriff didn't clue him in on some of the town secrets and when those secrets came back to bite us in the ass, Stubbs got himself killed."

"What the fuck are you talking about, Trent?" Sean shook his head and then looked to Don, "What is going on here. Why are we out here? Why aren't we tearing the city up looking for the assholes who did this?"

Don sighed, "I should have told you when you first got here, Sean. You see Springwood has a past that we've all tried to bury since, well, since the seventies."

"Let me guess," Sean glared, "Disco."

"Fred Krueger," Don said evenly, "The Springwood Slasher."

Sean frowned, "Never heard of him."

"You wouldn't have," Briggs spoke up and looked at him, "He's been dead for almost twenty-five years."

Sean looked at them, still not understanding what they were driving at. Don spoke up again, "He killed a bunch of local kids, mostly girls before he got caught by one of our own, Lieutenant Thompson. Ford there is related to him on his mother's side."

Ford tipped his hat politely.

"They took him in, but he got out on a technicality and walked. Thompson and the town's folk trapped Krueger in his boiler room and burned the fucker alive. That was in 1980."

Sean took a deep drag on his smoke and let it jet out of his nostrils, "And that's why we have this road block up?"

"No," Ramirez chimed in sarcastically, "We're out here because if Freddy was the one who did this tonight, then God knows who or what else is going to come waltzing into to town."

"What?" Sean looked at him incredulously, "He's dead."

"He is but he isn't," Don corrected him, "He comes back now and then."

Sean stared his partner in the eyes, "I'm talking about reality here, Don. That poor bastard we took to the station tonight, that was real. Are you fucking crazy?"

"No," Don said, his voice filled with the beginnings of fear, "But I wish I were in this case."

"Please," Sean laughed and took another drag, "What do I look like?"

"This shit is serious, Renaud," Briggs said gravely.

Sean looked them with a crooked smile, ready for the big punch line and laugh at his expense. But the looks on their faces cast a doubt over things and made him wonder if they were telling the truth.

"There's more you need to know, Sean," Don put his hand on his partners shoulder. 

"Okay," Sean shrugged amiably and faced his friend, saying, "Tell me."

Don looked at the others and then began, "He comes to our children in their dreams..."

***

From the bushes that framed the north end of the cornfield, Jason Voorhees waited silently, watching the police talk. He heard every word they said and completely understood them, and yet he did not care. The scent of the dream killer was in the air, the town was rank with it and Jason knew he was close. Jason's cold dead eyes watched them carefully as he waited for the moment to strike.

He grasped the handle of his machete and held it tight with his left hand. The fingers on his right hand had yet to grow back fully. The regeneration of his body was such a long, slow process that he was barely aware of while it was happening. It was part of his gift, of his special strength. His body would not allow him to die. At first, it was just to seek out vengeance against those who took his mother. But as time passed, and the rage did not subside, he realized he must punish not just the guilty, but all those who would violate his sacred ground around the lake. He would live forever to kill those who would violate the memory of his mother.

Jason didn't know how to verbalize this, but on the concept he was crystal clear. All would pay for what happened to him and his mother.

He thought of the dream killer again. He remembered the man holding his mother's severed head as water surrounded him.

Jason felt his anger rock his body as he stood up to his full height, towering in the night and machete brought to bear.

***

"This is bullshit," Sean laughed, "You guys been watching "Tales from the Dark Side" or what?"

"Hey, fuck you," Briggs pointed at him. Sean recoiled back at the pain in the officer's voice, "My son was out at the fucking silo when it happened. He came home in two pieces, so you tell me... is that bull shit?"

"Look man," Sean said diplomatically, "All I'm saying is once a guy is dead, he's dead. It was probably some copy cat nut fuck who idolized Krueger and this Jason guy."

"Normally, I'd agree," Don said, "But I helped scrape what was left of Stubbs off the floor at Westin Hills. In Springwood, death doesn't mean much. Not here."

"Guys, I respect ya all. I really do, but come on."

"Ignorant prick," Briggs said under his breath.

"Excuse me?" Sean snapped his around and glared. 

Briggs stood up and walked over to Sean as everyone stood back a little. Briggs stood only a foot away, thumbs hooked on his belt as he looked Sean in the eye and said, "Ignorant... prick."

"Offensive... asshole," Sean replied sarcastically and added, "You looking for a fight? Cause this isn't the time for your bullshit, Briggs."

"We're telling you the truth," Briggs snarled and tapped Sean on the chest, shoving him back a little, and "If you end up dead by morning don't say we didn't warn you."

Sean cocked his head, "That a threat?"

"It's the damn truth, you fucking ni-" Briggs stopped himself and stood back, still scowling as Don stood between the policemen.

"What's that?" Sean glared at Briggs, his eyes wide as Don placed a hand on his shoulder, "What were you gonna say there, you fucking slice of Wonderbread?"

"Okay knock it off," Don shouted and spun to face Briggs, "We don't need this shit, you got it?"




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 03



"Fuck you Renaud," Briggs flipped him off and started walking back to his cruiser.

"Both of you check yourselves now," Don barked, standing between the two policemen.

"Hey," Sean shouted, his heart pounding with righteous anger and laughed, "If Krueger or Jason don't get ya, I will you racist mother fucker!"

Briggs and turned and was about to fire back a retort was he suddenly lurched forward. The officers went silent and jumped back as his chest exploded outward in a spray of blood that spattered to the pavement in a fine rain. Briggs looked down at the massive blade protruding from his ruined torso, eyes wide and jaw working open and closed silently as blood poured from his mouth. Sean watched as Briggs was lifted into the air and he saw the massive figure of the attacker suddenly appear from out of the shadows.

"Holy shit," Sean breathed as Briggs was suddenly flipped to one side and thrown to the shoulder of the road. He landed hard and skidded almost six feet in the gravel before coming to a stop. His limp body did nothing but lie there and drain as blood pooled around him in the dirt. The killer stood in the red and blue flashing lights, built like a damn tank and easily over seven feet tall. The stained white hockey mask sat high on his frame, covering a misshapen head from which a few long strands of gnarled hair grew. The clothes were torn and ruined from dirt and stains that Sean didn't even want to guess about. In his hand he held a huge weathered machete that dribbled with blood.

"Shoot the fucker!" Sean screamed and pulled his sidearm out. 

The night erupted as the five officers opened fire on Jason Voorhees, plugging his body with round after round. Jason recoiled and jumped as he felt the bullets penetrate his flesh and yet, he did not fall. Instead, he began moving towards them as gun smoke swirled around him. Ford ejected his spent magazine and struggled to load another quickly. He looked down for a moment but never finished the job as the machete swung down and caught his neck and shoulder. The blade tore through him and severed his head in a single motion.

Sean watched Ford's headless pudgy body stagger as his head rolled away with a series of sick, wet thuds to the heel of Briggs boot. A jet of blood spurted into the air and Ford walked another few feet before he realized he was dead and collapsed in a heap on the ground. His body jerked in violently as blood ruptured from his open neck. Jason turned as a round from Ramirez's gun caught him in the head and whipped it back. Jason stood there for a moment and then grabbed Ramirez by the arm.

"Help me!" he screamed as his bones compressed and snapped under Jason's grip. Sean heard the thick meaty snap and tear of Ramirez's arm as Jason jerked him to left and spun him away. Ramirez's arm remained firmly in Jason's grip as his body reeled into Trent. They collapsed into a heap as Ramirez screeched at the top of his lungs. Don lunged at Jason, his gun blasting away but Jason turned and hit him hard with the severed arm. Don staggered and fell over, his gun spinning away.

"You son of a bitch," Sean growled and brought his gun up, taking aim as Jason began to walk towards him. Sean squinted and calmly squeezed off one round that actually ricocheted off the hockey mask. Jason's head jerked back from the force and slowed him down momentarily, but he kept coming. Sean fired again, this time putting a round into the left eyehole of Jason's mask. The killer paused again, momentarily disoriented as he raised his hand to his face. Blood was leaking from the eyehole like a stream of crimson tears. 

Jason tossed the Ramirez's arm aside and raised his machete.

Sean fired again, this time plugging his right shoulder.

"Fuck!" he shouted and fired again.

Jason closed the distance quickly, now only five feet away with no signs of slowly.

"What the fuck are you?" Sean bellowed and started squeezing off rounds randomly as Jason reached out for him. He felt the vice-like grip of the killer's hand grasp his jaw and squeeze. Sean felt his feet leave the ground as Jason lifted him into the air, stretching his neck painfully. Sean cried out and kept firing until his magazine ran dry, uncertain he was hitting anything at all as his vision began to cloud over. He knew any minute now his jaw would shatter under the increasing pressure of the man's grip.

"Fuck you," Sean spit at him as the blade rose high for the kill.

There was the loud report of a shotgun and suddenly Sean was falling to the ground. He landed hard on his ass and looked to see Don, his face torn up from falling head first into the cement holding the single-barreled 12-guage from the cruiser. Smoke drifted from the barrel as he aimed at Jason again. Sean looked back at the huge killer and saw a softball-sized hole in his side, the dingy clothing shredded and bloody. Still, Jason seemed unimpressed as he began to walk towards Don, his heavy Frankenstein-esque boots falling in heavy thuds.

***

Amidst the sliced cartons of hypnocil and the broken plastic bottles, Freddy Krueger dumped the last of troublesome drug into the sink as steam jetted up from the hot water pouring from the faucet. The last half hour had seen the destruction of more pills than he cared to count, and even now he doubted he had gotten all of it. He knew they probably had more somewhere, just in case. Still, this would put a sizable dent in their supply and that was good enough for him.

"Mary your skin is looking rough," he laughed and looked down to see the once porcelain perfect flesh on Mary's arm was burned and red from the scalding hot water in the sink. Freddy laughed. It was no big deal to him seeing burned flesh. As time went on from the moment he was burned alive so long ago, he'd gotten used to it.

Suddenly, he stopped in the middle of dumping out the last few bottles of the dream suppressant drug. He looked around the room as he sensed something different. He dropped the bottles in the hot water and looked into the space around him as he watched the vision unfold in his mind's eye. He laughed at out loud, holding Mary's stomach in a healthy expression of glee.

"Voorhees is back!" he crowed.

***

Don fired a warning shot, just missing Jason's face by an inch.

"Drop the fucking blade and lay face down on the road," Don ordered him, his finger resting pensively on the trigger of the shotgun, "Hands out and away from your body."

Jason kept walking towards him. 

Don aimed and fired again, taking Jason in the shoulder. Cloth, flesh and blood ripped apart and spattered down in a hail of gore as Jason's shoulder took the impact of the shot. Still, he moved forward, undaunted and somehow not even slowed down in the slightest. Sean stood up and proceeded to reload his gun. He grabbed the fresh magazine out of his belt pouch as he ejected the spent one. Behind him, Ramirez had stopped screaming and was now silent. He looked and saw that neither he nor Trent was moving. They simply lay there in a pile of broken bones and dead meat.

"Sean!" Don shouted as he began backing up, "I only got three shots left!"

Sean shook his head and slapped the magazine in and chambered a round into the gun. He stood up as the world spun around him and began firing. The first two rounds went wide and zinged into the cornfield. The next few rounds took Jason square in the back and he paused again, slowly turning. He looked over his shoulder and regarded Sean with a cool, bloody stare as if to say, "You again?"

"We're just pissing him off!" Sean yelled and fired three more rounds into Jason's legs. The pants shredded and oozed blood with each impact, but Jason still stood. He turned and raised his machete as Don backed into the trunk of their cruiser. He had nowhere else to go as Jason closed on him.

"Sean!" Don screamed.

Jason brought the blade down but it never made contact. It followed through just short of Don's terrified face. Jason was suddenly jerked backwards and up into the air. Don was on the verge of a heart attack as he watched the impossible events unfolding before him. The giant that was Jason Voorhees rose into the air and as he went, Don saw the legs of this new attacker. He thought for one crazy moment that it was Sean, but when he looked over to his left and saw Sean gaping at Jason, he knew better. Jason convulsed once and Don heard a muted crackling sound, sort of like the sound fresh celery made when he bit down on it. Blood erupted from Jason's chest and a thick length of three inch piping speared through his chest. Jason looked down impotently at the pipe and grabbed it with his hand.

"Holy Mother of God," Don whispered.

The officers watched as Jason was tossed across the road in very the same manner as Briggs had been thrown. The huge man hit the ground hard and rolled across the meridian where he laid still. His machete clattered to the pavement a few feet away. Sean looked and saw another man standing silently in the flashing lights, holding the bloody six-foot length of metal pipe in both hands. He too wore a mask, but this one was different. It was the simple, snow-white face of an everyman, the eye holes cut wide and possessed of a sinister impassiveness. Wild brown hair swept back from the ghostly face as Jason's blood ran down the pipe and stained his hands and blue coveralls.

"Holy fuck," Sean whispered. 

He stood back as Michael Myers watched them both, waiting for their next move. He could hear the angry breathing from behind the mask even on the other side of the road. Sean noticed Don standing up and raising the shotgun, but not before Michael did. He turned and started towards Don. Sean fired three more rounds and caught Michael in the legs. He staggered and fell to his side as Don scrambled.

"Get in the fucking car!" Sean screamed and sprinted towards their cruiser. Don followed suit, not needing to be told twice as they slammed the car doors shut. Sean started the engine and the cruiser roared to life. He backed up and smashed into the other patrol car, pushing it off the road. He turned and positioned their cruiser down the road several yards as Michael got to his feet.

"Who the fuck is that?" Sean looked at Don.

"You got me," Don gawked at Michael in pure awe as the killer got up. He stood in the middle of the road in a defiant, eerie silence. Behind him, Jason remained motionless and sprawled on the road. Michael clenched his fists and waited for them. Sean stepped on the gas and the tires squealed against blacktop, smoking and lurching the car forward. The headlights switched on and Michael made no effort to move. He bounced off the hood, rolled and smashed the windshield before he sailed over the roof of the car.

"Hang on," Sean yelled and swerved the car towards Jason's body. They rocked violently as they ran over the killer's body, the shocks trying to compensate. Don held onto the door handle as they cleared the roadblock and sped down the road. He turned and looked out the rear window. Jason wasn't moving, his body twisted and broken from the weight of the car. He looked for the other attacker and could not see him anywhere. He turned and let out a weary sigh of relief.

"Oh God, Sean," he said and rubbed his temples and grabbed the radio, "Four officers down."

"I know man," Sean shook his head and the looked down at the radio set.

"Ah shit," Don moaned and threw the receiver down. The radio was busted beyond repair. Someone had managed to destroy their CB while they were fighting Jason, and Sean knew damn good and well who did it.

"Smart bastard," Sean snapped as he struggled to see through the shattered spider web of cracks in the windshield, "Very smart, you fuck."

Don sat quietly for a moment, the only sounds beyond the hum of the engine being their heavy breathing. He said, "Okay, what now?"

"We get some heavy artillery," Sean said and gripped the steering wheel tight, "We get choppers, call in back up and we hunt their asses down."

"What a cluster fuck," Don closed his eyes, still shocked over the scene that had just unfolded.

"I need a smoke," Sean turned on the siren and for the first time since he had moved here, he felt scared. 

***

Jason was in the dark.

It always happened this way, and he was comfortable with that. It would take awhile for him to be able to stand again, for the wounds to heal and for his eyes to open. He had been taken by surprise, something that rarely happened to him but when it did he found himself on the verge of an unholy rage. But there was nothing to be done yet. So he drifted there in the darkness of his dream and waited.

"Hey asshole," a familiar voice called out.

Jason gritted his ruined teeth and turned to see the dream killer standing there in his mind again. The violation of his intrusion seared him to the core, and Jason could not contain the sheer force of his anger. He looked at the dream killer and popped his knuckles so loudly it echoed through the void of the netherworld.

"Aren't ya gonna say hello?" Freddy asked, his fedora pulled down slightly to cover his face as his tapped his blades on his pant leg.

Jason only glared.

"Oh that's right," Freddy chuckled wetly, "The strong, silent type."

Jason stood up, despite the pain and began walking towards Freddy, his machete gripped tightly in his hand. Freddy remained still, smiling smugly as Jason marched towards him with every intention of chopping him up like cordwood. After few minutes, Jason noticed he wasn't getting any closer to his hated nemesis than when he started. The more he walked, the further back he seemed to be.

"You never were the sharpest knife in the drawer," Freddy said casually, his voice booming, "But I gotta admire your commitment."

Jason stopped walking and stared. He could not get him this way.

"You know, numb nuts," Freddy slowly stepped towards him, "I was gonna let you have a little fun in Springwood tonight, but Michael did such a good job on you I think I'll just forget about that."

Jason watched him come closer and readied himself.

"But when this is all said and done, please try to remember that no matter how angry you are with me, no matter how much you think I've fucked you over," Freddy mocked him like a child torturing some stray animal, "I've fucked your momma even harder."

And then there before him Jason saw his mother bent over a table, illuminated by some spotlight. She was naked, her body withered and dusty as Freddy stood behind her and simulated fucking her. Her grabbed her hips and whipped his fedora off in one hand, waving it in the air like a demonic cowboy riding a bronco. Freddy laughed and laughed and laughed as he degraded Jason's mother. Jason could feel his face burning as his cold blood began to boil. If he could have screamed, he would have.

"I'm a bad, bad girl Jason," his mother cooed as Freddy slapped her pruned ass.

Jason raised his machete to strike and Freddy ended the illusion as quickly as he had started it. He shot his hand into the air like a wizard calling down lightning, but instead of a bolt of electricity a flood of water fell from the blackness. The dream began to flood quickly, and Jason stood there frozen.

"Remember this one, you retarded asswipe!?"

Jason felt the water wash over him in a huge splash, sweeping him away and off his feet. He lost sight of the dream killer and tumbled in the rolling waves, gasping for air. He knew this feeling, he had relived it once and now he was reliving it again. Jason dropped his machete as his fingers spasmed and his lungs filled with stagnant lake water.

***

Michael Meyers stood over Jason and looked at him, his head cocked to one side as if admiring his handiwork. In his hands he held the length of pipe he had used to impale Jason with on the side of the road. He knew that Jason was not dead as he loomed over him, his eyes watching his body with a surgical precision. Michael raised the pipe up and over Jason's body, hands tight and powerful on the bloody metal.

Michael would finish him off now and be done with it, and then he would go and finish his business in Springwood.

He plunged the pipe into Jason's midsection and punched though into the concrete beneath, cracking it.

***

Freddy floated deep under the waves of the dream ocean, watching Jason drown slowly. The behemoth of a moron convulsed as he sucked water into his lungs and suffocated, dumbly kicking and flailing about as he tried to swim. Of all the people he had killed in his long career, Freddy thought he might enjoy the death of Jason Voorhees most of all. There was certain satisfaction in watching this widely feared maniac fall under his machinations. He smiled as Jason sank deeper and deeper into the muddy liquid abyss of the nightmare

"All this time," Freddy whispered in Jason's mind, "And you never learned to swim?"

Then it happened.

Jason suddenly went still, his body seized rigid like a piece of wood, and Freddy thought it might be over. Jason's chest punched in under the weight of some invisible force and blood began ribboning off into the dark water as bubbles rolled around him. He roared in anger as Jason shimmered and disappeared from the dreamscape. Freddy looked around for him, tried to follow him. He raged as he realized Jason had been pulled back into the real world again. It was the same as last time, only now it was adding insult to injury. Freddy realized that Michael was responsible for it.

"He was mine!" Freddy bellowed, once again denied the kill.

He floated there for a moment before returning to Mary's body.

"Masked freaks..."

***

Jason woke up as water and blood ejected from his mouth and drained between his face and mask. He felt the pipe enter his body again, but this time he did not wait for a chance to remove it. He sat up suddenly and tore the pipe from the concrete using his own body as leverage. He snapped his head to the side and saw Michael towering above him. Jason pistoned his arm out and swept the killer's legs out from under him.

Michael fell to the ground hard as Jason stood up, the pipe still lodged in his body. Jason gabbed the pipe and pulled it out as blood spurted from the wound in a high-tension jet. The pipe came free and Jason wielded it like a baseball bat. Michael was standing up when Jason plowed the pipe into his shoulder. Michael rolled and fell again. Jason followed him and raised the pipe high in the air before smashing it down on Michael's backside.

Michael tensed and recoiled as Jason beat him mercilessly. He managed to get on his feet in spite of the normally fatal blows Jason was unleashing on him. Jason swung hard and caught Michael in the head, snapping him back and reeling into one of the police cars. The passenger windows shattered as Michael hit. Jason came after him and swung again. Michael stepped to his right and the pipe lodged in the roof of the car. Jason yanked it out, the metal screeching as the pipe scraped against it.

Michael faced Jason, his eyes flared with hate.

Jason swung the pipe again and connected with Michael's face. He went airborne and sailed back into the field, smashing corn stalks and landing hard. Michael knew his skull was fractured but could do nothing for the moment. He simply laid there in the sudden silence and waited for Jason to follow. His anger was seething, his hands shaking not so much in pain but more in his evil wrath. 

On the road, Jason waited for at least fifteen minutes, silently watching for the masked man to come out. Nothing moved in the field. He scanned the shadowed expanse for any sign of his new adversary and when nothing happened, he threw the pipe aside. It impaled the already dead corpse of Officer Ramirez and lodged there. Jason turned and walked away. He paused only for a moment to grab his machete off the road.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 04



A NIGHTMARE REBORN: FREDDY VS. JASON 2

CHAPTER 04

BASED UPON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:

Wes Craven: A Nightmare on Elm Street

Victor Miller: Friday the 13th

John Carpenter: Halloween

Victor Salva: Jeepers Creepers

Clive Barker: Candyman, Hellraiser

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS: 

Sean Renaud, Tessa Alexander and Miriam Belle

EDITOR:

Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

-"I got a few emails asking me why the Sheriff's Office in this story was a little different from the one seen 'Freddy vs. Jason.' Simply put, I like the old design from the original 'Nightmare on Elm Street.' It had a lot of character. Call me a sucker for the oldies..." –bluefox07

***

CONVERGENCE

Sunday, May 15th 2005

Matthew Loomis had expected to arrive in Springwood shortly after eight in the morning. He had hoped to take a shower and gather himself up emotionally before calling Mary Stilfreeze and taking a look at whatever it was his ex-wife wanted him to see. He had also hoped that the memorial service for the victims of the Springwood Massacre of 2002 would be a quiet forum to share memories and for the few survivors to find some resolution. He had hoped that the coincidental proximity to a Friday the 13th two days ago wouldn't mean anything amounting to more than superstition from a frightened man.

But as his taxi slowed along the incline of the freeway off ramp, Loomis knew that things had already gone wrong. He knew that the impossible, or to be more exact the highly improbable had happened. The veil of death had been draped over Springwood yet again. Heavy, roiling storm clouds gathered in the sky above the city, threatening to kill the morning sun. In this fading light he saw an SUV and a beaten-up white Chevy truck blocking the road bumper to bumper. Two men dressed in simple civilian clothes stood by while a long, sleek Springwood Police cruiser parked in front of them.

"It seems to be a road block," Loomis understated as two police officers got out of the cruiser and walked towards the taxicab. He wondered what could have happened during the night that would have necessitated the mobilization of civilians enforcement duties? He supposed it was a silly question. He already knew. But he wanted to believe that the Springwood PD was conducting parade traffic control. He wanted desperately to believe anything else other than the obvious was happening here. 

But he knew better.

The driver of the cab, a thin wiry black man named Bobby rolled down his window and waited for the cops as they approached. He leaned out the window and asked, "What's going on?"

"Where ya heading to, Bobby?" the lead cop, a short attractive woman asked.

"I was taking this fare into town to the Inn," he said amiably. Bobby looked a little nervous, and Loomis figured he had every right to be. As he sat there, he couldn't deny that seeing the cruiser and trucks in the middle of the road made him feel nervous too. And being as this was the town of Springwood, anything like this probably made its citizens dive for the nearest storm shelter.

"You got a name?" the female cop asked Loomis, her eyes unreadable behind her dark glasses.

"Dr. Matthew Loomis," he replied with a friendly smile.

The expression on the cop's uniquely ethnic face turned from impassive routine to surprise and recognition. She stood back and put her hands on her gun belt. Though the light seemed to be fading to a cold dim, her beautiful café au lait skin was warm and a light all its own.

"From New York?" she asked.

Loomis cocked a quizzical brow, "Indeed."

"Please step out of the car, sir," she instructed him. She had a faint ghost of an accent that Loomis could not quite place and as he stepped out into the misty morning air. As he stood there he realized he was also at least a foot and some change in inches taller than her. This didn't seem to bother her at all as she looked up at him, her dark hair almost neutrally iridescent in the sunlight. Loomis stood there, dressed in his typical black suit and gray trench coat, and waited as the female cop whispered to her partner.

"May I ask what this is about?" Loomis leaned forward and read her nametag, "Officer Alexander?"

The officer smiled warmly at Loomis, her stern façade melting away rapidly as she reached out for his hand, "Tessa Alexander, Springwood Police department," she said and motioned to her partner, "This is Officer Sean Renaud."

"A pleasure," Loomis smiled as Officer Alexander's grip became almost painful. Her smile was so genuine that he doubted she knew she was hurting him. 'Let size not be a measure of one's strength,' he thought to himself. Once she released him from her grip, he took Sean's hand and shook it.

"Doctor," Sean nodded, his face not nearly as open or welcome to his greeting, but still friendly enough. Loomis studied him for a moment, and knew he recognized the elements in the man's dark African features that denoted fatigue and anxiety. 

"What has happened here in Springwood?" Loomis asked.

A helicopter roared overhead causing Tessa to shout, "We've had a bit of situation here since last night! It'll be easier if you come with us..."

"Of course. I have my bags in the trunk," Loomis motioned to the taxi. 

Bobby sat there in the drivers seat, watching them intently and eager to hear everything he could. Tessa motioned to him impatiently. Bobby shook his head, his face scrunched in confusion. She whipped her sunglasses off and glared, her lips cocked as though she had had to kick his ass into gear more than one time before. Bobby needed no third prompt. He held his hands up inoffensively, opened the door and hurried around to the trunk of the cab. As he pulled out the suitcase and box of files, Tessa noticed Loomis' amusement.

"He's my half brother," she explained. Bobby hurried past them to her patrol car a few feet away and set the luggage down by the rear bumper.

"I have no key to your trunk," he called.

Tessa turned and shouted, "And you're not getting one now, savvy?"

Bobby shrugged and went to his half sister. He cleared his throat, "Okay, are you taking this guy? I gotta get back."

"Yes, the meter is running isn't it?" Loomis reached into his pocket for his wallet.

"We'll take good care of him," Tessa said as Loomis paid the cabbie his fare.

"Thank you, doctor," Bobby smiled and got back in his cab. He started up the engine and pulled forward with a jerk and then stopped. He frowned and stuck his head out the window, "How do I get out of here?"

"Just flip a bitch and get back on the freeway," Tessa said, "Watch out for traffic."

"What?" Bobby laughed incredulously, "I'll have to drive to Elm Grove to turn around. And it's illegal! What would momma say?"

"She'd say get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass," she replied casually.

"Elm Grove, Tessa!" Bobby shouted, "That's a seventeen mile trip!"

"Look at the badge," Tessa pointed dramatically to her shield and then to her holster, "Look at the gun."

"Flip a bitch," Bobby relented and turned the car around to go back up the off ramp.

"And fix that damn tail light!" Sean shouted after him. Bobby stuck his arm out the window, his middle finger jutting out from his closed fist.

Sean smiled a little. "Asshole."

"Hey, that's my brother," Tessa slapped Sean's arm and then added, "Asshole."

"Half brother," Sean corrected.

Bobby cautiously turned back onto the freeway and then picked up speed by them, his tires purposefully kicking up dust and gravel off the shoulder. Tessa shook her head as he drove away across the overpass and then was gone. A cloud of dust washed over them and Tessa muttered, "Not the better half."

"One big happy family here in Springwood, yes?" Loomis ventured as they walked to the police cruiser.

"Something like that," Tessa said. 

Loomis had to stop himself from being so conspicuous about looking at Officer Tessa Alexander. Her features were indeed exotic, and he could have sworn he saw not only bold African and Hispanic features in her face, but maybe even a little Asian in there as well. It wasn't often that Loomis found himself taken by physical beauty. He was so wrapped up in his work he really had no time to notice. But someone as lovely as this should have been modeling and rolling in cash, not dodging in the line of fire. Loomis allowed himself a momentary glance at her curvaceously petite figure. 

'I love a woman with a gun,' he thought with a small smile as he gathered his luggage. Officer Renaud unlocked the trunk and Loomis put his belongings inside. Once they were seated in the cruiser, Loomis riding in the back and briefly feeling like an apprehended criminal, Tessa started the car and they were on their way around the roadblock. The two civilians, both weathered looking older men were both armed too. Loomis made eye contact with one of them and was startled by the haunted emptiness of his eyes.

"Those men were armed," Loomis said.

"Retired cops," Sean replied. 

As they drove the quiet streets of Springwood, Loomis noticed that there were no townsfolk out and about. The town looked deserted and still. Occasionally, they would pass a lone police cruiser or another truck with some grizzled looking old man behind the wheel parked on a corner or blocking a street. In the sky, the foreboding storm clouds were gathering and melting together in a thick blanket. The sunlight was almost spent.

"Is there a curfew in effect?" he asked. Some of the houses they passed had yellow crime scene tape strewn all over the front porches and doors.

"Yeah," Sean answered, "Since four this morning."

"What happened?"

"You know a woman named Mary Stilfreeze?" Tessa asked as they turned down another picture-perfect suburban residential street. The fully-fledged oak trees that lined almost every street should have been vibrant and green for this time of year. Instead, the foliage looked grayed and washed out, like some universal artist had thinned out his palette of color for Springwood. The natural power of color was tainted, and like the people who lived here, was sedated and filled with fear. Even the sunlight lost its potency in Springwood. The dulled beauty of the town was indicative of its cancerous past and wounded spirit.

Loomis paused, and then said, "Yes I do. She's my ex-wife."

"Does she have a history of violent behavior, doctor?"

'A history of adulterous behavior, maybe,' he thought grimly and the said, "Not that I know of. Has something happened to Mary?"

"Two days ago she was found on the back road leading out to Crystal Lake," Sean turned in his seat and looked at Loomis, "Tessa here was one of the officers who found her."

"She looked half dead when we got to her," Tessa said, "It was pure luck that we even found her. I was on a routine patrol."

"Good God," Loomis felt a sick emptiness in his stomach at the very mention of the cursed lake, "Is she alright now?"

"She was taken to Fairview Hospital," Tessa told him and then added, "But she tore her room apart, beat an orderly with his own med tray and ditched out."

Loomis looked at Sean, his face shocked. He said, "I find that hard to believe."

"Believe it or not," Sean said evenly, "But she was picked up again early this morning at Westin Hills Psychiatric Hospital. She was caught not only destroying the drugs in the medical storage, but she also apparently murdered a nurse and took her passkey and uniform."

Mary had killed someone? Surely it was a mistake. Mary may have been an adulterous, selfish workaholic, but a murderer? Loomis could not bring himself to believe that for even for one minute. Not Mary. Loomis felt dizzy. It was like a bad dream, something out of a nightmare.

'A nightmare in Springwood?' he thought bitterly, 'Now there's a novel idea.'

"Are you certain she killed the nurse?" he asked.

"Well, she was wearing the woman's uniform," Tessa said and took her sunglasses off as they pulled onto main street. She looked to Loomis in the rear view mirror, her imponderable dark eyes hinting at genuine sympathy. She said, "We found the body in the trunk of a car stolen from the hospital about the time your ex-wife took off."

"Is my ex-wife the cause of these road blocks?"

"No," Sean said. Something in his voice sounded pained, even angry as he answered, "That's something else entirely."

"Anyway," Tessa said, "She's been in a holding cell since we picked her up. She's been screaming your name. I mean, I assume you're Matthew from New York?"

"She's the only person who calls me 'Matthew,'" Loomis said quietly and then after a moment asked, "Is it routine for Springwood Police to patrol other towns? Crystal Lake isn't just around the bend from here."

Tessa said, "Ever since 2002, the departments in Springwood, Elm Grove and Crystal Lake have been doing joint patrols. A check and balance system to cover the miles in between towns. The idea is anything we miss, they catch and vice versa."

"You're referring to the massacre in 2002?" Loomis ventured.

Tessa looked at him in the mirror, surprised, "Yeah, actually. How did you know?"

"Aside from the what the newspapers said?" he leaned forward in his seat, "Actually, I'm a criminal psychologist specializing in the field of super-killers."

"Super-killers?" Sean asked.

"Killers who seem to defy the laws of physics and reality," Loomis said plainly.

The two police officers were silent for a moment as the shared a mutual look of surprise. Sean looked back at him, "And what brings you to Springwood, doctor?"

"Mary called me," he looked out the window, "She said it was imperative that I come here right away."

"Well doctor," Tessa said as she pulled the cruiser into the back parking lot of the Springwood Police Department, "Whatever the reason, your timing is amazing."

Sean opened the door for Loomis and he stepped out into the stale air. The world seemed to have fallen ill as Sean and Tessa escorted Loomis inside. He listened intently as they walked from the rear parking lot to the front of the building, footsteps echoing off the silence. It was so quiet he could have heard a pin drop. Loomis didn't even hear cats or dogs. It was the calm before the storm. 

He wondered if this was maybe what his father had encountered visiting Haddonfield for the first time back in 1978 to recapture Michael Myers. 

Once inside, the noise level change drastically. Phones were ringing off the hooks and the four officers who were taking the calls looked stressed and fatigued as they went about their business. He could feel their tension and fear, as though it were a tangible field of energy around them. It both energized them and yet threatened to strangle them.

"Fear in Springwood is death, so I hear," Loomis said under his breath.

"Pardon?" Tessa asked as she signed the doctor in at the front desk.

Loomis shook his head, "Nothing deputy."

"You alright?" Tessa eyed him.

The doctor shrugged, "A little taken back by all this."

There was something about this woman that engendered immediate trust, and when she put her hand on his shoulder Loomis felt slightly more at ease. She smiled, "It'll be okay."

'Will it now?' Loomis wondered.

"Sheriff Williams would like to see you, doctor," Sean said from behind them.

"Of course." 

He was led past the bullpen and to the office of Sheriff Thomas Williams. The sheriff was an older man, his face gruff and weathered with an unspoken air of he'd "been there and done that before." Loomis could see that his normally well-combed graying hair had been disheveled during the course of his shift in complete frustration. His lips were pursed into a thin white line as he looked up at them.

On his desk, amidst all the papers and reports was a large ashtray. Several spent cigars were abandoned there in the yellowed glass receptacle, the more recent one smoldering still. Loomis inhaled the scent of genuine Cubans deeply and relished the aroma. From the look on Sheriff Williams face, he doubted he would be offered one anytime soon.

"Sheriff Williams," Tessa said and motioned to the doctor, "This is Doctor Matthew Loomis."

"So you're 'Matthew'?" Williams looked at Loomis. His blue eyes were set back in worn out sockets. The Sheriff looked like he was ready keel over from exhaustion. In his large hand he held another blazing stogie, with which he indicated for Loomis to take a seat. He said to Sean and Tessa, "You two go and take stock in the armory. I want that ordinance checked and prepped by noon."

"Yes sir," Sean nodded and the two officers were gone.

As Williams leaned back in his seat, the springs creaked and popped. He looked to Loomis and said, "I've heard of you, Dr. Loomis."

"My reputation precedes me?" Loomis smiled, "I'm flattered."

"I saw you on 'Sixty Minutes' a few years back," the sheriff took a long drag on his cigar and rubbed his eyes, "Something about a nutcase killing people in Chicago?"

"Locals called him the Candyman," Loomis said and then added, "Something of an urban legend... I think you can relate."

Williams ignored the implication and said, "You're considered to be one of the top minds in criminal psychology."

"By some," Loomis said, "By others, no. Often, my findings aren't very popular."

The sheriff nodded.

"If I may ask," Loomis began, "Are road blocks typical of Springwood hospitality?"

"I apologize for any inconvenience," Williams said, his voice tinged with an impatient edge, "We've had a bad night."

"How is Mary, Sheriff?" Loomis asked, "May I see her?"

"She's physically fine, roughed up something fierce with some cuts and bruises," the sheriff replied, and then said, "But mentally? I don't know, Doc. Our local shrink looked her over and says she suffering from severe exhaustion, maybe a psychotic break."

"The doctor who examined her?"

"Dr. Campbell," the sheriff said, "He works with Westin Hills and the department as a consultant."

'Lori's father,' Loomis thought to himself, 'How convenient.'

The sheriff seemed to be holding back, as though he wanted to say more. Loomis had a growing suspicion that whatever was happening here in Springwood, Mary was connected and neck deep in it. And what's more, Campbell and Sheriff Williams knew it as well. But there were politics to be played here. Loomis knew he must tread lightly if he were going help anyone.

"I heard she might have been involved in a murder," he said.

"I see my officers talk," Williams shrugged and shook his head, "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Can't keep a secret here in Springwood for very long."

A moment of uncomfortable silence passed between them. Loomis hoped he hadn't gotten Tessa or Sean in trouble. They seemed to have enough trouble as it was already.

"The murder charges?" Loomis insisted.

"We found a Westin Hills nurse folded up in the trunk of her own car shortly after your ex ditched Fairview Hospital," Williams said, "She was wearing her uniform and had her pass key." 

"Could she have been set up?" Loomis asked, "I mean, considering she was found in the condition she was in at Crystal Lake, isn't possible there's more going on here?"

Loomis could already see that the sheriff wasn't a man to suffer challenges in his jurisdiction, let alone his own office. There was a harsh edge to the man that he could tell wasn't entirely natural. The sheriff was either a product of a hard life or a hard career, though rarely were those two things separate entities. Loomis imagined being the sheriff in a town like Springwood could harden even the most gentle of people. Williams continued, "Ms. Stilfreeze fingerprints are all over the car, the body and the three thousand dollars worth of medication she destroyed at Westin Hills."

"My God," Loomis whispered and then, "What drug did she destroy?"




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 04



Williams hesitated for a moment. "Hypnocil."

"The dream suppressant," Loomis remembered Lori's story about one of her friends, a stoner named Freeburg if he remembered right, who fell under Freddy Krueger's power and destroyed their supply of the drug back in 2002. He felt a headache coming on. Could Krueger have pulled Mary under his sway in a similar manner?

"Look, I believe in being as straight as I can be with people," Williams took a long drag on his cigar and then eyed Loomis with a stare that might have melted steel, "Last night, a number of our young people died under strange circumstances. I've got one automobile accident that could be related and I've got this loony bitch running around stealing cars and breaking into psycho wards. I have too fucking much on my plate right now. So who is this woman?"

"She's my ex-wife," Loomis said and leaned back in his chair, posturing himself calmly as the sheriff glared, "She's also an Oxford educated criminal psychologist with many years of experience under her belt and enough credentials to fill your office walls three times over, Sheriff. She is considered to be a top mind in many different fields of psychology. She is even a student of your town's, shall we say, more 'colorful' history. But, a murderer she is not."

"Colorful?"

"Fred Krueger paints in shades of green and red, does he not?"

Williams jaw clenched as though even saying the name had caused him pain. He looked at Loomis with steeled cold regard, any pretenses of hospitality dead and gone. Loomis had not wanted to make an enemy of the local law enforcement, but it seemed the deed was done nonetheless. The Sheriff said, "We don't say his name around here, Doctor."

Loomis was unmoved. "I see."

"I doubt that."

"And the ordinance?" Loomis smiled ruefully, nodding to the door Sean and Tessa had left through, "You plan to hunt down your local specter with guns?"

"In point of fact, no," the Sheriff said, "We've got other problems at the moment."

"Indeed?" Loomis waited for the Sheriff to elaborate for a minute. When he didn't, the doctor sighed and nodded, "Then I'll go see Mary now."

Loomis stood up to leave and had his hand on the doorknob when Williams said, "Do yourself a favor, Dr. Loomis. Talk to your ex and then leave town as quick as you can. Springwood isn't a safe place to be."

"Is that an order?"

"A suggestion, doctor," Williams went back to his paper work, and then added, "And don't ever say that fuckers name in this town again. Understand?"

Loomis could feel the Sheriff's anger boring into him like a hot drill. He opened the door and said, "Understood."

Dr. Loomis stood outside the sheriff's office and took a deep breath. It was clear enough Freddy Krueger was behind the problems here in Springwood. That meant that Lori and Will would have undoubtedly come to the same conclusion themselves by now, if they were even here. He hoped they had stayed in New York, but he doubted it. Lori was seeking resolution to her nightmares and guilt by coming back. He felt a pang of heavy responsibility as he recalled encouraging her to come here again. He looked out at the busy office and went to the front desk. The officer on duty led him back to the holding cells.

'We've got other problems,' the Sheriff had said.

"What other problems?" he whispered to himself. Loomis was sure he didn't want to know the answer to that question.

***

"So what happened out there, Sean?" Tessa asked as they sat in the basement armory.

Sean shook his head, his eyes looking haunted and dry as he sat on one of the workbench stools. He rubbed his temples, his normally chocolate skin now looking an almost ashen gray as he thought about what had happened earlier that morning. He looked to Tessa and said, "You wouldn't believe it."

"Try me," she said and stood next to him, a box of shotgun shells in one hand.

Sean paused and took a deep breath.

"Come on..." Tessa nudged him.

"It was Jason Voorhees," Sean said after a moment, his face still filled with disbelief, "This mother fucker was real. Smelled like a week old corpse, all fucked up. He had the hockey mask on and everything. He wiped out Trent, Briggs, Ford and Ramirez just like that-" Sean snapped his fingers, "- tore them to pieces. Bullets didn't do shit. I emptied a full magazine and then some. Nothing. Don and I barely got away."

"Jesus," Tessa said quietly and sat the box of shells on the workbench, "How did you get away?"

"There was another one there."

"Another what?"

"Another guy," Sean looked at her, "In a white mask."

"Like Jason?"

"Nah, this was different," he shook his head and remembered those lifeless, cutout eyes and wild hair, "It was like a Halloween mask or something, but the scariest fucking mask you've ever seen. All white and simple. Fuckin' white boy looked like the angel of death."

Tessa sighed. "If Jason's back, then all this shit will start up again."

"You mean all that shit that happened on Elm Street and at the silo two years ago? When Jason first showed up here?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah," Sean looked at her accusingly, "You knew?"

"Well," Tessa shrugged, "Yeah sort of."

"And you didn't tell me?"

Tessa looked away. Sheriff Williams had told all his deputies not to discuss what happened in 2002 or to even say the names Freddy Krueger or Jason Voorhees out loud to anyone anywhere at anytime. Like her fellow associates, she took his order as the law. No one uttered anything about the incident after the media frenzy died down. Even the regular townspeople, everyone from bankers to gas attendants seemed to instinctively know that silence was essential to their survival. Still, some talked in the shadows.

Now, in the shadows of the armory, Tessa told Sean Renaud everything she knew.

She had heard the stories about both Freddy and Jason even before she joined the force back in 1998. Some of the older people in town would tell her about Freddy Krueger, about how he came back for the children. Even then, they whispered his name as though the very words invited death to visit. And she believed the stories. Hell, she had been one of the people to clean up the bodies at Weston Hills after Jason was finished, including the fried husk of Deputy Scott Stubbs.

She had been more than his partner, she had been his friend. When he arrived in Springwood, he had been green and nervous. Throughout the entire rookie ribbing that all greenhorns had to endure, Tessa guided him past it and helped him adjust. He was so idealistic, so fucking optimistic that she imagined his own death came as a surprise to him. In retrospect, she wished she had gone with him when he left that night. She might have been able to save him. She remembered the look on his face when he walked out the door of the department into the rain. She had grabbed his arm and said, "Scott, wait."

"Wait for what?" he had asked her, his eyes wide, "Wait for another kid to turn up dead?"

"Just stay and wait for Williams to make his move," she pleaded.

"I can't, Tessa," Scott looked at her, "Something is going on here. Jason Voorhees might be here. Somebody has to do something."

She let him go.

The door slammed and he was gone.

"Sean," Tessa said, "You gotta understand, Springwood has its secrets."

"No shit," his eyes widened sarcastically.

"Seriously, this Freddy Krueger guy really did some serious damage," Tessa put her hand on his broad shoulder and squeezed, "He comes back for the kids in their sleep."

"That's bullshit," Sean said, "That fucking goalie and his masked fuck buddy are real."

Tessa leaned in and whispered, "Then how did all those kids die last night? Jason and his friend were out on the edge of town with you. How?"

Sean was quiet.

"Razor wounds, Sean. Every last one of those kids got cut up in their sleep, in their locked homes and in their warm beds," Tessa told him firmly, "Freddy had a glove that was tipped with razor sharp knives. It was his calling card."

"I can't believe this," he said and looked to her.

"Believe it Sean," she stroked his cheek gently, "Believe it because whatever is out there hunting in our town is out for blood. And you have got to be ready."

Sean smiled a weak smile and held her small hand in his, "You should have told me sooner. I shouldn't have heard this shit from Don and the guys."

"You're right," Tessa kissed him on the cheek softly, her full lips like silk against his skin. Sean murmured his approval and embraced her, pulling him to her. They engaged in a long, deep passionate kiss and Sean almost immediately felt better.

Tessa broke the kiss and grinned mischievously, "Can I make it up to you?"

Sean smiled, his eyes finally showing some of that cocky Sean Renaud she loved so much. He asked, "How will you do that?"

Tessa licked his lips and walked over to the entrance to the armory. Her stride was purposeful and seductive, her hips swaying with each step and making Sean feel like he was under hypnosis. She opened the door and motioned to the utility closet at the end of the basement hallway that led to the rear parking lot. She curled her index finger to him and motioned for him to follow. Sean smiled, already feeling his cock stirring. He hadn't been able to think about sex since this all started, and he realized maybe what he needed now was a little stress relief.

"What did you have in mind?" he asked and grabbed her hand, looking down on her beautiful face. Sean loved the height difference, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than when she rested her head on his chest and held him like she was doing now.

"Sex," she smiled and rubbed his bulge through his uniform, "I can never resist men in uniform-" she gave his cock a squeeze, "-Especially ones with really big guns."

"Now that's what I'm talking about," Sean laughed.

***

"Mary," Loomis said softly.

The woman in the cell rolled over to face him, but she might as well have been a complete stranger. Mary was still in the stolen nurses uniform, which was clearly a little too small for her figure. Her eyes were heavy with dark rings and her blonde hair looked stringy and greasy as it hung down from her skull in wet strands. Her skin was a pallid white, almost like the shiny flesh on the underbelly of a trout. A bloody "F" had been carved into her cheek. Her lips were cracked and colorless, slightly open in a half crazed leer. She squinted at her former husband and croaked, "Matthew?"

"I'm here," Loomis said softly and sat down on the chair in front of her cell. The man in the cell next to her farted and rolled over in his sleep. He looked at his ex-wife, trying to see any hint of the woman he used to know. His mouth hung open in shock, "Mary, what happened?"

She stood up and slowly walked to over to him, her legs bruised and cut. Dirt was stained to her skin and Loomis could even smell the beginnings of some foul decay on her. He thought maybe she had rolled in something or spilled some liquid on her that had soured, but as she stood before him, he realized that it was the stench of rot. It was the smell of death.

'Physically she's fine my ass,' Loomis thought angrily. He said, "My God Mary. What have they done to you?"

"I'm sick Matthew. I'm not myself anymore," she said. When she spoke, he could see her blistered tongue, angry and red, covered with white lesions. Some of her teeth had fallen out leaving wide gaps while the remaining ones had yellowed to a brown luster. 

"So it would seem," Loomis wanted to reach out to her, but couldn't. It wasn't so much her less than fresh hygiene, but rather the undeniable sting of her adulterous betrayal. Even now, it still hurt. And being this close to her brought back a lot of memories he didn't want to remember just then. In his mind's eye, he relived the moment he walked in on her and that bastard John Bilk. He still remembered her lusty moans and John's face, contorted in pure enjoyment of a woman that was not his. 

He could admit he was still hurt, even bitter when it came to the subject. But forgiving? That was a different story. He asked, "Where is John?"

"Does it matter?" she asked. Her elusiveness troubled Loomis to the core.

"Yes it does."

Mary sighed and grasped the bars of her cell with her dead fish fingers, "He's dead, Matthew. Jason Voorhees killed him at Crystal Lake."

"What?" Loomis sat back, "Why didn't you-"

"Tell you?" she laughed suddenly and smiled a dead grin of purely disparaged amusement, "Look at me Matthew! I'm dead already, my body just hasn't gotten the message. John's dead and that's it! Jason Voorhees killed him."

Loomis looked away.

"I'm sorry," he said.

"No," Mary looked to the ceiling, her eyes leaking fat, yellow tears, "I'm sorry."

Loomis took a deep breath through his mouth. The smell was getting worse.

"You called me here," he said, "Do you remember?"

"No," she frowned, her eyes looking far away, "No, why would I call you here? Did I call your friends here too?"

"You said you'd found something relevant to my work..."

"Did I?"

"Mary, are you certain of what happened to John?"

She gaped at him, "You don't believe me?"

"It's not that I don't, but-"

"You don't believe me?" she hissed, her emotions rising and falling so rapidly Loomis thought he might have been better equipped for this reunion had he brought a tranquilizer gun. She looked at him bitterly, "After what happened to your father, you're going to doubt that this happened to me?"

"I believe you," Loomis said, "I do, Mary. It's just that..."

"What?" she barked.

"They say you killed a nurse," he told her.

"I did Matthew!" she choked up and then laughed through her sobs. She looked at him in desperation and futility, her soul crushed as she said, "I killed a lot of kids last night too. Freddy Krueger did it with my mind, Matthew... all with my mind. He's inside me and he is me and I can't stop him anymore. That's the beauty of it all! I'm killing for him!"

"Mary..."

"Look at me," she wept.

Loomis felt a hard lump in his throat.

"Look at me!" she shrieked and rattled the bars of her cell, "I'm dead Matthew. And if you don't leave right now and take your friends with you, you'll be joining me soon."

"I don't understand," Loomis said as she broke down into full, shoulder jerking weeps, "Mary, you have to talk to me."

"He is back," she said suddenly, the tears glistening on her cheeks as the pale gelatin of her milky eyes stared at him, "He's back and he's going to do exactly what he did last time. He's going to use Jason to make this town remember him and then he'll come for the children. And when he's done here he's going spread like a plague across this world and avenge himself on the innocent and guilty alike, parents and children, young and old."

"But why?" Loomis frowned and sat back from the cell, "Why would he use Jason again? His last spree was a failure."

"Tell that to the dead kids, Matthew."

"He cannot control Jason."

Mary chuckled a laugh that was not her own, "He doesn't intend to control him."

"I don't understand."

"Do you think it's a coincidence you're here, right now?" Mary asked as a dark shadow crossed her dead face, "Or that your friends Lori and Will are here too?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Bait, Matthew," she tightened her grip on the bars, "I'm talking about bait. All effective traps need irresistible bait."

"He knows Jason will come here looking for him," Loomis said, beginning to slowly understand the complexity of the larger equation at hand, "He knows Jason will tear Springwood apart looking for him."

"Krueger is using himself as bait for Jason," Mary said conspiratorially. Her eyes darted back and forth, as though someone might be watching her, "But he needed someone else. He needed me to find someone to fight for him."

"Someone else?"

Mary leaned in close and whispered, "Freddy has summoned the Thorn from his sleep. He's coming here to Springwood, Matthew. Freddy will let him fight Jason."

"The Thorn," Loomis repeated, his heart freezing over as he recognized the pagan name for his greatest fear. Mary knew as much about the world of super-killers as he did. She was a library of statistics and names. If Freddy had been able to look through that library, then he would have had only one logical choice. There was only one man on this Earth who matched Jason Voorhees in terms of strength and volatility. 

The world seemed eerily quiet to him as he said the name, "Michael Myers."

***

Sean immediately spread his large hands across Tessa's fully rounded ass and firmly squeezed. Tessa moaned as she snaked her tongue out and licked his neck. Sean's dick continued to harden against her as she locked the closet door and began unbuckling his belt in the darkness. She rubbed her firm breasts against his chest as he brought his full lips to her own. His mustache tickled her nose a little as he leaned in for the kiss. He brought his mouth to hers as she moaned. She ground her lower body into his while sliding her tight stomach across his increasingly hard cock. 

She could feel heat and rock hardness against her stomach as they unbuttoned their uniforms. They kissed for a while in the shadowed privacy of the closet and feverishly groped each other. They could hear their coworkers upstairs, working hard and trying to control the crisis at hand. For a moment, they both felt guilty for fucking off on the job. There were good cops, and as anyone in the department could tell you, they were the kind of back up you never worried about. But Sean suspected that maybe they both knew the score as well as anyone else here Springwood.

Life expectancy for cops in this town was about as high as that of worm in a robin's nest. Only the children had it worse.

So Sean and Tessa exorcised their fear for a few minutes through the act of loving each other.

Finally, their shirts came off and Tessa pulled Sean's under shirt off to reveal his powerful muscular body. Tessa ran her hands over his defined pecs and smooth, flat stomach. She unhooked her bra and dropped it to the floor, pressing the silky flesh of her ample breasts against his body. She could feel Sean's cock hard and prominent between them. Tessa slid her small hands off of his neck, down his arms to his hands that were on her waist, and guided his hands to her ass. As she did this, she raised her pretty face towards his beckoning him to kiss her. Sean leaned in and kissed her passionately.

"You think we should play with your baton?" Tessa whispered sexily as she ran her finger over the length of his thick, stony nine-inch long cock. The swollen head was already poking out of the top of his boxers.

"Are you kidding?" Sean breathed and rubbed himself against her. 

Tessa moaned in response. Her sex was becoming slick and deliciously hot against the confines of her panties. As she pulled his boxers down, Sean massaged her breasts in a firm but gentle knead, twisting her nipples with his thumb and forefinger.

She smiled and heard herself purring. Between the feeling of his throbbing cock in her hand, hard and hot against the soft flesh of her palm, and the maddening teasing of her nipples she could hardly blame herself. His fingers expertly manipulated and teased her rock hard nubs, eliciting a hot shiver to arch down her spine. She started stroking his rod back and forth, squeezing and pulling as her crotch became so wet she could barely think. Sean knew just how to get to her, to make her want to scream and attack him. 

Tessa kissed him wildly as she worked his shaft. As always, her fingertips would not quite meet together as she grasped his thick member. She couldn't wait to get him inside her and ride him. Sean's cock always gave her the most intense orgasms she had ever known in her life. The combination of the stretching and impossibly hot slick friction made her clit turn into an electrified button. 




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 04



Sean caressed her shoulders with his fingertips and watched her kneel down and tilt his dick towards her full lips. The first touch of her tongue on his dick caused him to tremble. She slathered her tongue around the large, dark head of his cock. The sweet salty taste of precum energized her tongue as she lapped up the thick bubble forming at the small opening of his head.

"Keep this up and I'll blow early," he whispered as he ran his hands through her hair.

"That's the point, lover," she smiled and licked the length of his long shaft. Sean noticed that her hardened nipples were scraping against his thighs in maddening tease. She added, "That's why they call it a 'quickie'."

Tessa sucked his cock in as far as she could and began bobbing her head back and forth. Sean pulled gently at her hair as she licked and massaged him in her mouth. Her hands worked his heavy balls and shaft in a sensual pace as she mouth-fucked the first four to five inches of his cock. Tessa relaxed her throat and pushed further down until the large knob of his cock pressed against the back of her throat. Tessa released a deep lusty moan and squeezed her thighs together.

"Damn, woman," Sean groaned as Tessa pulled her lips slowly from his cock. 

His eyes began to adjust to the dark. In the dim light filtering in under the door, he could see a long rope of his precum stretched from his dick to her tongue. She then resumed her task at hand and ravaged his penis feverishly, her head jerking back and forth. Tessa could feel his dick hardening beyond what it already was, which was impressive to say the least. She knew he wouldn't be able to hold back much longer and only intensified her oral stimulation. The veins under the skin of his shaft were throbbing and bulging out now as he began to lose the battle against the orgasm.

"Fuck!" he breathed and hot semen rocketed across her face and neck. It fell to her full breasts in a long ropy string as he pumped his jizz out in powerful spurts. Sean gritted his teeth and grabbed onto the nearby aluminum shelf for support as his penis overloaded his brain. Tessa licked and lapped at his fluids, polishing off his cock to a shiny finish. She sucked his slowly deflating member into her mouth again and released it with a springy slurp.

"Your turn," Sean huffed and pulled her to him as his cum slid between their naked bodies.

***

Sheriff Williams did a double take as he looked up and saw two ghosts from the past in his doorway. 

One of the ghosts was a woman, looking as pretty and troubled as she had seemed on the day she left town two years ago. She was dressed in jeans and a sweatshirt that read "SPRINGWOOD HIGH." Her thick blonde hair was longer now, and fell over her shoulders in full waves. But her eyes still reserved that sharp intelligence and grit he knew was both a credit and a curse for her. 

Holding her hand was a tall handsome man, no longer the boy Williams remembered. His face was broad and filled with scrutiny. The eyes were filled with anger and resentment, a special kind of righteous indignation that was reserved only for the Sheriff himself, and maybe one other man. He wanted to look away from him, but knew better. After all, it was Williams who had helped seal this young man's fate to Westin Hills years ago. If he were to justify it then, he would have to stand by his decision now.

"Sheriff," Will Rollins nodded to him politely.

"Rollins," the sheriff said quietly and then looked at his companion and shook his head, "Lori."

"It's been a long time," Lori said. It had been a long time. The last time she had seen the sheriff was after she and Will returned from Crystal Lake. It was all a blur for her now, from the moment she watched the dream killer's head splash into the lake to the moment she and Will ran into the police station. Williams had almost locked them up and sent them packing to Westin Hills that night. If the sheriff had known they'd come back here again, he would have.

"Why are you here?" he asked bluntly.

"We came for the memorial service," Will replied, standing firm and straight against the sheriff. Will and the sheriff didn't care much for each other. Their mutual distaste was about as strong as the bitterness between Will and Lori's father. It was Sheriff Williams and Dr. Campbell who had committed Will to Westin Hills after he saw Freddy Krueger. Those two men had stolen years of Will's life, and it was no surprise that bad blood still ran between the three men. It was so bad in fact that Lori's father almost didn't come to their wedding, and it was only Lori's insistence that he be there that made both men put aside their differences.

"Memorial? Nobody in this town scheduled a memorial service," Williams said gruffly, "What a shitty idea."

"It's shitty to honor the dead?" Will asked.

"No," Williams eyed him, "It's a shitty way to open this town up for more bloodshed. You of all people know we have a policy against the past."

"I see," Will shrugged and closed the door behind him, "So how many kids have you locked up this time?"

"I don't understand," Lori frowned, "We received a call a couple days back that-"

"Whoever called you was pulling your damn leg, Lori."

"Somebody did call," Will insisted.

Sheriff Williams was ready to crack. 

It was hard enough to protect a normal town as it was in this day and age. Society was only getting worse for the wear, and people were disregarding the law left and right. But in Springwood, when you have killers who attack children in their sleep and there's not a goddam thing you can do about it, you have to think outside the box. Williams, his officers and the Westin Hills staff would most likely be judged before the Throne one day for what they had done, but in his mind their "preventative medicine" policies were the lesser of two evils. 

He said, "Now you listen here, you little asswipe. I have more dead kids in one night than I have had in the last two years. This shit is fallout from when you and your friend Mark broke out of Westin Hills and spread Krueger's name all over town."

"That's not true," Will said.

"Isn't it?" the sheriff shot back, "Funny how you two show up just when all this shit starts busting loose again."

"We were invited!" Will fumed, "We wouldn't have come back otherwise."

"You weren't sent back to Westin Hills on the condition you left town, kept your mouth shut and never came back," the sheriff reminded him, "And now here you are. Why am I surprised?"

"Freddy would have found a way back no matter what," Lori stepped in.

"I don't give a good goddam!" Williams shouted. 

His voice caused them both to step back a little towards the door. Lori knew now that there wouldn't be much help from the Springwood Police Department. Sheriff Williams drove this point home by pointing at them with his stogie, his eyes blazing as he said, "You think I like putting kids in Westin Hills? You think your father liked it, Lori? I have nightmares about all the poor sons of bitches still up there in comas because of Hypnocil overdoses. But I'd rather live with that then clean up two dozen dead high school seniors like I did last night."

"Sheriff, I'm sorry about those kids," Lori crossed her arms, somehow cold in her sweater and jeans, "But you have to know that covering Krueger up isn't going to work anymore. I saw local and state news crews at the roadblocks on the way over here. This is about to bust wide open, and unless we do something, Krueger will spread like a plague! It won't just be Springwood anymore."

"Containment," Williams stood up from his desk, "We've got this town locked down tight and we're going to sweep it until we find his partners."

"Partners?" Will asked, his dark features growing even darker, "Who?"

The Sheriff regarded Will coolly, "Four of my best deputies were killed last night by a large man in a hockey mask. Two of them got away, but said that the suspect was then attacked by another man in a mask and apparently killed."

"Another masked man?" Will cocked his brow.

"It's Jason," Lori looked at her husband, "He came back."

"He knows Freddy is here," Will said, "He's going to try and find him."

"Look," the sheriff pushed past them and opened the door, "I know you two enjoy this whole Scooby Doo routine, but you need to leave now."

"But Jason-"

The Sheriff glared at them and silenced them with a look. He held the door to his office open and said, "When this is done, the press will think Jason Voorhees came through here again and went crazy. He's a fucking national icon, and people will blame him faster than anyone else. We shoot him and kill him and we have the one responsible. Krueger's name never has to be mentioned. It's not a great plan, it's not a perfect plan but it's the only fucking one I have. No you two get the hell out of here before I commit your asses to Westin Hills-"

Sheriff Williams eyed Will and added, "-again."

"You cannot kill Jason Voorhees," a calm voice said from beside the Sheriff, just out of sight. They all turned and saw Dr. Loomis standing there, his hands in his pockets and looking both frightened and thoughtful, "Nor can you really kill the man who attacked him."

The Sheriff rolled his eyes, "You're still here?"

Lori smiled, eyes wide with surprise and somehow feeling safer as she looked at her psychologist. She said, "Dr. Loomis, what are you doing here?"

"I'm afraid we're all victims of very clever trap," the doctor said, "it's not a coincidence that we're all here now, in this town at this very moment.

"What?" Williams looked at him.

"Freddy Krueger?" Will asked glumly.

Loomis nodded. "Freddy Krueger."

***

Tessa had bent forward and grasped one of the support beams in the closest for leverage when the door suddenly unlocked and opened, exposing her and Sean to the harsh lighting of the basement hallway. Don Frank stood there, his eyes wide and cheeks turning red as he looked at them. Sean was all but naked while Tessa had been bold and decided to strip nude for their impromptu quickie. Sean smiled awkwardly, his cock firmly in hand and pressed against Tessa's sex. Tessa squinted, her eyes trying to adjust to Don's mortified face.

"Hey guys," Don looked away and turned his back to them. He cleared his throat and said, "Ah, we have a bit of a situation upstairs. You mind?"

"No problem," Sean said, still frozen in place and thoroughly embarrassed.

Tessa nodded, "Yeah, no problem."

There was a long moment of silence.

"Cool," Don nodded and shut the door, leaving them in darkness once more.

Tessa turned on the light and they dressed quietly, each of them consumed by their own thoughts. Both of them were beyond horny now, and Sean could sense Tessa's frustration like distortions from a large fire. He had gotten off a great orgasm, and now she would have to wait for hers. He looked to her as she buttoned up her shirt and adjusted her belt.

"When this is over," Sean whispered in her ear, "I'll make you cum so hard your toes will go numb."

"When this is over," she corrected him, "We're going to install a lock on the inside of the door."

They emerged from the utility closet a few minutes later to find Don standing at the end of the hall, still blushing and yet looking more amused now than anything. Tessa smiled politely as she walked past him and up the stairs. She held her head high and then paused, turned to him and said, "Not a word."

"My lips are sealed," Don nodded made a lock-and-key motion at the corner of his mouth. 

"Good," she slugged him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture that said she loved him but that she wouldn't hesitate to give him a new asshole if he shared the gossip. Don watched her walk up the stairs back to the holding cells and then added, "Nice tattoo, Theresa."

Tessa stopped at the top of the stairs and without looking back said, "Few men know of my Scorpio tattoo Don..."

"And so it shall remain secret," he promised, the image of the tattoo on her right buttock burned into his memory forever. Tessa left and the door slammed shut behind her with a loud echo.

Sean stood by Don and said quietly, "It's her zodiac sign."

"Yes it is," Don agreed.

"She, uh, tattooed it on her ass."

"Looks good."

"Yes it does." Sean said.

They shared a moment of both apologetic embarrassment and deep respect for the blatant defiance of regulations on the issue of sex between officers Sean and Tessa had just displayed. Don smiled broadly at him, his eyes alive with a humor Sean hadn't seen since last night. The grin was infectious and Sean felt himself smiling despite his mood. Don closed his eyes and nodded his head in unabashed approval as Sean waved him off dismissively.

"Dude," Don said.

"I know."

"If you ever got caught doing that shit..."

Sean shrugged, "I know."

They walked up the stairs and once they reached the top, but before Don pushed the door open to the squad room, he looked at Sean and motioned back towards the basement, "By the way, that was totally awesome."

Sean winked, "I know."

***

In the cell next to Mary, Mickey was in the middle of one fuck of a crazy dream.

He was standing beside the old highway in the middle of the night. The cornfields were lit up a pale blue as the ghostly full moon shined down. The night was quiet, calm and peaceful and yet filled with impending action. Something was about to happen. He could feel it. 

He saw the headlights of the van birth from the darkness at the far end of the straight away before the curve. There was a moment of disorientation as he realized he was in two places at once. He was in the van with Nicole at the same time somehow, his hand in her bra and playing with her nipple as she jerked him off. And yet he was on the roadside too, standing there, waiting for the van.

He felt different, like he wasn't himself. He felt taller than before, and when he looked at his hands, they were large and scarred with a variety of different wounds. There was a small tattoo on his wrist that resembled a thorn, and in his other hand he wielded a long knife. It was one of those big kitchen knives he had seen his mother use to carve pumpkins on Halloween, the kind that slashers used in horror movies. He could also feel his face was covered in a mask.

He felt safe in the mask, like it was his second skin. It hid his true nature and yet also hinted at it as well. From his other viewpoint in the van (now sick from the disorientating sensation of seeing himself approach himself) he saw the mask. In his mind, he heard the tires squealing against the black top as the van began to lose control He caught a glimpse of his alien face as the vehicle began to crash. It was merciless; a ghostly faded white countenance that bore no capacity for a smile. The eyes were black and sunken behind the cutout holes of the mask, only a glimmering twinkle of intelligence flashing as the headlights glared down upon him.

From his silent vigil on the road, Mickey watched the van flip over and tumble down the old freeway in a silent replay. It was a sight he never should have seen, let alone even imagine but he was seeing it anyway. Metal crunched and accordioned together with plastic as safety glass exploded and showered the night in shining slices of death. A body, one of his classmates (though he could not be sure which), flew out of the ruined doors of the van. The body arched high into the air and then slammed into the cornfield.

He saw Nicole's head, her beautiful hair caught in the wind, come out of the shattering side rear window as weight and centrifugal forces smashed her to one side. Her hair fanned open for a moment as the hulk of the van upended and then descended. He wanted to cry out, to save her but could only watch as the van slammed down and her head disappeared beneath the wreckage.

The van began to skid sideways down the road, sparking and chewing up the blacktop, and he could see a wet trail of gore behind it. He looked and saw the remains of his girlfriend's head grind up against the pavement and fly out from underneath the moving wreck in ragged chunks. Nicole's head was being ground off like a piece of meat to a belt sander. He saw a clump of her scalp fly up, her hair trailing behind and then splat on the road.

What surprised Mickey the most, as he relived the accident as both victim and murderous observer, was that as the observer, he felt no remorse or panic. There was no revulsion at the sight of the carnage or the horror of the wreck. If anything, he felt satisfaction. It was a deep black satisfaction that was both cold and hot inside his stomach. He felt his grip tighten on the handle of his knife. Beneath the second skin, his face remained as impassive and uncaring as the mask itself.

He turned and began walking to the wreck as it stopped skidding. After a moment, the back door opened and clanked to the road. He saw himself fall out of the van and roll a few feet. He saw his other self realize what the trail of wetness was behind the van. He watched his other self stagger away and towards the front of the van. But then another man appeared from the wreckage, and Mickey believed it would be Mike the driver. Instead, it was someone he had never seen before in his life, and yet it was someone he thought he recognized.

"The one that got away," the stranger said and leapt at his other self. The man had blades on his fingertips and began hacking away. Blood spattered the over-turned roof of the van and the road as he watched himself be murdered. He continued to walk forward, watching this grisly scene unfold in the dreamscape of his mind. He saw the man with knifes plunge his hand into his stomach and then rip back. Mickey saw his own intestines fly haphazardly in the air, the fleshy pink tubes spraying gore and other matter across the pavement before plopping to the ground.

"It's time," the stranger stood straight up, silhouetted by the flames of the broken van, "You have to go now."

Mickey slowly realized this was not his dream. 

He was in someone else's dream as the body that was not his moved him forward to the stranger. He felt himself raising the long kitchen knife into the air, ready for the kill. Inside this alien soul, he felt a fire burning despite the frigid glacier of his conscience. The fire was burning hotter as he meant to kill the bladed newcomer, and Mickey felt himself slowly understanding the reasons why.

"GO!" the man raged. Mickey could see the burnt face, horribly scarred and gnarled as he screamed. His hand came to bear violently and he bellowed, "Wake up!"

Mickey could feel the owner of this dream stir, as though he himself were waking up.

"Wake up!"

The man with the bladed fingers looked more like a demon now, his eyes yellow and feral. He raised his gloved hand and swiped at him with the knives. They hissed through the air and sliced the front of the blue coveralls he was wearing. Suddenly, Mickey felt himself tumbling away from the reality of the dream as he rocketed back to the real world, the world of awake. Before his eyes opened and his senses came back to him, he heard the demon laughing.

"Tell 'em Freddy sent ya!"

***

Michael Myers sat up suddenly.

The dream killer was still echoing in his mind, "Tell 'em Freddy sent ya!"

His backside was wet with morning dew. He knew that his body was cold and his arms ached. Not that it mattered to him. He himself was cold, colder than any one evening in Springwood could ever hope to be. He looked around and saw he had not been moved from his hiding spot. Thick bushes surrounded him and hid him from the streets and houses. This place reminded him of home. 

He was aware of the wounds he had bore from the one that had fought him last night. Michael worked his fingers slowly for a moment as his muscles screamed. Michael considered the masked man for a moment. He knew that the masked man should be dead and that running the pipe through his body should have ended his life. And yet, the masked man had gotten up again.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 04



Michael got to his feet and felt his mask. It was still there, the one comfort he had to take with him on his journey. Everything else was inconsequential. The mask had become a part of him, and he would no sooner leave from hiding without it than he would his clothes. The darkness inside had allowed him that one small luxury. In return for everything he was, it gave him the mask. It became him as the mask had become a part of the whole. 

Michael wondered sometimes if he was even human anymore, if he even qualified as being a man. He thought not.

The cursed doctor had known that about him from the beginning, and maybe that's why he had lasted so long. The doctor always seemed to escape. Maybe that's why the doctor was able to capture him, not once but twice. Michael still remembered the flames from the hospital that night so long ago. He could still remember his flesh being seared and burned. He still remembered the pain and agony of his immolation. And yet, he didn't care. The pain was fleeting and he knew no matter what they did, he would not die.

The darkness wouldn't let him die.

He still had work to do.

Michael pulled his mask tight and gripped his knife. It was still light out, and he would have to move carefully. He wasn't sure where he was, but he knew where he must go. He could feel the masked man already on his way there too. And Michael could feel the doctor's son presence. He could sense him like he could the others in his family. Michael supposed that was what the doctor, and now his son had become to him. They were family.

Michael was the caretaker of that family, the vessel for the work of the darkness. 

And the doctor's son would die as all the others had.

One way or another.

***

Dr. Loomis looked at the police officers around the station and then back at Lori and Will. He felt a twinge of stage fright as he looked at them all, as he saw their uncertain looks and disbelief in his words. He knew that Lori and Will understood. The expressions on their faces said it all. But the others, in particular Sheriff Williams, he doubted could be persuaded to listen. They had been functioning under a lie, under a misguided attempt to save their town. 

And now, Loomis had to tell them things were about to get worse.

"Sheriff, you have a bigger problem that just Fred Krueger and Jason Voorhees," Loomis said.

"Really?" The Sheriff leaned against his doorway, "And that would be?"

"Michael Myers," he replied, the name making him feel sick to his stomach, "Michael Myers has come to Springwood."

"The Haddonfield killer?" the Sheriff laughed, his eyes wide with disbelief, "The guy who hacks up babysitters on Halloween night? This is May for Christ's sake."

"Not just on Halloween. Not just babysitters," Loomis shook his head and thought of his father, "Many, many people have fallen under his rage over the last few decades, and he intends to kill here as well. We need more help."

"We are not going to expose this to the outside," The Sheriff hissed, now completely tired of explaining himself to civilians, "This is town business, and we're going to handle it. We can't bring outsiders into this."

"You said another man in a mask attacked Jason," Will interjected, looking dead at the Sheriff.

"Rollins," Sheriff Williams began.

"This town is going to be cattle to the slaughter, sheriff!" Loomis insisted, "Beyond what Krueger and Jason will do, Michael Myers will bleed your town to death."

"And what proof do you have he is here?" The Sheriff asked, his voice short with irritation. He looked at Will, "Other than another bumfuck running around in a mask?"

Loomis bit his lip and reached into his coat pocket. He yanked out a piece of paper, unfolded it and shoved it in the Sheriff's face. He said, "Look at him! That's the face of an inhuman monster. He's here! How many will die before you understand this?"

"I don't mean any disrespect, doctor," Williams said and took the photocopy of a black and white shot of Michael Myers face. It looked like a coroners photograph. He glanced at it and felt a chill raise goosebumps on his arms. After a moment he said, "Renaud!"

Sean stepped forward from behind the front desk, "Sir?"

"You seen this guy before?" Williams handed him the photocopy.

Sean took the copy and looked at it. "That's him."

"An eye witness," Loomis said to the sheriff.

"That's him," Sean repeated and held it up to show Don, who stood a few feet away beside Tessa. Don nodded.

"You're certain?" the sheriff asked. God, they couldn't handle one killer running lose let alone two. But to add a third?

"Positive," Sean said, "That's the fucker that tossed Jason around the road with a pipe."

"I'm sorry," Lori stepped forward and stood by Loomis, "You said he tossed Jason around?"

"He's very strong, miss," Don looked at her, "I'd bet my pension that fucked-up puck-jockey weighs over two-fifty, and this guy lifted him like he was a ballerina."

"Goddamit," Williams shook his head. He placed his hands on his belt and thought for a moment, consumed in silent acceptance. Sean Renaud was not a man given to hysteria or mistakes. Williams might have expected someone else to be more confused after the slaughter last night, but not Renaud. If the man said he saw Michael Myers, then he was telling the truth. He turned to Loomis, "All right. Myers is here. But you said we're all victims of a trap. Care to explain?"

"The memorial service," Loomis said to Lori, "When did you first hear about it?"

"The day I saw you last," Lori said, "That morning Charlie Linderman's mom called me up and said there'd be a memorial service for the massacre."

"Sheriff, does this Linderman woman still live here?" Loomis asked.

"No," Williams frowned, "She moved after her kid died."

"Then who called me?" she asked.

"Freddy Krueger did," Loomis said flatly and motioned back to the holding cells, "Through my ex-wife, Mary. He's inside her."

There was silence around the office.

Loomis sighed, "Don't you see? Freddy Krueger has been playing everyone here from day one. He waited until someone was stupid enough to go to Crystal Lake, the place where he was separated from his physical body during his fight with Jason. He needed a host to do his work for him. He possessed Mary like a demon would and used her to set these events in motion. He wanted Lori and Will to come back to Springwood, as he wanted Jason to come back. He manipulated them and tricked them into coming here, as I was tricked into coming here. He'll use Jason to stir up trouble and make people remember."

"And Michael Myers is his insurance?" Will ventured as he sat down on one of the desks.

Loomis nodded, "He knows he can't fight Jason and win. So Michael will do it for him."

"This shit is crazy," Tessa whispered to Don under her breath.

"Yes it is," Loomis agreed, startling Tessa. She hadn't imagined the doctor would be able to hear her, but apparently he had the ears of an eagle. He said, "I believe that Freddy Krueger cannot stay in Springwood anymore. He won't. Between Jason and Michael, he'll expose your local secret to the world. Everyone will know his name and people will fear him... and then we're all dead."

"Why bring us back?" Lori asked, "Why go to all that trouble?"

"You and Will defeated him," Loomis said, "Do you honestly believe he's beyond revenge?"

"Then why bring you here?" Sean asked, his powerful arms crossed over his chest, "Why bring people here who could figure out his game?"

"I'm bait, officer," Loomis sighed, "Bait for Michael Myers."

"And how do you know all this again?" Tessa asked. Her face was like everyone else in the room, shocked and filled with disbelief.

"Mary told me so."

And then a scream let out from the holding cells, high pitched and agonizing.

***

Sean and Tessa arrived first, their boots skidding across the concrete floor and mouths wide open as they beheld the horror before them. Mary, the crazy bitch Tessa picked up by the lake, had reached through her cell and grabbed the kid from the van wreck. She lifted him up in the air by his hair, his body pulled against the bars tight as he screamed. Mary stood on her cot and lifted him higher off the ground. The kids' boots were banging against the bars in hollow thumps as he tried to shake her grip.

"What in the name Christ?" Williams shouted as he came up behind the two deputies. He fell into the same shocked stupor that seized Sean and Tessa as Mary turned her head and faced them, her eyes glazed over and her grin pulled back like some insane clown. She laughed out loud, but her voice was deep and animalistic. It echoed through their ears as she held the boy out with her hand, his hair pulled tight in her balled up fist.

"What's the matter?" she asked in her demonic man's voice, "Something wrong?"

"What the fuck?" Will said from behind them as he, Lori and Loomis stepped into the cell room.

Mary regarded Will with a predatorial cock of her head, "It's the Westin Hills refugee..."

She looked at Lori and sneered, "... and the bitch..."

And then she looked to Loomis. Mary chuckled, "... and the good doctor..."

"Freddy," Lori whispered.

"In the flesh, so to speak," Mary spoke for Freddy as she raised her right hand in the air. The blades exploded from her fingers, defying the laws of physics and reality right in front of them. Blood and rotted flesh fell to the floor as the knives glistened in the harsh lighting of the room.

"My errand boys will be here soon," Freddy warned them. Mickey was crying now, his hands still batting at the merciless grip of the possessed Mary Stilfreeze. Freddy raised his hand to strike and Sean pulled his gun faster than the eye could follow.

"Don't," he said softly, his eyes focused and stance steady as a rock, "Put the boy down."

"Or what?" Freddy laughed defiantly, "You'll kill me?"

"If I have to."

"Listen up, dickwad," Freddy spat at him and took his bladed index finger to Mary's head. He cut a long line down the middle of her face, from the top of her scalp to her chin. The crimson line was thin at first, and then it began to split open. Gleaming raw muscle flexed in the opening as her face split apart. Tessa pulled her gun and aimed. She stifled her gag reflex as the countenance of Mary Stilfreeze slid off her skull in a slimy mess. Lori gasped and grabbed Will's arm. The pale white flesh fell away into separate sloughs of dead skin and meat. Blood trickled down her body and soaked her stolen uniform as the reborn, angry face of Freddy Krueger glared at them.

"How can you kill someone who's already dead?" Freddy asked.

"Oh my God," Loomis stood there, utterly shell-shocked as he watched what was left of his ex-wife wither and die.

"Let's find out," Tessa said and fired.

Sean followed her cue and they fired several shots at Krueger. The bars sparked and the room filled with deafening noise as the dead man in his woman suit recoiled slightly from the rounds. Freddy grinned and raised his glove again, looking at Mickey like the cat that ate the canary. Mickey's skull rebounded off the bars as Freddy yanked him hard against the cell.

"Open the damn doors!" William shouted, his paralysis broken.

"Fuck this shit," Sean growled. He put his hand to Tessa's arm, ceasing her fire and ran up to the cell door. He shoved his gun between the bars and fired. The bullet caught Freddy in the left eye and blew the back of his skull out. His brains slid down the cinderblock wall in a lumpy wet mess. Freddy swayed for a moment in a dead man's lull. His one good eye looked at Sean and then winked as he rammed his blades into Mickey's back. The boy howled and gurgled as the knives pierced his lungs and severed his spinal cord. Mickey convulsed and then went limp as blood spilled from his mouth.

"Looks like you fucked up," Freddy guffawed, "AGAIN!"

"Goddamit!" Sean unloaded his magazine into Krueger. 

The killer staggered back against the wall and dropped Mickey to the floor. The kid fell in a broken heap, his head smashing on the ground and fracturing his skull. Tessa came up and fired her remaining rounds into Freddy's convulsing body. Her lips drew back into a hateful snarl and she found herself screaming as she repeatedly squeezed her trigger. No one deserved to die like this, especially not a kid like Mickey. The casual manner in which Krueger had committed this murder angered the deepest recesses of her heart.

"Enough!" Williams yelled above the acrid gun smoke and deafening blasts. He put his hands on their shoulders, "Enough, you got him!"

They all stood there in silence as their ears rang from the blasts, staring at the bloody heap that had once been a woman named Mary Stilfreeze. Loomis felt tears threatening his eyes as he realized she was gone. Any illusions of reconciliation or of mending their broken marriage was gone, the fine thread of their relationship cut by the blades on Freddy Krueger's right hand. 

Everything she was and everything she had known was lost. He felt remorse over his hate towards her, and now found himself wishing he said something more to her. He wished he could have comforted her instead of grilling her. He wished more than anything else he could find a way to bring her back.

"Oh dear God," he whispered and put his hand to his mouth.

"Fuck you," Sean spit at Krueger's body, or rather the grotesque, smoking hybrid of Krueger and Mary.

Lori buried her face in Will's chest. He held her close and tried to comfort her as he looked away from the bloody holding cell. He knew it would never end. If he had ever needed proof of that, this was it. Freddy had wanted them back so bad he used this poor woman to do it. He would follow them, or he would dupe some fucker worse that he was to do it for him. Freddy, Jason and even Michael. It didn't matter anymore. Their lives had been trapped in Springwood since they were kids, and Springwood would not let them go now.

"What are we going to do?" Lori asked.

Will looked to Dr. Loomis and reached out with his free hand. He grasped the doctor's shoulder and met his eyes. He said, "Doctor, he's not dead."

Loomis looked at the Krueger/Mary abomination on the floor, still jerking and mewling. "I agree."

"Listen up!" Williams shouted. His remaining deputies, Sean, Tessa, Don and the four other cops in the hall behind Will and Lori snapped to attention, "We're going to sweep this town from one end to the other. Find those two assholes and shoot them on sight."

"Guns won't do it, Sheriff," Loomis stood in his way, "You're treating them as though they're human."

"Let's see how your friend Myers recovers from having his head blown off by a twelve-gauge shot gun," Williams dismissed him and walked out of the holding cell room. That was it. End of story. Sean and Tessa looked at each other doubtfully as they followed him. Sean looked at Loomis and warned him from pursuing it any further, "Let it go, doc. We'll find them, okay?"

"You're making a terrible mistake," Lori said.

"Either way, we have to find them," Tessa said and left the room.

"Officer Renaud," Loomis called.

Sean turned as he ejected the empty magazine from his gun. "Yeah?"

"All of your bullets didn't stop them," he said, "Six good cops couldn't stop them. How many have tried as you will now? How many have failed?"

Sean slapped the new magazine in and chambered a round, "I won't fail."

***

"We'll go in groups of two," Williams told his deputies as they loaded their guns and looked to him for guidance. Every policeman, at some point in his or her career, faced a challenge that was overwhelming, a no win scenario. Often, being the consummate 'Star Trek' nut that he was, Don would call it the Kobyashi Maru Test. The time had come for Williams to face that test, and he was determined not to let his subordinates down. He was determined not to let this town die, the town that had looked to him to protect their children.

"Sir?" Don spoke up.

"Deputy Frank?"

"What if Loomis is right?"

Williams shook his head, "No one can survive his head being blown off, Don."

"Freddy Krueger survived his head being chopped off," Tessa said. She hadn't thought she would say anything until her mouth opened and the words came out just then. She believed the doctor, and she knew that they weren't playing the typical game of good guys vs. the bad guys anymore. This was Freddy's game now. This was Freddy Krueger vs. the world. His rules, his game. 

"Tessa," Williams pointed at her, about to give the lecture about following orders and doing what you're damn well told when he abruptly stopped. Everything was in slow motion for him as he saw Sean's eyes go wide. The deputy was reaching for his sidearm and aiming apparently right at him. It looked like his deputy was about to shoot him.

"Renaud? What the-"

"Behind you!" Sean bellowed. 

Williams spun on his heel. Even before he completed the turn, he felt the presence of the man behind him. He looked up into the cold dead eyes of Jason Voorhees and smelled the stink of death on the killer's breath filtering through the holes of his mask. Williams heard a gun fire and even saw the spray of Jason's own blood mist in the air, but he no longer cared. The machete plunged into his stomach, the sharp side up and punched out his backside. He tried to scream and slammed his fists against the massive torso of the killer's body. But his strength ebbed and the world faded away. He was dimly aware of Jason leaning down and then the sensation of cold air blowing on his insides. With a mighty and violent jerk, Jason split Sheriff Williams open from the center of his stomach to the crook of his neck.

Blood geysered to the ceiling and cooked on the light panels as Williams stood for a moment longer before realizing he was dead. Jason raised the bloody machete high above his head, raining blood down on his prey. The sheriff felt his body split and fall apart in two halves with a squelching rip. His internal organs spilled out onto the floor as gore spewed the deputies and coated the bullpen. Williams last image burned into his mind as he watched Jason Voorhees look down at him and then step on his face. His skull cracked and the Sheriff was no more.

"MOTHER FUCKER!" Sean opened fire, as did the rest of the officers around him. Jason staggered back as countless rounds drilled into his body like rain from a metal storm. Tessa had to fight the rage inside her at what she had just seen as she steadied her aim and fired at his head. Her first shot went wide as Jason recoiled from a shotgun blast to the thigh. She aimed again and then was knocked forward as one of the deputies behind her crashed into her back. It was Carl Buechner and his weight was too much too fast for her to deal with. She fell flat on her stomach, the hefty policeman pinning her down as her right ankle twisted and exploded in pain.

"Carl!" she yelled over the hail of gunfire, "What the fuck?!"

She looked at him and then stopped shouting. She realized he wouldn't respond no matter how much she yelled at him. His neck was opened wide in a violent slash and spurting blood on her.

"Tessa!" Sean spun around and then froze.

From the shadows of the break room came the ghostly face of Michael Myers. He stood there, studying them for a moment. Sean felt his body unfreeze and fired his gun, hitting Myers in the shoulder. He seemed unaffected as he brought his blade up. Another officer, Rod Higgins, rushed Michael in a full on tackle. Myers was carried backwards and to the wall, but not before he stabbed the knife into Higgins lower back. The man cried out as Michael withdrew the knife and then lodged it in Higgins skull. The officer twitched and then moved no more.

Jason moved forward and batted the other two deputies out of the way with his machete. Sean screamed and ducked down to his knees as their bodies flew apart. A man's torso rocketed over his head and drenched him in sticky fluids and blood. He could hear the heavy wed thuds of body parts on the carpet, a sound that reminded him of a big load of laundry being dropped. He felt himself losing it, losing his cool as he shoved the dead cop off of Tessa. He steeled himself and channeled his fear and his anger into moving the dead man.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 04



A hand fell on his shoulder. Sean spun and almost blew Will Rollins head off. He jerked back and held his hands up. He shouted, "Is there a back door?!"

"Through the holding room!" Sean grabbed Tessa and lifted her up. "Help me!"

"Fucker twisted my damn leg," she winced as Will and Sean braced her up on her good foot, her arms slung over their shoulders. She looked and saw Myers was getting up again, finished with his assailant and his death stare fixed on them. She turned her head and shouted, "Don! Move your ass! We're out of here!"

"Go!" Don squeezed off a shot at Jason, backing up slowly towards the front desk as the killer relentlessly pursued him. The huge man flipped desks over and sent them crashing into the walls as he followed Don. Sean realized that Don was about to buy them escape time by sacrificing himself. Sean was ready to hand Tessa off to Will and go back for him when Don yelled, "Don't fuckin' sass me, Sean! Just go!"

"Come on!" Will shouted and grabbed Sean by the wrist, "There's nothing you can do!"

With one last look at their best friend, Sean and Tessa led them back into the hall away from the carnage. They managed to get into the holding room without falling as Michael followed, slowly pursuing them and wasting no energy. Lori and Loomis were waiting there, trying to open the exit to the basement level. He looked to Will and said, "Shut the door."

Will released Tessa to Sean and ran back to the door. He slammed it shut and it clicked in place just as Michael Myers arrived. He looked at Will through the small window of shatterproof glass in the heavy door, head cocked to one side. He could feel Myers trying to open the door as those dead eyes marked him for death. They were like a sharks eyes, going obsidian black at the scent of blood. Will wanted to run, but found himself momentarily hypnotized by the killer's impassive stare.

Behind Michael, further down the short hall that connected the front office with the holding cells, he saw Don fire his last shot at Jason. It had no effect. The deputy valiantly brought the butt of the shotgun up and smashed it into the killer's face. In a last ditch effort, he slammed the butt into Jason's chest. But Jason was unmoved. He grabbed the deputy by the head and began squeezing. Will cringed as he heard the man cry out. Don's eyes burst with blood and his skull shattered under the vice-grip of Jason Voorhees.

"Jason got the deputy!" Will turned to Sean, who was now unlocking the exit door. The lock was sticking, and Sean wondered if Freddy hadn't somehow arranged that too. He looked up, his eyes glassy and angry. He thought he might say something, but then glanced down and went back to the lock.

'Goodbye Don,' Sean grieved.

Will turned back to the window and saw Michael Myers was gone. He pressed his face to the glass and tried to peer around the bloody front office of the Springwood Police Department. Bodies were everywhere, and the once gray and blue décor of the building was now red and dripping. Beyond one of the overturned desks he saw the body of Deputy Frank twitching and convulsing.

The door thumped under Jason's fist and Will staggered backwards, slipping in the combined blood of Mary Stilfreeze and Mickey. He landed on his ass and Lori came to him. What amazed him about Jason was how stealth-like the killer could be despite his size. 

"You alright?" Lori asked and jumped as the door thumped again. Jason was on the other side, his hand pounding the thick metal door. WHAM!

"Can he get through there?" Will asked as they stood up.

WHAM!

"That's a steel door," Tessa said as she leaned against the cell Mickey's body was in, "I don't think so." 

WHAM!

The door bent inward as the hinging moaned against the silent fury of the Jason Voorhees.

"What about the door frame?" Loomis asked.

WHAM! WHAM!

"Fuck me," she gaped at the door as it began to give way. The metal and wood doorframe began to splinter and crack under Jason's attack.

"Got it!" Sean shouted as the exit door unlocked and swung open. He went to Tessa and braced her against himself. He said to the others, "This leads to the basement and the emergency exit. Once outside, we bolt for my car, got it?"

WHAM!

The door suddenly popped from its hinges and fell forward with an earsplitting crack and deafening impact. Loomis grabbed Lori and Will, "Time to go."

They descended into the long tile and concrete hallway of the basement, led by Sean and Tessa. Loomis could hear Jason following them, and suddenly wondered about Michael. Why wasn't he following? He was thankful that he wasn't, but he knew that Michael Myers was not so easily thrown off from his prey. Lori followed close behind him, her hand on his back and Will bringing up the rear.

"It's just ahead," Sean called back and then stopped suddenly.

"What is it?" Will shouted.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me!" Tessa groaned and pointed.

Michael Myers was blocking the open exit, blade in hand and slowly walking towards them. He had gone around the outside of the building. He had known they would try this.

"Fuck you!" Tessa screamed at him.

"Back!" Sean ordered, shoving Loomis into Lori and Will as he squeezed Tessa past them in the narrow passage. He turned and saw Jason at the other end of the hall. The behemoth blocked the entire width of the corridor, like some freak Frankenstein's Monster. Sean felt his heart sink as he realized they were trapped. He pulled his gun and readied himself.

"The armory," Tessa said suddenly.

Sean looked over his shoulder. The door to the armory was further down the hall, back towards Jason. There was no exit from there, but if they could get in, they might have a better chance of making a stand. He licked his lips and held Tessa tight. He handed his gun to Will, who looked at it like he was holding a live snake.

"It won't bite," Sean told him and said, "Take up the rear and keep that fucker at the exit. Tessa, blast Gretsky's fucking face off. Let's go!"

Will ushered Lori up between him and Loomis as they ran back towards Jason. Tessa fired and hit Jason in the leg. She kept aiming for his knees, but the jerking around from being carried by Sean was fucking with her aim. The bullets zinged and rebounded off the tile walls, shattering the concrete beneath in small clouds of dust. Jason, for his part, kept coming. Sean grunted and flipped through his key ring as they neared the door to the armory. He looked and saw Jason was only twenty feet away now. He glanced back down the hall and saw Michael was closing in on them fast.

Will squeezed the trigger and wasn't ready for the kickback of the gun. His hand jumped back and the shot went high and wide. Michael paused and looked at the ceiling where the bullet had punched through. He then started forward again, his knife raised high. Will steadied himself and brought the gun up, squinting his eye and aiming as best he could. He had never handled a gun before and prayed against his inexperience that he wouldn't miss again. He didn't. The second shot blew a patch of Michael's coveralls away from his right arm. The killer recoiled, looked at the wound and then snapped his head back at Will.

"Shit," Will growled and fired again. Behind him, Tessa had fired her last round at Jason. Loomis could feel his eardrums ready to pop from the deafening blasts.

"I'm dry!" she shouted and ejected the empty cartridge. It clattered to the floor and lay with the spent brass shell casings. 

Sean unlocked the door and it swung wide open. He tossed Tessa into the armory with one strong shove. She landed hard and skidded across the floor. He felt bad for being so rough, but there was no time for tenderness or tact. Sean grabbed Loomis by the back of his trench coat and pulled hard, "Let's go!"

"Will!" Lori shouted at her husband as Sean grabbed her by the waist and pulled her inside, "Come on!"

Jason's machete whistled by her face and sparked off the metal doorframe, inches from her nose. Lori screamed, lost her balance and fell backwards as Jason stood poised for the kill. Will turned and saw his wife tumble into the hallway. He saw her hit the ground and roll as Jason stood over her, his blood stained machete raised high. In the gleam from that bloody weapon, Will Rollins found a sudden crisp clarity. He felt a calm come over him and all his doubts purge from his mind. All his questions fell silent to the fact that Lori would die here if he didn't act.

He felt the fear leave his body, even as Michael Myers walked up behind him, his boots strangely loud in the calm. He was suddenly aware of everything around him. He could hear Tessa reloading her gun and he could hear Sean going for another weapon, anything he could use to save Lori. Will even heard Loomis shouting for Lori to get up and run, his heart thundering in his chest as he knew there was nothing he could do for her now. And Loomis was right. There truly was nothing he could do for her.

But Will could do something.

Will gritted his teeth and charged forward, summoning all the rage he could muster from the bottom of his soul. He brought forth his imprisonment at Westin Hills and the death of his best friend at Freddy Krueger's hands. He remembered the people Jason had killed two years ago, and he brought to mind the innocent lives taken. He saw Kia, Lori's friend who bought them time to escape by distracting Freddy only to see her life end on Jason's blade. Her remembered Linderman who tried to save Kia by attacking Jason as Will did now. He remembered Freeburg the stoner, cut in half by Jason in the halls of the ward. He remembered Mark and let loose. Their voices called to him, demanding he not let Lori die.

She would not die here tonight.

Lori looked up, flat on her back and saw Jason ready to strike.

Lori screamed.

"Jason!" Will bellowed.

The killer turned. 

Will rammed into him and bear hugged him with all his might as their feet left the ground and kicked in the air. They toppled over, not because Will was stronger or weighed more than him, but because Jason had been distracted. He had been off his guard just long enough for Will to make his move. They fell into a tangled heap as Jason's machete slid away from his grasp. Will looked over his shoulder and saw Loomis reach out and grab Lori.

"Lori!" Loomis shouted, "You must come quickly!"

"Will!" she screamed, her voice breaking as she struggled to stand up and help her husband. It was then that Sean joined Loomis and together they yanked her into the armory. Once she was inside, Will turned to Jason.

Straddling the killer, Will brought his clenched fist up and slammed it into Jason's throat as hard as he could. Jason tensed and then backhanded Will hard and sent him flying. Will felt his nose break as he landed hard on the unforgiving floor, his eyes unfocused and sparkling with stars. He looked and saw Michael Myers was almost on them. He saw Lori scrambling to get to him as Loomis and Sean held her back. He would have thanked them if he could, but realized that Jason's blow had damaged his throat somehow. He couldn't talk. 

Michael Myers arrived and reached out for him.

He looked at Lori, his eyes focused just long enough for him to stand and slam the door shut to the armory. She was screaming, fighting at Sean and Loomis. He had no doubt it was taking both of them to restrain her. Will noticed the keys were still in the door lock. He locked it and looked through the small window in the door, cross-hatched with thin black support wire.

He could hear Jason's machete scraping on the floor in a metal whisper as the killer picked it up.

"I love you," he mouthed and let everything go. 

He saw Lori crying, screaming for him as she ran to the locked door and pulled on the handle. He could feel Jason and Michael bearing down on him, their breathing methodical and eerily sedate for the act of murder. He could have focused on the pain to follow, but instead closed his eyes and pictured Lori as she had been when they got married. She was dressed in white, her blonde hair lit by golden afternoon sun and her eyes focused on him and only him. 

He used to wonder why moments like that stuck. And now he knew.

It was for times like this.

Will put his hand to the window and looked away as Jason's machete caught him in the shoulder and Michael's blade sunk into his left flank. The pain dulled after an eternity and he fell away into the light.

***

In the hallway, as the body of Will Rollins fell to the floor and lay between Jason and Michael in pool of blood, they paused. The two killers were silent for a minute, each of them studying the other and preparing for the fight. Outside, thunder rolled loudly and shook the foundations of the building. Michael could hear the other people in the room, screaming and knocking things over. He could feel their fear. But he also felt the rage from this masked killer. 

Michael gripped his knife and his knuckles cracked. 

Jason made the first move. He stepped over Will's corpse and brought his machete down hard. Michael raised his blade, the knife laid flat against his arm and blocked the blow. It dented the knife and reverberated through his body as the two deadly metal weapons sparked off each other. Michael wasted no time and stabbed the knife into Jason's shoulder where it lodged in a nerve ending. Jason's hand spasmed and he dropped the machete to the floor.

Michael felt his opponents' powerful hand on his shoulders as Jason spun him across the hall and slammed him into the wall. The ceramic tiles shattered and cracked under the force of the impact. Michael counter gripped Jason's thick arms and returned the favor in full. Jason collided with the opposite wall, destroying tile and concrete. Wicked cracks opened up to the ceiling as they smashed each other into the walls again and again.

Jason lashed out and caught Michael under the chin with his hand, trying to crush his face as he had done the policeman upstairs. But Michael brought his hands to Jason's head and matched his move. Blood squirted from both their eyes as the pressure built up in their stalemate. Finally, Jason relented and settled on grabbing his attackers arms again. He pulled them away slowly, their strength being tested to the maximum limits. Michael's arms burned under the power of Jason's fury, but he would not relent. 

***

Inside the armory, Lori slid down the door and slumped to the ground. 

Her eyes would not stop crying. She wanted to find the strength to carry on, to stand up and help her friends, but it was as though her heart had been cleaved in two. It was like Jason's blade had cut her into two pieces as well when he killed Will. Her Will. The man she had loved since she first knew what love was. The man who had come back for her, who had broken out of Westin Hills and come to her just to see if she was safe. The man who had stood by her against Freddy and Jason two years ago and had not left her side since. The man she had committed her life to, her lover and the only one true friend she had left.

He was dead and lying outside this very door. He had given his life to save hers, so she would survive. As much as she wanted to join him right then, she knew she owed it to him to live. She wiped her eyes and gathered her resolve. As she listened to the battle outside between the two murderous titans, she wondered if Will had considered what her life was without him?

"Lori," Loomis knelt by her and put his arm around her, "Please, come away from the door."

Lori quietly stood up, her spirit broken beyond repair for the moment as the doctor led her to workbench where Sean and Tessa had been not more than a half hour prior, cleaning and loading guns. Now, Sean was sitting on the floor with Tessa checking her leg for any breaks. He looked up briefly at Loomis, his eyes filled with genuine concern for Lori. 

"You got it under control, man?" he asked softly.

Loomis sat Lori down on one of the stools, "As much as one can."

Sean nodded gravely and turned back to Tessa, "I don't think anything is broken, baby..."

"I'll be okay," she gritted her teeth and Sean worked her leg over, stretching and bending her joints, "Just hurts like a mother fucker."

"I'll bet," Sean said.

The wall shook again under another impact. Dust wafted down lazily from the ceiling.

"Jesus," Tessa whispered.

"I think we need all the help we can get from Jesus right now," Sean muttered and helped her to her feet. He supported her and led her to the stool by Lori. She kissed Sean on the cheek and then turned to Lori. The young girl was looking off into nothing, more a shell than a person. Tessa opened her mouth to speak but could find no words. So instead of trying to talk to her, she simply put her arm around Lori. To her surprise, Lori leaned against her and rested her head on Tessa's shoulder. 

Sean tapped Loomis on the back, "You ever fire a gun, doc?"

"Once," Loomis remembered dismally, "My father tried to show me when I was a boy. I'm afraid I never got the knack for it."

"I believe in second chances," Sean handed him a large shotgun and a box of shells, "You'll do fine."

"Deputy?" Loomis followed him to the far side of the armory. Sean felt for his keys as he went to unlock the storage for the handguns. With a mournful look to the entry, he remembered that he left them in the door and cursed himself for being so careless. But then, when Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers are coming for you, can you really expect to remember every little detail? Sean slammed his hand against the metal locker and looked around. "Fuck!" 

"Deputy?" Loomis repeated and sat the shotgun down on the table in the middle of the room.

"Yeah?" Sean said absently, deep in thought.

"We have to come up with a plan," Loomis said, "Our only hope of surviving this and containing this situation will be to catch those two."

Sean looked up, sweat pouring down his dark skin. His full lips curled into a wry half smile, "Did you hit your head?"

"Not at all," Loomis said.

"Are you high?" he asked and leaned back against the workbench, "Would you like something to help you think more clearly?"

"We can't kill them, deputy."

"No fucking joke," Sean laughed and then lowered his voice to a whisper, "But listen here. I just watched everyone in this department get cut down like tall grass, including my best friend. That little girl's husband just got cleaved in two and let me tell you right now I'm not waiting around to see who's next for the chop. You got that?"

The wall shook again, and this time Sean heard the concrete crack and give way a little. If the fight outside lasted much longer, they'd all have ringside seats to their own deaths.

"That's precisely why we have to catch them," Loomis ignored the thunderous fight outside the armory, "No matter what, people will know what happened here. But maybe if we catch them, the world will do exactly what your sheriff wanted and blame them for it, not Freddy."

"We're gonna get in that squad car," Sean said smoothly, "We're gonna get the fuck out of here and call the goddam military. Saturation napalm bombing is what I'm thinking. End of story."

"Have you learned nothing?!" Loomis shouted and shoved Sean back against gun locker. He could feel his cheeks burning hotly as his normally calm demeanor slipped. He said, "Bullets only make them angrier. It's not that they're tough to kill, deputy. They can't be killed. Whatever evil drives them won't let them die! Freddy Krueger isn't dead and neither are they. They'll never die. They're the masks evil wears to do it's bidding. Wake up!"

Sean took absolutely zero shit from people. He had conditioned himself to be that way his whole life. Little as he tolerated from people back talking and jiving him, putting hands on his body in anger was a fatal mistake. Despite this, Sean felt a calm over his soul. Considering he and Loomis both knew Sean was stronger and faster, the bold move on the doctor's part to get his attention somehow clarified the reality of their situation and their relationship. 




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 05



A NIGHTMARE REBORN: FREDDY VS. JASON 2

 CHAPTER 05

BASED UPON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:

Wes Craven: A Nightmare on Elm Street

Victor Miller: Friday the 13th

John Carpenter: Halloween

Victor Salva: Jeepers Creepers

Clive Barker: Candyman, Hellraiser

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS: 

Sean Renaud, Tessa Alexander and Miriam Belle

EDITOR:

Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

-"This chapter is a little longer than usual, but I had a lot to fit in. And, as always any kids in the story are eighteen or just turned eighteen. Enjoy!" –bluefox07

***

THE CENTER DOES NOT HOLD...

Sunday, May 15th, 2005

"Fuck yes... just like that," Heather Craven moaned against the back seat of her boyfriend's SUV as he pounded her from behind, his cock stretching her ass out with each powerful thrust. Her tits swayed back and forth as they fucked, his hand slapping her ass like he was some kind of cowboy busting in a wild bronco. 

"You fucking love it," Corey Cunningham growled through his gritted teeth as he slammed her. He slapped her ass again hard, a growing red welt forming on her left cheek from his enthusiastic encouragement. He looked down at his body, twisting and working like a powerful, well-oiled machine. His cock rapidly sped in and out of her like one of the pistons in the engine of his beloved vehicle. He was almost as turned on by his own body as he was by Heather's shapely figure.

They had pulled off the interstate into Elm Grove and parked in the bushes near the end of the long back road called Saxon Avenue. Cars and semi-trucks ran busily on the hillside above them as they went about their business, the vehicle rocking back and forth in the rainy afternoon. The plan had initially been to go back to his place in Springwood but when they hit the roadblock, it was back to Elm Grove. This would have been fine except for the fact that Heather's mom and dad were home and fucking in her bedroom would have been a death wish.

They had been gone since last night, camping on a dare to Crystal Lake. Corey had never turned down a dare in his life, but when Mickey Terrell challenged him to go camping at Crystal Lake for one night, he had been hesitant. Camp Blood was aptly named, and Corey knew that going there was like putting a gun in your mouth to play Russian Roulette, only instead of one loaded round you used all six. But, being the guy he was Corey also had an image to maintain. He couldn't have the entire senior class thinking he was a pussy.

The night had turned out to be uneventful, if anything colder than usual. Both he and Heather had expected Jason Voorhees to come after them with his machete and hack them up but it never happened. Corey kept telling himself it was all legend and urban mythology. But he knew what had happened there two years back during his sophomore year. He remembered hearing about how they had found two seniors, Charlie Linderman and Kia Waterson there dead. Linderman, one of the biggest geeks ever to walk the halls of Springwood High had been found with a nasty puncture wound in his back. Kia was found nearly cut in half and with the base of her skull cracked.

He had always wondered why the popular "it" girl was found dead with the class nerd. A lot of rumors and speculation floated around, but in the end no one really had any answers. It was a shame. Corey had really liked Kia, and she had liked him. They had spent a lot of time making Linderman's life a living hell. Corey had even come to believe that if Kia hadn't died at Camp Blood, she might've even slept with him. She was always flirting with him, and he couldn't bring himself to believe that she would see Charlie Linderman over him.

It had to be some crazy fluke. Hell, for all anyone knew all those rumors about Jason Voorhees might've just been to cover up the fact that Linderman went ape shit out there and tried to kill Kia. Corey had always believed it was the quiet ones you had to watch out for, and Linderman had been fairly quiet. But then he also wasn't very strong either, and cleaving someone to the point of dismemberment takes more than a little strength.

Still, Jason Voorhees or not Corey and his girlfriend went to Camp Blood anyway. He was so scared of bumping into the infamous killer he "borrowed" his father's shotgun and hid it in his sleeping bag. Normally, being alone with Heather would have meant a round of sexual Olympics, but his anxiety was so high his penis was about as rigid as a bowl of pudding. Heather wouldn't close her eyes at all as they waited in the tent, not really sleeping but rather frozen solid in fear.

Heather had only gone along with it because, like Corey, she also had an image to maintain. The captain of the football team was fearless, and by God so should be the head of the cheerleading squad. When six o' clock that morning rolled around, they had both packed up and gotten the hell out of there. The mist was thick and viscous when they left, and neither of them had said a word until they were safe from the lake and back on the interstate heading from Springwood.

As proof of their visit to Camp Blood, Corey had climbed up onto the roof of one of the cabins and grabbed an old wooden sign. The words "Crystal Lake" were routed into the waterlogged and moldy wood, but it was still clearly legible. He had only seen it because a squirrel had squeaked in the tree branches above him and scared the shit of him. Following the jump and tumble of his knee-jerk reaction he spied the corner of the old sign and made it a point to grab it. Now, the sign was under the back seat of the SUV along with their camping gear and most of their clothes.

"Go easy baby," Heather grunted as he slapped her ass again.

Corey smiled and rammed his rod in harder. This was their victory fuck, a celebration of not having been killed. He intended to enjoy it, whether she did or not.

Then, from out of the culvert that ran under the width of the four lane interstate came a hulking, dark figure. It was dripping wet and wheezing in the rainy air, wisps of steam rolling off the tattered clothes. Carrion breath escaped from powerful lungs in heavy puffs of thick mist. Impassive eyes regarded the rocking vehicle carefully, studying it as the hulk quietly came up along the passenger side of the vehicle.

Jason Voorhees slowly looked into the fogged over window and saw with his keen eyes the broad backside of a young man. The boy's buttock's were flexing and unflexing rapidly as his hips thrusted and pounded the girl in front of him. Jason knew what they were doing. He had seen it many times before. It was always a curiosity to him, the animalistic nature of their habits.

He only really associated it with the bad thing the counselors had been doing when he drowned so long ago. This was what they had been doing when he died. This was what had been far more important than a little boy drowning. Jason remained still as he felt the anger stir inside him. In truth, it wasn't just his rage but the rage of his mother as well.

It was a righteous anger.

He then saw something sticking out from under the seat on which the girl braced herself. He recognized the mold and woodwork of the Camp Crystal Lake entry sign. It was the sign he had torn from the posts that greeted counselors and children to the lake. He had launched it away from him and watched it land on the roof of one of the cabins. There it had remained for years. The rage boiled inside him as he contemplated it. His eyes shifted back to the boy as his lips peeled away from rotted teeth behind his hockey mask. 

Jason gripped the handle of his machete.

"Fuck yeah, bitch," Corey shouted, his voice loud even though muted through the glass. Jason cocked his head, understanding the significance of the domineering attitude and yet perplexed as to why the girl was remotely aroused by it. Jason unsheathed his machete and thought of the sign again. They had been to the lake. They had violated the special place that only he and his mother knew. And they had stolen from him.

"You like that, don't you bitch?" Corey hissed as he slapped her full ass cheeks again.

Heather rolled her eyes, and in between his rhythmic pounding, said, "Don't... call... me...a... bitch..."

"Shut the fuck up," Corey thrust a little harder, and Heather felt pain.

"That hurt, you asshole!" she yelled as she made to pull away from him, "I'm done, Romeo."

Corey forcefully grabbed her and turned her back into position, his hands painfully tight on her. "We're done when I say we're done, got it?"

"What the fuck is your problem?" she yelled as she struggled against him. She turned, felt him slide out with a wet pop and covered her breasts with her arms. Her long black hair hung wetly against her face as she glared at him with her bright green eyes. 

"My problem is you're being impossible," he growled and made to grab her again.

"You grab me again and I'll bust your balls, Corey," she warned him.

"You need to watch your mouth," he spat, and before he could raise his hands, the side window behind him exploded inward. Plexi-glass showered the interior of the vehicle as Corey was shoved forward. Heather screamed and scooted back against the seat, covering her face as the shards sprayed her and Corey. She heard a muffled scream from her boyfriend, and chanced uncovering her face. Her eyes widened and she found no air in her lungs to vocalize her terror.

Two large hands had covered Corey's head, completely hiding it from view. His naked body was shaking and his hands were pounding against the powerful grip of his attacker. The veins and chords in his neck were bulging out, his hips twisting and penis flopping about wildly. She could hear a muffled cracking sound. It reminded her of when she had eaten lobster on her sixteenth birthday, a strange wet crunch amplified to the power of ten. Blood began to seep through the powerful, gloved fingers as Corey's head compressed and shattered.

"Help me!" he screamed, his voice high like that of little girl, "Get the fucking gun and shoot himmmaughh!"

Heather began crying hysterically, frozen in fear as Corey screamed in pure agony and then was abruptly silenced. There was a final snap and dull crunch as his skull caved in under the vice-like grip of Jason Voorhees. The contents of his brain exploded all over the inside of the SUV in a shower of gore. Corey's hands, which had been the means of delivering so many legendary football plays and touchdowns, went limp at his sides. 

A chunk of something hot and gristly landed on her face. Heather picked it off her cheek with fingers that shook badly. Her stomach began to heave and her paralysis broke. She scrambled to unlock the door closest to her. The handle wouldn't give, and she realized that the locks were child proofed. She screamed and tried to climb into the front seat, her bare body slipping against the blood-soaked upholstery. 

The SUV rocked violently to the passenger side as Jason yanked the body of Corey Cunningham out the broken window. His shoulders caught for a moment in the frame, too wide to pass. Jason gave the body another mighty tug and the collarbone shattered. From the corner of her eye, Heather saw her boyfriend's body roll and ricochet off the frame of the window before disappearing from her sight. A giant bloody hand pistoned in from the broken window and grabbed her leg. 

"Oh Jesus help me!" Heather cried out as she quietly sought forgiveness for having gone to Crystal Lake. She knew who it was attacking her. She didn't need to see him to know. As her left leg was crushed in the grip of the killer, she cried out and began kicking with her right.

"Help me!" she screamed.

Her mind toppled off into the abyss as she felt the still warm remains of Corey's broken face and brain slide beneath her naked skin with a thick, meaty wetness. She managed to grip the steering wheel and there was a moment when she thought she might actually escape him. Then, she was jerked back hard. Her hands struggled for purchase as she was dragged through the window. Shards of plexi-glass broke off in her skin and she was pulled through the hole in the same manner as Corey had been. Heather fell to the ground with a heavy thud that knocked the wind out of her lungs.

Standing above her was the gigantic frame of Jason Voorhees. She could smell the rot of his body and the ungodly radiance following years of unchecked body odor. He was foul and rancid as he towered over her. His hockey mask was like a ghostly demon's face in the rain as he coldly regarded her. Heather finally sucked the air back into her body and gasped, screaming, "Please! We're so sorry! Please no!"

Jason gripped the door handle and opened the door wide. He grabbed the Camp Crystal Lake sign and held it in one hand as he held his machete in the other. He looked at the sign and then glared down at her. Heather began crawling backwards but then bumped into Corey. She bit her lip as she felt his still warm body against her back. He was slick and wet, and she knew it wasn't just the rain.

"Please let me go," Heather sobbed as rain pelted her naked body, "Please."

Jason raised the sign up in the air and the drove it down hard. She made to scream again, but was silenced as the wooden sign smashed through the middle of her face, splitting her skull open. The dull edge crushed cartilage and bone alike as it passed through and then lodged in the gravel-peppered soil. The force of the impact literally popped one of her eyeballs out, sending it into the air along with a spray of brain fluid and ropy veins. The remains landed with a quiet splash yards away, her spoiled eyeball rolling a few more feet and then coming to a rest near the roadside blacktop.

Jason's barrel chest heaved in the heat of the moment as he looked down at her and then at the boy. He sheathed his machete and after a moment of reflection, turned and continued on his way. He stayed in the bushes and the trees along the road as rain fell harder and harder. He could feel the dream killer was here somewhere.

Jason hated the dream killer more than anything. His was the only name Jason had ever been able to remember. Even his own mother he could not recall. He knew what she looked like, he could remember what she sounded like but he could not remember her name. But he could remember the name of the dream killer.

Freddy Krueger.

***

Rain fell in thick, relentless sheets as the lone police cruiser turned onto Elm Street. In the distance, sirens and the bass reverberations of the armory at the police station exploding rolled like thunder across the sky. Elm Street seemed to be undisturbed by this, remaining as silent and secretive as it always had been. Perhaps there had been a time when the street played host to the families and picturesque homes of Springwood happily, even enthusiastically giving it a glow only Middle Americans could truly appreciate. Before the evil that was Fred Krueger laid special claim to Elm Street and all those who lived there, it was a great place call home.

Now, it was in its death throes. But to understand that death, so long in the coming, so prolonged and staved off by the good people of Springwood who chose to fight rather than succumb, it's necessary to under the history. If one had been privy to knowing those that determined the ultimate of the town, one might have known that Springwood had been close to death since Freddy Krueger first infected the heart of the community. 

It was a dark secret, a hidden disease that rotted and festered inside the morale of the population. Even killing Krueger, immolating him in his own lair with the blessing of a decidedly moral final justice didn't cure the ailment. Those that committed the act lived day to day with the responsibility of their brutal act, as necessary as it was. Some, like Marge Thompson fell into vice to deal with it. Her alcoholism was well known but kept away from the world. Others, men like Clyde Lantz, fell into depression and ended it all.

Everyone else who hadn't lit the fires that killed Krueger simply looked the other way, not wanting the blood of a child killer on his or her hands. In the end though, the good people of Springwood only attacked and killed half the problem, relieving the symptoms of Freddy's evil for a while. 

There had been a time once before in the late nineties when Springwood had almost died, the heart of the town blackened and putrefied by Krueger. He spread like a virus unhindered by anti-bodies or medicines strong enough to kill him. For the children of Springwood he was a terminal affliction. But for the parents, he was a maddening illness of the mind.

In the aftermath of his killing spree that claimed every child within the city limits, the population was reduced to raving lunatics and head cases. They were the parents left destroyed in the wake of Freddy Krueger's murderous reign. The streets were left cluttered with trash while noble houses fell into disrepair. The children were all gone, taken in the night by an evil the adults could no more understand than they could see the air around them. A few of them realized the truth, shouting it from the street corners and the empty classrooms like religious zealots convinced the end of the world had finally come. But the parents of Elm Street, the original lynch mob that knew the truth, were all but gone. Everyone else was too afraid to speak.

In the following months the feeling amongst the local government changed from disbelief to outright fear. Those who had heard of Freddy Krueger and initially dismissed it as mass hysteria were now silent having experienced a conversion to belief in the impossible. What worried the men and women who were privy to the truth wasn't that no one would believe them about what happened but rather that people would believe. 

The one conclusion everyone had agreed on was that Freddy used fear as his source of power. An unknowing nation could easily spread fear of him like an airborne virus. People would hear his name and read about him, or ask about who he was. Once they realized he was a killer and he was rumored to be able to come after people in their dreams, the fear would intensify. And all Krueger needed was enough fear of him to invade dreams. They feared he would spread beyond the borders of Springwood, Ohio to the rest of the country.

So they engineered an elaborate cover-up. Freddy Krueger had to be forgotten. He had to be erased.

That's what the many judges, politicians and policemen told themselves as they mopped up Springwood and covered up the legacy of Freddy Krueger. The hope that he could simply be faded out by ignoring him was attractive to everyone. Nobody wanted to lose any more children to him. It was the driving thought behind the lie they told themselves, that if they could only find a way to make people forget the truth there would be peace.

And they did find a way to suppress him, though it did not last long. A disease can't be killed by ignoring it.

When governor of Ohio requested a secret council be formed to repair the damage to Springwood, his staff assembled a team of experts from all over the country. Most were people who had experience in the world of paranormal phenomenon, but the core of the brain trust was composed of those who knew Freddy Krueger best. It turned out to be a short list, as mostly everyone who had dealt with the killer ended up dead.

Sheriff Thomas Williams, who had taken the position shortly after Springwood went belly up in '91, was the de facto leader of the group. He had seen the fall of Springwood as a deputy and had tried to keep order as mass hysteria flooded the town as though some dam had been broken. He saw children killed in their sleep, hacked up and brutally murdered. His initial disbelief was quickly dissolved as he realized the raving parents of Springwood were right. Freddy Krueger was real. 




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 05



Dr. Richard Campbell and his wife served the function of securing the hypnocil. Campbell was so dedicated to the death of Krueger that he personally remodeled and moved into the house at 1428 Elm Street with his wife and daughter, Lori. While the others thought he was insane for living in the heart of Krueger's dominance, Campbell believed the heaviest suppression of the demon's power should be where he is strongest. Campbell was the only member of the brain trust who hadn't personally been scarred by Krueger. Later on, many would say it was that inexperience that led to his demise. 

From the city of Elm Grove came two unique doctors, their claims of having seen Freddy Krueger die in the basement of the Elm Grove Youth Shelter being both amazing and unbelievable to some. Dr. Maggie Burroughs, both beautiful and highly intelligent was the first to suggest that Springwood be destroyed. When the governor saw the costs involved he refused to let an entire city be demolished just to get rid of one pesky ghost. So, she made the counter proposal to sedate the town with hypnocil, and experimental dream suppression agent. She was smart and to the point, knowing that even though Krueger had been destroyed physically he very likely was sent back to whatever netherworld he called home. He was not dead. 

She warned them not to underestimate him. Many of the politicians involved in the cover-up were skeptical of her motives and ideas, but when it was learned that she was the biological daughter of the man Fred Krueger had once been, any doubts about her knowledge of the dream killer were shed. Still, her recommendation that Springwood be destroyed went unheeded. Maggie was the inside track and the heart of the council.

Doctor Yaphet K. Parker, a bear of a man who looked after Maggie with deep commitment, supported her beliefs. He claimed Freddy could not be killed (a supposition Dr. Matthew Loomis would support years later), but Sheriff Williams and Dr. Campbell believed he would fade away after enough time. Parker implored them to think of Krueger as virus in remission and to reconsider the sedation project as the only alternative to the complete destruction of Springwood.

The sole voice of true unwavering objection came from a disgraced psychologist, a former administrator at Westin Hills in the eighties and a survivor of one of Krueger's early rampages. Dr. Neil Gordon supported Maggie and Parker's plan. He begged the governor to abandon Springwood and destroy the city through fire. He suggested burning the town to the ground and destroying all evidence of Krueger's existence and then allow nature to reclaim the land. He believed that consecrating the remains of Springwood and letting the dead rest might put a permanent end to Krueger's power.

He argued, like his colleagues, Springwood was a body crawling with a highly contagious and fatal virus. The body needed to be destroyed before the virus could spread. They didn't listen and Springwood became a living coma victim, not truly dead because nothing ever really dies in Springwood and yet not truly alive. How could anything thrive and blossom under the shadow of a beast like Freddy Krueger? 

When the first of the unwitting families came to Springwood later on that decade (lured mostly by local and federal perks and tax benefits to repopulate the town), the water supply of the town had already been altered with the drug hypnocil. It wasn't a large dose, but just enough to retard the dreams of those living there. As Neil Gordon pointed out, the complete suppression of dreams led to irrational and eventual psychotic behavior. 

The choice hadn't been made lightly, and those who made the decision bore the weight of not only the living but also the dead on their shoulders. Only a few people reacted adversely to the hypnocil, but it was acceptable in light of the alternative. Freddy Krueger could not be allowed to return or to leave the confines of Springwood.

But there was peace, and that was the compensation for the council. Dr. Parker and Maggie Burroughs left shortly after overseeing the initial two years of repopulation. Maggie still held to her belief that sedation and suppression would not be enough. Krueger was smart and very resourceful. Eventually, he would find a way back. Again, the local and federal government blew her and Parker off, happy with the results thus far. Knowing there was no more she could do, she left. 

From Westin Hills, the remainder of the brain trust ruled with a power surpassing the limits of the law. The powers given to them by the select few in the government who knew the truth was absolute. For the children who weren't affected by the subtle effects of the hypnocil-tainted water, stories and lies of insanity were formulated to justify their removal to the ward. Those who had seen the dream killer in their sleep were taken immediately and drugged, ultimately committed to Westin Hills. Some, like the late Will Rollins, were lucky and only lived dreamless lives there. Others fell into a coma not unlike the one Springwood itself slumbered in.

Dr. Gordon rejected the council's actions and condemned their policies. But he was powerless to stop them. With a strong letter of resignation he abandoned the committee and left Springwood once again. Gordon predicted the projects ultimate failure to be within ten years. He was denounced by his former colleagues and disappeared into exile. This left Dr. Campbell and Sheriff Williams to run the operation by themselves, a move which later on many came to regret.

The sentiment Dr. Gordon had shared with the council years ago was now a thought Lori Campbell-Rollins, the daughter of Richard Campbell and the widow of Will Rollins, focused on. With the exception of her parents and the late Sheriff Williams, she had never known any of the people on the council, let alone that it even existed. But the thinking of people who had faced Krueger, the ideas of the survivors often bordered on the extreme. Krueger himself was extreme. 

As the rain spattered the window of the cruiser and warped her view of the outside world, she found she truly hated Springwood. It was vile and horrible, and she was berating herself for having come back. If only she hadn't pushed so hard to come here and face the past, Will would be alive and with her right now. His death at the hands of Freddy Krueger's pawns Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers had been brutal and horrific. As much as she hated all three of the super-killers, she hated herself even more at the moment. They might have done the actual deed, but it was she who had insisted that Will put his head on the block for the chop.

"The house doesn't look all that different from the photo's I've seen," Matthew Loomis said quietly from behind her. The older man peered out the window from the backseat of the cruiser, Officer Tessa Alexander beside him and looking pale.

Lori turned as Sean pushed down the brakes and stopped the car in front of 1428 Elm Street. She breathed, "This house doesn't ever change. Not really."

"Donald Thompson used to live here," Tessa leaned against Loomis and peered at the front of the white house, "He was the man who collared Krueger back in the fall of 1970."

Loomis nodded, "As I understand it from the records, the entire Thompson family was eventually killed here in Springwood."

"Do we have to talk about it?" Sean asked, his eyes resting on the repetitive rhythm of the windshield wipers.

"Are you sure your father is still here?" Loomis asked Lori.

She nodded, "Dad couldn't leave."

They all stepped out into the rain, slamming the doors shut and feeling the supernatural aura of the house. The walk up to the front door was long and seemed to take an eternity. Tessa held onto Sean for support as she limped her way forward. Loomis followed behind as Lori led the way. She was quiet and determined, her face solid and straight as a card shark in a high stakes poker game.

Loomis looked at her and sighed.

Since the death of her husband a few hours ago, Lori's personality had changed. Following her brief emotional and physical paralysis, she had woken up from her grief and gone from being on the defensive to the offensive. She had shed off the skin of uncertainty she wore in her therapy sessions and emerged a leader, driven and focused. Loomis wondered if she was even aware of it. Sean would have been the ideal candidate for leading this ragtag group, but Lori had taken the spot via some group osmosis. They all understood that no matter what, this was her fight. They all had their place, but it was Lori who bore the burden of their lot now.

And it showed. Her eyes seemed darker somehow, her once brilliant blue coloring shaded to the cold slate hues of the winter-ravaged ocean. Her face was pale and tight, her beautiful features silent and betraying of nothing. The only person who truly saw the wall Lori had built around herself was Loomis. He knew the protective shell of rage and sorrow all too well. When Michael Myers had killed his father, he formed a similar cocoon.

He wanted to counsel Lori and help her escape the pain, but he knew it would do no good. Had anyone been able to help him through his own stages of grief? He thought not. She would have to find her own way out of it as he had done. And thus the doctor followed his companions up the wet sidewalk of Springwood's most infamous house. The closer he got, the more he believed they were marking themselves for death.

After a few years of Dr. Campbell's self-enforced seclusion, the house was showing signs of neglect. The white paint was cracked in many places and bulging out. The front door had peeled its yellow latex coating to reveal a red layer beneath. To Tessa, it looked like the color of blood. Sean was reminded of the ruby quartz coloring of police lights illuminating Michael Myers face in the dark. Loomis could only see his father, looking at him through a haze of fine red mist and warning him to stay away. Lori saw her husband, dead and stolen from her.

She knocked on the door hard.

"You think he's here?" Tessa whispered to Sean.

"Better be," Sean replied under his breath and nodded to Lori, "She's ready to go ape shit."

"Wouldn't you?" Tessa replied under her breath.

Lori knocked again, harder and with the side of her clenched hand.

"Dad?" she yelled, "It's me, Lori! Open up!"

Several locks, both chain and dead bolt disengaged from behind the door. It slowly creaked open and the haggard face of Dr. Richard Campbell regarded them for a moment, confused and seemingly dazed. Sean knew the bloodshot eyes of boozehound when he saw them, and Campbell looked as though he had been sharing stories with Jack Daniels and Captain Morgan for a while now. His hair was disheveled and almost completely white, save for some dark strands peppered around his temples. A week's growth of stubble roughed his features up, dark circles and crow's feet deeply entrenched into his face.

"Daddy?" Lori asked, the affectionate term for her father holding no joy or happiness.

"Lori," he croaked and then coughed, clearing his throat. He looked at the three people standing with his daughter as rain poured down unforgivingly. His eyes were suspicious and filled with both dread and a certain acceptance; as though he'd known they would eventually come. He looked to his daughter and asked, "What do you want? You run out of hypnocil?"

"No Daddy," Lori shook her head, her long blonde hair soaked in thick strands and blood spattered on her "SPRINGWOOD HIGH" sweatshirt, "We need your help."

Campbell was silent for a moment and then shrugged, "Come in."

The inside of the house was in worse shape that outside. Boxes of papers were stacked in the foyer and in the living room. The smell of must and mothballs permeated every single cubic centimeter of the dwelling, along with something even darker still. The curtains were dark, not to make a statement of décor or taste but rather to keep the sunlight out. Sean counted at least six whiskey bottles, all of them empty, sitting on the coffee table in the living room. He led Tessa to the couch and eased her to the cushions. A small plume of dust curled up as the two cops sat down. 

"Who are you people?" Campbell looked at the three strangers.

"My name is Matthew Loomis," the doctor spoke up from the entry, "I'm a doctor of criminal psychology."

"Loomis," Campbell licked his lips, his face betraying a man who had a bad taste on his tongue, "Loomis? From New York... you're the monster hunter."

Loomis leaned against the entry, his hands in his trench coat pockets, "Something like that."

"Officer Sean Renaud," Sean introduced himself and then motioned to Tessa, "This is Officer Alexander."

"Pleasure," Campbell said disingenuously, "Didn't your sheriff tell you not to come here?"

"He would have if he could," Tessa said evenly, "He was killed a few hours ago."

Campbell smiled dismally and walked to the fireplace, again acting as though he were not surprised. On top of the brickwork hearth was another bottle of whiskey, this one only half full. Tessa imagined that to the doctor, it was half empty. Based on the condition of his home she figured his entire life was half empty. He grabbed it, popped the cap off and took a long drink before saying, "Good bye, Williams... go to Heaven..."

"You seem rather casual about it," Sean eyed him, already disliking the man.

"Officer," Lori's father said, "You're probably too young to know that death is always a casual matter here in Springwood. Now what the hell do you want?"

"Freddy Krueger is back, Daddy," Lori said and pulled back the drapes from the living room window, letting overcast light into the shadowed living room, "He's back and so is Jason."

"I know," he squinted, "The minute the curfew went into effect last night and the sirens started sounding, I knew."

"Then you must also know that we don't have much time," Loomis said.

"Time?" Campbell laughed, his lanky body covered by only a blue flannel robe. He was sickly looking, ill and seemingly fragile enough to break at any moment. The robe opened up and revealed his chest. Tessa looked away as she saw the row of xylophone-like ribs. He closed the robe and tied it tight. Campbell took another drink and asked, "What does time matter to a creature like Krueger? Or to Jason Voorhees for that matter?"

"People are dying," Lori said, "We have to stop them."

"How heroic," he burped.

"Classy," Loomis said to Sean from the corner of his mouth.

"It's inevitable, Lori," Campbell looked to his daughter, "It was always inevitable. I swear we thought we knew what we were doing. But things fall apart, don't they?"

"Dr. Campbell please," Loomis began.

"The center does not hold..."

"This is not the time for waxing poetic," Loomis told him, "Doctor, we need to know all you can tell us about Krueger and his history."

"Why?"

"We plan to stop him," Tessa said.

Campbell spit some of his whiskey out in a fine spray as he laughed, "Oh that is priceless..."

"We're very serious, doctor," Sean said flatly.

"I can't tell you anything," the old man leaned to the left a little and waved Sean off dismissively. He looked to his daughter, belched again and then concentrated, "We thought we were doing right by you, Lori. And right by Will."

"Will's dead," Lori looked at her father, challenging him.

The doctor went silent as his drunken stupor seemed to wear off a little. He opened his mouth to speak but could not find the words. Lori stood in front of him, her back straight and tall as she confronted her father with the truth. Her eyes were fixed on him, waiting for the response. Richard Campbell could not meet her stare. Instead, he turned and faced the fireplace, "I'm so sorry."

"He was killed by Jason and another man," she walked over to him, "Michael Myers."

"I am so sorry," he said again, his voice cracking.

"Dad, we need you."

"Your mother... I couldn't save her," Campbell's voice broke as tears burned his bloody eyes. The weight of the dead was too heavy for one man to carry. When Williams had been alive it had been different. When his wife had been alive he had believed he could handle it. But now, alone and cold against the burden he could no longer hold back. He wept, "Your husband, the children... it's all lost."

Sean sighed and rubbed his temples as he looked at Loomis, "He's no good to us."

"Help us," Lori said.

"I can't," he insisted and covered his face with a hand that shook badly.

"God damn you," Lori grabbed him by his robe and spun the thin man around. She shoved him against the hearth as the whiskey bottle fell to the floor. It thudded to the carpet and drained in long spurts into the fibers. Loomis went to intervene, but Sean grabbed his arm. The cop shook his head and motioned for the doctor to step back. This was family business, and Lori needed to handle this on her own. Loomis nodded and stepped back.

"How dare you," Campbell gaped her, his eyes wide and glassy, "I am your father!"

"My father died the night my mother died," Lori dug her fingers into his robe and tightened the fabric around his throat, "The night you decided to bury Krueger and just hope he'd go away rather than deal with him."

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"You're not my father anymore," Lori glared at him.

Campbell had no fight in him as it was, so his resistance to Lori was pathetic at best. He hung his head low as tears watered from his eyes. The haggard doctor looked at the floor and breathed in deep as his disgrace was revealed. His shoulders shook as he sobbed, the years of mistakes and sins finally being expressed here in front of his daughter. But Lori was not impressed or even sympathetic as she shook him violently, "Wake up!"

Loomis looked to Sean and Tessa. The two cops only watched the scene unfold.

"Wake up, goddamit!"

As Campbell cried and slumped forward, Sean squeezed Tessa's shoulder and got up. He left her sitting on the couch and walked over to Lori. He put one strong hand on her shoulder and squeezed, "Let it go, Lori."

"Wake up you son of bitch!" she screamed and slapped her father so hard it echoed through the house. Campbell's head snapped sideways, "My husband is dead you fuck!"

"Lori! He's finished!"

She slapped him again, harder this time.

"Lori," Sean put his hands on hers, "Let it go. He knows, okay? He knows."

She looked to Sean, her eyes filled with pure grief and pain.

With a final disgusted grunt, she shoved away from her father. Campbell stood there for a moment in front of them. His shame was evident enough, and the fact that his daughter had turned on him so violently only made it more apparent. He supposed that expecting her to greet him with open arms would have been foolish, even naïve considering the circumstances. As he sat down on the lip of the hearth, head in his hands there was certain release. Everyone here knew he was one of the architects of the grand design that supposedly would have rid Springwood of Freddy Krueger. And everyone here knew he had failed at the cost of many lives.

"What can I tell you?" he asked them finally, "We thought if we treated Krueger like a fire, he would extinguish. No, that's what Williams and I told the government. Neil and Maggie kept saying he was a disease and he need to be handled as such. I didn't listen..."

"Fire?" Tessa asked, "I don't understand."

"What's the most effective way of extinguishing a fire?" Campbell looked at her, "You deny it oxygen. Without oxygen, fire cannot exist."

"Take away what Krueger needs to survive and you'll kill him, yes?" Loomis asked.

"That was the thinking," the old man nodded, "We had thought if we took away the dreams, if we simply sucked the air out from the fires that fueled him, Krueger would die. Hate is the flame in which he burns, Doctor Loomis. Fear fuels the fire. If no one remembered him, then there would be no fear of him."




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 05



"It was a bold plan, I grant you," Loomis said, "But flawed. You can't suppress the subconscious mind of one person and be sure you're safe, let alone an entire population. The human element is unpredictable right down to the individual."

"I know that now," Campbell nodded gravely and then looked at them all, "I knew it then too... but I was weak. God help me, I was weak. I wanted to simple easy solution... You've come to me for answers. I have none. Be smart and leave town. Let the fire burn."

"I can't accept that doctor," Sean told him, "I just watched almost every cop in this town get sliced up by those two maniacs. We can't just walk away."

"All the more reason for you to leave," Campbell said, "Let Springwood burn and return to the earth."

"Fuck that shit," Tessa laughed incredulously, "If we can trap Jason and Michael Myers, then maybe we can lure Freddy out into the open."

"In hopes of what?" Campbell looked at her, his desperate anger and guilt seething from his lips, "Of Lori pulling him out into the real world again? Letting Jason take care of him again? Please..."

"It's better than nothing," Loomis said.

"It's a fools errand."

"Maybe," Sean nodded, "But it's all we got."

"If you can't help us, then you must know of someone who can," Lori wouldn't look at him.

Campbell was silent, stewing in his guilt and despair.

"Doctor Campbell, please," Tessa said.

"There was one man who came to advise us when Sheriff Williams and I began this project," the old man sighed, "Neil Gordon worked at Westin Hills in the early eighties and survived one of Krueger's more colorful killing sprees. He claimed that Freddy was defeated through the consecration of his remains here in the real world and the combined efforts of several children on the ward. No one believed him, of course. He was expelled from the institute and publicly denounced as unreliable and possible insane. Of course Sheriff Williams, then a deputy, knew he was telling the truth, which was why the governor tracked him down and paid him enough to come back. Neil wanted to let Springwood die. He believed that if the body and soul of the town were to die, then Krueger would die with it."

"Consecrate and bury a whole town?" Loomis cocked an eyebrow, "Why wasn't that option considered?"

"The powers that be wouldn't accept it from a monetary point of view," Campbell said, "Once the town was dead, Neil suggested that it be left to nature. No one could rebuild or settle here again. The men in charge couldn't accept that. It's all about money... money, money, money... So they went with my recommendation: the fiscally sound choice."

"My God," Loomis said.

"In retrospect I can see now he was right. Krueger may be comparable to fire, but he equates to a disease," Campbell said and then walked over to one of the boxes in his living room. He removed the lid and pulled out a folder filled to capacity with reports. He held the folder up, "This is but one profile. It details the life and death of one of Freddy's victims. I have hundreds of these."

Tessa looked around the room. There had to be forty boxes of files in the living room alone if not more. She shook her head, "That's impossible."

"It's not, I assure you," Campbell said.

"How did you keep this from the national media?" Loomis asked, "I've read very carefully worded reports on what's happened here, but it's always dismissed as mass hysteria or group psychosis or even copycats."

"People don't want to know," the doctor said flatly, "And think of what people will believe just because they're told?"

"And the government knows what you know," Sean added, "They'll never let this get out."

Loomis nodded, "As long as they can avoid it going public..."

"Roland Kincaid," Campbell tossed a sealed file to Tessa and then reached into the box. He pulled out file after file, reading off the names like some role call of the past, "Kirsten Parker...Joseph Crusel... Taryn White... Phillip Anderson... Jennifer Caulfield..."

"Where did these come from?" Loomis asked as Sean handed him one of the file folders, "I recognize the names, but the files I saw were limited. I've researched the Springwood killings inside and out and never saw these documents once."

"You wouldn't have," Campbell agreed, looking more and more fatigued, "They've been here in my home. Everything taken in the cover-up regarding Freddy Krueger is here in this house, including Westin Hills documentation, police reports and uncensored news paper articles."

Loomis looked at the folder in his hands and read the name printed on it, "Alice Johnson."

"What you hold now are the names of the few children who stood against Freddy Krueger and won," Campbell said, "These children were special. They were the Dream Warriors, as Dr. Gordon referred to them and they were the people who defeated Freddy Krueger in '87. In '88, it was a young woman named Alice Johnson who stopped him."

"Where are they now?" Tessa asked as she flipped through the file on the boy named Kincaid and then found the answer to her question. The photos of Kincaid's death were sobering for her. The boy's round black face looked bruised, his eyes wide open and mouth parted in a bloody gape of surprise. He had died on his bed, killed by four stab wounds to the gut in his own bed.

"They're all dead," Campbell told them, "Each one of them picked off by Krueger."

"Jesus," Sean muttered as he flipped through the reports.

"It says here that Alice Johnson disappeared," Loomis said, "She's listed as missing."

"What I'm going to tell you has not been talked about in years, and even then only discussed amongst those who knew," Campbell told them, "The story of Freddy Krueger goes beyond what you think you all know. Doctor, are you familiar with the concept of ying and yang?"

Loomis nodded, "Yes. It's a universal expression of perfect balance."

"Yes," Campbell said, his hands visibly trembling, "Exactly. Balance. Existence as we know it is dependent on the universal law that for every possible action there is an equal and opposite reaction. For every positive there is a negative. Freddy Krueger is the extreme end of a balanced equation relative to a science we don't quite understand. Spiritually speaking he is the shadows and darkness against the light."

"In English, Dr. Campbell?" Tessa asked.

"Think about it," the doctor told them, "There are so many things science cannot explain, things that even modern physics and metaphysics can't even begin to understand. Since spirituality can't be quantified, many people regard it as myth and religious fantasy. But, the existence of a creature like Freddy Krueger is proof that what lies beyond our reality is vaster than anything that lies within. Dr. Burroughs, the woman who claimed to be the living daughter of the man Fred Krueger once was, believed her father was not only a deeply disturbed man, but also a vessel for some greater evil."

"You've gotta be shitting me," Sean said.

"During her encounter, Krueger told her that he had been "picked" for the job, that spirits had imbued him with the power to carry out his work," Campbell shook his head, "At first, I didn't believe her. But now I can see the truth. We were so blind."

"You're saying that these kids were the ying to his yang?" Lori asked.

"Partially," her father said, "Alice Johnson was the full counterpart to Freddy Krueger. Neil Gordon interviewed her just before her disappearance in 1988, and while the general population chose to ignore her story, Neil listened. Alice fought Krueger twice and defeated him. She was the Dream Master."

"Dream Master?" Tessa smiled a little, "Sounds like a soft-core porno." 

"Man is losing his damn mind," Sean muttered and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Balance," Campbell ignored them, "It's all about balance. I didn't believe it at first either, but I swear to you it's true. If Krueger truly is the vessel for a sentient evil, then there must be an equally powerful vessel for good to bring balance. Alice was the vessel for that opposite power."

"Some power," Sean tossed his file folder on the table, "Krueger came back anyway."

"Only because after Alice Johnson there was no Dream Master to keep him check," Campbell yelled, startling them.

"Like a wild animal in a zoo," Loomis thought out loud, "With no keeper to cage him, Krueger was able to run free."

"Or a disease with no vaccine to keep it at bay," Lori suggested.

"Which is why Springwood fell to Krueger in the late nineties," Lori nodded, "Because no one was there who could stop him. No one to keep the balance."

Campbell sighed and looked at them all with weary bloodshot eyes, "He is growing stronger. I see him in my dreams now. He no longer hunts just the children. His anger and vengeance is too strong now. He can't stop. It's our fault, Lori. We thought we were protecting you, but we only made him stronger. And now he's loose again."

The doctor shook his head, trying to form the jumbled thoughts in his head. He waved his hands and then, "Think of it like this, okay? We protect forests from fires, yes? We go to great extremes to make sure that a fire doesn't burn out of control. But nature... a forest fire by itself, naturally caused in a natural event. It's part of life. Who knows why it happens? But it happened long before man could intervene and it happens now despite out best efforts. The longer man staves off the fire, the greater the risks... there is no balance..." The doctor trailed off, frustrated.

"Where do we find Alice Johnson?" Lori asked, feeling both sorry for and angry with her father. The decrepit shell of a man before her wasn't the man she had known growing up, or even the questionably ethical doctor she had left a few years back. He was broken and driven by his guilt, another victim of Freddy Krueger. She had to remind herself to think of him that way. If she considered him anything other than that, he would be a monster. And she couldn't handle that.

"It's too late, baby," he covered his face in his hand, "Burn the town and go."

"Where is she?"

"Let it die."

"I don't accept that!" Lori roared and gave him a look that divorced her from his authority once and for all, "I don't have time for your bullshit, Daddy! You fucked up and that's it! You can't change it! You either help me now or you'll have all of our deaths on you conscience!"

Dr. Richard Campbell moaned pathetically and looked to his daughter, his eyes flooding tears as his mouth worked open, "I am so sorry."

"Where is she?" Lori whispered and touched his cheek. It was the only act of tenderness she had inside her at the moment. The death of her husband had hardened her heart and calloused her soul to a rough lump that sat heavily inside her chest.

"Help us now," Loomis spoke up, "Make a difference now."

Campbell looked to him and then back at his daughter, "He can't be killed."

"I don't intend to kill him. I intend to balance the equation."

Campbell nodded gravely and looked down at his feet.

Lori closed her eyes, "You said there was no Dream Master after Alice left. Where did she go?"

"Alice Johnson left Springwood shortly after the birth of her son," he said finally, "If there is anyone who can help you, it's her. But you mustn't expect much, Lori... don't make the mistake I did."

"Where is she now?" Loomis asked. A fire truck went roaring down the street, horns and sirens blaring.

"Her life has been lived in secret," Campbell looked at Loomis, "In that file folder you're holding is the address."

"I'm sorry," Sean spoke up, "But why do we need this Johnson girl?"

"Because," Loomis said, "When a fatal disease is running loose in your body, you go and find a doctor with the medicines to cure you."

"Surviving Jason and Michael Myers won't be worth shit unless we can take care of Krueger," Lori said evenly, "He's the cause of all this."

Tessa nodded, "Jason and Michael are the symptoms, Freddy is the disease."

"And if we can't kill the disease, then we can at least find a way to vaccinate against it," Lori added.

"Balance," Campbell muttered, "It's all about balance... you don't understand..."

***

Sean and Tessa sat outside on the front porch of 1428 Elm Street.

The idea of there being three supernatural killers on the loose in Springwood had become a casual idea to Sean. He was amazed at how quickly he had accepted the crazy notion of a man killing people in their dreams. The notion that a man in a hockey mask could be killed over and over and then rise again might have made him laugh at one time. It was all urban legend. But Michael Myers and his ghostly mask made it all much more than a simple urban legend to him. 

These fuckers were real.

"I feel so bad," Tessa lit her cigarette and inhaled.

"About what?"

"Dr. Loomis ex-wife," she looked at her smoke, "That poor woman. She never had a chance."

"That shit was fucked up," Sean shook his head as recalled the horrible death of Mary Stilfreeze back at the police station, "This whole situation is fucked up. You think anyone is still out there?"

"Well," Tessa shrugged, "I know Malone and Daniels were out in the north end of town. They're probably at the station now helping put out the fire."

"I feel so fucking useless," Sean said, "We should be there too."

"Sean," she put a hand on his shoulder, "We're needed here. It's our job."

"This is bullshit," he muttered and rubbed his eyes.

"We'll carve all their names into those fucker's foreheads, okay? I promise," Tessa smiled and touched his face, "You know, if it wasn't for you we'd all probably be dead."

"No," he corrected her, "If hadn't been for Will we'd all be dead."

"Stop it," she said, "Don't you dare carry the dead with you."

"I just keep seeing him closing that door," Sean said, "I keep seeing him fall from view."

"He did his part," she reminded him, "And now it's our turn to do ours."

Sean shifted his weight to one leg and looked at his boots. The shine was gone, replaced by dull scrapes and scuffs. His pants were spattered with dark stains that he knew was blood belonging to someone else. Sean held his hand out to Tessa. Her delicate fingers, so strong and beautiful slipped into his gentle grip. He looked at her and said, "Theresa there's something I need to tell you."

"Uh oh," she rolled her eyes, "Anytime you call me Theresa I know something big is about to go down."

Sean smiled as best he could, "At the risk of sounding, you know, over dramatic and sappy..."

He paused, trying to find the right words to express how he felt about her. He looked at her face, taking in her exotic features and trying to communicate his thoughts to her by gazing into her eyes. Sean had never been very good expressing himself to anyone, let alone Tessa. His emotions usually had to be dragged from him with a winch and truck. But as he considered that his fate may very well be the same as Don Ford's or Sheriff Williams or any of the others back at the police station he realized the time for stumbling over uncertainty had passed.

"I... you see, I just wanted to tell you..." he could not find the words.

"Sean," Tessa kissed him on the lips gently, "That may be the romantic thing a man has never said to me."

Sean smiled.

"I love you too," Tessa said.

"Officer Renaud?"

Sean turned to see Lori and Loomis standing in the doorway. They each held a large box of files and both looked deadly serious. He helped Tessa stand up and he said, "What's up, Lori?"

"Feel like taking a trip to Elm Grove?"

"We're seriously going to do this?"

"We need Alice Johnson," Loomis told him and patted the box he held under one arm, "She is the key to catching Freddy Krueger."

"Even if we catch Krueger," Tessa tossed her cigarette away, "What then? You've said it yourself we can't kill him."

"Alice put him away before," Lori said quietly, "She can show us how to do it again. Balance. It's all about balance."

"Okay then," Sean looked at her for a moment and shrugged, adding, "Let's go get killed."

***

Watching the police car pull away with his daughter inside was second hardest thing Richard Campbell had ever done. Letting go of his wife was the first. He knew that Lori loved him, but that didn't change the fact she hated him as well. Her rage had been pure and for all his wishing to the contrary, it had been righteous. He wanted to make her truly understand that his work here in Springwood was for the good of everyone, not just for one town but for a whole world. If only she could see the sacrifices he had made and could be brought to understand them.

"Stop wishing you old fool," he muttered.

Every night he woke up screaming, sometimes having wet his bed and sometimes having fallen completely off the mattress to the floor. Sometimes both. He could see all the children he and the others had condemned to comatose death in the wards of Westin Hills. Oh how they urged him to find another way, any other way to help the children the safe doses of hypnocil were not reaching. Even Dr. Parker, with his kind and always generously friendly disposition had turned away from him and Sheriff Williams in the end.

He hadn't told Lori or her friends that. It only served to intensify his guilt and make him look even worse. Parker and sided with Gordon in the end, and even when Maggie Burroughs had warned against crossing that line in the name of protection he hadn't listened. Maggie had left the day Parker did, and it saddened Campbell to no end. He felt alone and solitary in his fight to save Springwood. He couldn't make them see there were sacrifices that had to be made for the greater good.

"A dying patient," Neil Gordon had said just before the cab pulled away from the Westin Hills main driveway, "This town has a cancer that can go airborne, Richard. As a doctor, can you justify letting this terminally contagious patient live?"

Campbell had only looked at him with a detached kindness, "Absolutely."

"You took an oath," Neil shook his head, "We all did. We promised to do no harm. This is harm, Richard. For God Sakes, your wife has been murdered and an innocent boy is in the mental ward!"

"Sacrifices have to be made, Neil. I ask no more of you or them than I do myself."

Neil shook his head, his eyes heavy and sad.

"Go," Campbell said, "Run away."

And Neil did.

"Maybe he was the smart one," Campbell laughed to himself as he let the curtains Lori had opened fall back into place. He walked into the kitchen and opened the cabinet over the stove. Inside was a single bottle of Scotch, holding 18 fluid ounces of pure satisfaction. He grabbed in and opened it.

Of all the warnings he got, the one from Maggie Burroughs rang true now more than ever. He had listened to her account of the fight with Freddy Krueger in Elm Grove and how she had defeated him. It was frightening, the description of this man from beyond life and death who simply hunted for the sake of the masochistic and sadistically pure thrill of the kill. Campbell remembered how beautiful Maggie had been, just as beautiful as his own wife before Krueger had somehow invaded her dreams and killed her. He still wondered now as he did then how Krueger had been able to leap the boundaries of his abilities. How had he gotten into her dreams?

"The mistake we all made was assuming we knew what he was capable of," Maggie told them one night shortly before she and Dr. Parker left to return to Elm Grove, "We all assumed my father had limits. Even the Dream Master did. That's why she left. She believed he had been contained. She was wrong."

"Some one will always have to keep watch," Parker mussed to himself, "Unless we destroy the host."

"Destroy the host?" Sheriff Williams had scoffed, "The governor is not willing to burn a whole town to the ground and then leave it be. Are you insane?"




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 05



"This town is sick," Parker insisted, "I thought through the hypnocil we could contain Krueger... even drain his power. No dreams, no fear and power... but we were wrong. It's been two years since people moved back to Springwood and there are more and more substantial incidents of Krueger appearing in dreams."

"It's controllable," Campbell insisted.

"If you follow this through, Richard," Maggie warned, "It's not. Krueger will come back. I recommend Springwood be destroyed to stop Krueger here. If there's no host body to invade, there's no way he can survive and spread."

"We are his jailers," Campbell said, "We can control him. Unfortunately, sacrifices are necessary."

Parker stood up to leave, "And will you tell that to yourself when it's Lori on the slab, doctor?"

"Sacrifice," Campbell said to no one as he poured the scotch all over the kitchen, "Sacrifices must be made, Dr. Parker! Dr. Gordon!"

The alcohol splashed across the floor and collected in a puddle at the foot of the refrigerator. He showered it over the countertops and across the walls, making his way down the hall and to the living room where he continued until the bottle went dry. He then opened the tinderbox beside the hearth of the fireplace and grabbed the squeeze bottle of lighter fluid.

"I ask nothing of you that I wouldn't ask of myself!" he screamed at the memories of his colleagues. He looked into the kitchen and saw kids standing there, shoulder-to-shoulder and dressed in hospital gowns. Their eyes were covered with strips of bloody gauze, soaked with gore and hellacious red in the dimming light. Campbell laughed a crazy chuckle and pointed at them all, "All of you! It was for the good, you fuckers!"

He stumbled through the living room, spraying the boxes of records and reports from the cover-up and all the evidence he had of Freddy Krueger. He bellowed and raved like a madman as lighter fluid soaked his bare feet. The carpet was wet with kerosene and liquor as he threw the half empty bottle of whiskey through the living room. It shattered against the wall by the door.

"I will not be responsible any more!" he shouted defiantly, stomping up the stairs and spraying lighter fluid along the walls, "You sons of bitches aren't going to judge me!"

As he reached the top of the stairs, he suddenly stopped.

In the doorway leading to Lori's old room was the ghostly apparition of Will Rollins. His face was transparent and faded, yet possessed of a horrible ethereal energy that made Campbell want to scream. His son's eyes were sunken in and his wounds were hideous. Spectral blood dripped from the wounds and collected on the floor at his feet. The ghost pointed at him and laughed wildly.

"It's not my fault!" Campbell screamed, breaking into hysterical sobs as he ran through the upstairs floor, letting loose the last of fluid from the squeeze bottle, "We didn't know!"

Campbell knew he had lost it. He could feel the giddy horror of his fall into the mental abyss like the potent rush of adrenaline from a really good erection. He was smiling and laughing to himself as he slammed doors and opened them, his face contorted in a leer of panic and lunacy. He stubbed his toe hard on the crown-molding base around the banister of the stairwell. The toe nail ripped off and he fell. A muted cry of pain issued from his throat as his nose smashed into the floor along with the rest of his body. Blood gushed from the shattered bridge of his nose and stained his flannel robe.

"Fuck it!" he cried out, both laughing and wailing, "Fuck it fuck it fuck it!"

He ran into his room and grabbed his shotgun from under the bed. The shells were already in it as he knew this day would eventually come. He had known ever since Lori found out about his involvement in Will's disappearance and stay at Westin Hills. The fact that her love and faith in him had been shattered had destroyed him, finishing the job Freddy Krueger had started when he killed Campbell's wife. That was when he had died. Campbell knew he was already dead only his body just hadn't come to grips yet.

Campbell thought of burning bodies. That's what he had to do. He threw his head back, eyes wide as he began chanting his favorite old chestnut like a ritualistic pagan, "Try to set the night on fire... set the night on fire... try to... fire..."

Campbell bolted back into the hallway to find the ghost of Will Rollins standing before him. The dead man grinned at him as rotting skin fell from his face and hung in tattered ribbons. He was no longer a ghost, but an opaque and very real creature. Campbell could smell the rot on him and knew he was either dreaming or was having the most realistic fucking breakdown in the history of world lunacy. Either way, Campbell was scared shitless.

"You killed me," the dead man croaked as tendons in his exposed jaw pulled and stretched, "You fucking killed me."

"TRY TO SET THE NIGHT ON FIRE!" Campbell hollered and brought his gun to bear, "SET THE FUCKING NIGHT ON FIRE!"

"You know I fucked your daughter," the zombie chuckled, only it wasn't just the voice of a recently dead son. It was the watery voice of Freddy Krueger, "I fucked her so hard my dick was tickling the base of her skull."

"FIRE! SET IT OFF MOTHERFUCKER!"

The Freddy/ Will Rollins creature laughed, "Jim Morrison is rolling in his grave, doc..."

Campbell was babbling now as he squeezed the trigger of his shotgun. The head of Will Rollins exploded in a shower of skull fragments and bloody gray matter. It spattered on the floor and walls as black, shiny beetles skittered from the smoking stump of Will's neck. Their iridescent carapaces shined in the stormy lighting of the upstairs hallway as they fell to the ground and scrambled towards him. Campbell turned and began running. He tripped over the top step and tumbled down the stairs, end over end and his legs flailing wildly.

"For God Sakes your wife has been murdered!" Freddy Krueger howled from the top of the stairs as Campbell crashed into the front door. The demon in the fedora slashed at the wallpaper and tore it to shreds as he laughed, "Sacrifices, Doctor!"

"I'm dreaming!" Campbell screamed as he managed to right himself and stand on legs that shook badly.

"What dreams may come, Dick," Freddy tapped his bladed fingers on his dusty brown pants, "This is no dream... this is reality now."

Campbell aimed at the television set and fired. The set exploded in a hail of sparks that immediately lit the alcohol and kerosene soaked carpet. The entire living room was engulfed in flames with in moments as he turned and fired up the stairs. The blast tore apart the ceiling and echoed through the burning house. No one was there. He had imagined both Krueger and the dead corpse of Will Rollins.

"NO!" he yelled, "I know you were here!"

Campbell looked around as the house began to surge with living flames that crackled and popped loudly. The heat was almost unbearable as he slid down the front door and sat. He could feel his hair beginning to singe as flame followed his trail of lighter fluid up the stairs, along the walls and into the bedrooms. He laughed to himself and placed the shotgun between his legs. He managed to place one toe against the trigger and then looked into the black barrel of the gun.

"They say fire purifies," he laughed and took a deep breath, suddenly feeling very clear and lucid despite the smoke and his drunken stupor, "It smelts out the imperfections."

The house groaned as the flames destroyed it.

"I ask nothing of you," he said quietly as his robe caught fire and burned his flesh, "That I would not do myself."

Campbell lowered his mouth to the shaft of steel and closed his eyes. His toe jerked and the splattering remains of Campbell's head all over the door accompanied the loud report of the blast. His body wavered a moment and then fell to one side as smoke curled around him. The flames ate away at the wood of the house, destroying the flesh and skeleton of Freddy Krueger's home away from home. In the crackling hell of the inferno, there was a bellow of pure rage as the dream killer watched it burn. All the times it had been fixed up and saved were worth nothing now. Fire was one element Krueger could not control.

Once a young, brave girl had faced Krueger here. She had stood her ground and renounced him, turning her back on him and defeating him by denying him his power. A mother had been killed here, stolen from her husband and daughter through the safety of her own bed. A young boy had lost his soul here, taken over by Krueger in much the same way Mary Stilfreeze had been. In the netherworld between sleep and awake, a dream warrior had died here and yet the house had set a dream master on her course. The house had been the centerpiece to countless nightmares for so many. It was a place of evil, no matter how pure the soul that lived there.

Windows exploded outward in a powerful blast of heat. The iron bars outside the window frames superheated and glowed before they burned the wood around the bolts holding them in place. The metal constructs crashed the ground and hissed in the rain, billowing steam. When the fire reached the furnace, there was a loud explosion that tore away the remains of the kitchen and rained debris throughout the flaming structure. The ash in the furnace, which had once hid the razor tipped glove of Freddy Krueger, smoldered in the air. 

The explosion brought people from their homes, though none of them was really startled. They all knew somehow. No one made any effort to save the house or even try and find out if anyone was inside. They simply stood on their front porches and in their driveways and in the wet grass of their front lawns as the house that had watched them for so long like a demonic sentinel fell into smoldering ash. Blinding flames licked into the stormy sky like the wicked tongues of perditions fury. Black smoke poured from the disintegrating roof and curled high into the sky as the rain fell even harder.

What everyone who saw the fire noticed, and yet never mentioned even to each other or the police afterwards, was that the rain did not extinguish the fire. The flames were defiant of the laws of nature and the order of all things rational in much the same way Freddy Krueger was. The haunted house at 1428 Elm Street was dying slowly, and it seemed not even Mother Nature could stop that. 

Maybe she didn't want to.

***

"Good God," Officer Charlie Malone shook his head as he watched the firefighters extinguish the last of the flames that had destroyed the Springwood Police Station. He had no idea how many of the others had been inside when the place went up, but the mere fact that only he and one other officer, Tom Daniels, were standing outside the ruined structure left him feeling doubtful. Surely, if Sheriff Williams or Don or even Sean and Tessa were alive, they would be here now. Springwood had been blessed with good cops and in Charlie's opinion, the best the state of Ohio had to offer.

"You think anyone was in there?" Tom asked as though he had been reading his mind.

Charlie shrugged, his eyes red and irritated from smoke, "I don't know. You'd think if anyone were out and about they would have been here by now. The radio is hot with the news."

Tom nodded. The big black man hooked his thumbs on his belt and leaned against his squad car. His wide brimmed hat was pulled down low over his handsome features and hid the fact that his eyes were as equally red as the fire itself. The smell of pot was wafting through the air like a thick illegal perfume. Apparently the fire had also engulfed the evidence storage lockers along with the twenty pounds of marijuana held there from the bust a few months back at the water tower.

"Goddam if I don't get a slow burn off this shit before they put it out," Tom laughed and nodded to the firefighters. There wasn't much humor in his comment, but Charlie tried to smile. The fighters were spraying their hoses as their big trucks hummed and thrummed, pumping out water and racing against time to save what they could. But to Charlie, one of the few officers still around from the days of Donald Thompson and a child killer named Fred Krueger, the destruction of the police station seemed almost a natural function of the cosmos.

He hadn't been surprised to hear that the station had gone up. Somewhere in the deep recesses of his mind he had been waiting for it to happen since the he came to work and discovered their beloved Sheriff Thompson had been killed in the old junkyard. Even more tragic was the fact his daughter, Nancy Thompson had died at Westin Hills the same night. Stabbed by four bladed weapons.

Charlie knew just as the others in the loop had known that Freddy Krueger didn't die the night everyone got together for a good old-fashioned lynch and barbeque. Charlie hadn't thrown a flaming liquor bottle or chucked a torch into Krueger's boiler room that night, but he had watched the scene unfold as though it were a dream. He remembered the look on Thompson's face and the way his wife was screaming at the flames as Fred Krueger burned alive. The death of Krueger was like a dramatic exorcism of a town demon, a spirit that not only possessed the social conscience but also took the lives of the young. It was almost as if Krueger was more pissed at the grown ups than the children.

He remembered thinking after the first or second time Krueger showed up after his death that it was like the man wanted to take away the futures of those who had killed him. Having no children himself, a lifelong bachelor and all, Charlie could only imagine what it was like to lose a child. But seeing what happened to the parents of kids who were killed by Krueger's hand gave him a pretty solid indication of what that loss is like. Freddy didn't just want revenge, he wanted to make people suffer as he had suffered.

He supposed the whole town had been living on borrowed time.

"You okay Charlie?" Tom nudged him.

"No, man," he shook his head. Charlie turned and opened the door to his police cruiser. With a grunt he sat down in the seat, his pot belly getting to be more and more of a hindrance with each passing year and grabbed his radio. He turned it on and said, "This is six-baker-six calling any officer in the Springwood area, come back. Over."

Tom stood by the open door as static hissed over the radio.

"Calling anyone in the area of Springwood, over?"

Again, nothing.

"Tommy," Charlie slammed the radio down, "I think we're the only ones left."

And then the radio crackled, "Six-baker-six this Officers Renaud and Alexander, over?"

"Jesus," Charlie shouted and then replied, "Renaud, where the fuck are you?"

"We're-(hiss and crackle of radio static) ...to Elm Grove and..."

"Renaud, you're breaking up. Come back..."

"...(hiss and more static)... Krueger and Voorhees...(static)"

"I fucking knew it," Tom growled, "It's just like last time. Those two assholes are back."

"Renaud," Charlie frowned, "Please say again?"

"I said Krueger and Voorhees are back... new fucker named Michael My-"

Charlie looked at Tom.

"... stay with... do not attempt to engage them..."

"Listen," Charlie shouted as the fire engines around the smoldering police station revved their engines and moved to a new position across the parking lot, "The whole station had burned to the ground. We need to regroup."

"Everyone's dead," came the reply from Sean, now more clear and concise as the fire engines pulled away, "Sheriff Williams and the others were killed by Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers. Do not try to... (more static and hissing)... have a pla-"

"We need you here!" Charlie said as he slapped the side of the CB unit, "Come back, over?"

Finally the radio went dead and simple relayed static.

"Fuck!"

"Jesus," Tom said.

The radio crackled with grating garble as the open frequency rolled and spat at them. Charlie rubbed his eyes and sat back against the driver's seat. Sweat was beaded across his forehead as the heat from the fire began to die down. Thick smoke billowed and misted across the parking lot and dimmed the already overcast day. He looked out the front windshield and saw a town that was silent and dead, all the living souls hiding in their homes. And why shouldn't they? Those that had been here long enough knew that death was walking their streets unchallenged and unchecked once again. Those that didn't still sensed the danger and hid anyway. Charlie wished he could hide and be anywhere but in a cop's uniform and out in the open.

"I think it's safe to say to Jason is back," he said and then closed his eyes, "Freddy too."

"Sean mentioned someone else," Tom said, "Michael something?"

Charlie shrugged, "I couldn't make it out."

"What now?"

"We call for state back up and then let someone else be in charge," he looked to the burning building, "The sheriff and the others are gone."

"Well at least Sean and Tessa made it out," Tom offered, "That's positive, right?"

"Yeah, but still we-" Charlie jumped back and covered his face as hot liquid spattered his face. Something was in his eyes, clouding his vision and blurring the world over. He could hear a wet, gristly tearing sound as he blindly reached out and shouted, "What the fuck was that? Tom?"

No reply, only that tearing sound and then another distinct noise, that of teeth chattering hard. Charlie wiped his eyes so hard that lights exploded in his field of vision. He focused and looked up to see Tom rising into the air as though by magic. The big cop was convulsing, his hands thumping against the open door and frame as blood gushed from a wound on his chest. He realized it was Tom's blood all over him and the interior of the car.

Tom looked down at him, his eyes wide and white with fear as blood erupted from his mouth in a sick spray. He looked surprised and maybe even a little offended at this sudden attack, and when he was tossed to one side like a rag doll Charlie knew he had lost his mind. A man in a white mask with wild untamed hair was standing there holding a blood-drenched knife. It was one of the long eighteen inch blades that people hawked through info-mercials, one of those magnificent knifes that could cut through tin cans and maybe even cinderblocks for $49.99.

Black eyes, like those of a killer white shark stared impassively at Charlie for only a moment. The man in the mask slowly looked down at the dead body beside the police cruiser and cocked his head to one side, as though admiring his handiwork. When the killed looked back up at him, so slow and purposeful in his gaze, Charlie felt his bladder release a warm flood of urine that soaked his pants.

"I think-" he began and reached for his gun but never finished the thought. Michael Myers rammed the blade into Charlie's skull with the force of a shotgun blast. The tip of the knife entered through his right eyeball, collapsing the gelatin of the orb and then punched through the ocular cavity and to the brain. Charlie was shoved back as his fingers spasmed and the worst fucking headache he had ever known seared through his skull.

"Aughck!" he spit up a thick mixture of phlegm and crimson spittle as blood drained from his sinuses. Charlie kicked his boots against the floorboard once, then twice as he died. The masked killer then wrenched the knife sideways and tore apart the surrounding tissue and bone with a muted crunch and squelching sound. Charlie managed to notice a strange little tattoo on the inside of the killer's wrist, a small thorn shape. He thought it was an odd tattoo and while he was contemplating it he fell into darkness.

Michael Myers stood there for a moment before withdrawing the knife. He watched the policeman die and then when he was certain the man was dead the knife came out. He grabbed the officer by the collar and hauled him out of the driver's seat. With a mighty throw he hefted the body into the bushes where it twisted and broke in the thick branches. Michael turned to see if anyone had noticed. The firemen were too busy with the burning building to even care.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 05



Michael sat down in the driver's seat and closed the door. The keys were in the ignition and the car started up effortlessly. He knew the other one, the one with the hockey mask wasn't far away. Michael knew he would have to kill him eventually. That much was clear. The strength of the hockey-masked killer was evenly matched to his own, and that was something new for Michael to think about. It hadn't happened before. No one had been able to fight him as this newcomer had done.

But he would die as all the others had. Michael didn't concern himself with how to do it. It was inevitable.

The radio crackled and hissed again, and Michael nearly brought his large fist down on it when a voice emerged from the static, "Repeat, this is Renaud. We are going to Elm Grove. Meet us at this address to regroup: 1978 Carpenter Street, do you copy?"

Michael turned off the radio and if he had been capable of smiling, he might have just then cracked a small expression of satisfaction beneath his ghostly mask. But Michael Myers knew nothing of happiness, let alone expressing it. He had no use for anything like it. It was an alien concept, foreign and intrusive against his nature. Those feelings had no place amongst the darkness and as such Michael knew nothing of them. They simple did not exist.

Instead, he put the police cruiser in gear and pulled out onto the street as the fire crews frantically worked to put out the fire he had started. Michael had no idea where to go, only an address given to him in a place called Elm Grove. He drove for five minutes and then saw a sign indicating that the town in question was getting closer, and it even gave some rudimentary directions. 

But that was all Michael needed.

He needed to finish his business here and then go home.

***

Lori didn't know what to expect.

When the door opened, the woman standing there was both beautiful and haunted. Lori recognized her from the photo in the case file her father had kept hidden in the house on Elm Street. Long gone was the shine and luster of her strawberry blonde hair. Like the rest of her appearance, it had dulled and grayed a little. Premature lines had formed at the corners of her mouth and eyes. She wasn't old by any stretch of the word, but she did appear tired and worn out. Her clothes were simple and fairly utilitarian, a simple pair of jeans and a white t-shirt. She was thin and attractive, but also sad. 

She looked at the four strangers on her front porch with large green eyes and asked, "Can I help you?"

"Alice?" Lori asked, "Alice Johnson?"

The woman looked at her for a moment, as though the name spoken had been barbed with fishhooks. She eyed them all for a few seconds and then replied, "Who wants to know?

"My name is Lori," she said, "This is Dr. Loomis and behind him is Sean and Tessa."

"Cops?"

"Yes ma'am," Sean said politely.

"You hear to arrest me?"

"No ma'am," Tessa smiled.

"You all look like someone beat the shit of you," the woman commented after a long once over.

"It's not that far from the truth," Tessa said dryly. Overhead thunder rolled loudly across the cloudy sky. The smell of burning wood and metal was thick in the air, even here in Elm Grove.

"Ms. Johnson," Loomis said, "Please, we need your help."

"Please," the woman opened her screen door after a long scrutinizing pause and then motioned a welcome into her home, "Call me Alice."

"Thank you Alice," Lori said.

Once her four guests were seated on the large comfy couch in her spartanly decorated living room, Alice sat in her recliner and looked at them expectantly. There was a long silence as no one in the room wanted to initiate the discussion about why they were here. Alice already knew. She had dreamed about them coming here. They had been strangers in the premonitory dreams, all of them faces she did not recognize. Except the blonde woman, Lori. Alice had felt like she knew Lori before, or at the very least had some ethereal connection with her.

Finally, Alice broke the silence, "Is he back?"

"Yes," Lori nodded, somehow not surprised that Alice knew the unspoken name of Freddy Krueger was the purpose of their visit.

Alice tried to smile a little, her eyes quietly mournful and sad, "It was only a matter of time, really."

"We need your help, Alice," Loomis said.

"And what makes you think I can help you?" she asked.

"Here we go again," Sean whispered to Tessa.

Loomis reached into his dark overcoat and pulled out the file folder that Richard Campbell had given him earlier. He walked it over and handed it to her gently, a strange little smile of apology and knowledge etched across his lips. He scratched his well-trimmed beard thoughtfully and then returned to his seat, deciding to say nothing.

Alice opened the file and looked through the contents. She saw a sterilized recording of her life, a report on the activities and wild ravings of an outcast. There were notes about her claims of having defeated Freddy Krueger when she became the Dream Master. She saw notes from the interview she had granted Dr. Neil Gordon so long ago. She had thought maybe Gordon believed her, and based on the cursory glance she gave the papers she had been right. It also seemed Dr. Gordon had been shunned for believing her as she had been shunned for being the Dream Master.

"I'm not who I used to be," she continued flipping through the file folder, reliving each moment and memory of her encounters with the dream killer. Like the chill of icy backwater against warm skin she recalled the horror of discovering Krueger had been hiding inside her. She had thought she defeated him, but in reality he had gone into hibernation in her dreams. She had been the unwitting vessel that sustained him and kept him from death. And then he had gone after her unborn son. He had gone after poor Jacob.

Jacob.

She shook her head and closed the folder, "He can't be killed if that's what you're here for."

"We only intend to stop him," Loomis said.

Alice graced them with a lovely smile that was both sympathetic and condemning, a ghost of her former self, "What's your name?"

"Mathew Loomis."

"Mathew," she said and sat the folder down on the floor, "You can't stop what can't be stopped. You can't kill what's already been killed. Do you understand that?"

"You were the Dream Master," Lori interrupted, "You faced Freddy and beat him. How did you do it?"

Alice looked at her and for a moment saw herself sitting on the couch as she had been before she ever knew of Freddy Krueger, of Dream Masters or anything truly evil in the world. She saw herself young and innocent, untouched by the evil of Krueger. Alice sighed, "I can't help you."

"Ms. Johnson?" Sean stood up and straightened out his stained and dusty uniform, "There are a lot of people dying out there right now."

"I'm sorry people are dying," Alice looked to the floor, "But I can't help you. You came here looking for the Dream Master, but I'm not her anymore. I haven't been for a long time. Who sent you here? Was it Neil Gordon? Dr. Campbell?"

"Dr. Campbell," Lori said, "My father."

Alice didn't seem all that surprised by this revelation either. In Springwood, it's always about family. It's always about whom you know and who gets tangled in the web with you. It's always about family. Always. She said, "You seem like you're really smart. Go now while you can."

"I'm afraid I can't," Lori met Alice's stare.

Alice regarded with mild amusement.

"I just heard all this shit from my father," Lori said as politely as she could, "I was hoping you could do better.

Alice looked at Lori and felt a strange sensation of déjà vu. In her dreams, she had seen her before. Sometimes she dreamed she was playing chess with Freddy Krueger, scared to death of losing the terminal game. The dream had plagued her for years, but more recently she had been seeing a blonde woman who looked remarkably like Lori in her place. Alice knew that Lori's being on her doorstep was not a coincidence. She knew this moment would come eventually, Alice just hadn't wanted to face it.

"You won't like what I have to tell you," Alice said evenly.

"This hasn't been a good day anyway," Sean spoke up.

"We'll chance it," Tessa added.

"Please," Loomis said, "We really don't have much time."

Alice shrugged and recounted her story. She told them about the Dream Warriors, she told them about becoming the Dream Master and she told them about her son, the Dream Child. She gave them every aspect in explicit detail, hoping to enlighten them about what it was they faced. The whole time, Lori would not look away from her. The others would occasionally glance away, but it was the young blonde girl that would not relent from her pursuit of the truth. Alice gave them the full disclosure, and when she finished all them were scared to death.

Only Lori did not show it. Alice thought that was interesting, as she knew Lori's fear ran the deepest of them all.

Alice asked the others to step outside while she and Lori talked.

***

"Cigarette, Doctor?" Sean offered Loomis a smoke from his rumpled pack of Camel Lights.

"Thank you," Loomis smiled appreciatively and took the cigarette.

"No sweat," Sean handed the doctor his lighter.

"So," Tessa asked from the chair at the far end of the porch, "You think this chick is the genuine article?"

"How do you mean?" Loomis lit up and inhaled, handing the small gold lighter back to Sean.

"This Dream Master stuff," she said, "I mean, it all sounds pretty for out there, right? You think she's for real?"

Loomis nodded, "Yes, I think so."

"After what I've seen here lately," Sean laughed half-heartedly as smoke jetted from his nostrils, "I'd believe elephants can fly."

"God this is all so fucking weird," Tessa rubbed her eyes and ran a hand through her dark hair, "I mean you've got a guy who kills people in their dreams, masked psychos and a woman called the Dream Master. This shit would make a great movie."

Loomis chuckled, "I suppose it would."

Sean rubbed his shoulder and grunted, his dark skin still a pale shade of what it normally was. He scratched his chin and then took another drag on his smoke. He looked to Loomis and asked, "Can I ask you something, doctor?"

"Of course," Loomis replied.

"What's your story?"

Loomis shrugged, "It's a rather long tale, officer..."

"Sean," he corrected him, "We've almost been killed together today on more than occasion. You can call me Sean."

"Okay then," Loomis smiled gratefully and took a deep breath, "My father was the psychiatrist who cared for Michael Myers after he killed his sister back in 1968. Judith Myers was only seventeen when Michael took a large kitchen knife and stabbed her to death. At first, my father believed Michael could be cured, but after awhile he realized that Michael was beyond help."

"No shit," Tessa leaned her head back against the wall, "Talk about sibling rivalry..."

"He even petitioned for Michael to be executed at one time, but the state of Illinois had rather archaic laws at the time regarding the death penalty," Loomis continued as the rain began to fall again, "My father knew Michael could never be reintroduced into society, so he devoted his career to keeping Michael locked away. But Michael escaped in 1978 and went after his other sister in Haddonfield. She escaped, but my father was badly burned in his capture of Michael. Michael claimed a dozen victims that night."

"Damn," Sean cocked an eyebrow.

"He escaped again during a prisoner transfer and succeeded in adding another twenty people to his long list of atrocities. My father tracked him and pursued him. It was his obsession really, to the point where my mother left him and took me along for the ride. In the end though," Loomis said, "Michael and my father had to reckon with each other and finally fought for the last time in a sanitarium not far outside Haddonfield. He stabbed my father repeatedly until he was dead and then left."

"Mathew," Tessa looked to him, her eyes wide, "I am so sorry."

"Oh," Loomis thanked her with a look as he took another drag on his smoke, "My father died doing what he felt he must do. He didn't give up."

"And so you've picked up his work?" Tessa limped over to the banister where Loomis was and stood beside him.

"I worked very hard profiling 'super-killers' like Fred Krueger and Jason Voorhees in the hopes understanding Michael Myers better," Loomis explained, "Mary, my ex-wife, was my partner in the research until she found other interests."

"So what are our chances then?" Sean asked bluntly, "You're the expert here doctor, and I have a bad feeling that the odds are not in our favor."

"And you'd be right," Loomis agreed hesitantly, "We have very little hope of success. But we can't give up either, Sean."

"Spoken like a true realistic optimist," Tessa said.

"Thank you, Tessa," the doctor smiled.

"Officer Alexander," she said sternly and glared at him.

"Oh," Loomis stammered, "I'm sorry-"

"Doc?" Tessa interrupted.

Loomis looked thoroughly embarrassed.

"I'm just fucking with you," she slapped his shoulder.

Loomis laughed.

It felt good to laugh.

***

"What do you know about dreams?" Alice asked Lori.

Lori shrugged, "Not a lot, really."

The two women sat on the floor in the dark living room, legs folded underneath them and no more than a few feet apart. Lori felt surprisingly at ease with Alice, despite the fact she didn't know her very well. Still, there was a strong connection between them. She could feel an unspoken bond of kindred experience and shared pain. Until now, Lori had believed her grief was insurmountable and beyond what anyone could really understand. But even being this close to Alice Johnson proved to her that she knew nothing of the true nature of pain.

"The Dream Master," Alice began, "Is a guardian. The world that lies between sleep and awake is powerful and filled with paradoxes and impossibilities, Lori. It's a place where the rules of this world no longer apply. Those who understand this have a great power there. Freddy Krueger is unbound the rules that govern our daily lives here and in the dream world for the most part. He can affect things in the real world as easily as he can in the dream world. In a world where such an evil man can exist, there has to be a balance. For every wolf, there must be a shepherd. Understand?"

"Yes," Lori nodded, "I'm becoming acquainted with that concept intimately."

"I was chosen to be the Dream Master," Alice explained, "I don't know why, Lori. I don't why it was me and not someone else. And it took me awhile to understand what had happened to me. All of my friends died before I realized the power I had been given. The Dream Master protects the dreams of the living, and when I fought him the first time I thought I had killed him."

Lori started feeling sleepy, her eyes growing heavy as she listened. The strange part was the further she began to fall into sleep, the clearer Alice's words became to her. Lori had the distinct feeling that she was beginning to dream as her eyes closed and yet remained open.

"I didn't succeed," Alice told her, "But I stopped him."

"I feel so sleepy," Lori managed, her hand to her forehead and eyes fluttering briefly.

"Don't be afraid," Alice comforted her and put a hand on her leg, "We're both going into a dream."

"Why would we dream?" Lori asked, feeling uneasy, "Freddy will find us."

"He might," Alice agreed, "But I can't really explain to you what is happening. You have to see it for yourself."

"But-"

"No," Alice put a finger to her lips and then Lori realized that they were no longer in Alice's house but in a church. 

The chapel was ancient looking, the pews rotted and chipped and the walled stained with years of neglect. Cobwebs the size of picnic blankets were hanging from the ceiling in ghostly tangles. Dead weeds and plants were rooted in the cracks of the dirty floor. Lori could smell the dusty aroma of rotted leaves, browned and brittle from the passing of time and an even more powerful under current of wet soil. It reminded her of the time she had hidden from her father in the crawlspace under the house. It was dark and damp, cold with drafts and alive with things that feared the light. The dirt had been soft and wet giving an earthy smell she had never forgotten.

Elegantly colored stain glass windows gave the chapel a bizarre coloring of red, blue, green and orange light. Lori thought they were beautifully crafted windows, but also that they were ugly and foreboding at the same time. The once cherry-stained wood that made up the table and decorative choir boxing and pit was run down and covered with a thick layer of dust. Lori followed Alice up the center aisle of the chapel until they arrived where the preacher's pulpit might have been.

"This is where I fought him," Alice looked around and held her hands out as she stood in the colorful array of lights from the window, "This place, this chapel is a dream hub."

"A hub?" Lori asked.

"Like the house at 1428 Elm Street," Alice said and ran her finger over the dusty banister lining under the windows, "Like the boiler room at the old power plant... like Springwood is."

Lori looked down and saw a rumpled pile of clothing. She gasped, not because a dark brown fedora was upturned and gaping at her like an open maw and not because of the red and green striped sweater underneath it. She saw the glove, the simple workman's glove than any gardener or utilitarian might have worn to his work everyday. Except this glove was modified, adorned with metal and stained with blood. Lori felt another chill arc up her spine like electricity as the long, wicked bladed at the four finger tips glimmered in the dream light.

"Krueger?" she pointed down at the pile.

"That was how I left him after the fight," Alice nodded, "He looks pretty dead, doesn't he?"

"Yes," Lori agreed, "No body even."

"That's just it Lori," she said, "No body. You're thinking like I did. I saw him die here and then I assumed he was. But that's where I went wrong. He can't die, Lori. He's not even a man anymore. He's an idea, a universal fear. He's gone beyond the flesh and beyond the dreams now. I've been watching him for a long time as he's changed and evolved."

"I don't understand."

"Freddy Krueger is about to fulfill his destiny," Alice explained, "He is becoming a variation on a very evil idea."

"That doesn't sound very frightening, Alice."

"Think about it... how do you fight an idea?" she asked, "How do you suppress the spoken word of his name? Do you forget him? Can you outrun him? How can you fight what you can't see or touch or even prove exists?"

Lori felt he stomach sinking fast.

"Like Dr. Gordon told me once, Freddy Krueger is an airborne disease," Alice said, "All you have to do to catch him is say his name and he'll be in your dreams that very night."

"A variation on an idea," Lori repeated.

"Look," Alice pointed out to the pews, "And see the legacy."

The pews of the church were suddenly filled. A dozen or so people were seated in the various rows, their eyes looking to Lori. She knew instinctively that every last one of them was dead. She could feel the cold void of death around her like iced water in the middle of December. It felt as though a thousand dead hands caressed her skin suddenly. Lori shivered and felt her nipples go as hard as two chips of ice.

"In your dreams, you can see the dead," Alice said quietly, "They're the people in the background, the ones you never recognize but think you know. But for us Lori, for people like you and me, they're the ones we share our lives with."

"What?" Lori took another step back.

"Jason Voorhees, Freddy Krueger, Michael Myers..." Alice said quietly, "They're all variations on an idea. And for each of those variations, there were those who fought back."




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 06



A NIGHTMARE REBORN: FREDDY VS. JASON 2

CHAPTER 06

BASED UPON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:

Wes Craven: A Nightmare on Elm Street

Victor Miller: Friday the 13th

John Carpenter: Halloween

Victor Salva: Jeepers Creepers

Clive Barker: Candyman, Hellraiser

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS: 

Sean Renaud, Tessa Alexander and Miriam Belle

EDITOR:

Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

-"In truth, these final two chapters were originally written in one piece. I tend to write longer chapters and while I think the stories improve overall, it is more difficult for the reader to take in everything in one sitting. With that in mind, and considering the great length of Chapter 05, I have split the final chapter into two acts. Enjoy!" –bluefox07"

***

THINGS FALL APART

Monday, May 16th 2005

"Hello and good evening," Kate Hunt stood in front of her cameraman, Chip Baker, as rain poured down from the heavy, thick clouds above. She wore a yellow rain slicker and held her microphone close as lightning flashed overhead, startling her for a moment. A thunderclap followed shortly thereafter and shook the ground on which she stood. She smiled and composed herself as the live feed continued, "I'm reporting to you live from what is left of the Elm Grove Minute Market on Langenkamp Street just south of Elm Grove High. As you can see, the small independently owned business has been burned to the ground-"

Behind Kate was the smoldering ruin of the Minute Market. Flames were still arching into the sky as firefighters hosed the building down. Like the blaze miles away in Springwood, this fire seemed to be unyielding to the rain and the efforts of the fire fighters. She stepped aside to allow Chip a good view of the ruined building. After a few lingering moments, she then snapped her fingers and the camera was back on her again. After three years of doing this, Chip knew that the camera loved only one image, and that was of Kate. It might stray for the purpose of establishing the setting or the interviewee, but it was in love with Kate completely. At least, that was how she had explained it to him.

"This is the latest in a bizarre and catastrophic series of events that officials are calling the worst act of arson ever to be committed in the state of Ohio," she continued as the fire began to subside behind her, "As we speak, an estimated three quarters of the city neighboring Elm Grove to the south, Springwood, is burning to the ground. A mass exodus of refugees from Springwood have been spilling into Elm Grove, Crystal Lake and other neighboring communities as this crisis goes from bad to worse."

Kate cringed as another thunderclap assaulted her ears, "In the midst of these acts of arson, there are unconfirmed reports that several police officers were killed in the fire at the Springwood Police station. This incredible series of events began Saturday night when an apparent rash of teen suicides occurred in Springwood, prompting extreme acts of random violence and what many are calling mass hysteria.

The Governor has declared a state of emergency as rescue crews and police try to contain the situation. The current instructions for everyone living in the Springwood area is to evacuate in an orderly fashion and proceed to safe locations in neighboring towns. The Elm Grove chief of police, Edward Chang is expected to make an announcement giving further instructions within the hour. Reporting to you live from Elm Grove, Ohio I'm Kate Hunt."

Chip shut off the camera as smoke curled through the air, "Great job!"

"Shut the fuck up," she rolled her eyes and slapped her microphone against his jacket, "That was terrible. Did you hear that thunder? I couldn't even think let alone talk. How did I look?"

"You looked great," Chip smiled and followed her to the van. The side door slid open and they stepped inside, "You were perfect."

Kate took off the slicker and looked at it, her nose crinkled and a look of pure disgust etched across her face, "And what the fuck is up with this 'Gilligan's Island' rain coat? Chip, I'm vying to move into network news. I have to look as good as I sound."

"Hey, it looks good with your hair," he shrugged as she tossed it to him.

"It's shit," she said flatly, "I have short red hair. Get me a raincoat that compliments a sexy red, okay?"

"But-"

"It's shit," she repeated.

"We don't-"

"It's shit," she warned.

"I couldn't agree more," he wadded and threw the coat into the back of the van as Kate worked her way up to the passenger side seat in the front. Chip watched her as he absently put his camera back in its case. She wore her typical neutrally colored business skirt and suit combo with the open v-neck and wide lapels. Her short red hair was wet and plastered to her forehead as she passed him, her green eyes smoldering. She shoved past, bent over and giving him a generous view of her shapely ass and her toned legs. Her pantyhose zipped and pulled hypnotically as she walked by. He shivered as he felt the beginnings of an erection. 

"Where to now?" he asked and locked the carrying case. Outside, the sirens from the fire engines wailed and then silenced.

"Let's see if we can't shoot some footage of all the people leaving Springwood. We need to get some really depressing images here for me to play off of," she pulled down the sun visor and looked at herself in the mirror, adjusting her hair. Then, she snapped her fingers, " Oh wait, I know. Let's go to the city offices and see what the mayor is up to."

"What?"

"We either need some serious human interest bullshit or some footage of the mayor trying to explain this mess."

He looked at her for a moment, feeling briefly disgusted by her. No one should be so cold and heartless as to look at arson victims in a way to further a career. Kate was acting despicably and he felt his ears ringing from her words. He wondered if he just shouldn't slap her hard and see if that didn't wake her up to reality a little. As he contemplated this, Kate looked at him in the visor mirror, her eyes expectant and impatient as she applied a new layer of dark red lipstick, "Hello Chip?"

"Sorry," he shook his head, "Wandered off there."

"You don't get paid to wander off," she blinked, "Now get moving."

"Sure thing," he nodded and started the engine as the headlights came to life. The windshield wipers flipped back and forth rhythmically as rain spotted the glass. Chip shook his head, feeling suddenly certain he had sold his soul to the devil by working for Kate Hunt. But then, considering the fact that he was sleeping with her on the side he didn't have any room to make a whole lot of moral judgments.

"Chip," she popped her freshly painted lips and looked over at him, "Let's stop somewhere before we get going. I need to tinkle."

'Tinkle?' he thought to himself, 'The cast iron bitch who doesn't take shit from anyone, anywhere at anytime needs to tinkle? Be a man and take a piss out the window...'

Chip smiled and resisted the urge to laugh. If he hadn't seen her naked for himself, he might've believed she actually had a set of balls.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing," he grinned and popped the parking break.

The van pulled out from the Minute Market parking lot and down the hazy street as the afternoon rolled in unnoticed.

***

From up in the sky, a lone helicopter made a quick flight over Springwood. The cameras attached the chopper recorded images that the rest of the nation would never forget. The city was blazing despite the record rainfall, looking more like a bombed out ruin from a World War II French metropolis. It seemed water had no effect on fire here in Springwood as house after house ignited and went up in a flash of brilliant light and heat. Black smoke had blanketed much of the town and was blowing to the west, but there were some places where the smoke was thin and one could see the flames. The only untouched portion of the city was the south end of town, but from the looks of the inferno racing towards Elm Grove it wouldn't be long before the entire city burned.

Lightning flashed near the blades of the rotor as the news helicopter flew low, trying to capture the carnage. From this viewpoint, the stretch of freeway between Springwood and Elm Grove was packed with cars as people fled the disaster. The pilot could even see the red taillights of cars driving to Crystal Lake off to the north. Everyone was abandoning ship as Springwood sank into the pits of hell. Only the glare of red and blue emergency lights and the near continuous howl of sirens indicated people were still in the city.

The pilot watched as one of the two water towers in town, burning for about an hour before the helicopter passed overhead, finally collapsed under it's own weight. Thousands of gallons of water splashed through yards and turned over a few cars as he hovered above. He could see trashcans and toys and even a few bikes being swept away into the streets as the flood of water raced along. The pilot shook his head and nearly shit himself as another bolt of lighting seared through the air just a little too close for comfort.

"Jesus," he whispered and looked to the cameramen recording the disaster in the side and rear passenger seats, "Gentlemen, I think we better cut bait."

"Do we have to?" said the one sitting next to him, sounding more like a disappointed child denied a trip to the carnival than a grown man.

"Yes," the pilot said, "Unless you'd like to have a bolt of lightning up your ass."

"Point taken."

The pilot banked easily to the left and away from the dying city. They would have just enough to fuel to get back to Cincinnati before the evening news. In the distance, he spied the old Springwood Power Plant. Lighting seemed to be dancing off the old relic as the storm intensified. In fact, the worst of the storm, the darkest of the clouds appeared to be roiling just over the derelict facility. He had always heard weird shit happened in Springwood, and he believed some of the stories he had heard. But he didn't like the looks of the monster storm raging overhead.

The chopper sped through the rainy sky and left Springwood to burn.

***

Tessa felt sick as she and Loomis cruised slowly down the razed streets of northern Springwood. She had seen the city in both good and bad times, but then this was the first time she had seen it completely fucked. There had been the pictures taken of Springwood in the late nineties when the city folded, but they hadn't really made an impression with her. She hadn't been there, so it wasn't quite real for her. As horrible as that had been, this was even worse. This was real.

Seeing the fire-gutted houses and charred trees in the dismal rain made her feel displaced. Everything looked different now, all the color and life burned away. Thick black smoke curled and hazed through the air as the police cruiser navigated the crowded streets. Tessa turned on her lights and sounded the siren a few times to clear a path as angry and frightened people abandoned their homes to the inferno.

"I've never seen anything like this," Loomis muttered as he looked out the passenger side window, "So much destruction..."

"I doubt Springwood will bounce back from this," Tessa said and then added a moment later, "Maybe it shouldn't."

Ahead of them was a gridlocked traffic jam at the intersection of Miller and Salva Streets. Horns were blaring and lights flashing as Tessa sighed and prepared to stop, "Ah shit, that's just great."

Loomis saw the car slowing down, "What are you doing?"

"I'm going to go and make sure everything is okay."

"Tessa," Loomis put a hand on her arm, "Your dedication to duty not withstanding, shouldn't we press on to the city offices?"

Tessa looked at him for a moment, her dark eyes doubtful, "They could need help."

"Let's help them by ending this," the doctor said.

After a long moment Tessa slowly nodded and then continued on down a side street between Maynard's Hardware and the barbershop, leaving the intersection behind. After a few blocks of unburned houses, Tessa asked, "So, have you always been this tenacious?" 

Loomis smiled as he rubbed his eyes, "Always, I'm afraid. I come by it naturally though."

Tessa asked, "Loomis senior was equally as pushy?"

"Always," he thought of his father and suddenly missed him very much, "Always."

***

Chip knew what they were about to do was wrong.

How many times had they come to a locked a door and Kate just had to pick the lock or find someway of getting inside? He had lost count. Chip sighed and leaned against the back entrance of the city offices. They had pulled up to the rear of the building in hopes of not scaring the mayor into his office with an official "no comment" excuse. He shook his head as rain pelted him from above, soaking him completely. This was so illegal he couldn't believe Kate was even thinking about doing it. But then, when it came to getting a good story, Kate was as vicious as they came.

"It looked like they were closed, Kate," he said.

"Maybe," she said quietly, "Maybe not."

"They probably all evacuated."

"So?"

"So if no one is here," Chip asked, "Why are we breaking in?"

"To snoop around and see what the mayor is hiding," she muttered as she leaned over and worked the lock with two paper clips. While Chip totally enjoyed looking at Kate's shapely ass from this angle, easily imagining a slick scenario of anal penetration that made his cock harden again in jeans, he also didn't want to be arrested.

"What is it about locked doors that make people want to break them open?"

"Since when have the city offices ever been closed during a week day except for Christmas?" she looked up at him, "There's a city wide emergency going on here and no one is at the wheel? Please."

"Look, we've already broken how many laws slipping past the roadblock?" Chip whispered, "Jesus, Kate. You could get arrested for this."

Kate stood up straight and eyed her cameraman. She smiled genially, though her eyes revealed no kindness whatsoever. She put her hands on his shoulders and said, "Are you losing your balls, Chip?"

"No."

"Are you sure?" she taunted him.

Chip rolled his eyes, "Yes I'm sure, Kate. But I don't want my balls getting lost in the shower room at some god forsaken prison either. I'm thin, attractive and white. Those guys would eat me alive. My name is 'Chip' for christ's sake."

"If we find something in here," she leaned in and kissed him gently, her tongue sliding out from between her lips sensually, "I will make your wildest perverted little fantasies come true in the hottest, wettest way possible."

Chip looked thoughtfully up at the sky as his cock swelled impossibly fast. He said, "I can dig that."

"Good boy," she reached down and gave his bulge a squeeze, "Now get this damned door open."

Chip played the lock for a minute as Kate stood back and tried huddle under the narrow eve of the building. She was thoroughly convinced that there was something up, something running afoul in Springwood that just struck her the wrong way. From the teen suicides to the fires and now the incident in Elm Grove, she suspected that it was all just too convenient. Something was happening behind the scenes, and it was her job to find out what. That was why the Channel 7 News executives paid her such a plump salary.

That and she knew how to fuck their brains out of their skulls in ways their wives couldn't have ever imagined.

Kate was good, and she knew it.

"Okay," Chip opened the door slowly, waiting for an alarm to go off. When there was no alarm, he smiled and let loose a sigh of pure relief, "What are the odds?"

"Shut up, Chip," Kate pushed her way past him and into the office building.

The moment she walked inside, she knew something was wrong. It was way too dark, even for a public office building closed for the day. Usually someone left a single lamp on or cracked the bathroom door open to shed a little light around. The only light she could see was from the bay windows and glass doors at the front of the building. The blinds were turned and tilted so that muted storm light could filter through but no much else.

"What's that smell?" Chip asked from behind her, startling her.

Kate jumped and hissed, "It's the smell of my foot up your ass! Shut up!"

"Sorry," Chip shrank back.

She did smell something though. It was a bland metallic aroma, so thick she could taste it on her tongue. Her mind tried to place the odor as they walked down the hall and then into the secretarial cubicles. There was the mixed air of copier toner, wet ink and reams of fresh paper but it was all underscored to the powerfully foreign scent. Kate took off her pumps and walked barefoot through the workspaces. As she went, she switched on desk lamps and looked at the papers the secretaries had left out.

"There's coffee still in the mugs," Chip whispered.

"So?"

"So?" he put his finger to one of the mugs (which was inscribed in gay red writing the phrase, "World's Best Mom") and found it was still warm, "The mug is hot."

"Hot coffee at a secretaries desk," Kate cocked a brow, "There's a shocker."

"With the office closed? Who's in here drinking it?" Chips looked around at the other desks in the dim light. He hurried to each desk, touching five mugs in all, "There's half-full mugs on every desk. All of them warm or hot."

"Your point?" she flipped through a file folder.

"Why did they leave in a hurry?"

"Maybe there was an evacuation?" Kate suggested sarcastically, "Maybe the mayor ordered everyone out."

Chip sighed and walked over to the light switches on the wall to his left. He flipped them up and down a few times, "No power."

"No shit."

"That seem a little strange to you?" he pointed at the lamps, "How the fuck are they working?"

"Maybe there's a back up circuit," Kate glared at him, "Or maybe they're battery powered. You know, these cubicles have computers that probably contain a lot of vital records and shit. Wouldn't you keep them on a back-up generator?"

"Whatever," Chip mumbled. 'So where's the back up power, you emasculating cow?'

After finding nothing of any interest at the desks, Kate walked to the receptionist desk and found a phone with a blinking message indicator. The little red indicator on the phone glowed in the dim light as Chip stood beside her. Kate smiled wickedly and put her finger to the playback button. Chip cleared his throat and shook his head.

"Big trouble if you get caught..."

"Chip," she pressed the button, "Grow a fucking chest hair."

The first message played back:

-"Hi, this is Earl at the water treatment plant. We got a bit of a problem with the rats down here from the flooding... I got about two thousand little fur balls dead in my outlets and I need someone to come down an-"

Kate moved on to the next message:

-"This phone call is in regards to a request for funding through the state grant board. At this time, we are una-"

"My phone messages are more scandalous than this," Chip chuckled as Kate forwarded the machine to the next message:

-"Hello, my name is Matthew Loomis. I'm a criminal psychologist out of New York. I'm calling in regards to the disaster at the Police Station earlier yesterday morning. Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers attacked the officers there, including myself and several other civilians. Please know that officers Sean Renaud and Tessa Alexander are with me at this moment. We are trying to devise a way to capture the two killers before they can move on. I highly recommend you evacuate Springwood as soon as possible..." 

"The police are dead?" Chip looked at Kate.

Kate waved her hand at him as though she were swatting a troublesome fly, "Shh!"

"... you can reach us at the following number, 555-4 (static and interference on the line)..."




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 06



The message ended and Kate stood back from the desk.

"Holy shit," Chip looked at her.

"I know," Kate said, "This is bigger than we thought."

"Wow."

"Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers both here in my town," Kate smiled broadly as her heart began pounding, "Oh Chip, this could be the big one."

Chip shook his head, "What big one? Those cops are dead, Kate."

"Chip," she stroked his cheek, "You can't make an omelet without breaking a few eggs."

"Are you high?"

"Yes," she said and smiled at him, "I am feeling very good because my career is about to take off, and those two freaks are my golden tickets."

He looked at her, flabbergasted, "You're the devil."

"What I am," she backed herself into him and rubbed her ass against his bulge, "Is horny right now. Want to celebrate?"

"What?" Chip stuttered.

"No one's here," she rubbed her ass against him slowly, letting the bulge rest between her curves of her buttocks, "And I told you I would reward you."

In the darkness of the silent office, the sound of Kate's rapid breathing and the scent of her elegantly lavender perfume overpowered Chip's sense of right and wrong and appealed to the more base instinct of his sex. She slipped her business jacket off and tossed it aside, her feline eyes resting squarely of Chip.

"Kate," Chip breathed as his cock betrayed him, "This is wrong, okay?"

"Chip..."

"Let's just go get that footage of the refugees, huh? That'll be better than this. This is just exploitation."

"I need you on this Chip..."

"Kate, we need to go and pass this guy's message along. It sounds they know what they're doing. Jason Voorhees isn't the kind of situation you fuck around with, you know?"

Kate nodded, her bottom lip slightly pushed out. She slid her hands over his chest and backed him up slowly until he sat down in one of the vacant cubicle chairs. She pressed against his broad shoulders and backed the chair up until Chip could rest his head against the wall. Kate lifted one of her legs up and over his lap, settling in and letting her crotch rest on his rock-hard groin as her skirt rode up. She ran her hands though his dark hair, her slender fingers somehow managing to electrify his scalp and make goosebumps. He swallowed hard as he noticed her stockings.

"Chip, you know I'm always looking out for you, right?" she asked innocently and rubbed her crotch against him.

"Kate please," he closed his eyes and tried to resist.

"You know, you've already helped me break in here," she kissed his nose gently as her pussy became wet through her panties, "You might as well just play ball with me, okay? This is a huge story, Chip. I need you."

"If we get caught..."

"No one is going to care," Kate offered and ran her crimson painted fingernails down his cheeks, neck, over the collar of his shirt and down over his pecs, "You know if things go good for me, they go really good for you."

"I know," Chip managed and found his hands were resting on her hips, his fingers slowly working back towards her ass. 

"What do I have to do to make you help me?" Kate asked as she began loosening the buttons of her blouse. 

"Oh shit," Chip licked his lips. He knew he was going to lose this battle of wills.

"Chip," Kate tilted her head to one side and undid the first button, spreading her blouse open a little, "I can make this so worth your while."

Kate began playing with the second button as she teased him, her hot sex rubbing wetly against his hidden erection. She unbuttoned her blouse one button at a time as she spoke, "We can do anything you want..."

She undid the second button down.

"I'll suck your cock like a dirty slut..."

She undid the third button down.

"I'll let you fuck my tits with that big, fat dick of yours..."

Kate undid the fourth button down and pushed her shirt open slightly, giving him a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage. Chip gasped as she ran her fingernails up under his shirt and over his nipples, tweaking them. 

"I'll let you put your dick right in between them and let you fuck them 'til you cum... would you like that?" she smiled and then undid the fifth button.

"Are you kidding," he whispered.

"... I'll let you fuck my mouth..."

The sixth button came undone, opening her shirt wide and giving him a magnificent view of her milky cleavage.

"...I'll let you fuck my cunt..."

She looked down at his belt buckle and smiled as her fingers began loosing it.

"...I'll let you fuck my ass, Chip..."

Chip was ready come, and he knew it would happen soon. He hadn't even gotten his clothes off yet. He fought off the inevitable by trying to recount every baseball game he had ever seen.

And then she let her blouse fall away from her shoulders. Her stomach was flat and yet not overly muscled. Her breasts were contained in a black, lacy bra that made no effort to conceal her large nipples behind anything more than some flimsy tightly knit fishnet fabric. She straightened her arms and was free of the shirt as it fell to the floor.

Chip watched as she let the straps of her bra fall free and then lean back a little, her thighs tightening on his lap for balance. She reached behind her back and un-hooked her bra, letting it slowly come off and reveal her breasts in all their naked glory. They were the color of a fine, milky cream. They hung down under their own weight, and yet as Chip looked, he could not see a single stretch mark. It was as if though they defied the laws of nature and simply existed outside of reality. 

Kate guided his hands to her tits and smiled as his rough palms grazed her erect nipples. Chip began massaging them, completely taken by the size of the fleshy orbs now hanging in front of his face. He cupped them and rolled her nipples back and forth between his fingers. 

Kate moaned under his touch, "That's nice..."

"You're evil," he whispered as his dick throbbed painfully. With a single fluid motion, she removed his t-shirt and tossed it aside. Kate leaned forward and kissed him. Her lips pressed against his with a firm wetness and he embraced her. Her breasts were heavy on his chest and neck as she slipped her tongue into his mouth and caressed him with a slow, deliberate pace. He ran his hands along the slope of her back and to the beginning of her ass. His fingers slid past the waistband of her skirt and into her panties. Their breathing was becoming rapid and shallow as the intensity of the kiss grew more urgent.

Kate opened his fly and pulled the zipper down with deliberate patience and reserve. The head of his swollen member was poking out from under the waistband of his boxer shorts, purple and throbbing. She gripped the waistband of the boxers and began pulling down, revealing his thick cock inch by inch. She saw a bubble of pre-cum forming at the tip, glistening and inviting.

"If you help me do this... if you help me expose Jason and Michael's involvement," Kate said as she stood up and then positioned herself between his legs as she pulled his pants and boxers off, "I'll polish your dick to a shine."

Chip barely heard her words as she lowered herself between his legs and wrapped her fingers around his long shaft, but nodded anyway. She began stroking him up and down, letting her palm pass over his bulbous head and smear the pre-cum around, creating a wet friction that made Chip gasp. She cupped his balls in the other hand and gently began kneading his testicles together. 

"It's a deal," Chip moaned as Kate sucked the head of his cock into her mouth, letting her hot tongue swirl and tease his hypersensitive member. He gripped the chair until his knuckles turned white, his face contorted into a pleasure-induced grimace. She worked her tongue around his shaft in a way that she never had before, somehow managing to deep throat all seven inches of his thick cock in a matter of seconds.

He could feel the orgasm building up, rushing towards the climax. He suddenly felt her index finger slide into his ass and begin stimulating him internally. He moaned and jumped reflexively as she sucked him off. Kate slurped and sucked on his rod, being as loud and as obvious as she could be. She groaned into his cock, letting the vibrations from her larynx jolt him.

Chip smiled, completely lost in the sensations. Was it worth selling out for sex?

As with the many times before now, he found the answer was yes.

***

From the shadows of the mayor's office, not more than fifteen feet away, Michael Myers watched the two strangers begin to have sex. Michael recognized the act. He had seen it many times before, the first time being when he was a little boy. It had been a Halloween night when he spied through the window and saw his sister Judith making love to a boy. The act had enraged Michael on some deep, primal level he hadn't even known existed. It enraged him so much that he took a knife and killed her for it.

Now, as it had then, their moans and exclamations of pleasure only fueled the fire within. The cold flames licked at his soul as he smoldered.

Behind him, piled on the large oak desk were the bodies of the mayor of Springwood and his staff. They were beginning to smell as the afternoon went on, but it troubled Michael no more than looking into their dead, glassy eyes did. When it became clear to Michael that he couldn't find the place where the doctor was hiding, he knew he would have to wait and be patient. Rather than trying to sneak past the blockades and drive aimlessly around Elm Grove searching for the doctor, he decided to wait for his prey to come to him.

Michael looked back at the dead bodies. The women had been in the way when he arrived, and he had to be careful in dispatching them. Only five of them had been in the building, and when he made his move he found that killing them was easier than he thought it would be. One had been in the bathroom relieving her bladder while two huddled by the water cooler. They never saw him coming and died quickly. The fourth was smoking a cigarette by the back door when he arrived, thus she was the first to go. The fifth had been in the mayor's office with mayor. They both screamed, but it made little difference as no one was left alive to assist them. Michael took their lives before they could warn anyone. He had cut the power and locked the doors and then moved the bodies into the office.

He didn't know how, but he knew the doctor would come here soon or at the very least, one of his companions would. He had seen it his dreams. The man with knives had told him that they would come here and that he should wait for them. Michael hated the man with knives, but he hated the doctor even more. And since he had no way of finding of the doctor, he waited.

But these two intruders were complicating his plan. Michael tightened his grip around the handle of his eighteen-inch long carving knife and prepared. They were in the throes of their dirty act and he wanted to make sure he could sneak up on them. Michael breathed slowly and waited as the six bodies behind him leaked blood out across the desk and to the carpet. His black eyes watched with a hateful and cold interest.

***

"Didn't that feel good?" Kate asked as she licked a long, stringy rope of Chip's cum from her bottom lip. She had managed to swallow most of his first load, but some of it had slipped out and oozed down her chin.

"Fuck yes," Chip huffed as he watched her stand up and wiggle out of her bunched up skirt.

"Are you hungry, Chip?" she played with the strings of her panties. Her thighs were tight and firm as she kicked the garment away. She ran her fingers over her pussy and then to the tops of her stockings and smiled.

"Very," Chip breathed as he drank in her curves. He quickly slipped out of his loafers and pulled his socks off as she slowly swayed in front of him, enticing him by pulling at her thin, flimsy black panties. She turned around and gave him a great view of her ass. The g-string allowed him an unbiased view of her perfect buttocks, firm and deliciously round.

"What would you like to try first?" she purred and faced him again. She leaned forward, her breasts swinging gracefully and causing his cock to stir again, and pulled down her panties. She slid them off gently, again taking care and precision in her movements. She slid them down past the tops of her stockings, her knees, her toned calves and the finally her feet as Chip felt his cock jerk. She stood up straight and stepped out of them. 

Chip gawked at her beautiful sex and the small triangle of red pubic hair just above her slit. The delicate mound was moist and glistening in the dim smoky light, her lips looking impossibly full and inviting. Kate walked up beside him as he sat in the chair and then raised her leg up like a ballerina. Keeping her right foot planted firmly on the hardwood floor, she rested her left leg on his right shoulder. The fabric of her stockings rubbed wonderfully against his skin as he became giddy with anticipation. This brought her pussy directly level with his face as he inhaled her sweet scent.

"Lick my pussy," she whispered and ran a hand through his hair, "Lick me and kiss me and make me cum...

Chip gently kissed her outer lips, taking a moment to relish the taste of her sex with one long slow lick across the slit. She was sweet and silky, her flavor like an exotic sexual fruit. Kate was young and fresh, her nectar vital and undeniably intoxicating. Chip grasped her buttocks and began licking her cunt, flicking his tongue in and out slowly as Kate purred.

Chip groaned into her depths.

"Yes," Kate murmured under her breath as he stimulated her, her hands finding their way to her heavy breasts. She massaged them gently and tweaked her nipples as Chip worked his tongue into her, lowering himself down slightly to get a better angle. She felt almost lightheaded as he worked his expert tongue over clit, swirling it and then beginning to flick it alternately. She bit her lip as he suckled on her sensitive button, coaxing it out of hiding and baiting it for the attack.

She didn't notice the ghostly face watching her from the shadows.

***

Michael slowly opened the door and stepped out into the hallway. He scanned the shadowed office, looking for just the right instrument. He preferred the knife in his hand, but sometimes, if the occasion called for it, he would use something else. Glancing back into the mayor's office, beyond the bloody heap of bodies on the desk was a flag hanging from a pole. Sitting atop this pole was brass point, like a spear tip. 

As Kate and Chip cleared off one of the desks in a frenzy, Michael turned and reached out for the flagpole.

***

Kate was now on her back, lying on one of the desks with her legs draped over Chip's powerful shoulders. She was struggling to keep her moans and cries of pleasure to a dim roar as he mercilessly tongued her clit. Chip simultaneously pinched and worked her nipples over, rolling them and keeping pace with tongue. Her legs tightened around his neck and she felt the orgasm beginning to rise and crest like a tidal wave deep inside her. She had only expected Chip to perform his usually tricks, and with that she would have been content. But she was thrilled to find him giving her something to actually scream about.

Kate thought for sure she would have cum fifteen minutes ago, but the way he was eating her out was a slow burn, a steady build-up to an awesome climax that until now she wouldn't have thought possible. She was swimming in a delirious state of euphoria as his tongue flicked her clit, teasing her, bringing her closer to her climax. She knew it was going to be intense, and that when it hit she would be screeching like banshee. It was as though a fire were burning out of control inside her, scorching her stomach delightfully as Chip fanned the flames.

"Oh fuck," she whimpered as he pulled at her nipples and then pinched hard. Kate gasped at the sudden inclusion of this erotic pain in her breasts. Her mouth was gaped wide open as she sucked in air rapidly, her eyes rolled back in her head. Her hips were beginning to thrust against his tongue as purely animal instincts told her body that it was time, that it was time to quench this thirst.

"Oh fuck baby yeah," she moaned and gripped the edges of his desk. It was coming up fast, growing bigger and more overwhelming as she braced herself. Chip only quickened his pace, now working like a madman over her clit, suckling, nibbling and flicking. Her pussy spasmed abruptly and the wave crashed through her body. Kate tensed and went rigid as her orgasm swept her away. She cried out in a long, lustful moan that could not be held back any longer.

"Oh fucking yes," she whispered breathlessly, her eyes closed and a thin film of sweat covering her voluptuous body.

"You like that?" Chip asked, his tongue sore and tired as she writhed.

"Fuck me," she grabbed him and pulled him close for a wild, passionate kiss.

Their heated kisses became more and more frantic as they shared a mutual need for each other that raged like the inferno that was killing Springwood. Kate motioned to flip over, and they rolled slowly, still kissing and being careful not to fall off the small desk to the floor. Chip attacked her mouth and let his hands slide down her back to her ass where he kneaded and massaged her. He squeezed her cheeks, pushing her drenched sex closer to his rigid cock. 

She shifted her weight, pressing her lips against him and leaving a wonderful wet trail. Her juices slowly seeped out as her desire grew. Kate smiled with pure, unadulterated lust and ground her slit against him. She felt his large head poking at her opening, and she eased him in slowly. 

"Oh Kate," he groaned as her muscles constricted around him and tried to compensate for his girth. They moved against each other in a trembling, almost awkward moment of familiarizing themselves, their bodies rippling and tingling with sexual gratification. Kate worked her body into a hard pace quickly as she succumbed to the primal demands of her womanhood. 

Her breasts bounced back and forth with their rhythm, small beads of sweat starting to fall away from her painfully erect nipples. The desk held steady and true as they humped against each other, moving with such a fevered urgency that bold feral growls and grunts began escaping from Chip's throat as he fought off his orgasm. They picked up their pace, fucking faster and faster as the desk squeaked and rocked. 

A thick film of sweat broke out over their naked bodies to cool them as their lovemaking reached an almost angry pitch. Kate leaned down and rabidly kissed him, her tongue dancing about in his mouth. Her breasts slid wetly against his hard chest, the nipples tickling him with their hard points. Kate gripped his hands with hers, lacing their fingers together as they fucked, working to the climax. They could hardly breath as the moment came near for them. 

Chip broke the kiss and let out a deep groan when Kate's muscles began to erratically spasm around his hard shaft. Each contraction leading up to her orgasm caused him to lose a little more control over the flood of semen he was holding back. Kate threw her head back and cried out, unleashing a loud scream of pure lust. Her hair flung wildly as her body spasmed, the moment of her orgasm now at hand. 

"Fuck yeah!" Chip shouted and rammed himself deep inside her, burying the tip of his cock into her soft, yielding flesh just as he lost control of himself. A fountain of hot cream sprayed her insides as he gritted his teeth and rode the lighting of his orgasm.

"Oh my God!" Kate's voice hitched for a moment as she shook her head from side to side and her entire body whip lashed against him. Her cunt ejected her juices in a torrent that soaked his balls and the desktop beneath. She kept on humping him, forcing herself to ride his cock as the overwhelming sensations radiating from her sex made her fingers and toes go numb.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 06



She collapsed against him, and nuzzled his neck, "Now wasn't that worth it?"

Chip smiled, "Yes..."

And then there was a blinding, blunt pain as Kate pressed down on him hard like she weighed a metric ton. Her sudden move came too quickly for him to react as she smashed him down into the desk. He tried to cry out as his ribs cracked but found he had no air with which to sound off. Kate was gurgling to the side of his face as something hot and wet splashed his neck and shoulders. She was convulsing and shuddering violently, her hands slapping against the table.

And then there was a wet crunch and the sudden flare agony in his stomach as something sharp and thick pierced his body. Chip uttered a silent, pathetic scream as his inner workings were smashed and parted. It all happened incredibly fast, but the moment seemed eternally damned for him. Blood erupted from his mouth in a single gory spurt as the pole impaled Kate's body to his. He tired to reach behind her and grab the pole but found his strength ebbing. Something hot began eating away at his insides, and in his mind he envisioned his stomach spilling acid everywhere.

A sudden crack of wood followed by a final thrust ended the gruesome act of murder and Chip looked away into the darkness, staying alive just long enough to see the white face of his killer. Black eyes cut into a pale mask looked down on him from above, his judge, jury and executioner. This was his punishment for helping Kate. It had all finally caught up to him.

Chip knew better than this. He had been brought up to be a strong man, not a pussy whipped crook. But this stranger neither cared nor required him to say anything about the matter. Sentence was passed now and Chip slipped away.

'Big trouble,' he thought sporadically as the dark consumed him, 'big...'

***

"Doctor," Tessa said, uncertain as to whether or not she was opening an old wound, "I didn't get a chance to say this earlier, but I am so sorry about your wife, I mean ex wife."

Loomis kept his eyes fixed outside the car. There were people hurrying out of their houses, arms filled with their belongings as they stuffed their mini-vans full and roped furniture to the roofs. He managed a painful smile and said, "As was I."

"Can I ask what happened with you two?"

Loomis laughed, "Of course you can."

"I don't mean to pry or anything-"

"No," he reassured her, "Mary and I simply weren't right for each other. I suppose we were both very committed to our work, but in the end I was obsessed. I can admit that now. For a while our passion for the research and early identification of the homicidal mind was enough to keep us together. It was a common purpose for us in the way building a family is for other people. I'm sure you can appreciate how shared experience in a career can lead to romance with a co-worker?"

Tessa thought of Sean and smiled, "Yes I can." 

"Even though we loved each other, I can't say we much liked each other." Loomis went on, "In the end I was so wrapped up in tracking down Michael Myers that she left me for another man. I can't say I totally blame her. I played my part. But that doesn't excuse her indiscretions either."

They drove in silence for a while, turning down side streets and navigating the labyrinth of debris and rubble Springwood had become in 24 hours. Loomis thought of Mary, thought of her as he had last seen her, alone in a jail cell and looking like something more akin to a George Romero zombie movie than his ex-wife. She had looked so sickly and scared. She had even been apologetic. After all the long years of bitterness of stubborn defense of her actions, she had been apologetic. Loomis sighed, "I only wish I had told her how much I missed her... and how I had forgiven her."

"I'm sorry, Matthew," Tessa put a hand over his, resting on the center console and squeezed gently.

"It's done now," Loomis squeezed back and then looked ahead, "Is that the city office?"

Ahead of them the alley opened up on to Main Street and revealed a still untouched row of beige colored offices. Tessa smiled as rain began to pour again, drumming on the windshield and roof loudly. She said, "That's it."

"And you're sure they have the plans of the Old Power Plant?" Loomis asked.

"I don't know about the originals," Tessa said as they slowly exited the alley. She looked and found that Main Street was empty, abandoned and littered with trash. As she turned the car, she said, "But I know the city manager keeps a set of all the current blueprints for every public building in the city limits. Last year, they started talking about demolishing the plant and had a crew go in and map every last inch for the demolitions team. Of course, the plan got held up in the city council and never went forward, but they were left with a set of current schematics."

"Good," the doctor said as Tessa pulled the wheel to one side and swung the cruiser into a perfect parking position directly in front of the office doors, "Because without those plans, we'll be fighting blind."

They got out and walked through the rain as smoke wafted around their feet. Tessa thought it was eerie that she could hear the echoes of her footfalls. Normally the street was so busy you couldn't hear someone talking two feet away. The unnatural silence made her skin crawl as she shivered and zipped up her duty jacket. 

Loomis pulled on the darkened glass doors and said, "They're locked."

"That's strange," she peered inside through the doors, "They're closed. No lights are on."

"You got a key?"

"Yeah," she unholstered her gun and switched the safety off.

"Can you do that?" Loomis looked at her with wide eyes.

Tessa fired a round and the glass doors shattered in a loud crescendo. She pointed to the shiny badge on her dark jacket as shards clinked around their boots musically and said, "I'm the police. I can do whatever I want."

"Martial Law?"

Tessa winked at him and they stepped inside.

***

Michael heard the gun shot and shattering glass and stepped back, retreating to the safety of the mayor's office. He cracked the door enough to see out into the reception and office area. He watched as the doctor and a cop came slowly walking in, cautiously looking around and amazingly not even noticing the two bodies pinned to the desk. But it was dark, and he doubted they would see them.

Michael waited.

***

Tessa and Loomis slowly walked through the darkened offices.

Like Kate Hunt had known something was amiss before her, Tessa could instinctively feel it now. There was something wrong with the air. She held her side arm comfortably in her hands, assuming a typical search crouch as she checked the light switches. When nothing turned on, she looked to Loomis and said, "Be ready."

"Always," Loomis said and then asked quietly, "Is this your work, Michael?"

In the area of the secretarial cubicles, Loomis spied a few working lamps. He asked, "But why do those work?"

"They're battery powered," Tessa told him as she unhooked the small flashlight from her belt and turned it on, "I have one of those on my desk at the police station... well, I had one on my desk..."

The small flashlight lit up and exposed a small moving circle of vision as they walked forward. Tessa sniffed the air and then cringed, "Blood. Lots of it too."

"Is that what that is?" Loomis frowned.

"Well, people generally tend to lose bowel control after they die too."

"Of course," he muttered and pulled out his handkerchief, covering his nose.

Tessa circled around the office and began walking past the empty cubicles. Her hand was steady, but she felt she was anything but at the moment. Her eyes were wide open and she could sense the arid presence of death filling the room. She thought of calling out and seeing if anyone was alive, but she decided against it. If there was a killer in here, then it was likely to be Michael or Jason. Tessa had no desire to bump into either of them yet.

"Here," she said to Loomis and handed him the gun, "The plans are in here."

Tessa opened a large, wide black file cabinet. The metal drawer slid open and after a moment of fumbling around inside, she found the power plant schematics. She pulled them out and laid them on the desk nearest them. After she closed the cabinet drawer, she reached back for the gun, her hand open.

"Thanks," she smiled at Loomis and then paused. There was blood all over her open palm, bright and red in the harsh illumination of her flashlight. She shined the flashlight on the file cabinet and saw it was speckled with blood. Tessa felt suddenly sick as she looked to Loomis and then behind the doctor. He saw her eyes bulge out and her mouth fall open, and Loomis almost stopped himself from turning to see what she was gaping at. But he turned anyway. Later, he would wish he hadn't.

There were two people, both naked and apparently killed in the act of sex, impaled to the desk just behind the reception counter. They were displayed like a work of sadistic art, a horrific tribute to the ingenuity of the evil mind. He recognized the handiwork immediately, only in this case the violence was deeper cut, angrier somehow. The flagpole that Michael Myers had used to pin the couple to the desk was protruding through clear to the floor where the blood stained brass point stabbed into the carpet. The American flag that been attached to the pole was pulled through the two dead bodies, only a small portion of the red and white stripes visible from the hole in the woman's back. The cloth was soaking and turning crimson before their eyes

"This was recent," Loomis cleared his throat. The woman's head was turned to the side, her dead green eyes looking directly at him like one of those paintings that can follow you wherever you go in a room. Her red hair was caked with blood and her mouth hung open in a slack expression of surprise. The face of her lover couldn't be seen from where they stood, but he thought maybe that wasn't a bad thing. Loomis followed the circle of light as Tessa shined it down the woman's corpse, following the trails of blood that streamed down her buttocks and stocking-clad thighs to her feet where the thick liquid fell away to the washable carpet below in fat drops.

"We gotta go," Tessa grabbed him by the shoulder and motioned towards the door.

"This was Michael Myers," he told her as they hurried out, the gun still in his hand as his stomach flipped over, "It was him. He was waiting for us...."

"Then we don't have much time."

Loomis handed the gun back to Tessa and grabbed the schematics from the table. They hurried out of the office quickly and as calmly as they could without panicking. Loomis could feel Michael watching him, waiting for the moment to strike. His pulse was racing fast and making him feel dizzy as they ran out into the smoky, rainy afternoon. Once the police cruiser pulled away, Michael emerged from the mayor's office and walked down the hallway to the rear entrance.

***

"Okay," Sean slammed the bag down the table in the middle of Alice Johnson's kitchen. Around him stood Dr. Loomis, Lori, Tessa and Alice. All of them looked tired and worn out, though Alice looked to him with bright greenish-blue eyes. He glanced away from her, still reeling from the dream he had endured. In it, he had cheated on Tessa with Alice in a very carnal way, but not before Freddy Krueger had twisted the dream and tried to kill him. Sean still felt sick at the memory and forced the thought away, "Here is what we have."

"I'm not much of a weapons expert," Loomis smiled weakly. The beginnings of heavy, dark circles were forming under his eyes, betraying his resolve to finish. Sean figured he could understand that. On top of losing his ex-wife to Freddy Krueger yesterday, he had been nearly killed by both Jason and Michael Myers to top it all off. Of course, they all had suffered loses in the last forty-eight hours.

"That's not a problem," Sean said amiably, trying not to reveal his fatigue. He held up a long, solid looking 12-guage pump action shot gun, "To the layman, this your 'boomstick'..."

Loomis smiled at the reference, "Well said."

"Tessa will show you how to load it quickly," Sean handed the shotgun to the doctor, who held it and felt the weight. Lori thought he looked a little bit like a boy getting his first air rifle, "That's one of the simplest guns there is to fire."

"All right," Loomis nodded.

"Tessa, we'll have our side arms and these..." Sean pulled the two automatic machine pistols out of the bag. The snub-nosed guns looked angry and sleek as he handed one to Tessa. She smiled and patted the weapon.

"Lori," Sean pulled a standard issue Sig 9mm handgun out from the bag and gave her three fresh magazines. The gun felt heavy in her hand as she looked down at it doubtfully.

"It's easy Lori," Tessa smiled at her, "Just point and shoot."

"Sure," she laughed uneasily, "All I've ever handled is water guns. I might be able to hit the broadside of a barn."

"Well," Tessa offered, "Jason and Michael and are big guys."

"Alice," Sean handed her another gun identical to the one Lori held, "You know how to use on of these?"

"I get the concept," Alice smiled amiably as she put her index finger to the hole at the end of the stocky gun, "This is where the bullets come out right?"

Sean smiled a little and then said, "We have limited ammunition, so if you're going to shoot make sure it counts. We know we can't kill these fuckers, so just do your best to take out their arms and legs. If you can get a head shot, take it."

There was a silent word of approval between all of them as Loomis stepped forward. He pushed the duffle bag aside and spread out the plans for the Springwood Power Plant. It was a blue and white nightmare of a schematic, but in the midst of the jumble of corridors, catwalks and pipes were visible seven large circles in a huge rectangular housing just big enough to contain them. Loomis pointed to the large circles and said, "These are empty generator basins. There are seven of them along this connective path in the middle of the plant. Our goal is to lure Jason and Michael into one of the basins where they'll hopefully stay until we can figure out what to do. Based on the schematics here, they are fifteen feet deep and twenty feet wide so there's not much of a chance that they'll get out once inside." 

Tessa spoke up, "The basins are deep inside the plant, about a hundred yards from the loading dock where we'll be entering. There's really no other way to access them easily without getting lost. There are three ground level access corridors leading into the generator housing and one catwalk that begins at the entrance and ends just above the seventh housing."

"The plan is this," Loomis looked at them all, "Sean and Tessa will be responsible for finding and luring Jason in to the complex-"

"Excuse me," Sean held his hand up, "How the hell are we supposed to do that?"

"I have a fool proof plan, Honey Drop," Tessa smiled wickedly.

"We have a plan?" Sean asked doubtfully and then frowned, "Honey Drop?"

Tessa laughed.

"Lori and Alice will accompany me and we will be the bait for Michael," Loomis continued, "Timing is essential to success. Once we have them both inside we'll basically have to lead them into this central housing and then force them inside one of the generator basins, apart or together makes no never mind. But, once we're in there, we'll split up and I'll be the sole bait for Michael." 

Loomis looked to Sean and Tessa, "While the three of us try to stay a step ahead of Jason and Michael, Alice and Lori will get Freddy and pull him out into the real world."

"Just like that, huh?" Sean asked.

"There are some invariable risks," Loomis conceded.

"Do you all realize how crazy this shit is?" Sean looked around the table, "Because this shit is fucking crazy. You're all talking third-act desperation here. You'll just mosey on into dreamland and grab Freddy Krueger? Are you fucking high?"

"I've done it before," Lori said, "And with Alice helping me, I think I can do it again."

"Look," Sean put his hands up, "I'm with you on your plan to catch Jason and Michael. It's crazy, but it's just crazy enough to work. But Freddy? This mother fucker ain't just going to come along because Lori and Alice ask him to."

"We'll have to force him," Alice said evenly.

"Shit," Sean sighed, "You do know you're fucked if he gets you in there. We're all going to be too busy trying to keep Michael and Jason from getting out."

"It's a risk I'm willing to take," Lori said, her dark blue eyes set on Sean's.

"Me too," Alice added.

"Even if you get him and pull him out," Sean asked, "What are you going to do with him?"

"Throw his sorry ass into the basin with Jason and Michael," Alice smiled knowingly, "Let him meet them face to face."

Sean shook his head and chuckled incredulously.

"If you have a better plan, I'm open to suggestions," Loomis said.

"Crazy fucking white people," Sean looked at the doctor and then cocked a wry half grin, "Sounds like a goddam plan."

"Good," Loomis sat his shotgun down on top of the plans for the power plant and looked at them seriously, "Before we do this, I just wanted to say that the odds of all us getting through alive are very slim. I want you all to be aware of the risks, because this is as dangerous as it gets. If anyone wants to back out, now is the time."

Lori spoke first, "I said I'm in, doctor."

"Me too," Alice said.

"Show me the way," Tessa examined the magazine for her Uzi and then locked it into the weapon with a hearty slap.

Loomis looked to Sean who shrugged.

"Let's go get killed," Sean slapped him on the shoulder, "Who wants to live forever anyway?"

He looked at the ragtag team of people before him and felt grateful. It was so strange feeling that grateful in the midst of all the death and destruction. On the eve of what might be their last few hours on earth, he wasn't thinking of how he might have wasted years of his life foolishly or lamenting over his past transgressions. He felt a swelling in his heart and camaraderie for these four people that was as close to family as he had ever known. 

Loomis felt hopeful despite his fear and smiled, "One hour. Make your peace, say your prayers and prepare."

***

Alice sat alone on her porch, watching Sean and Tessa drive away in her truck. It was the same model and year truck that Dan Jordan had owned in high school. Alice remembered how proud he had been of that truck and how equally depressed he had been following the wreck that turned it into scrap. Her truck was no where near as nice as his had been, but the shape of the body and the red paint made her feel like she had a little piece of him with her physically in this world.

"I miss you," she whispered.

It was growing late and she could feel the night encroaching on her, trying to shroud her with doubt and fear. Alice wasn't beyond admitting that she was scared and in the clearest points of honesty even terrified. The stories Loomis and the others had told her about Michael Myers and Jason chilled her to the bone. It was bad enough to have Freddy Krueger running around loose, and having two killers out and about was next of kin to madness. But the three of them all in the same city, all of them functioning under their own murderous agendas with only five lone survivors to stop them was beyond the limit of reason. Alice recalled Loomis's prediction that not all of them would make it to see the end and couldn't help but agree.

"God help us," Alice closed her eyes.

"I think he will," Loomis startled her. Alice looked up as the doctor crossed the wooden porch slowly, his hands in his coat pockets and eyes thoughtful.

"You believe in God, Doctor Loomis?" Alice asked him after a moment. She stood up and sat against the porch banister, "Are you a man of God?"




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 06



Loomis smiled and ran a hand over his bald scalp, "I like to think of myself as a believer in truth."

Alice nodded and then said, "You didn't answer my question."

"Oh, I know there is a God," he looked at her, "In a world that can give birth to such horrors as these we face, I believe there is ultimate good and ultimate evil. Reality is often lost in between."

In the distance, thunder rolled across the dying light of the cloudy sky.

"I used to wonder why God would allow men like Fred Krueger to walk free," she said quietly and brushed a strand of her red away from her troubled face, "I used to ask him why he would allow good people to be taken so violently. Why he would allow such evil to be at all."

Loomis leaned against the side of the house, his shoulder between the door and window as he listened, "He doesn't choose our paths for us."

"Is that so?"

Loomis shrugged and said, "Fred Krueger was once an innocent baby, as were Jason and Michael. As were we all. The events of our lives, the choices of those around us mold our opinions and morals into a unique individual vision. I'm sure there was a defining moment when Krueger decided to give in to hate and reject his humanity. There was a moment when Jason Voorhees ceased to be the poor tortured retarded child at Camp Crystal Lake and gave in to anger and vengeance. The night a little boy named Michael Myers came home from trick or treating and killed his sister there was a choice made as well."

"And my son?" she asked, "What about his father and my brother? What choices led them to death?"

"The choice to stand for what was right," Loomis suggested, "To be true and loyal to those they loved?"

Alice hugged her arms across her chest as a wind blew through the air and smoke rolled across her shadowy lawn in ghostly blue clouds, "And what of your choices, doctor?"

"I occasionally make the right choice," Loomis said with an embarrassed smile, "Very often I don't and I make a boner of a mess. But I always try to follow my heart and what I know is right. My father did the same thing, as did Lori's husband. Staying and fighting when other's won't is a difficult choice."

Alice looked at him, her eyes glassy with the beginnings of tears, "Did you know that Dan died trying to get to me? He was trying to come and protect me."

"He chose to follow his heart," Loomis interjected, "You had no say so in the matter."

Alice looked away.

"It's not your fault, Alice," the doctor said gently, "Nor can you bear the burden of what is happening now."

"If I had been stronger, Freddy never would have come back," she whispered as a tear streamed down her cheek.

"I don't know that he can be stopped permanently."

Alice shook her head.

"Even if you made a mistake," Loomis said carefully, "You have a chance to redeem yourself now."

The woman called the Dream Master looked at him, her eyes pink and puffy.

"It's the choices we make that define us and determine our course, not God."

"That's a bold statement," Alice smiled and wiped her nose.

"Not really," he replied, "I take comfort in knowing God has faith in me to make the right choices when all else fails."

"You think he has faith in me?"

Loomis put a hand on her shoulder, "If he didn't, I doubt very much you would be the Dream Master."

Alice closed her eyes and hugged Loomis. She glanced out into the yard and said, "The rain stopped..."

"Rain can't last forever," he said.

"You're a good man, Matthew Loomis," she said to him.

Loomis smiled broadly and replied, "It's the company I keep."

***

"I was wrong," Sean said as he and Tessa sat in the bed Alice's weathered Ford pick-up, "Loomis isn't crazy. You are."

Tessa smiled at him and patted his shoulder, "Ye of little faith."

Sean looked at his watch, "It's one in the morning now. We've been here six hours waiting and we haven't seen anything yet. What makes you think he'll come here?"

"Look," she sighed, "If there's one thing I've figured out about Jason Voorhees, it's that he's nothing if not routine."

"And this isn't going to be conspicuous?" Sean asked. He still felt uncomfortable being in civilian clothes, but he knew as Tessa did if they had any shot of pulling this off they couldn't look like cops. He was dressed in plain blue jeans and a black t-shirt with matching hiking boots. Tessa was in khaki cargo pants and a white tank top, her hair pulled back in a ponytail. He shook his head, "Never been shopping before at Wal-Mart. Don't know what's more scary, the checkout lines or Jason."

"It'll work," she said, "I think it's time to move to phase two of our plan."

"You're serious about this?"

Tessa nodded as she turned to him and hauled off her tank top, revealing her full breasts to him, "If there's someone having sex in the woods, then Jason Voorhees will be there."

"That is so fucking thin," Sean smiled, feeling a little better about this aspect of the plan.

"Just remember," she said as she straddled him, "Don't get so involved in me that you don't pay attention. I don't want to die like this."

She thought of the two people Michael had killed back in the city offices and shuddered.

"Baby, you're talking to a man who can multitask," he leaned in and began kissing the swells of her tits, licking and suckling gently. He looked out into the shadowy depths of the Elm Grove City Park, scanning for any movement. With one hand on Tessa's ass he reached down with the other and felt the stock of the tranquilizer gun. The long rifle was placed on its side, the butt against his hip.

Tessa grinded her hips against him as she pulled his face to her chest, her slender fingers caressing his shaved scalp slowly and sensually, "Remember not to fire until he's right up on us..."

Sean breathed against her flesh and pulled her khakis down over her ass, revealing her buttocks to the soft moonlight. He squeezed them and sucked her left nipple into his mouth, "I know."

"And only four or five shots of the tranquilizer," she breathed, "Any more could knock him out for too long..."

"He's a big boy," Sean kneaded her flesh, "He can handle it."

"Don't argue, Colombo," she whispered huskily and grasped his cock, "Now fuck my tits..."

"Okay, now that might distract me," Sean huffed as she unbuttoned his jeans and slid the zipper down. 

"It has to be convincing right?"

"You're nuts," Sean smiled and glanced out into the night, "We could get killed."

"We won't," she pulled his thick ten-inch long cock from his behind the flaps of his jeans, "No underwear?"

"Couldn't find any I liked..."

She looked at the penis in her hand and admired it for a moment as they walked the thin line between giving Jason the bait of two people screwing in the woods and actually just screwing in the woods for the sake of mutual desire. It was thick and beautiful, the veins in the shaft large and strong. His head was a dark swollen purple, and like her own clit, was begging for attention. His balls hung low, hairless as the rest of his pubic area.

"Just keep your eyes open," she stroked his rigid member gently.

Sean stood up in the bed of the truck as she pulled him to her, his balls rubbing against her smooth flesh. Tessa clasped her firm tits and squeezed them together as Sean placed his dick into her cleavage. Her breasts enveloped his cock and Sean groaned, his passage being lubed up by his own pre-cum. He shivered and felt his nipples go hard as a light breeze rustled the braches of the trees. He wondered how long this calm would last before the clouds came back together again and poured rain.

"I don't see anything yet," he managed as she began working on his member with her tongue.

"He'll be here," she said breathlessly, his solid shaft throbbing and hot in the tight space between her tits. Her nipples were so hard it almost hurt as she licked the tip of Sean's cock, teasing him with her lips and tongue between his needful thrusts.

"Tessa," he moaned as she began sucking on him, the wet sounds of his cock pumping into her cleavage arousing him even more, "You are so beautiful."

"Be louder," she encouraged him, "Moan for me."

"Baby, you know I don't m-"

He couldn't finish because a powerful grunt and groan of pure delight escaped his throat as Tessa flicked the head of his cock with her tongue sharply. Sean ran his hands over her hair as he fucked Tessa's tits. The truck was creaking back and forth and side to side as the rusty shocks supported their distraction. She worked his head as best she could, tantalizing him and building him to his climax. Sean's eyes rolled back into his head as Tessa sucked and flicked his head every time it emerged from her breasts. It didn't take long, and Sean began to feel it rising again.

"Tessa, I'm going to cum," he whispered, his muscles going tight as he fought the orgasm back.

"Do it, baby," she begged, using her best and most convincing whimper of needy desire, "Cum for me..."

Sean growled and threw his head back, the chords in his neck bulging out. His cock went rigid like a piece of steel and his head exploded with cum, spurting it out in a long, thick, white stream. The hot, sticky substance shot out across her face and neck, and she was ready for it as she quickly opened her mouth and tried to catch and swallow the sweet fluid. She released his member and let him finish pumping his cum out on her tits. His cock bounced up and down as it convulsed, finally shooting the last drop of semen out. Sean was silent for a moment, his head tilted back and holding the base of his cock, muscles tight and poised from the orgasm.

Sean smiled and then saw something moving out of the corner of his eyes. His heart stopped and he whispered, "He's coming..."

Tessa didn't look up as she licked his slowly deflating shaft, "Where?"

Sean strained to look out of the corner of his eye. He could see the white hockey mask in the brush, moving slowly and watching intently. His blood ran like ice water as he reported, "He's fifteen feet away, to my left and behind me."

"Stay still, keep moaning," she told him as she reached down for the tranquillizer gun, his cock still pressed to her lips.

Sean could hear footsteps now, heavy and powerful in the saturated turf of the park. He moaned as best he could, trying to keep cool as Jason approached, "Hurry up."

"It's cool baby," Tessa whispered and kissed his cockhead. She found the gun and slowly brought up, still hidden by Sean's body.

"Oh fuck he's right behind me," Sean closed his eyes as the stench of rotted meat penetrated his nostrils. In his mind he was tortured by the image of Jason ramming that machete right up his ass and cleaving him in two from the inside out. Sean was sweating badly as he hissed, "Tessa..."

And then he heard five muted reports from between his legs and the cool touch of metal against his balls. Tessa had leveled the rifle between his legs and shot Jason square in the chest with five darts. Sean turned and saw Jason standing there, his arm raised high and the machete gleaming in the moonlight. Dull, retarded eyes looked at him from behind the mask and then glazed over. The killer touched one of the feathered pink tips of the darts and then fell over backwards like some gigantic redwood. Mud and water splashed into the air as he collapsed.

Sean looked at Tessa and then at the rifle between his legs, his eyes wide, "What the fuck was that?"

"I had it all under control," she winked as she wiped some of his semen from her chin, "Besides, you got your rocks off for the night."

"You almost shot my rocks off!"

"Ye of little faith..."

"But he could have killed me," Sean said, his jaw hung open, "You shot between my legs..."

Tessa shook her head and stood up, looking like some bare-breasted huntress from a fantasy magazine as she gripped the long rifle, "My aim is perfect."

Sean could only stare at her.

"Let's load him up and get going."

"Tessa," he pulled his pants up, still awestruck and then said, "You fired a gun between my fucking legs?"

"I love you too."

***

"Well," Alice said from the back seat of the police cruiser as she, Lori and Loomis sat parked in her gravel driveway, "What are we waiting for?"

"Michael Myers isn't just some mindless zombie," Loomis said as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, "He's very intelligent. In twenty-seven years, he's only been captured three times. Michael won't risk coming close if he knows he's being expected."

"Won't the police cruiser tip him off?" Lori asked from the passenger side seat.

"Michael already knows we're up to something," the doctor looked out the windshield at the moonlit front yard of Alice's house, "I believe he followed Tessa and me back to here from the Springwood city offices. He's been watching for sometime now, I imagine."

"From where?"

"In the shadows," he replied and motioned to the trees and bushes surrounding Alice's property, "Out of sight."

"Why though?" Alice asked, "Why not follow Sean and Tessa."

"He's not after them," Loomis said, "He's after me."

"How do you know?"

Loomis recalled the incident in the Police Station and how Michael had looked at him, even remembered him. There was a recognition there that couldn't be denied and Loomis knew he had been marked as his father had been. He said, "All of the super-killers have one common trait in that their motives for killing are very specific. I suppose you could sum it all up with general archetypes. While Jason might be more erratic in his choice of victims, his is a story of universal retribution. Freddy Krueger is universal vengeance in the flesh. Michael Myers is about universal evil, specifically hatred of those in his family."

"And how does that apply to you?"

Loomis smiled, "My father essentially was all Michael Myers knew until his escape in 1978. In his notes, he said that he felt as though Michael were the evil son he could not help and therefore had to destroy. I believe in a very strange way Michael saw my father as his father."

"Which would make you brothers?" Lori asked.

"In a manner of speaking, yes," Loomis clenched his jaw and scratched his beard, "Michael only feels hate when his heart is moved to feel anything. While his choice of victims has been varied, at the heart of almost all his rampages are members of his family or things directly linked to his family. For instance, his childhood home in Haddonfield is sacred to him and he has slaughtered complete strangers for violating it."

"Like Crystal Lake is to Jason," Lori said.

"Exactly," Loomis nodded.

"But still, why come to Springwood at all?"

"Krueger lured Michael here to deal with Jason," Lori said, "So I imagine that he used images of people that would spur Michael into action."

"How would Freddy do that?"

"My ex-wife," Loomis said, "He used Mary's knowledge of Michael and her being associated with me to bring Michael here."

"Only it's all backfired on him," Lori said.

"Has it?" Loomis looked at her, "Freddy has created enough fear and panic to carry him well beyond the city limits of Springwood. I believe he has succeeded in that respect."

"Doctor," Alice tapped him on the shoulder and pointed to the front of the car as headlights flashed before their eyes, "Look."

Another police cruiser slowly turned down the gravel driveway of Alice's home, the small stones crunching and popping beneath the tires. The headlights were on and blinding through the windshield as it approached them. Loomis put one hand to his eyes as the car pulled forward and then stopped. Lori looked at Alice and then at Loomis as they waited in an unbearable silence.

"Could that be the other cops Sean tried to call?" Lori asked.

"I think if they were going to join us, they would have already," Alice said quietly as she laced her fingers through the wire partition between the front and back seats. She had never been in the back of the police car before, and had often wondered what it might be like. Now she knew, and with a growing sense of fear she realized she had been stupid for wondering in the first place. It was like being a caged animal and at the mercy of those holding the keys.

The driver's side door of the car opened and Michael Myers stepped out. His face was placid and untouched by time, the mask a perfect hiding place for his evil. Loomis could see his shark's eyes glistening through the cutout eyeholes of his mask, somehow penetrating through the glare of the headlights off the windshield and into Loomis' heart. There were dark bloodstains on his dirty blue coveralls, and Loomis had no doubt that some of it belonged to Will Rollins. In his hand he held his trademark blade.

"That's no cop," Lori breathed as Michael began walking towards them, casually closing the distance of twenty feet like a man out on an early morning walk.

"I'd have to agree," Loomis said, his lips pursed. He had known this moment would come sooner or later. His life had become a quest to find and capture Michael Myers, not only to avenge his father's death and bring justice but also to put an end to the reign of terror. Sam Loomis had begged people to listen to him, he had pleaded with local and state governments to have Michael Myers locked away forever and even killed if at all possible (though Loomis suspected even then that his father knew Michael couldn't die by conventional means). The words of warning went unheeded and people died because of the ignorance of his father's work. Tonight, finally, Matthew Loomis had the chance to put an end to this once for all.

"Buckle up," Loomis told Lori and Alice, "Now."

The police cruiser started up and the headlights came on. Michael stopped about fifteen feet from the car, his head quizzically cocked and waiting for the next move. His mask seemed to glow in the powerful headlights.

"Come on," Loomis breathed as he slipped the car into gear, "A little closer."

Michael waited.

"Come on..."

Michael walked forward again, resuming his pace.

"What are you doing?" Lori asked.

"He knows I'm here," Loomis said as Michael walked towards the driver side door, "Goddam you Michael..."

Loomis slammed the gas pedal to floor and the engine revved. Gravel and mud sprayed from the tires as the police cruiser lurched forward and caught Michael by the legs. The killer was thrown onto the hood where his backside smashed into the windshield, cracking it in a spider web-like pattern. Lori screamed as Michael craned his head around looked at her, his eyes impassive and uncaring. And then he was thrown forward and into the windshield of his stolen police cruiser as the cars smashed together. Loomis gunned the engine for all it was worth as they pushed against the other cruiser, Michael sprawled out on the hood. The smell of hot rubber and burning oil filled the interior of the car as the wheels squealed.

"What the hell are you doing?" Alice cried out as Loomis forced the other car back down the driveway and out into the street. When they cleared the driveway and touched onto blacktop, Loomis turned and released the other car. Michael rolled off the hood and collapsed to the ground, unmoving. Loomis pulled forward another ten feet and then stopped. He opened the door and stepped out into the cold, looking back at Michael.

"Get up," he said and gritted his teeth, "Get up!"

Lori and Alice watched through the rear window as Michael lay still in front of the battered police car. One of the headlights had been smashed out and the lights mounted on the top of the car were flashing red and blue. Alice thought maybe Loomis had been wrong, that maybe Michael could be killed if attacked with enough force. The masked killer remained still and unmoved.

"Get up, Michael!" Loomis shouted, his voice echoing in the night as lightning flashed overhead and thunder rolled in the distance.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 06



Lori was about to step out and join Loomis when Michael's body jerked. The killer slowly stood up and held his head for a moment, looking around as though he were confused. Alice could hardly breathe as she watched Michael Myers regain his balance, kneel down and then pick up his knife off the ground. The killer snapped his head directly to Loomis and no one needed to say he was pissed. Rage seemed to radiate off his body in the smoky dark.

"Let's go," Lori shouted, "Loomis, come on!"

He slammed the door shut behind him and put the car in gear as Michael walked back to his car. The stolen police cruiser revved and started following them fast as Loomis sped down Carpenter Street, blowing through stop signs and red lights as Michael pursued them. A mist of sweat had broken out over his forehead as he drove. He licked his lips, his heart racing in his chest as Michael followed.

"Take Saxon Avenue back into Springwood," Alice shouted as Michael rammed the back of the car, throwing them all forward. Lori braced herself against the dashboard as Michael hit them again."

"Won't it be sealed off?" Loomis jerked the wheel of the cruiser to the right, running over the sidewalk and a "School Zone" sign to make the turn. The wheels squealed and smoked as he did his best to stay ahead of Michael.

"There's an old bike trail leading out to the train yards," Alice said as Loomis pulled another hairpin turn, "We can follow the service roads to the power plant from there!"

"He's coming up on your ass, doctor!" Lori shouted as the interior filled with bright light again. The car was rocked and shuddered as Michael rammed them from behind, blowing out their taillights.

"Is that all you've got, Michael?" Loomis asked under his breath. He knew it was a silly question, but he asked it anyway. He knew what Michael was capable of, and a taunt like that only dared him to try harder. But Loomis didn't care. He was no longer a doctor of psychology or a student of the criminal sciences. He was the son of a murdered father seeking vengeance upon the man who held the knife. Loomis was simply another man tonight, and if he could manage it, he would see Michael Myers defeated before the sun rose in the sky again.

"Come on," he whispered and then looked to Lori, "When we arrive, you and Alice proceed to the supervisors office at the far end of the basin housing and lock the doors as we agreed. I'll distract Michael."

"Good luck," Alice said to him.

"To us all," Loomis replied and smiled warmly at her in the rearview mirror.

***

The Springwood Power Plant was silent and waiting in the early morning hours of Tuesday, May 17th as dark clouds rolled overhead. Only a few lights were still active at the plant, many of them having been shot out by drunken patrons of the local bars looking to squeeze off a few illegally influence rounds or kids with too much time to kill on Saturday afternoons. It was rusted out and covered with so much dust even the rain couldn't cleanse it. It was a relic that might as well have been a thousand years old.

The main structure was weathered and foreboding, the broken out windows of the offices and skylights looking more like empty eye sockets and open, jagged mouths than anything else. The complex itself had a distinct personality that many people believe was directly linked to the evil man who used to work there. It was as if though he had left his indelible mark on the place just by having been there. What the people of Springwood failed to realize was that this building was like the rest of the city. It belonged to a child killer named Fred Krueger.

The train tracks that led up to the plant were abandoned long before this night. There hadn't been a train stopped at the facility in years and because of the scandal concerning what had happened there, the owners of the Pacific line wouldn't use the property anymore. Even the men in charge of the plant abandoned it, relocating further along the highway to Elm Grove where the air seemed to be cleaner and free of evil spirits but close enough to collect the hard earned cash from Springwood.

When the rusty red Ford pickup came speeding along the main road, now paved with cracked slabs of cement and dirt, the power plant seemed to wake up. Lights flickered on and off as the placed prepared for their arrival. The truck kicked up no dust trail, only mud and grit from the neglected stretch of road as it roared past the broken heavy machinery and empty culverts. The headlights of the vehicle were like two powerful shafts of luminescence in the hazy air as Springwood burned in the distance. The early morning haze was not only warming in color from the rising sun, but also from the inferno tearing through the city. Small patches of open sky were forming in the thick cloud cover.

The truck sped along the side access roadway, navigating the abandoned forklifts and refuse metal until it reached the loading dock on the southeast side of the complex. At one time, large semi-trucks unloaded their cargo of supplies and huge rolls of copper wire for the massive turbines here. The dock had been manned by dozens of honest blue-collar workers who took a lot of pride in their work, never knowing a wolf ran among them. On this night, two lone police officers, separated from their chain of command and doing their best to overcome forces they didn't fully understand, brought a new wolf to the power plant.

The truck stopped and then backed up to the dock. The tailgate smashed against the concrete barrier, jostling the unconscious man in the bed. Jason Voorhees was still immobilized and still sedated with enough juice to knock out an elephant. Sean hadn't bothered with the niceties of removing the darts from his barrel chest, his only need to touch the killer being to hoist him into the bed of the truck. That had proven to be a difficult task in and of itself, requiring both he and Tessa to nearly give themselves hernias lifting Voorhees.

"Let's get in there before he wakes up," Sean jumped out of the truck, his Uzi slung over his left shoulder and a pistol tucked in the waistband of his jeans.

Following close behind, Tessa carried her own Uzi and motioned to Jason as she ran up the side stairs of the dock, "I figure we have maybe five more minutes before Gretzky wakes up."

"Let's hope it's enough," Sean tried the metal side door to the loading bay, "Shit. It's locked."

"Groovy," Tessa nudged him aside and leveled her Uzi at the lock, "I have a key."

The lock sparked and blew away into hot chunks of debris.

"You're good," Sean kissed her cheek, "I never get tired of that key bit."

He kicked the door open and they looked inside the darkened expanse. A few lamps dimmed and brightened as electricity surged sporadically through the wireworks, creating intermittent pools of light in the bay. Sean could see some old desks and chairs, work stations and scattered junk that might have been state of the art back in 1968. The place smelled old and musty, closed up and shrouded like a tomb. The cavernous structure echoed every sound as they cautiously stepped inside. He wrinkled his nose and said, "Not very promising, is it?"

"I don't like it," Tessa said from behind his shoulder.

"What would you like?"

"A cold beer and several episodes of 'The Duck Factory' just to cleanse my mind," she said.

"What?"

"Nothing," she breathed, "Let's go."

Sean looked over his shoulder at the empty road they had just come from. He wondered how the doctor, Lori and Alice were faring. Was the plan still good to go, or had Michael gotten the better of them. He said, "One of us should have gone with them."

"They'll be okay," Tessa reassured him.

Sean didn't feel all that confidant suddenly.

"They'll be here," she said, gripping his arm firmly, "They may not be trained, but they've all done this before."

"Yeah," Sean took a deep breath and then stopped, his eyes wide as he looked behind Tessa.

"What's wrong?"

"Jason just woke up."

Tessa spun around on her heel and was terrified to find that Jason was no longer to be seen anywhere, around the truck or in it. His machete was gone as well.

"Fuck."

***

Not more than a minute after Sean and Tessa went into the plant, the police cruiser carrying Loomis, Alice and Lori came barreling down the road and chased by another police car. The pursuing car was flashing it's lights, though the man driving the vehicle had no interest in making his intentions known the rest of the world. He simply could not find the mechanism to turn them off. His single-minded pursuit of the prey in the car ahead was all consuming and un-accepting of failure.

"Listen," Loomis shouted as they drove along the west side of the complex doing fifty miles an hour, "I'm going to stop at the main entrance. Both of you get out and make for the offices."

"What about you?" Lori grasped the door handle, readying herself. Her heart was thundering in her ears as she grasped her gun with her free hand. The three magazine clips Sean had entrusted her with sat firmly in her jean pockets, hard and cold.

"Just do it!" Loomis said and then slammed on the brakes. The cruiser swerved to one side and skidded down the broken road before stopping with the passenger side of the vehicle facing the double-doored entry to the power plant. Lori opened her door and jumped out into a huge puddle, soaking her shoes and pants as she opened the back door for Alice. The two women clutched their guns and then began running. Lori turned back just in time to see Dr. Loomis try to pull away when the second police cruiser crashed into him, flipping his car over onto one side. Mud and sparks showered everywhere as the body of the car wailed, metal screeching against metal and glass rebounding off the wet ground. Lori saw Loomis inside briefly as the car flipped, scared and surprised.

"Dr. Loomis!" Lori screamed and made to go back for him when Alice grabbed her by the arm and jerked her back hard.

"No!" Alice yelled at her, "We have to go!"

The police car spun on its roof as the vehicle commandeered by Michael Myers sped past and screeched to a halt. Red and blue plastic showered the road as Loomis' car skidded to a rest on the shoulder of the access road. Sparks erupted from the grinding metal as it squealed along, smashing rocks and destroying the roof. The remaining cruiser only sat motionlessly as Michael kept his foot on the brakes, turning the smoky air into a red fog.

In the overturned car, Loomis could feel fresh blood trickling up to his forehead as he hung upside down, his seatbelt keeping him from falling. Through the blown out windshield, he could see the door of the other car open and Michael Myers stepping out. Loomis fought against the belt desperately, trying to free himself. He hammered the belt release button mercilessly but found it was jammed.

"Shit," he hissed as blood ran into his left eye and stung there. He could hear Michael getting closer and closer, his boots crunching and popping in the wet gravel. The smell of fresh rain wafted to his nose through the aroma of gasoline and burnt metal and wood smoke. Rain began to fall again as Michael moved in for the kill. He reached for his shotgun but found it was out of his reach, half way out the broken window on the passenger side. Like a drowning swimmer trying to reach the shore against the tide he realized he was no closer to being safe than he had been five minutes ago.

"Shit!" Loomis tried pulling on the shoulder belt again.

Michael Myers stood beside the overturned car on the driver's side as rain pelted him above. His lifeless eyes looked down at the cruiser, his ears hearing the sounds of his prey trapped and ready for the kill. Michael felt a certain sadistic satisfaction at the prospect of killing the cursed doctor. It was a completion of a circle, one that Michael wanted to be finished and done with. He remembered the dreams he had seen of the doctor and the things he did to mock him.

Michael knelt down on one knee and looked into the wide eyes of Matthew Loomis.

"So," Loomis said, "This is where it ends."

Michael raised his blade and struck.

...to be concluded...



A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 07



BASED UPON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:
Wes Craven: A Nightmare on Elm Street
Victor Miller: Friday the 13th
John Carpenter: Halloween
Victor Salva: Jeepers Creepers
Clive Barker: Candyman, Hellraiser

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS: 
Sean Renaud, Tessa Alexander and Miriam Belle

EDITOR:
Miriam Belle

AUTHOR'S NOTE:
-"Before reading this final chapter, I would strongly recommend reading the first six chapters. If you don't, you might be a little confused.

I also just wanted to give many thanks to the people who have contributed to this endeavor with their feedback, support, encouragement, kind words and enthusiasm for the story. I hope I have been true to these movie icons and their histories and more importantly, I hope this story has been a fun read. This has been an enormously gratifying experience and a real pleasure to work on. Thanks for taking the time to read it! Enjoy!” –bluefox07

***

"What are these monsters if not dark reflections of ourselves? Know yourself, and you will know your enemy." –Dr. Matthew Loomis

***

ENDGAME
Tuesday, May 17th 2005

Lori and Alice ran through the generator basin housing. The overhead lights dimmed and flickered playing shadows on their eyes, the danger of falling into the deep pits becoming more and more likely. The walkways were narrow and meant for slow traffic, not emergencies. As she ran, Lori looked down into one of the massive chasms, the paltry measurements of fifteen feet deep by twenty feet wide now seeming understated to her. The holes were open mouths, hungry and waiting for something to eat. She could hear her footfalls echoing through the deep pits as they ran, creating a bizarre double echo through the huge housing.

The smell of must and decay was overpowering as they passed the fifth and then the sixth basin. The wind was kicking up outside and howling through the empty pipes, vents and channels above them, the once powerful arteries and veins of the plant rotted and filled with a powerful air of the dead. Rain was drumming on the tin roof of the generator housing, sounding more like gunfire than anything else.

"There!" Alice shouted and pointed at the far end of the massive chamber. A metal stairwell and platform assembly led up to the manager's office one floor up. They hurried past the seventh basin and then ran up the rickety structure as it leaned and groaned under their weight. Alice feared the old bolts might pop right out from the wall under the pressure as they ran. Dust fell from the shaking stairs as the two women reached the door and kicked it open.

Alice slammed it shut and then wiped away a clean spot in the dust-caked window, "I don't see anything."

Lori wiped away a similar hole in the dirty glass and looked out, "Jesus, I hope Loomis is okay…"

Alice bit her lip, "He's tough Lori."

"We should go back for him," Lori put a hand to her forehead, her eyes wide.

"No," Alice said, feeling both justified and guilty as she forced herself to remain focused, "We have a job to do. All right?"

Lori was ready to cry over Loomis. She had lost Will already and that had killed her inside, but losing Loomis might just as well finish the job Freddy had set out to do.

"Stay with me, Lori."

Lori took a deep breath and nodded, "Okay."

"We don't have any time," Alice said and then pulled out a plastic bottle of pills from her jeans pocket. She held up the orange, transparent container and popped the lid off, dropping four white pills into Lori's hand and then four into her own.

"Ready?" Lori asked her, her blue eyes wide with fear and adrenaline.

"Ready," Alice dry swallowed the pills and added, "Dream Master."

They sat down against the wall facing the door and huddled together, closing their eyes. Lori felt the effects of the drug immediately as her eye lids became heavy and felt dry. She felt her breathing slowing down as she leaned against Alice. Her body felt distant from her as a drowsy calm overtook her. Alice said something she couldn't quite make out as she slipped out of the world and into the place beyond.

"Don't forget," she whispered as her mind fell into the ether, "…to wake… up."

And then, Lori and Alice were gone. 

***

Loomis ducked back from Michael's third attempt to stab him and knew he didn't have much time left. Michael had already sliced open his cheek, creating a new cut to compliment the one from yesterday. This one was wicked though, running in a long gash from his left temple to his jaw. Michael had stabbed his left shoulder on the second try, forcing the doctor to cry out. The third slashed past his head and missed his eyes by an inch, the blade hissing through the air.

"Help!" Loomis shouted as he vainly fought against his seatbelt, the blood rushing to his head as he hung upside down.

And then Michael was jerked back suddenly. Loomis saw the heavy, mud spattered black boots of Jason Voorhees behind Michael and began frantically pulling on the belt. He heard several hard punches and saw Michael's knife clatter to the wet cement. The killer's legs were twisting in the air as Jason held him in a death grip.

"Doctor!" came a voice from the passenger side of the car. In the dim light he saw the face of Tessa Alexander coming towards him, "Need a hand?"

"God bless you," Loomis breathed and tried to smile as the belt compressed his ribs, "Cut the damn thing."

Tessa pulled her pocketknife out and began cutting the fabric of the belt as Jason and Michael fought.

From where Sean was standing, covering Tessa and keeping his gun aimed at the two killers, it looked like a clear-cut fight. Jason was winning, his massive hands clasped around Michael's head and squeezing. Jason's powerful fingers were digging into Michael's eyes and blood was draining from the black sockets like crimson tears. He could hear the sounds of bone cracking as he writhed in Jason's grip and Sean thought for sure Myers head was going to explode like an overly ripe melon. But then Michael twisted his body to the right and punched towards Jason, catching him in the chest and driving one of the tranquillizer darts they had used to sedate him earlier deep into his flesh like a dagger.

Jason staggered back and released Michael, who fell to the ground and flipped over on his back. The pain of having the tip of the dart poke through his ribs stunned Jason momentarily, giving Michael a chance to recover and find his blade. Michael was up on his feet again as lightning flashed overhead and the impending dawn was hidden by the storm front. Jason raised his machete high and bore down on Michael. The Halloween killer deflected the blow with his long carving knife. The machete bent the knife and rendered it useless in a fury of sparks.

"Guys," Sean whispered as he looked down at Tessa's ass, "Hurry the fuck up!"

There was a muted thump as Loomis came free of the safety belt followed by Tessa shouting, "I got him!"

She backed her way out of the car, her front side covered with mud and her tank top soaked by rainwater. Loomis followed behind her and stood up, covered in blood. The doctor took off his trench coat and tossed it aside as he stretched his back and then looked at Sean, "Thank you both."

"You okay?" Sean cringed at the nasty wound on his face.

"A mere flesh wound," Loomis reassured him and then was shoved forward into the police officer as the car began spinning slowly. Michael had Jason pressed up against the car and was ramming his face into the right rear tire. The hubcap split and broke as Jason's mask cracked against the steel of the lug nuts and wheel assembly.

"Okay," Sean raised his Uzi, "Time to fish or cut bait."

He fired several rounds into Michael's shoulder, a precision hit that rocked Michael backwards. Blood sprayed into the drizzling air as he looked up from his work, his eyes crimson from the hemorrhaging. The expressionless Halloween mask seemed to calmly tell Sean that he was next as Michael gave one final, mighty push that rammed Jason into the tire. Michael released him and grabbed Jason's machete, looking to Loomis, Sean and Tessa with bloody eyes that left no room for mercy.

"Inside now," Loomis quickly grabbed his shotgun from its resting place in the mud and ushered them into the plant, "Find Lori and Alice. Guard them!"

Sean and Tessa ran towards the office while Loomis ducked away into the shadows to his right. Michael followed them inside and briefly considered who to go after first. He looked after Sean and Tessa and then after the doctor. He cocked his head and cracked his knuckles over the rubber grip of Jason's machete. He turned and followed Loomis into the darkness.

***

There was no cathedral or chapel or church this time.

Alice and Lori fell into a place that was devoid of human context or understanding. It was hellish representation of the world that Freddy Krueger had created. They tumbled down a long, fleshy slide that left them sticky with some kind of viscous substance that smelled like saliva before emerging from the tunnel into open space. As she fell, Lori realized they had fallen from a huge face carved into a sheer rock formation. The face was leering and laughing at them like some kind of funhouse mirror image. The countenance of Freddy Krueger was frightening and ridiculous at the same time as burning eyes from the stone relief glared down at them.

Lori could hear laughing as she flipped over and saw the ground rushing up to meet them. She could see flames and water splashing around together amidst dozens of large flagstones. And then, before she could register the sensation or the thought she smacked into the surface of the water in a brutal belly flop. The water was warm and sickly as she submerged and her body screamed out from the pain, her stomach stinging and her breasts aching from the impact. A hand grasped her wrist and she was pulled upwards back to the air of the dream world.

"You okay?" Alice asked, completely soaked. Her sea green eyes darted around the cavernous lair, her red hair hanging in her face in long stringy strands.

Lori gasped for air, "I'm all right…"

Alice looked around as water dripped from her chin, "I've never seen this place before."

A pillar of fire plumed from behind them as Lori pushed out of the water and sat on the flagstone. All around her were ancient looking pillars, as though Freddy had set up shop in an abandoned temple from some long extinct society. The entire place harbored a bizarre atmosphere and quality to it. The aura of the environment made Lori feel like she was off balance. It reminded her of when she would reach the top of the roller coaster at the amusement park and there would be that one disorienting moment where her insides were still going up while her body was going down. It was a horrific giddy feeling that stole her sense of reality.

"Like what I've done with the place?" came a deep, chuckling voice from the shadows of the temple.

Alice and Lori stood up and faced their hidden host.

"Show yourself," Alice spoke loudly.

"You're too late," Freddy's demonic voice taunted her, "All the children in Springwood are dead."

"I don't believe that," Lori shouted out in the cavernous chamber.

"You're right," he said casually, "They live forever… in me."

"I don't believe in you!" Lori screamed as Alice looked on.

"Seeing is believing, bitch," the dream killer growled as he walked out from the overly elaborate temple, only it was a Freddy Krueger Alice had never seen before. He looked more evil, if that was even possible. His eyes were a cold light gray and his burned face seemed to be more streamlined, more purposeful. He looked like some kind of demon from Hell, still dressed in his green and red striped sweater but now wearing a long black trench coat over it that was made from sack cloth. His fedora was resting easily on his bald head as he walked towards them, his heavy boots echoing over the flames of the fiery lake.

"That's a new look," Alice commented dryly.

"I thought Loomis had the right idea with the coat," he leered at her, "What do you think?"

"I think you're going to be sorry you ever started this shit," Alice stared at him.

"Look around you," Freddy opened his arms wide, his bladed fingers stretched out and commanding of the sulfurous air as burning embers swirled and danced about his feet, "See the agony of the damned."

Lori and Alice looked up towards the ceiling of the cave and saw hundreds of people there, suspended in the air. They were all bloody and crying out, wounded and tortured. They floated like debris on water, listlessly being carried by currents they could neither see or touch. Lori recognized the face of the boy she had seen in the jail cell at the Springwood Police station earlier. He was crying and screaming for help as countless arms and legs twisted and caressed his body.

"My God," Lori whispered, her heart actually beating through her voice.

"All the people," Alice said.

"All the children," Freddy corrected her and laughed, resting his hands on his hips, "It's beautiful."

"You sick fuck!" Lori bellowed at him, "Let them go!"

Freddy smirked and looked at her like a father would look at his precocious little child and shook his head, "I don't think you understand, Princess. There are over two hundred souls right up there and they're mine now. I have grown more powerful than you can possibly imagine."

"Big words," Alice said unimpressed, "Been watching too many horror movies, Fred?"

Freddy sneered.

"It ends tonight,"

"Of course it does," the dream killer agreed, "For you. But for me, this is just the beginning…"

Lori steadied herself.

“The beginning of my new nightmare,” the dream killer smiled broadly.

Freddy dramatically whipped off his bladed glove and tossed it into the burning water. Lori watched as all five of his fingers rippled and then birthed five gleaming razor sharp knives, from pinky to thumb. Freddy turned his right hand around and admired it as bony protrusions ripped from his flesh and sealed over his knuckles and created a new, more biologically secure glove. The glove had always been an extension of Krueger and now, it truly was a part of him.

"Old dog," he winked at Alice and Lori, "New tricks."

He lunged at them, running full speed with his clawed hand drawn back, screaming. Alice remained still and Lori followed her lead as Krueger charged them. Alice reached out with her hand and grasped at the pool of water where Freddy's glove had been discarded. The water bubbled and then the glove shot out at her as though fired from a cannon. It clipped Freddy's overcoat and tore the shoulder open as it sailed to Alice's hand. The glove slipped over her fingers and the Dream Master flexed her new weapon as the dream killer paused. She smiled and held up her right hand defiantly, extending the middle finger out to Freddy.

Lori smiled and saw a shadow of doubt cross Freddy's face.

"All right mother fucker," Alice encouraged him to come to her with a simple motion of her outstretched hand, "Let's dance."

***

Loomis could hardly see as he ducked in and out of the pipes lining the housing, taking care to not give away his position as he evaded Michael Myers. He could hear him coming, slowly and methodically working his way towards the kill. Loomis winced as his wounded shoulder hit one of the old steel pipes and the stab wound sang out. He bit his lip and continued on until he reached the first basin.

‘To Hell with this,’ Loomis grimaced, ‘No more hiding.’

"Michael," he called out, "I'm here!"

***

"They're out," Sean looked at Lori and Alice as Tessa secured the door.

"Okay," Tessa nodded, "Who goes out?"

"Goes out where?"

"One of us has to stay with them," she said and flipped the safety on her Uzi off, "Who's it gonna be?"

"Jesus, Tessa," Sean rolled his eyes, "Stay with them."

"No," Tessa put a hand on his chest, "No macho bullshit. This has to be fair."

"All right," Sean growled and jutted his closed fist out. Tessa did the same and they hammered their fists in the air three times before showing their best shot. Sean had kept his fist balled up in the form of the impenetrable rock, but Tessa had revealed the open palm of paper. Sean swallowed and felt guilty as he knew Tessa would not be stopped from her duty. He sighed, "Suicidal bitch."

"Arrogant asshole," she hugged him and kissed him, "I love you.

"I love you," he whispered in her ear.

Tessa smiled at him reassuringly and then opened the door. She checked to make sure she had all her ammunition with her and looked back at Sean. There was something final in their silent exchange that said more than any act of lovemaking ever could. It was a declaration of their commitment and their love for one another without the hurdle of words or of misunderstanding. It was pure communication and the closest either of them had ever come to knowing what it was like to be a complete person.

"I won't say it," she looked back at him.

"Don't," Sean said and then stood in front of Lori and Alice, "Go baby."

Tessa was gone and Sean was left alone. He shivered and looked down at his two friends, feeling both overwhelmed and frightened. He beat the fear down as best he could and put a harness on the little bastard, forcing him to work hard for Sean. He beat the fear into submission and cleared his mind of all clutter and of all distractions. His mission was to protect Lori and Alice no matter what. If Tessa and Loomis did their jobs, it would make his easier. And there was a chance they may all come of this together, alive.

But something, maybe his experience as a cop or just as a survivor of one of the worst massacre in decades, told him that if something could go wrong it would.

He heard Loomis in the shadows as the lights flickered, "Michael… show yourself!"

Sean took a deep breath and put his finger on the trigger of the Uzi.

"Please God… just a little help."

***

Lori watched as Alice and Freddy dueled with their bladed right hands. They were moving fast and furiously across the flagstones that littered the surface of Freddy's lake of fire. Alice was dodging and thrusting with her glove like a martial arts expert, flipping over Freddy and parrying with him. They were old enemies and knew each other intimately and it showed through the silent manner in which their fight played out.

There was no glib dialogue or witty taunts as they fought. The blades sparked and slashed against each other as they worked around the corners of the caves. Freddy swung hard and missed Alice by a hair, shaving rocks off the wall of the cave. Alice spun her leg around and connected with Freddy's jaw, sending him reeling backwards and into the water. Alice jumped back as Freddy disappeared into the flaming liquid, readying herself. Lori stood back as well and watched, bracing herself against one of the pillars.

'It can't be that easy,' Lori thought.

And it wasn't.

Freddy exploded from the water in a shower of glowing flame, his black overcoat billowing like a cape from behind him. His arms were out to his side in a predatorial maneuver of balance as he shot into the air, legs tucked under his thighs. Alice leapt backwards in a graceful flip, her bladed glove scraping against the stone. Freddy came down hard and cracked one of the flagstones in half.

They attacked each other, slicing and grunting as they tried to outmaneuver each other, out smart each other. Alice jabbed at him and caught Freddy just under the arm, sinking her blades in deep. She withdrew quickly and swung again, elegantly sweeping up and to her right. Four long wounds opened wide across Freddy's face and gouted black blood as his eyes began glowing a golden yellow.

Alice could feel the heat of the fire against her skin as she let her mind flow freely, her hand working under it's own method and design. With every slice of the glove that took some of Freddy's flesh away from his body she remembered those she had lost to him. With every drop of his black, ichor blood she reclaimed a part of her life she had lost to him. Her lips drew back from her teeth in a snarl as she hacked away at him, her blood surging though every vein furiously.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 07



"You bitch!" Freddy gaped as his left arm was severed and thudded to the ground.

Alice stood back and screamed at him like a wild animal, rage and anger seething from her eyes like fire. She kicked the arm away and lunged again. Freddy deflected her blows with his one hand as Alice forced him back towards the cave wall. Lori's heart was thundering as she watched, scared to death but swept away in the momentum of Alice's attack. She found herself gripping the pillar with both hands as she watched.

Freddy fell backwards and landed on the flagstone as fire raged around him. His bloody stump was spouting blood in a high-pressure stream as he looked to Alice, his bladed fingers over his face.

"Kill him!" Lori screamed and slapped the pillar.

Alice raised her hand high, Freddy's own infamous bladed glove composed in the final blow against him. She said, "You're dead."

And then she stopped. 

Alice choked and staggered back. The blades on Freddy's hand had extended out and elongated faster than the eye could follow. The five, eight-foot long lengths of metal from Freddy's hand had impaled through Alice's body as she looked at him. Lori gasped as she watched the amorphous stiletto like knives poke out the back of Alice's t-shirt and glimmer with red blood. Alice dropped her gloved hand to her side and looked at the stretched out knifes piercing her ribs, left breast, sternum and heart. 

"Alice!" Lori screamed.

She looked at Freddy with eyes that were blurry with tears and the cloudy touch of death. Blood trickled from her mouth in a steady stream as Freddy smiled up at her, his face alive with glee and uncontained joy. He jerked the blades out and Alice collapsed to the stone segment in a pool of her own blood. Freddy stood over her and waved his bladed index finger mockingly as his left arm suddenly popped out of his body, regenerated and complete again. He said, "Tell me, Dream Master… how do you kill what's already dead?"

“You don’t,” Alice wheezed as blood seeped from between her lips.

Freddy looked at Lori and bellowed with laughter until he disappeared from her sight like a ghost. Lori's paralysis broke and she ran to Alice, hopping and jumping across the stones. As Alice died, the entire dream world seemed to grow darker and more dangerous. The walls of the cave were closing in on her as she reached her friend and knelt beside her. She cradled Alice gently in her arms and brushed her beautiful red hair out of her pale face. Alice smiled at her, "Oh look what I've done..."

Lori couldn't speak as hot tears stung her eyes and a thick lump formed in her throat. She stroked Alice face once with fingers that trembled and then held her left hand to the dying woman's chest. She hadn't been able to save any one. From the moment her mother had been murdered by Krueger to Will being slain to now, Lori knew she had failed in every possible way. Her guilt swelled inside her like a terrible cyst, threatening to burst and poison her. She closed her eyes and tried to resist the breakdown that was almost upon her.

"Lori," Alice said with no small effort as she coughed up blood that spattered her chin, "Lori listen to me. Don't carry the weight of the dead. He'll use it against it you. Draw strength from them and finish what we started."

"I will," she looked into Alice's glassy eyes as her breathing became watery and strained, "I swear I will."

"Don't look back," Alice smiled at Lori and then saw beyond her into what lay beyond the world, "You have a choice..."

Lori watched in stupefied horror as Alice Johnson took one final breath that rattled in her throat for a moment and then escaped from her lips along with her soul. The Dream Master died in the netherworld between reality and fantasy comfortable in the arms of Lori Rollins. Fat tears rolled down her flushed cheeks as she brought her fingers to Alice’s open eyes and gently shut her lids. Lori hugged Alice to her body and sobbed for her friend. The universe seemed to grow so quiet it was unbearably loud.

"I swear it," she said through gritted teeth, a promise not only to Alice but also to Will and to her father and to her mother and everyone else who had died under Freddy's blades, "I swear to God."

Lori took a deep breath and then kissed Alice gently on the lips.

"I'll see you again," she whispered and laid Alice down flat on the flagstone. She looked at her hands and saw they were covered in blood. Alice's blood, wet and warm against her flesh. In her hands was the essence of life. And then, a new sensation…

Lori could feel it rising inside her, devouring her rage and fear. Something hot and overwhelming passed from Alice to Lori like a spectral arc of electricity. Lori threw her head back, her mouth wide open as the power of the Dream Master was bestowed upon her. Her hips bucked in an invisible orgasm as she was filled to capacity with the power. Her teeth chattered and her skin burned with the sheer energy of the gift being given to her.

Moments later when her eyes opened, they glowed blue.

"I was wondering if you two were more than friends, " Freddy chuckled from behind her, "Such a touching little kiss."

Lori heard his words, but with a new context. She took the glove off Alice's limp hand.

"Any tongue, Princess?"

Lori stood up, her back to Krueger and his old glove in her hand.

"Lez-be-friends?" he taunted her, wiggling his fingers in the air and dancing like a demonic cheerleader, "So hot! Lori and Alice sitting in the tree! F-U-C-K-I-N-G!"

"She was my friend," Lori said and threw his glove into the boiling fire water.

"I'm sure she was," Freddy laughed, "But I can't tell you how satisfying killing her was, Lori. It was on my wish list of things to do before the new millennium, but you know how hectic things can get, right?"

Lori turned and faced him, her eyes no longer glowing but filled with her own internal fire. Her hands were clenched into fists as she stared at him.

"So scary," Freddy sneered as his black coat whipped around him in the gusts of ember-laden wind, "Let's wrap this up, shall we?"

Freddy opened his right hand and flashed his wicked blades.

"Once and for all," he added with an arrogant grin.

Lori opened her right hand and concentrated. There was flash of pain in her fingertips as she summoned her new power to task. Freddy looked at her, again feeling uncertain as she concentrated. This was the part he hated most. He hated the goddam uncertainty of it all. No matter how much he planned for it, these stupid kids were always trying to one up him. Freddy growled and stepped forward, but was suddenly compelled to give Lori some room as she glared at him.

From her fingers sprang five, long metallic claws that were identical to the ones Freddy wielded and equally as dangerous. He watched with no small measure of loathing and fear as Lori held her hand out, blood streaming down her forearm in thin ribbons. She worked her fingers back and forth and then motioned for Freddy to come to her as Alice had done. She was mocking him in his own domain. Freddy felt his seared flesh burn anew with pure hate as he gritted his rotted out teeth and prepared.

"That's a cute parlor trick, bitch," Freddy growled.

"Come to me," she said quietly.

"And just who the fuck do you think you are?"

"I'm the Dream Master," Lori gave him a secret smile and then added "… bitch."

***

Loomis was taken by surprise as Michael lunged from the shadows. The machete hissed through the air and lodged in one of the large pipes bolted to the dust-covered ground. Loomis teetered on the edge of the basin and almost lost his balance when Michael grabbed him by the neck and pulled him forward roughly. Loomis gasped and struggled for air as Michael choked him. He batted at Michael as hard as he could, and from the way Michael was jolting from the hits he knew it had to hurt.

"Gack!" he squirmed in Myers grip as his shotgun fell to the floor. The killer only looked at him impassively and squeezed harder. The veins in the doctor's eyes began to burst and spread out across the whites. His vision was going blurry as the life was taken from his body slowly. He thought of his father and how he had failed him. Loomis kicked futilely at Michael and then again once more before his eyes began roll back into his head.

And then there was a gunshot.

Myers staggered back and Loomis was freed. He fell hard, gasping for air as he rolled towards the basin. He grabbed onto the lips of the huge hole, his fingers scraping across the rusted steel seal and rivets. Vertigo swept over him as his body was pulled down into the basin, his only lifeline his worn out fingers.  There was another burst of automatic gunfire as Michael fell backwards against the pipes. His head hit hard and busted open one of the sheet metal tubes.

"Doc?" Tessa came running up to the basin, her gun still trained on Michael, "Matthew?"

Loomis looked up into the flickering lights hanging from the ceiling, "I'm here!"

"Hang on!" she shouted and shouldered her Uzi, "I'll get you out."

And then a shadow fell over her. Tessa saw the horrified look in Loomis eyes and before either of them could react Jason gripped Tessa's shoulder and flung her back against the wall. She rebounded off the surface hard and fell to the dirty floor. Jason saw his machete on the ground and grabbed it, looking at Tessa like a shark about to bite into a swimmer. 

She staggered onto her feet, her eyes spinning from the blow to her head. She raised the Uzi up to fire and felt it rip away from her as Jason's machete caught it. The gun spun away from her and slid into the shadows between the pipes. Tessa cried out and reached for her boot knife, a long ten-inch hunting blade. She unsheathed the dagger with her left hand and tried to stab Jason but only found his huge hand waiting for her. He grasped her wrist and slammed her against the wall again, lifting her up by the neck so her feet were dangling. With one quick, insanely easy maneuver he forced her to stab the dagger through her own right shoulder. Tessa screamed as the blade punched through the meat and bone and lodged in the wall.

The pain was nearly blacking her out as she struggled to keep conscious. She wouldn't die passing out or losing her head. She would meet this asshole face to face to spit in his eye when he delivered the final blow. Tessa shuddered as her shoulder rippled with excruciating pain. She refused to cry and kicked him hard in the thigh, screaming, "Fuck you!"

Jason seemed to understand this comment and raised his machete for the kill.

"Tessa!" Loomis screamed as he tried to pull himself up out of the pit and then to Jason, "No, don't do it!"

More automatic gunfire sounded off from the shadows. The cloth of his ratty jacket shredded and blood misted from the torn meat across his right shoulder as Jason was thrown back to the ground. Sean came running past, his gun unloading every round into Jason's body with precision accuracy. He looked at Loomis and screamed, "Get her out of here now!"

Loomis finally pulled himself out of the basin and managed to reach Tessa. He grabbed the dagger and pulled hard as Sean squeezed the trigger and let loose another volley of unrelenting bullets. Jason convulsed and rolled as his body was punctured and shredded by the bullets. Sean was screaming and yelling as he fired, spraying Jason with all the ammunition he could muster.

"Get him into the basin!" Loomis yelled after Sean as he supported Tessa, "Do it now!"

The Uzi ran dry and clicked for a second before Sean threw it to the ground. Jason was already getting up, his body smoking from the multiple bullet wounds. Not wanting to give Jason a moment to breathe, Sean tackled him hard and they both went rolling across the narrow walkway. Sean kneed him hard in the groin and then positioned himself against the wall, pushing with his legs against Jason. The hulking killer rolled to the lip of the basin, his hand clumsily reaching out to find something to hold on to.

"You got him!" Tessa screamed, "Do it!"

Sean gave a final kick to Jason's hockey mask and the behemoth went into the basin, but not before he grasped the policeman's ankle. Sean growled against his teeth as Jason's iron grip crushed the bones and meat in his left ankle and foot. He kicked hard against Jason's face as the weight of the killer began pulling on him. Sean grasped the pipe behind him and held on tight as he was dragged into the basin with Jason.

"Loomis!" he screamed, the veins in his arms tight and his veins bulging out as he held on.

The doctor rested Tessa against the wall and rushed to Sean's side. He fell to his knees and began trying to pry Jason fingers away. The digits were locked into position by a strength Loomis could not understand or even begin to counter. Blood was now beginning to gush from the mess of Sean's ankle. Every thing below his calve was twisting and pulling loose as Sean screamed and kicked wildly at Jason with his free foot.

"Let go, goddam you!" Loomis screamed at the masked killer.

Sean felt his grip loosening, his fingers raw and taxed to their limits.

"Don't let go Sean!" Loomis roared and began pounding on Jason's fingers. "Hang on!"

There was a final moment of clarity for Sean as he felt his body simply give out against the power of Jason's might. There was a sudden jerk and then a sliding sensation as he was yanked backward. His shirt rode up, exposing his backside to the grit and broken glass of the walkway. He didn't have time to scream or even think as Loomis blurred past him and he fell into darkness with Jason. There was the strange feeling of being airborne as they fell, a long drawn out journey through final night.

"Sean!" Tessa screamed, her voice shrill and desperate as Sean's head rebounded off the steel lip of the basin with a heavy *thock* sound. His hands flew into the air and then he was consumed by shadows. Loomis scrambled to the edge and looked down as Tessa fell to her hands and knees beside him.

Jason and Sean landed at the bottom of the basin hard, their impact echoing in a bass reverberation. Sean rolled to his right and when he tried to stand, he found his shattered foot and ankle were unwilling to accommodate him. He lost his balance and fell forward as Jason reached out for him. He felt the killer grasp his arm and pull. Sean knew what was coming and tore the pistol from his waistband.

"Fuck you!" he shouted with all his might and fired the gun into Jason's face and torso. The basin lit up with each deafening report, giving them brief glimpses of the fight below like a slow strobe light in a basement. After the fifteenth shot rang out there followed a blood-curdling scream from the darkness. Tessa covered her mouth and reached for her gun as the screaming became watery, as though Sean were drowning. There was an audible cracking sound and then all was silent, save for the heavy breathing of Jason Voorhees below them.

"Sean!" she screeched and aimed her gun into the basin.

"No," Loomis put his hand on hers as she looked into the shadows.

"No!" she screamed at Loomis, "He's alive…"

"Tessa," Loomis held her to him close as she cried, "He's gone. Let him go."

Tessa let go of her gun and collapsed in Loomis's arms as the doctor tired to console her. Her body felt limp and a thousand miles away from her as Tessa tried to hold back the flood of pain. Her heart had been broken into two pieces, split right down the middle. She remembered telling Sean she didn't think everyone would make it out alive, that no matter what they were dead anyway. She wished now she hadn't said that.

She wished she had said something else.

Anything but that.

***

Lori stood toe to toe with Freddy Krueger in the confines of the dream world.

She raised her hand and when Freddy came at her, she didn't worry about what he was going to do. She could feel his movements in her body, as though she could read his mind. She felt the experience Alice had passed to her asserting itself as she dodged his wild slashes and erratically angry moves. They hopped from one flagstone to the other, thrusting and swiping, equally matched and equally determined to win.

"You know Lori," Freddy spat at her, "Your hubby is squealing like a pig to the slaughter in Hell…"

Lori felt a sting of anger in her heart, but resisted it.

"I know some hard hitting assholes down there who love tearing apart pussy's like him for breakfast…"

Lori ducked as Freddy's claws cut the air above her and took a lock of golden blonde hair. She countered and carved a chunk of the dream killer's shirt and chest out. The fabric and rotted meat splattered against the wall of the cave as they moved into the palace. Lori passed elaborate murals and frescos, most of them looking like something from "Dante's Inferno" as she and Freddy dueled. Their finger blades snapped and sparked in the hot depths of Krueger's world, metal against metal as the two fought for supremacy.

"When you get there, watch out for this mean motherfucker with the pins in his head… I mean this guy is wicked. He sure fucked your husband up… made him even curse your name and the day he met you!"

Freddy laughed.

Lori stabbed and removed one of Freddy's gnarled ears.

Krueger raged.

They were now in a long corridor leading to what looked like an oven. It made Lori think of the fairy tale, "Hansel and Gretel." She remembered the old witch being burned alive in her own oven after the little girl tricks her inside. She had always thought that story was scary when she was young, so dark for a children's tale. But now, as she backed her way up to the oversized oven she realized it looked more and more like a furnace. It was the oven in Freddy's tale, the place where the fires were the hottest and the pain lasted the longest.

"Who's that trip-trappin' on my fucking bridge?" Freddy guffawed as he caught Lori's shirt and tore her right sleeve away, leaving two wicked gashes across her shoulder, "I'll grind your bones to make my bread!"

Lori leapt through the air and swung at him again but missed.

"… And not by the hair of my chinny-chin-chin!"

Lori landed behind and kicked him hard. The move was so deft and complete it was almost perfect. She knew she had never studied martial arts, but there was something inside her that had. She could feel it; or rather she could feel him inside her. She could see them all within her mind, guiding her and lending her their power. They were the ones, the souls, Alice had collected and kept with her, and now Lori was that keeper. That part of them Alice had retained was a part of Lori now.

"Mind over matter," she heard herself say as she delivered a brutal roundhouse kick to Freddy's face. The dream killer staggered back as blood spurted from his broken nose. He looked at the black liquid and glared at Lori.

"It's over, Lori," he said, "Give it up."

She stood ready for him, anticipating his next move.

"What will it take for you to walk away?" Freddy stared at her, pacing back and forth like an agitated wolf trying to figure out to catching the cunning rabbit eluding it, "I'm giving you the chance to walk away. Now, I never give my children that kind of offer…"

"You have nothing I want," she said evenly.

"Anything your heart desires," he said slyly as the fire in the boiler oven raged hotter, "Anything at all."

Lori looked at him thoughtfully and after a moment said, "Alice."

Freddy snorted.

“I want Alice back,” she stated clearly.

Freddy looked at her.

“I want my father and my mother…”

The dream killer hissed at her mockingly.

“But most of all,” she stared through his lies and his hate and his malevolence, her hair blowing in the arid wind and sweat beading on her forehead, “I want my husband back, you sorry son of bitch.”




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 07



"I'm your husband now, Lori," he flickered his tongue wildly at her in mock cunnilingus. Freddy laughed wildly and waved his hand like a theatrical magician at a kids show. From his hand came a thick, billowing dark smoke that gave birth to Freddy's latest nightmare. The air was suddenly filled with flapping, leathery black wings and clawed feet. Thousands of huge, mutant demon bats flew out of the shadows of Freddy's overcoat and slobbered towards Lori. They squealed and mewled, hungrily advancing towards her for the kill. Their little red eyes glowed like beads of blood as they strafed her, descending in to swallow her whole.

Lori watched them approach as time slowed down and the reality of the dream began to fade. She remembered seeing the dead in her dreams, and the boy with no eyes who told her about peace. She remembered the burnt woman who begged her to resist the anger and hate. The bats were closing in on her and amazingly enough, she reached down deep inside her soul and found calm. 

It was eerie, the peace that over took her body and mind as she raised her hand up and the blades retracted back into her fingertips. The wounds healed immediately and the blood melted from her flesh as though it had never been spilled. She could feel a cool presence in the back of her mind as the world stopped for her. She drew a deep breath that filled her lungs not with the poisonous sulfur of Freddy's illusions but that of the real world.
In that eternal moment she saw the past and the future, she saw the tragedy of Nancy Thompson unfold before her eyes and the death of Donald Thompson. She saw the Dream Warriors fight and triumph over Freddy only to fall again to his resurrected evil. She saw the choices and burdens of the Dream Master as Alice Johnson fought to save those she loved. She saw the fights that followed, the fight at Crystal Lake again and everything leading her and the people around her to this place in time and space.
In that brief expanse, she understood everything Alice couldn't explain to her. Lori opened her eyes and saw Freddy's hellish corneas fixed on her. She saw the bats screaming towards her as she reached out, opened her fingers and stretched out with her mind. She looked at the hellish creatures and simply said, "No more."
The bats froze in the air, their wings and mouths caught in full motion as though someone had paused a movie. They hovered before her and she could hear Freddy's gasp of surprise. She could feel his anger and impotent rage as his best trick, the one that always granted him the kill failed. Fear was the medium in which the disease was passed. If there was no fear, Krueger could not spread. Lori smiled through the wall of bats, "I'm not afraid of you anymore."
Freddy staggered back towards the open door of the boiler oven, his eyes wide.
"Our screams gave you your power…"
"No."
"Our fear gave you your strength…"
"Shut up!" Freddy raged.
"You're a nightmare, Krueger…"
"YOU FUCKING BITCH!"
"…And all nightmares have to end."
Lori drew her right hand back, palm open and fingers reaching to the heavens. She looked at the bats.
"YOU STUPID BITCH!"
Lori shoved forward with her right hand and the bats flew backwards as though caught in a gale force wind. As they recoiled from her power, their hideous black fur melting and falling away under the power of Lori’s counter attack. The black monstrosities flamed as smoldering fur molted into white feathers. Their screeching turned into chirps and squawks as a flight of large, white doves erupted from the dying carcasses of the bats. Their leathery skins fell away and birthed broad snow-white wings. Pink eyes fixed on Freddy and the flock dived in towards him like a squadron of fighter planes.
"Auucgh!" he screamed as the birds swarmed him and drove him backwards. Their wings flapped and stirred up winds that blew through the entire world of the dream. They pecked and stabbed at him with their beaks. Tainted blood spilled out onto virginal feathers as the birds ravaged Krueger. His skin was pulled away in large chunks as they fed on him, consuming his evil. He swiped his blades in the air ravenously, killing a few of them but not enough to make a difference.
Lori stepped forward and sprinted towards Freddy and the birds. The doves scattered as Lori tackled Freddy and drove him into the fire. The boiler door slammed shut behind them and they were in flames. Lori felt her flesh beginning to burn as she looked into the inferno and then forced herself out of the dream. She could feel the cool air of the power plant office around her as she grabbed Freddy by the neck and pulled him close to her. 
"Scream for me, asshole," she whispered.
There was an explosion of light and then they were gone.
***

Loomis and Tessa stood up and turned to see Michael Myers waiting for them, he reached over and grasped the machete Jason had dropped when Sean shot him. It was still dripping blood as he looked at it, appraising it once again as a weapon. Michael then looked to them and down at the bullet holes in his chest. He was pissed off and Loomis had no doubt he was going to express it to the fullest extent.

"Tessa," Loomis said from the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah?"

"Run."
And then from behind them the office windows at the end of the housing structure blew out in a thunderous explosion of air and smoke. It was like a sonic boom had occurred in the office as glass and wood rocketed through the air. All three of them on the ground looked up to see two bodies sailing through the air. Loomis immediately recognized Lori's blonde hair as she struck one of the overhead pipes and fell to the ground near the forth basin. He and Tessa rushed over to her and found her unconscious.
The second body landed at the feet of Michael Myers with a dusty skid. Freddy looked up, his hat and coat smoldering as he tried to grasp where he was. He looked at the muddy boots and then up the blood stained coveralls and finally at the ghostly white face. Freddy rolled his eyes and hopped up to face Michael.
"Cute, Lori," he coughed and brushed himself off, "I should have fucking seen this coming."
Michael looked at him, his head cocked to one side.
"And what are you looking at, Shatner?" Freddy eyed him, "You know its Jason you should be mad at. He stole your idea for wearing a mask!"
Michael raised the machete into the air.
"Well fuck you too, Myers," Freddy growled and swiped at Michael. He tore Michael's coveralls and opened up some nasty wounds across his chest, but Michael did not relent. He hammered the machete down and caught Freddy in the shoulder, taking him by surprise. Krueger howled and then began punching Michael in the stomach hard with his free hand. Freddy jerked back and wrenched the machete from Michael's hand with his own body.
"You know what your problem is?" Freddy yanked the machete free from his torso, "Halloween only comes once a year. Your gimmick isn't practical for longevity…"
Freddy sliced down and caught Michael on his right thigh, "It's a fucking overrated holiday anyway…"
As Freddy and Michael fought, Loomis cradled Lori in his arms and shook her gently, "Lori?"
She didn't move. Tessa felt her neck and found a pulse there, steady but weak.
"Lori wake up," Loomis hissed and slapped her. 

Her eyes fluttered open and then went wide as she scrambled back out of his arms and onto her ass. She looked around and then saw Freddy and Michael. Michael was slamming Krueger up against the wall repeatedly, battering him like a rag doll. Freddy dropped the machete and it fell into the basin where Jason and Sean had disappeared. Michael's leg was bleeding badly as he beat the living shit out of Freddy. After a few minutes of this, he slammed the dream killer down to the ground hard, causing Freddy's trademark fedora to go rolling away into the shadows.

"Michael's winning," Tessa whispered as the huddled back into the corner of the housing. She looked at Loomis and asked, "Do you think he might be able to kill Freddy?"

"No," Lori spoke up, her head throbbing from her sudden exodus into the real world, "No…"

"You fucking dime store reject!" Freddy roared and jammed his blades into Michael's neck. The killer staggered back, holding his neck and losing his balance. Blood squirted out from between his fingers in steady pulses as Michael dropped Freddy and tried to recover. Freddy slowly stood up and dusted himself off casually, his yellow eyes resting on Michael's mask. He started walking towards the Halloween killer, the terror of Haddonfield, and brought his claws to bear.

"You and Voorhees," Freddy huffed, "What a fucking pair…"

Michael fell back against the wall, his hands still clasped to his neck.

"I brought you here to fight him, you asshole. Not me!" Freddy kicked Michael across the face, his dusty boot leaving a black mark across the white mask. He knelt down and grabbed Michael by a handful of his wild hair, shoving his head back against the eroded concrete wall. Freddy growled, "You're pissing me off, Myers."

Freddy raised his hand into the air and the blades clinked together, scraping in a taunt that heralded Freddy's victory.

"You lose," Freddy spat at him and then brought his glove down. Only it never connected with Michael's mask or flesh. The hand stayed in the air, trembling against the power of Jason's grip. Jason jerked Freddy to the side and whipped him around, his vice-like hold unforgiving. There was a wet popping sound as the bones in Freddy's right arm came out of their sockets and then were jammed back in. Krueger's head was lolling about as Jason spun him into the wall. The concrete cracked and splintered, heavy chunks of the old compound falling to the floor.

"Freddy's dead," Tessa cringed as they watched Jason spin and flip Freddy around. The dream killer bent six-foot diameter pipes in with his backside and broke concrete with his head as Jason unleashed his fury. All of the teasing and taunting Jason had endured, the pain and the humiliation suffered at the hands of Freddy Krueger was being brought to light now. Their fight on the dock two years ago had only been a prelude to this moment. Jason had found time to think about what had happened to him, he had had time to consider the blasphemy of Freddy's desecration of his mother. After a brief moment of consideration (as thoughtful as Jason Voorhees could be about it at the very least) Jason followed through on the impulse to kill Freddy.

Loomis eyed his shotgun, only a few feet away from where Michael Myers lay, his legs sprawled and head hanging forward. He wondered for a moment if Freddy had actually killed him. There was so much blood drenching his coveralls and the cuts on his body had been truly grievous. Loomis wanted to believe that Myers might be dead, but he knew better. Michael was too smart. There was the possibility that Michael, in his quiet contemplation and secret agenda, might even be smarter than Freddy Krueger.

"We have to get them into that basin," Loomis bit his bottom lip, "And we have to make sure Jason doesn't have his machete…"

"Why?" Lori asked.

"He used it to climb out," Loomis pointed at the opening of the basin. There, lodged in the rusty metal was Jason's weapon of choice. He had stabbed it into the side of the basin and used it to escape by pulling himself up on it and then standing on it. It looked to be an arm's length from the lip of the basin, within reach if someone was brave enough to go and grab it.

"I'll get it," Tessa said quietly.

"Its lodged in there pretty good," Loomis eyed the weapon.

"I'll handle it," she said and squeezed his shoulder, "Just blow their fucking heads off."

Loomis nodded, "All right. Let's do this. Lori, stay put for a moment."

As Loomis broke to the left and Tessa went right, Michael sudden stood up. He looked at the doctor with bloody red eyes as they shared an exchange of "got ya!" Loomis cursed himself and skidded to a halt a few feet shy of the shotgun. Michael had been waiting for him to come out. He had been playing possum to avoid Freddy and Jason, his black heart intent on the doctor. Loomis felt sweat beading on his back and winding down his spine as he and Myers locked eyes.

Jason continued his beating of Freddy. He spun the weakened killer around again by the arm and let go. That was when Krueger crashed into Michael and sent them both toppling over. Jason stalked over to them like some kind of post-modern Prometheus and grabbed them by their necks, one in each hand, hoisting them up. Michael twisted in his grip and freed himself, his black eyes flaring above the bloody marks dripping from his sockets. Freddy slashed out with right hand but found it caught by Michael. Jason pulled on his left hard as Michael refused to let go.

"Oh Jesus," Tessa looked over her shoulder as the two monsters pulled Freddy apart. She thought maybe there was a mutual understanding between them at that moment, a sort of unspoken agreement in regards to their shared hate of Krueger. Or maybe it was just that they were caught in a bloodlust and Freddy was in their way. In either case, Freddy was holding the short end of the stick.

Krueger howled and threw his head back as the muscles and bones began to fail his body. There was a definitive tearing sound as the flesh began to rip and sinews of the meat split apart. Black blood splashed to the dusty floor as Freddy became the wishbone between Jason and Michael Myers. His eyes bulged from his sockets as the connective tissues and bones in his arms pulled away from his torso.

The power plant was filled with his agony as he fell forward and smashed face first into the floor. Jason tossed the severed arm aside as it sprayed the foul smelling essence of Freddy Krueger all over his tattered clothes. The screams echoed throughout and acted as a death knell for the dream killer. Jason kicked Freddy hard and cracked his ribs on the left side as Michael drove his hand down into Krueger's back. He punched through the fabric of his burnt clothes and through the slimy flesh to the spinal cord beneath. Michael gave the slippery backbone a mighty yank and Freddy's Krueger's back was broken in two.

"Oh God," Lori covered her mouth and closed her eyes as her stomach lurched.

There was a loud squealing shriek of metal against metal as the machete came loose from the basin. Tessa flipped over and held the weapon up, but her triumph was short lived as Jason and Michael both regarded her with an intense glare. She laid there for only a second before they both began moving in on her.

"Oh hell no," she grunted and got up as best she could, her wounded shoulder throbbing and sending bolts of pain through her right side.

Loomis aimed the shotgun at Jason, even as Michael approached him. He knew if he didn't disable Jason, then Tessa wouldn't stand a chance. He aimed and fired. The shot went wide and blew apart a pressure valve. Steam hissed and billowed outward, the hot air whistling as it enveloped Jason's hulking frame. Loomis turned and fired at Michael. The blast caught Myers in the left shoulder and sent him flying backwards.

Tessa realized too late that she had backed herself into a corner as she bumped up against the wall of the generator housing. She looked and saw Jason emerging from the steam, his shadow hiding her from the light. She glanced to her left and saw the open basin where Sean had been pulled in. Tessa took a deep breath and tightened her grip on the machete as Jason bore down on her.

"I fucking hate hockey," she growled and then charged forward, the machete held out in front of her. Instead of going for Jason's stomach or chest, she brought the huge blade up and with all her might drove it into his left eye. She let loose a cry of primal rage and fury as she drove the machete deep into Jason's ocular cavity. The tip of the machete exploded out the back of his skull as he lost his equilibrium. The hockey mask split at the damaged eyehole and revealed his deformed face to her as she smashed into him, her momentum carrying them backwards.

"Just die!" she screamed and toppled over into the basin with him. Before his fist smashed into her face and shattered her skull, Tessa was able to pull the machete out and throw it back up and out of the pit. As everything went dark, despite the pain, she felt strangely at peace. A flash of blinding light and a spray of blood saw Tessa leave this world for the next.

***

Loomis heard Tessa shouting and turned but could only see roiling steam, but no sign of her or Jason. He looked down at Michael, who was not moving again. Loomis walked up to him slowly, the only sound being that of the hissing steam from the broken valve. His eyes stung with sweat and blood as he leveled the gun at Michael's face. His clothes were stained with blood and dirt, his legs shaking. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might bust his ribs loose as he held the shotgun with hands that trembled.

"Michael?" he whispered and kicked the killer's boot.

Nothing.

"I don't believe you're dead, Michael," Loomis said.

The masked killer did not move.

Loomis steadied himself and took a final aim. 

Here, tonight and finally forever he would put an end to Michael Myers. Maybe he couldn't kill him permanently, but a shotgun blast to the head would insure that Michael wouldn't be out and about any time soon. The curse of the Thorn would end here for as long as it could. He didn't fool himself into believing his act was anything other than a temporary solution. Loomis simply took comfort in the fact that he would avenge his father's death and finally give the elder Loomis peace. He would give the world a reprieve from the Thorn.

"Damn you," he said, his voice weak and broken. He pulled the trigger and was shocked to hear only any empty click. The shotgun was empty.

"No!" he shook his head and reached into his pocket for another shell. He fumbled with one for a moment and then quickly reloaded the gun. He finished and snapped the gun back up to find Michael gone. There was trail of blood leading into the shadows of the pipe works and corridors. He sighed and lowered his gun.

"Damn you."

He turned to find that Lori was gone from her hiding place. He looked to his left and saw Krueger's body was gone as well.

"Lori?"

***

The journey from the generator housing to the outside was symbolic for Lori. To her, she had been walking through the shadows and darkness for years now. Ever since Freddy Krueger had set her life on this course she had not known any peace. Everywhere she looked, there was danger and death. Her life had been ruled by fear of him, and it had taken her so much to realize it. The journey to freedom had come at a terrible cost. 

She dragged the still living corpse of Freddy Krueger through the old halls and walkways of the power plant. She could hear the souls trapped here. She could feel them as she had felt the others in her dream. Lori thought of Alice and Will as tears streamed down her face. The memories of her father and mother before Springwood ever happened flashed before her as she struggled to pull Krueger out of the power plant and onto the loading dock.

Morning sunlight was filtering through the muddy windows and cracked glass as the star rose into the sky. Her fingers were flaring under the strain of pulling his weight behind her, but she pressed on. As she stepped into the receiving bay at the loading dock where Sean and Tessa had entered earlier, she noticed a squeeze bottle on one of the dejected workbenches. It was caked with grime, yellow and marked with permanent ink the phrase "lighter fluid." She grabbed the bottle and felt the weight. It was half full and she took it along with the book of matches she found in a greasy jar just behind the bottle.

"What do you think Lori?" Freddy gurgled behind her, half laughing as his useless legs flopped back and forth, "You think this will be the big one?"




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 07



"Maybe," Lori replied and gritted her teeth as she struggled to pull him out onto the loading dock. Her muscles were burning and crying out in pain. Her body felt as though she had run a decathlon. Her lungs ached from smoke and the toxic air of Freddy's dream world. Her eyes had gone red from irritation, the left cornea rimmed with blood. Her skin was streaked with dirt and grime, her hair tangled with sweat and gore. 

The heavy clouds above were melting away as pastel blue sky filled the horizon. The smoke from the Springwood fire was still thick and casting an orange tint over the sun, but it was shining nonetheless. The light caught the fleeting raindrops and mist causing it to glow as Lori dragged Freddy out onto the dock and into the light.

"I'm not a fucking vampire, you bitch," he laughed bitterly.

"I know," she said and then let go of his burnt clothing. Krueger fell on his back with a heavy thud, his head smacking hard against the cement. Lori flipped the spout open on the bottle and began squirting him with lighter fluid, dousing him from head to toe as his stumps bled more of his oily blood.

"What the hell is this?" he sputtered as some of the fluid splashed in his mouth, "This isn't over, Lori!"

She made sure to soak his chest and legs thoroughly, "It will never be over."

"You can kill me now, but I'll come back for you. I swear I'll come back for you!"

Lori took out the book of matches and ripped one of the blue-tips from the cardboard backing. She took a deep breath and looked at Freddy, her eyes alive and bright blue in the smoky morning light. Her tears had cleaned twin streaks of pale flesh down her dirty cheeks a she licked her bloody lips. She placed the match head between the folds of the cover and pulled.

She looked at the flame and then at Freddy.

"You bitch," he seethed at her.

Lori dropped the match. 

It tumbled through the cool morning air and then landed on Freddy's stomach. Blue flame erupted in an "fwoosh!" of ignited air and kerosene. The blue edge of the fire fanned out across his body, traveling up his chest and down his legs and then finally to his face. Freddy writhed and kicked as his body burned and his clothes flamed and fell away. The stench of burning flesh invaded Lori's nose as she stood back from the immolation unfolding in front of her.

Freddy's hateful yellow eyes fixed on her through the blaze as he thrashed about on the dock, ash and blackened flakes of his dead body blowing into the breeze as the sunlight illuminated him. He howled and mewled and screamed as fire consumed him once again. The tendons in his legs fried and stiffened while the flesh and muscle sizzled and cooked. His internal organs boiled and finally burst inside his flaming body. Freddy wildly flailed his torso about as his boots caught fire and the rubber began melting.

"I'll be back for you, you cunt!" he screeched, "Your children will never be safe! I'll come for them and rip their fucking hearts out just make you scream! I'll be back for you!"

Lori looked down at him impassively, "And I will be waiting for you."

Freddy moaned one last time as his face burned away to reveal a blackened skull. The yellow eyes inside the sockets withered and shriveled as his body burned up in a blaze of hatred. The energy inside this physical incarnation of Krueger erupted from the corpse and ignited in the flames. It arched through the air and then bolted into the ground like red lightning. Lori stood back as the unearthly power of Freddy Krueger was returned to the depths of Hell. The smoldering monstrosity convulsed once, and then twice and finally was no more.

Lori turned her back on the pile of ashes and looked to the burning orange sun rising in the east.

"I'll be waiting for you," she said again and then collapsed.

***

Dr. Alexis Rowan was riding in the first of several cars that pulled into the Springwood Power Plant around noon of Tuesday, May the 17th. The phone call she had received from Matthew Loomis earlier that morning had been both amazing and unbelievable. Rowan trusted few people in both her professional and personal life, but Matthew Loomis was one of those few people she could rely on. And if he told her that he had captured Jason Voorhees, then she was more apt believe him than anyone else.

As her driver pulled the sleek, blue Crown Victoria around the plant she saw on one side of the complex two police cruisers. One was overturned and smoldering with dark black smoke. As the car rounded the south end of the facility, she saw two people sitting on the loading dock. One of them was Loomis and the other was a blonde woman she didn't recognize.

Rowan stepped out of the car even before it stopped completely, straightening out her smart black business suit. As she approached them, she began to realize that they both looked as though they had been through a meat grinder. The girl was stained with mud and grit, bleeding in several places and her hair matted down in wet locks. Loomis, normally always so professional in his suit and ties wore only his dress shirt, slacks and shoes. He too was covered in dirt, though the side of his face was bloody and gashed. He looked up at her and waved.

"Dr. Loomis," Rowan gasped as he and the blonde woman stood up and greeted her, "What the hell happened?"

"Jason Voorhees happened," Loomis took her hand and smiled as best he could.

"Your face," she cringed sympathetically, "Oh, Matthew."

"A flesh wound," he reassured her.

"Are you okay, miss?" Rowan looked to Lori.

"Yes," Lori crossed her arms and walked away from them. Loomis looked after her for a moment, as though he might say something and then decided against it.

"You said you captured him?" Rowan looked at Loomis as an ambulance, with its lights flashing and sirens wailing, pulled up beside the five white vans that had followed her in.

"Actually, two of the local police officers caught him," Loomis grimaced and felt like crying as he thought of Sean and Tessa down in that awful place, "It cost them their lives, Alexis."

"I'm so sorry," Rowan put her arm around the doctor and led him to the ambulance. She glanced over at Lori, who was standing alone to the side of the dock, "Miss, would you come this way?"

Lori looked as though she had been woken from a dream, startled. She took her fingers from her chin and followed them over to the paramedics.

"The entire city has been burnt to the ground," Rowan told Loomis as one of the emergency workers tended to the wound on his face, "It's been all over the news for two days now. Jason did this all on his own?"

"No," Loomis shook his head, "Michael Myers had something to do with it as well."

"Thee Michael Myers?" she asked, her beautiful Mediterranean features gaping with awe, "he was here?"

"He was here and he escaped," Loomis said dismally.

Rowan, who had spent her years in graduate school under the tutelage of Loomis, knew all about his work and history. She was in many ways the daughter he never had and it was her enthusiasm for the work that had reinvested Loomis after Mary split. She knew the stories of Jason Voorhees and Michael Myers by heart, and she also knew Springwood was famous not for either of them but for another reason. She said, "The latest reports have the mass suicides numbering over two hundred now."

Loomis looked at her, understanding her completely, "Yes, I imagine they'll discover more such cases as the investigation goes on."

"Was it him?" she asked discreetly, the name of the dream killer on her lips.

"Oh yes," Loomis nodded and then winced as the paramedic sterilized his wound, "It was very much him."

"What happened?"

"Lori," he nodded to the silent woman beside him, "She exorcised the demons, so to speak."

Rowan nodded and looked to Lori with a healthy respect. She shook Lori's hand and said, "Well done."

"Thank you."

Loomis watched as several men in what looked like generic military uniforms deployed out of the vans and scrambled about. They had all kinds of gear with them, including harnesses and chains. They carried assault rifles with them as they hurried into the complex through the loading dock. They trampled Freddy's remains with the thick boots. Loomis was seized with the urge to tell them to go around the pile of ash, but thought better of it. He sighed and braced himself for the second round of disinfections.

"Dr. Wimmer has already tried to take control of this," Rowan said to him confidentially as the paramedics turned their attention to Lori.

"Wimmer?" Loomis laughed, "Oh good God, I only called you an hour ago."

"I had to get clearance to throw together a team. Wimmer's my boss, unfortunately," she shook her head and crossed her arms across her chest, "He almost came with me, but I convinced him it might be dangerous… asshole can stay in Dayton for the rest of his life, for all I care. He believes Jason should be studied for his regenerative abilities."

"Jesus," Loomis looked at her seriously, his eyes haunted, "Kill him. Work on a way to kill him, Rowan."

"I intend to," she smiled reassuringly and squeezed his shoulder. She looked around and lowered her voice, "What should be my official statement to the press?"

Loomis thought for a moment and said, "Tell them that the Springwood Police department valiantly fought and trapped Jason Voorhees. Tell them that he and Michael Myers were responsible for the mass fires and for the death of every single police officer in town. Tell them that two women in particular, Lori Rollins and Alice Johnson, helped the officers who trapped Jason. The mass suicides were a result of mass hysteria."

Rowan took a pad of paper from her pocket, "The officer’s names?"

"Officers Sean Renaud and Tessa Alexander," he said as a tight sadness gripped his heart. He added, "They're in the basin with Jason. Be gentle with them. They've earned their rest."

"Of course," she wrote the names down and then whispered, "And Freddy Krueger?"

"He's dead," Loomis looked out at the smoky sky, "He's gone for now."

"He never existed?" she suggested.

"No," Loomis shook his head, "He was never here."

"I understand," Rowan said.

***

FIVE DAYS LATER



Lori stood in the Springwood Memorial Cemetery alone.

The sun was bright and shining, most of the smoke from the fires cleared out by the prevailing winds to the north. There was still the smell of smoke and destruction in the air, but it didn't matter very much now. The city of Springwood was dead, burned and buried under a heap of rubble and ash. Lori had hoped it would stay that way, but she had already heard rumors of plans to begin rebuilding as soon as that coming fall. There were only two places in the city that hadn't been destroyed by the fires; the power plant and the cemetery.

Lori thought there was a certain irony to that, but she had to let it go. In the days following her interviews with the police, state officials and the FBI she and Dr. Loomis had covered up the involvement of Freddy Krueger and pinned the crimes on Jason and Michael Myers. With a little help from Dr. Rowan, their stories were airtight and the government let them go five days after the battle in the power plant.

There was still a nationwide search going on for Michael Myers. The governor of Ohio had posted a reward of $100,000 dollars to the person who led the authorities to the serial killer. There were news reports about bounty hunters from all over the entire world showing up in the United States to hunt him down as well as mass sightings everywhere from Sacramento, California to Albany, New York. Like Loomis, Lori imagined that the search would be fruitless. Based on the news so far, she had no reason to believe otherwise.

As Loomis pointed out to her, Michael was nothing if not stealthy.

Rowan had left shortly after the inquest wrapped up. With her, she took the prisoner of the year Jason Voorhees. He had survived his blow to the head (much to no one's surprise) and was still as angry and deadly as ever. They had chained him and locked him tightly for the transport to a protected facility where Rowan promised they would find a way to kill him. Lori trusted Rowan implicitly, though she knew her comfort was partially due to the trust Loomis had in her. Rowan had even talked about establishing a research facility at Crystal Lake in a better effort to understand Jason.

"The devil's always in the details," she had said to Lori the last time she saw her, "Maybe if we can figure out what keeps him alive in this environment, we can break his immortality."

Lori agreed with that.
In front of her stood four headstones, three old and one new. The first three belonged to the long dead Johnson family, Alice's father, brother and son Jacob. Next to Jacob's headstone was the memorial to Alice Johnson. Lori had paid for the funeral herself from the money she and Will had been saving for a vacation to the Bahamas later that winter. Since there was going to be no vacation, Lori thought it was fitting that the money be used to honor her friend. Inscribed on the headstone was this:

Alice Lisa Johnson
Beloved Mother, Daughter, Sister, Wife and Friend
September 15, 1970 – May 17th, 2005

And below this was an inscription that read:

"…Once and always the Dream Master…"

Lori had been hesitant at first to use the term "wife" as Alice and Dan Jordan had never had the chance to get married. But she also knew from what Alice had left with her that they would have if they had been given the chance, and that they would have been great together. She hoped Alice would have appreciated the gesture.

Lori placed two red roses on the fresh earth of her grave, one for Alice and one for Will. His body had been burned beyond recognition and burial in the fire that started in the police armory. So she buried his memory here with Alice where he could be safe.

"I love you both," she kissed her fingers and then pressed it to the delicate petals of the flowers.

Lori shivered though it was not cold and stepped back from the graves. A breeze caressed her pale skin and carried her blonde hair to one side. She slipped her hands into the pocket's of her jeans as her blue flannel shirt fluttered in the wind. She thought of Will and remembered how much she loved him. She wanted so badly just to see him one last time, even for one second.

She mourned her husband and her lost friend for what seemed like an eternity and then let them go. She released them from her heart and turned away from them. She could carry their memory with her, but she couldn't carry the burden of their deaths. It wasn't what either of them wanted and it was what Alice had warned her so passionately about.

"Good-bye."

Lori closed her eyes and breathed in deeply as her skin tingled in a release of spiritual pain.

"Hello Lori."

Lori didn't have to ask who it was. She recognized the accent and the kindness in his voice. Loomis smiled at her gently as he walked up beside her. Lori looked at him and smiled back. His presence was comforting, and there was something so wonderfully familiar in seeing him again. He was dressed in his usual droll suit and dark overcoat, though he had shaved and trimmed his beard into a goatee. The knife wounds from Michael Myers had already begun healing, though he would be scarred for life. Loomis didn't seem to mind all that much. Like Lori, he was happy to be alive.

"Dr. Loomis," Lori hugged him.

"Are you well?" he asked as he returned the embrace.

She broke the hug and shrugged, "I'm… dealing."

"You're a survivor," he said to her, "And the world owes you and Alice a debt of gratitude that can never be fully repaid."

"They owe Sean and Tessa," Lori added, “And you, doctor. We owe you too.”

The doctor nodded.

"Tessa's family arrived to take her back to Michigan this morning," Loomis cleared his throat, "She'll be buried in the family plot so I'm told."

"And Sean?"

"His brother, who lives in Oregon, has sent for him to be cremated and interred at the Springwood Memorial Monument."

"They're building a monument?"

"Yes," Loomis smiled, "And it will actually be constructed on the land where the power plant is. The governor has ordered the complex condemned and destroyed to make way for the largest park and wild life preserve in Ohio. It will cover the entire area of the city limits, save for the cemetery. Springwood will be given back to nature after all."

"That's fantastic," Lori said.

"Yes," the doctor nodded and put his hands in his coat pockets, "I believe your father and Alice would have been very pleased."

"I think so too."

Loomis took a deep breath and then looked to Lori, "Tell me, eh… where will you go from here?"

Lori began walking, her arm linked around the crook of Loomis' elbow, "I'm not sure. Probably back to New York. I make a pretty good living there as an accountant."

Loomis tilted his head, his brown eyes bright with curiosity, "Might I suggest an alternative?"

Lori glanced at him doubtfully, "Like what?"

"Well," he said, "With all that has happened, naturally I'll be writing my memoirs and I'll need some one there to refresh my memory and help keep track."

"A secretary?" Lori asked.

"A glorified secretary," Loomis laughed, "Actually, I was thinking of an assistant. You'd make a fine criminal psychologist given your experience."

"You can't afford me, doctor," she patted his arm.

"And if I doubled you current salary?"

Lori looked him, her eyes wide and a half smile on her full red lips, "You're serious?"

"Always," he replied as they walked down the grassy knoll leading to the road.

Lori thought for a moment and then looked around her. Springwood was gone, all around them was the blackened burned out husk of the once thriving city. Soon, there would be no remains of the houses and buildings Freddy had haunted for so many years. Only animals and occasional visitors would be coming through here. Freddy's reign of terror ended when the body in which he festered burned and blew away. The diseased vessel of Springwood was gone, and thus he had nowhere to go or to hide. What began with the locals taking the law into their own hands ended with the death of their city. It had come full circle. It was done.

"There's no need for me here now, is there?" she asked as she surveyed the charred horizon. It was so flat, so featureless and twisted. Only the lone silhouettes of house frames and scorched trees and burnt cars dotted the landscape.

"No, I imagine not," Loomis agreed, "But you are the Dream Master now."

"Yes," she said and then asked, "If he comes back?"

"Something tells me that if he ever comes back," Loomis said, "You'll be the first to know."

Lori looked out across the smoldering city one last time and then at Loomis. She said, "I accept."

Loomis grinned, his smile lighting up his kind eyes, "Excellent."

Lori felt so safe at that moment, a feeling she hadn't know but a few times before. And that was only with Will. Now, she felt it with this unassuming man who was almost twice her age. It wasn't unbridled love or passion she felt for him or the budding of a romance. No, it was too soon to even consider that. Rather, it was a deeply affecting admiration and love as only two friends can feel. It was the kind of connection that only two survivors could know. She and Will had shared it and Alice and her had shared it. Now, she shared it with Loomis.

"Shall we?" she offered him her hand, and then added, “Matthew?”

Loomis smiled and took her slender fingers into his own.

"Indeed."

***

EPILOGUE

In Haddonfield, Illinois Ray Carver and his mistress, Josie Burke were enjoying their limited time together. Josie had just purchased the old Strode house from the city with her first advance on her fifth novel, "Shock Therapy." She had gotten it cheap, and it was a fixer upper opportunity to be sure. But Josie thought it had charm. And it was a great place for Ray to come when his battle-axe of a wife Lydia was making his life hell.




A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 07



Ray was laying flat on his back in her bedroom, bare ass naked with his face buried in the folds of her cleanly shaved pussy. He darted his tongue in and out of her cunt, lapping at her and trying his best to make their quickie a quickie to remember. Josie, for her part, was on her hands and knees in the classic sixty-nine position as she sucked on his long, hard cock. He was trying his best not let go too soon, but her throaty moans were vibrating his shaft violently and bringing him closer to his orgasm. 


Josie desperately held onto her cool as he ate her out, doing her damnedest to ignore the fluttering sensations tickling her from the lips of her cunt to up high in her stomach. She glanced over at the mirror bolted to the closet door briefly to see what they looked like. She loved seeing herself being intimate with a man, this man in particular. She was as perfectly toned and shaped as her lover, her perky breasts hanging down and swaying with each bob of her head as she polished his monster of a cock. She smiled as she sucked, thinking about how good they looked together.

Together.

Ray grunted as the moans coming from Josie's throat teased his dick. She was bobbing up and down on him like a jackhammer, slurping and sucking on his pole for all she was worth. Ray turned his focus on her clit. Josie tended to run a little dry, but after a few minutes of flicking her love button with his tongue the right way, she was dripping wet. Ray felt himself overcome by his primal animal side and the uninhibited urges that Lydia used to enjoy so much. He felt powerful and in control while at the same time completely out of his mind. 

He sucked and fucked her delicious cunt with his expert tongue, working the strong muscle back and forth and to and fro inside her. Josie tried to keep pace with the rhythm of his tongue as he attacked her clit. Ray wanted her off balance and at his mercy as he plunged two fingers deep inside her sex while at the same time he drove his tongue into her ass. 

"Oh Jesus," she whimpered.

Josie spit out his cock for a moment in a spray of precum and saliva as her body shook with pleasure. She uttered a breathless shout as he tongue fucked her hole. He pulled his fingers out and slapped her tight ass, encouraging her to keep going. Josie loved the sound of his powerful hand slapping her soft flesh and she sucked his cock deep into her mouth, the swollen head pressing into the wet interior of the back of her throat. She didn't gag at all as she deep throated his ten-inch rod. Ray worked his lips methodically around her clit and suckled on her while squeezing her cheeks with both hands. Her nectar was dribbling down his chin as he passionately attended to her button.

Josie worked his shaft in and out of her mouth with a rabid urgency. He followed her pace, imagining that he was fucking her tasty snatch. He instinctively began letting his hips rock back and forth. Ray already sensed an unbearably hot pressure building inside him and he knew he getting close. Josie could almost feel his semen churning like the boiling reserves of an active volcano inside his sac. Ray went back to tongue fucking her and started teasing her clit with his fingertips. She reacted instantly and violently, her hips bucking against his mouth as though they were under a whip.

The delicate inner-muscles of her sex quivered against the texture of his tongue as she took one hand and massaged his swollen balls. She worked her mouth in a vigorous massage of his cock with every intention of milking him to the last drop. When Ray came, he always came hard and with a big load. He tasted so sweet to her and she found it was a pleasure swallowing. 

She swirled her tongue around his cock and to her surprise felt it swell and grow a little bigger than it already was. She knew he was getting close to his climax, almost as close as she was. She had never been with anyone who could last as long as he could. Ray loved for them to orgasm together, and at the rate he was going, he would have his way. Josie felt beads of sweat rolling down her face and trailing down her underarms as her orgasm wound and tightened like a rubber band inside her, pulling and stretching to the point of no return.

"You taste so good," Ray growled into her sex. 

A familiar and undeniable heat seared from the heavy sack of his testicles to the base of his skull. He cried out into her cunt as his cock spasmed and erupted. His hot cream spewed from his head in tingling bursts, jetting out in huge gobs. The semen squirted down her throat and filled her mouth up as he unloaded his seemingly endless supply of semen. She swallowed as much as she could, savoring his cum as she would a fine wine.

Josie cried out suddenly as she felt the imaginary rubber band holding her orgasm back snap. A red-hot bloom exploded and spread out as her cunt trembled, unable contain the sensations anymore. She gushed her equally sweet hot nectar into his mouth in powerful spurts. Ray lapped at her like a dog, devouring the essence of her sex and not relenting until she had ejaculated all she had to offer.

Josie licked the length of his shaft, leaving his slowly retracting cock clean and shiny with saliva. She lifted one leg up and turned around to see Ray looking at her with a hungry gleam in his eyes that she knew all too well. He slid his hands up her stomach and to her full breasts, massaging them and playing with her painfully erect nipples. He rolled her nubs between his thumbs and forefingers gently, telling her in his own quiet way that he was still not satisfied.

"Patience," she smiled and stood up, "Let me grab a rubber from the bathroom."

"Are you kidding?" he groaned, "Come on. I can pull out…"

"Yeah, and when I end up pregnant you can sing that all you like," she walked into the bathroom. She flipped the light on and was surprised to find it didn't work. She frowned and then felt her way to the counter. The drawer pulled out and she fumbled through her toiletries until she found the small foil package.

"There we go," she smiled. From the bedroom, she thought she heard Ray say something. She turned and called out, "What was that? I didn't hear you."

No reply.

"Ray?" she called as she opened the condom wrapper and tossed the used package in the trash, "Hello?"

Holding the blue ribbed condom in her hand, she walked back out into her bedroom and found Ray sprawled out on the bed. His chest was ripped open wide, revealing his ribs and underlying musculature. His dark eyes were closed and mouth popped open in a silent scream. Josie stepped back and dropped the rubber to the floor as her chest hitched and her bladder let loose.

"Oh fuck!" she cried and then felt a strong hand cover her mouth and pull her head hard to the right. There was a crunching sound at the base of her neck and a flare of heat before everything went black.

Michael Myers stood alone in the bedroom of his childhood home, enraged and ready to begin anew.

***

In the back of the heavily armored van, surrounded by six very angry and very serious guards armed with assault rifles, Jason Voorhees rode to his new home. Heavy chains were wrapped around his arms and legs, tightened and held with thick padlocks. He could feel the straps of leather around his body restricting his movement. There was a thick, steel collar around his neck that kept him locked into the large, medieval looking dolly on which he was restrained.

Jason slept, his tired eyes bloodshot and his black heart thundering. As his uneasy slumber overtook him, he dreamed he was back that the lake. It was the time of the day when the sunset and the night came, when Jason would usually emerge from his hiding and hunt. He walked the shoreline of the lake, his machete in hand and his mask securely fastened over his hideous face.

Here, he was safe.

To his surprise, he saw a man in a long, dark coat walking towards him. Jason gritted his teeth and began walking faster, ready to kill the intruder. The man in the black overcoat made no move to escape and as Jason came closer he saw that the stranger was wearing a matching dark hat with a wide brim. Jason suddenly became suspicious as he stomped along the shoreline. When he reached the stranger he swung with his machete as hard as he could.

The blade passed through as though it had been swinging at smoke. The man in the fedora looked up and grinned a horrible leer at Jason. Yellow eyes alive with irony and glee mocked him as the stranger whipped his right hand out and revealed a set of five bladed fingers. It was the dream killer. 

It was Freddy Krueger.

Only it wasn't Freddy as Jason remembered him.

"Mind if I hitch a ride, Voorhees?" Freddy chuckled and then swiped at Jason's face as he began building the new nightmare, "We're gonna have some fun…"

***

The man closest to Jason was the one who screamed first as the killer woke up, startled and furious. He watched with his colleagues as five long slash marks stretched out across the hockey mask as if though wrought by magic. Jason stiffened up and then began thrashing against his bonds. The guards tried to steady him but Jason toppled over and crushed two of them against the wall under his weight.

The van jumped and swerved under the change in it's load bearing, and the driver was unable to compensate in time. The white van skidded to the right and then toppled over, screeching down the lonely stretch of southern Michigan highway. The side of the van caved in as it crashed through the guardrail and slid off into the ditch that lined the pavement.

Though none of the men in the van lived to hear it except Jason, there was a satisfied laugh of manic approval floating in the wind.

***

THE END