A Nightmare Reborn Ch. 02

Michael slowly walked towards them, quietly and purposefully.

In the strange limbo of the dream, it seemed he was taking forever to reach them. No matter how far he walked towards them, he never got any closer. Michael felt his rage growing as the man stripped naked, straddled her and began rubbing his cock on her tits. Michael gripped the saw handle tightly, his teeth bared behind the mask.

"She's a slut Michael," Laurie told him, keeping pace with him and yet not moving at all, "Look at her..."

The man howled with pleasure, his moans mocking Michael and making his head hurt. Judith was covered with his seed, her body was shiny with it. The mystery man spread her legs and entered her, rapidly pounding her as she screamed out. Michael continued walking, determined to reach them. He licked his lips, only superficially aware of his rapid angry breathing.

"She deserves to die..."

Judith's eyes rolled back into her head as she felt the orgasm building up from with in her, like a tidal wave gaining size and speed as it crashed towards the beach.

Michael could somehow feel her reaction and was disgusted by it. He wanted to unleash his rage and cut her to ribbons. He wanted to take the saw and stop her, to stop both of them forever. His mind swirled like black storm clouds, ready to release it's relentless fury on those below.

Judith's nipples had gone rock hard as she pinched at them and pulled, lost in a primal fury of sexual madness. Strange animal like noises leapt from her throat, her moans becoming screams as she felt the first effects of her orgasm.

"She deserves to die, Michael," Laurie encouraged him.

His sister screamed as she came hard, her juice exploding out of her pussy in a torrential gush. Her fingernails dug into the mattress and broke off under the strain. She screamed in pain and pleasure as the orgasm crested and then crashed through her. The stranger collapsed on her, his breath short and winded.

Finally, Michael was almost there. He readied himself for the kill.

His footsteps echoed through the morgue.

"He's the doctor's son, Michael," the ghostly specter of Laurie Strode pointed at the man, "Find him, Michael. Find him and kill him..."

Michael cocked his head in recognition.

"Kill them Michael..."

He raised the saw high over his head.

"Make them remember...

He could smell them now, the odor of their sex.

"Kill them all, Michael..."

Michael brought his hand down hard with all his might. Instead of ripping the man's back open, he sliced nothing but open air. The saw hissed loudly as it completed its journey down. Michael stood back, confused. He saw now that he was still far away from them as they fucked each other, farther away than he had thought.

He hadn't moved an inch.

Michael was burning with fury.

"Kill them Michael..." Laurie taunted, her face contorted into a hateful laugh.

Then, Michael saw another man enter.

He was over seven feet tall and seemed to be impossibly broad. His clothes were tattered and stained, ruined beyond repair. A stained white hockey mask hid the man's face. Michael watched this hulking figure tower above his sister and her lover, quietly observing them. He slowly unsheathed a long, broad machete from his worn belt. This newcomer held his stance for a moment, as if though daring Michael to claim his prey.

The masked stranger looked directly at him, challenging him.

Then the blade came down hard.

The machete plunged into the man's back and through the other side. He sunk down and was pinned to Judith. The blade punctured her sternum and exploded out her backside into the mattress. They both screamed as the tip of the machete poked out through the bottom of the bed and touched the floor. Blood was spurting into the air in a geyser as the two convulsed. The newcomer withdrew his machete as quickly as he had planted it into them, the blade sliding out with a sick slurping sound.

Michael stopped, glaring at the masked intruder.

The stranger lifted the bloody blade and pulled his arm back over his shoulder, ready to throw.

Michael remained still.

"Jason's trying to take what's yours, Michael," the ghost hissed, her eyes glowing red, "Go to Springwood! Go!"

The machete rocketed across the room and caught Michael in the chest, sending him flying backwards. Michael hit the wall and was pinned there, his feet dangling a few feet above the floor. The ceramic tile behind him cracked and splintered from the force of the hit. He looked down at his impaled body, the blood steadily flowing from the wound. Michael grasped the handle of the machete and pulled.

And then he woke up.

"Go to Springwood, Michael!" the wind echoed his dream.

Michael rose to his feet and was grounded in reality again.

It was not safe to leave yet.

Michael knew he would wait until night came. Then he would find a car and steal it. He would go to this place called Springwood and kill the son of the doctor. But he would also find the stranger named Jason and kill him. He did not know how this man had entered his dreams, but it was a violation he could not let go of. He would find him and kill him as he had all the others.

It was his destiny.

Michael Myers reached over to his right and felt around in the dark for a moment. His fingers slide across wet, slimy concrete before grasping his mask. He felt the smooth rubber latex skin and traced the eyeholes with his index finger. The mask had become part of who he was, part of his very being. It was his second skin.

He pulled it on, inhaling the rotted rubber smell and feeling right again.

Not at peace, but simply right.

...to be continued...