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Chapter Text

Q: "Did you see [Michael Myers] as coming after [Jamie] to eliminate her or to connect with her?"

A: "I think he wanted to connect with her, but he had no way of knowing how to do that. I don't think it was his intention to find her to kill her, it was intention to find her. But then of course it becomes twisted and goes off the rails because of what he's become."

– Halloween 4 Director's Commentary

The man in the suit came just a few days after Halloween.

Jamie had seen him walking up the hard path to the door, sitting as she always had at her spot near the window, as she had ever since the policeman had shown up at the door, watching for Mommy and Daddy to come back as they had said they would, and her heart had leapt when she had seen the unfamiliar man, only to fall when she saw his face and did not recognize him.

She had heard Darlene and Richard (who had told her she could call them that, and not Mommy and Daddy, not until she was perfectly, perfectly okay with that) answer his knock. Sitting in her room, cuddling the doll she called Pop-Pop morosely while Sundae snuggled next to her on the bed, she had heard their footsteps downstairs and the drone of their talk that had grown louder and louder.

A few moments later, Rachel knocked on her door and told her she needed to come downstairs.

When she came down, Sundae following with tail wagging, she saw the man and Richard seated at the small kitchen table while Darlene stood, hands on her hips in a way that tugged at Jamie's heart, because it looked so much like Mommy when she was mad at Daddy.

She hesitated, and might have backed out entirely had Rachel, who had come with her, not squeezed her hand reassuringly and led her to the table, sitting down beside her too. Sundae wove himself around the table legs, huffing at the intruder, until Richard muttered an order to sit.

The man glanced at Jamie once, with sharp eyes that seemed to pierce at and through her, then settled for staring at Darlene and Richard as he began speaking.

Jamie sat there too, because it was what Darlene and Richard clearly wanted, trying her hardest not to look bored as he droned away. She wished she knew what he was saying, because it seemed to be making everyone, even Rachel, madder and madder. He used words like "mentally incapacitated" and "guardianship", "legal rights" and "recent sociopolitical movements" and other things that sounded long and scary, and it did not help that Darlene would sometimes burst out demanding him to explain something, only for him to say something even longer and weirder, which just made it all very confusing. She was just wishing that she had brought Pop-Pop down with her instead of hiding him because everyone would think her a baby, because then at least she'd have something to play with, when Darlene burst out,

"We are not having Jamie visiting that monster!"

Her stomach dropped through the floor.

There was only one person in the world who she would be required to "visit".

She was not sure when she had known that her uncle was the boogeyman. It felt like she had always known, wrapped up with memories of her mother's tight face and her hand clenching Jamie's too hard, or Daddy with his arms curled around her and Mommy on the sofa at their old house. But she knew she had one. She saw him in her dreams sometimes. She saw him in the faces of people when she would go to the store or the movie or the library. But most of all, she saw him in the taunts of the kids at school, and she could already hear their mean words echoing in her ears if they knew who she was visiting. They had said it just a few days before, when she had been the only person in her entire grade to come to school without a costume, the only kid on the street who had refused to go trick-or-treating.

Boogeyman, boogeyman! Jamie's uncle's the boogeyman!

"I don't want to visit him," Jamie said. She felt everyone's eyes on her, and squeezed her hands beneath the table. "I don't want to see him." Her Mommy had been terrified to the point of tears even talking about him, and her Mommy was the bravest, kindest person she had ever known. If she was scared of him, what could Jamie do?

The man looked at her for the second time since he had come. "I understand this must be very difficult," he said, sounding like he did not understand at all. "But this is a legal requirement. If you do not, you risk forfeiting all rights to guardianship and responsibility of your uncle."

"Well, good!" said Rachel from next to Jamie. Her hand reached down and snagged Jamie's. "She doesn't want anything to do with him anyway, so we just won't go. She'll give it all up!"

The man started to say a lot of things then, things like "ward of the state" and "deinstitutionalization", something that had to do with homes and states and many other things. Jamie, not understanding anything except that he was no longer paying any attention to her, let her gaze wander to Darlene and Richard's faces. She saw them go from angry, to confused, and then to very, very scared. And that only made her frightened, because she knew what that meant, what they would tell her to do.

So when the man got up and told them to have a good day, still without looking at Jamie, she waited with that pit in her stomach growing and growing. Sundae whimpered, like he could sense what she was feeling.

"She has no choice," said Richard. Jamie wondered if the man in the suit had affected him, because he was not looking at her either.

"Wait, wait." That was Rachel, who was twisted around in her chair but still holding onto Jamie's hand. "Are you seriously going to do what he says? This is crazy!" Her raised voice made Sundae snuffle at his place beside Jamie.

"What he says is unfortunately true," said Richard, ignoring Sundae and, also, Jamie. "I've been doing my reading about this. Some of the new medications they've developed, not to mention recent scandals - come on, Rachel, you've watched the same shows we did. Budgets are being cut for everyone. If we don't do what he says, next thing we know the guy will be out on the streets."

"But what does Jamie going there help anything?"

"If she wants to retain guardianship of him-"

"What's guardianship?" Everyone's eyes turned to her, and she shrank back slightly in her chair, the words drying in her throat. Rachel gave her hand another squeeze. "What – what is it? He kept saying it a lot."

"A guardian is someone who takes care of you," said Darlene. "We're your guardians, Jamie… like a parent."

The pit in her stomach did not grow so much as it exploded, like a great balloon inside her chest, suffocating her. "So he'd be like… he'd take me? I couldn't live with you?" The boogeyman would be like her new daddy?

Darlene and Richard looked at each other. "Not quite, Jamie," said Richard, very gently. "You would have to take care of him."

She blinked, the balloon momentarily deflating in her confusion. How could that be? Wasn't he much, much older than her? She tried to puzzle it out, tried to think of this boogeyman, her nightmare man whose face she had never seen, being someone she had to take care of, and was concentrating so hard she almost missed Rachel talking.

"So as long as she does this, they keep him locked up? That's insane."

"It is what it is, Rachel. Some new law they've put through - or maybe an old one they just rediscovered. Governments these days..."

"How far is Ridgemont anyway?"

"Four hours drive from here."

"Four hours?" Rachel repeated. "We're going to drive four hours just to have Jamie visit a killer? A killer she doesn't even want to see?"

"It's required of us, Rachel," sighed Darlene. "That's basically what the lawyer said. Jamie's too young to be his guardian, so right now the state owns him."

"And the state doesn't want him," grunted Richard. Then he looked down and saw Jamie, her eyes wide on his face, and he cleared his throat. "He's been comatose for ten years, they think he's no threat. If he stays that way – even if he awakes – well, you know how underfunded some of these hospitals are. They're pushing patients out into minimum security treatment centers, halfway houses, even regular hospitals. If Jamie doesn't visit him at least once a month, well…"

"Jesus," said Rachel, which got her a mad look from Darlene and a flick of the eyes to Jamie herself. A guilty expression crossed Rachel's face. "So… either we go, or they'll just release him anyway?"

"Jamie has to go," said Richard.

She shrank further into her chair, fists bunching into her overalls. But I don't want to, she tried to say. What will the kids say? she wanted to ask. What if he attacks me? Hurts me? Something else occurred to her that made every bone in her body feel like it was shriveling. Or what if he wakes up and attacks Darlene and Richard and Rachel? She didn't know much, but she knew he had hurt Mommy a long time ago, knew it because of the way Mommy had gasped and cried and curled into Daddy one night when she and Daddy had thought Jamie asleep, not knowing she had been standing outside their door. Jamie had crept back into bed without speaking, to face the boogeyman alone in her dreams.

"Terrific. We're going to drive four hours to some insane asylum to see a guy who is comatose, at best, just so Jamie could stay connected to him. Great idea. Can't see any flaws in this at all."

Darlene sighed. "You're not going, Rachel."

"What?" Her outraged shriek brought Sundae up from his place under the table. He woofed, but was ignored by all save for Jamie, who grabbed at his collar and buried her hands in his soft fur. "If you're taking Jamie, I'm going with her!"

"We'll be gone almost the entire day; somebody needs to stay here, look after things. It'll be the weekend, you can get your homework done without us around-"

"I have to go! I'll even drive Jamie myself, and you two can stay here."

Richard shook his head with great finality. "No. Maybe later, if everything goes okay, but right now, it's better – safer – if we're with Jamie." For the first time, he looked at Jamie herself. "Is that all right, Jamie?"

It was not all right, not at all, not right to do this, not right that it was Darlene and Richard talking about it and not her real Mommy and Daddy. There was nothing else in the world that she was dreading more than this visit to her nightmare uncle. But the words could not come out, not when they had stood there, talking about her, over her, deciding without ever asking her. She clutched Sundae's fur in her hand, but it did not bring the assurance it usually did. The boogeyman always went away when she woke up and had Rachel and Sundae around, but he wouldn't this time.

So all she could ask was a plaintive, "When are we going?"

It was getting cooler, now that it was past Thanksgiving. Teachers were tearing down turkey cut-outs drawn from student hands and posted all over school. Neighbors were deflating their big models of turkeys and Pilgrims that had decorated their houses and begun replacing them with Christmas trees and angels and fat Santas. But those disappeared too as they kept going, driving past big wide fields, then into cities with buildings so high she could not see their tops even with her neck arched all the way and her nose pressed against the window, and then back into rows of neat houses with bare lawns.

Her mind rolled endlessly during that drive over what would happen at the end of their journey. Everyone had said her uncle was locked up somewhere, though she could never get it straight just where that somewhere was. Sometime people said it was a hospital; other times, they made it sound like a jail. She'd been to a hospital once, and saw lots of jails on her morning cartoons, and tried in vain to picture a mix of those, a big gray building with bars on the windows but where everyone was in hospital beds. But that would inevitably lead to thinking about her uncle being there, and her stomach would get all queasy.

She tried to think instead about what might have happened if the man in the suit had met her Mommy and Daddy. Would they be driving her to her uncle now? Or would they have shouted no, they never would go there; no, they would never take their little Jamie to that man? But it didn't help, not really. Thinking about her Mommy and Daddy only made her sad.

By the time the drive was over, and despite the fear pressing at her chest, Jamie was itching to get out, her butt squished and tingling from sitting so long. They'd stopped once to get lunch and for Jamie to use the bathroom, but she hadn't eaten much, her stomach roiling so badly she was terrified she might throw up her burger in the car. All month, as soon as Richard had told her the date they would go, she had been dreading this. She kept thinking the kids at school would find out somehow. Or that her uncle might know about it and come after her. Each time she fell asleep, she would see him standing against her bed or in the closet, waking up four or five times at night even if Rachel or Sundae was there. It was like a monster in a movie, only she was walking towards it, not running away.

"That's the place," Richard said shortly.

Jamie swallowed, her lungs compressing til she choked. They were driving down a slope up to a brick wall with a gate, and at first she was confused. Rachel had said it was a hospital, but this just looked like a tiny guard building. It couldn't be big enough… unless they built this only for her uncle. But then Darlene pointed ahead, and when Jamie tilted forward to look out the windshield, she saw a big white building on top of a grassy, green hill.

"Is that where he lives?" she burst out.

Darlene nodded. "It's the sanitarium. It used to be owned by a wealthy factory owner or something, but when he died he donated it to the state. Now they use it as a hospital."

Jamie had never seen any hospital like that. The only one she went to was flat and squat, with a sliding glass door and big, open halls. This looked like a palace, like the pictures of the president's house she had seen in her books. Was there a kitchen as big as a house? Rooms of different colors? Did patients live in giant bedrooms with curtains hanging off their beds?

After entering through the gates, which creaked open so harshly it pained her ears, and slammed shut more quickly than they had opened, they parked and Darlene hustled Jamie out while Richard checked and double-checked that everything was locked. Maybe her foster mother thought that the faster they went in, the faster they could leave. Jamie tried to keep up with the two of them while also stretching her numb legs. They walked on either side of her, Darlene clutching her hand tightly.

In through a door, a thick gray one that swung open slowly and looked like it might crush her fingers if she got a hand caught in the frame, and then they were looking a short little man behind the a glass window, dressed all in blue like a policeman. The man squinted at them and said, "Purpose of visit?"

"Seeing a patient," said Richard brusquely. "We're Richard and Darlene Carruthers."

"Ah." The man smirked in a way that made Jamie curl back against Darlene. "Myers." He fiddled something behind the window. Jamie jumped as a loud buzzing echoed through the room and another big, gray door to her right swung open. The guard man said, "Come on, I'll take you there."

In only a few moments, Jamie had forgotten what the hospital looked like outside. Inside it was all tiny, cramped hallways, with abandoned wheelchairs and gurneys along the walls and lights flickering – nothing at all like what she had thought. Every few moments Jamie would hear a funny buzzing that made her rub her ears, until she looked up and realized that it was only happening every time they passed under a light. Once or twice they heard a yell which made Darlene squeeze her fingers tighter. Jame tried not to look around and only focused straight ahead. The guard was right in front of her, his belt jiggling with every step, and Jamie found herself hypnotized by the swing of his baton and the way his handcuffs flashed under each light.

The guard man was trying to talk to them as he walked through door after door, swiping cards or pressing buttons or using the keys at his belt. He didn't wait very long to close them either, so Darlene kept having to push Jamie in first and then squeeze after her.

"Dr. Hoffman said you'd be along sometime this week. Said it was for legal reasons? Figured it had to be – you're the only visitors this guy's had in years." His nasal, high-pitched voice rubbed unpleasantly against Jamie's ears. "This your first time to this kind of place, little lady?"

Jamie started as she realized the weird guard man was talking to her, looking at her with beady, scary eyes. She looked up at Darlene and Richard for permission to talk, but they just looked tight-lipped and scared. Biting her lip, she managed a tiny nod.

"Bet it's kind of weird, huh? Not like any other place you've seen?" He swung open a door that looked even heavier than all the other ones they'd walked through, so much he was puffing as he shoved it against the wall. He stood with his back to it, holding it open for them and using that moment to leer down at her.

She shook her head, then jumped again as another scream echoed down to them. It sounded closer to them.

The guard laughed in a way that did not sound very nice. "Don't mind them. They're all locked up tight and not going anywhere. Not that you shouldn't worry though. Being afraid is a really good thing to be down here, young lady." He winked at her. "Yep, we've got all kinds here. Degenerates, serial killers, family murderers, sexual per-"

"Excuse me," snapped Darlene. "This is a child you're talking to."

"Ah, right, sorry 'bout that." Though Jamie thought he did not look sorry at all. "Well, what I meant to say, little girl, is no matter how dangerous these guys are, they're all snug in their cells. Don't have to worry about any of them coming to get you!"

He waggled his eyebrows as he hit a button at a set of doors. A light flashed and a bell dinged, and then the doors swung open to reveal a dingy elevator. It creaked as they stepped in, and Jamie pressed herself closer to both her foster parents as it inched its way downward. If it dropped, would it kill them? Or would they be stuck at the bottom, waiting for someone to come find them?

But the elevator made its slow way down, ground to a halt, and opened to reveal, strangely, another gate right outside it. Jamie, forgetting where she was for a second, almost giggled as the guard man unlocked it and swung it open – doors right outside more doors?

The giggle died though, at what it revealed: a long hallway with bars across walls and windows and only the beeping of funny-looking, bulky machines. As she peeked inside a couple, she saw darkened rooms and beds with rumpled sheets, and on one, a bandaged figure lying motionless and strapped down.

It was him.

Darlene pulled Jamie closer as Richard whispered to a nearby nurse standing outside the room. She nodded and called to the man inside who was standing near the figure in the bed.

"Doctor, the Carruthers are here."

The doctor, who did not look much like one, said without looking up, "Let them in."

Still holding her foster mother's hand, Jamie let herself be led through a barred door and into the room, her eyes fixed on the bandaged man who she knew to be her uncle.

Darlene stopped as soon as the door locked closed, her and Richard and Jamie between them standing at the very edge of the room, as far as they could from the bed. Jamie was aware of the doctor walking over to them, but she could not take her eyes off the bed, the man. Was that truly her uncle? The man her Mommy had been so frightened of? She had envisioned a giant, a monster, like the nightmare man who was always chasing her down and slashing at her, but this man didn't look all that big or scary. He was lying so still, she wondered if he was dead, until she saw the rise and fall of the blanket over his chest.

Then the doctor moved in front of her, blocking her view. "Mr. and Mrs. Carruthers," the doctor was saying. He shook both their hands, and then looked down at Jamie. Jamie thought he looked very tired. "And you must be little Jamie Lloyd."

"How long do we have to stay here?" demanded Darlene.

The doctor took his eyes off Jamie. "Only long enough to sign some paperwork indicating that you were here and that Jamie has decided to maintain her legal relationship to Myers. As her guardians, you are permitted to sign in her stead. I only need one…"

Jamie stopped listening as the doctor went on, moving around the room to get a clipboard. Richard was following after the doctor, muttering something that sounded like a complaint about the long drive and the uselessness of being there. This gave Jamie a much clearer view of the bed, and she leaned forward a bit, tugging on Darlene's hand.

Darlene started to say, "Stay here, Jamie-"

"Honey, can you take a look at this?" Richard interrupted. "I can't understand any of this medical jargon…"

Distracted but still trying to hold onto Jamie, Darlene craned her neck to look at the papers, unaware that Jamie was pulling her inexorably forward.

She was closer now, maybe a couple feet away. She could see his form under the blue-green blanket, which covered almost all of him, and the thick brown belts that were tied over his shoulders and feet. Funniest of all to her were the bandages all over his face and head. It looked like a Halloween costume she had seen at school, or like a picture of a mummy she had seen in a book. Jamie frowned. Could he breathe with that on? Well, he had to; she could still see his chest moving.

Jamie tugged harder. Now that she was here, he did not seem that scary, not when he was just lying there, not doing anything to her, to anyone. It's not so bad, she told herself. He can't hurt me if he's sleeping.

The bandages fascinated her, wrapped up so tight around his head. What did he look like under it? Mommy had said something a long, long time ago about a fire… about watching him burn. Once a girl at school had come to class with a big bandage and said it was because she had gotten hot water dropped all over it. That was a burn too, right? All the boys had dared her to take it off, and when she had, they had all run screaming at seeing the puckered brown thing underneath. Was her uncle all scarred and ugly looking under the bandages? Was that why they kept him covered up?

She cocked her head to one side. Was he so burned that he wouldn't even have a face underneath? Rachel had watched a movie like that once, where a man had torn off his mask to reveal a bleeding, oozing thing that had barely looked like a face. Unfortunately, she'd also noticed that Jamie was up and watching it too and had hurriedly shut it off, so Jamie had never known how it ended. Maybe he got his face fixed? Could people do that?

And if they did... Jamie had never had a brother or sister, but someone had said, a long time ago, that her uncle was her uncle because he was her Mommy's older brother. Brothers and sisters looked alike, she knew. She wondered, then, if her uncle looked like Mommy. Or maybe he looked like Daddy? She looked more like Daddy herself, she knew, with his black hair and brown eyes. Did that mean her uncle looked like her?

She had just tried to move closer to find out when Darlene dragged her back. "Not too close, Jamie!" she scolded, using her other hand to press them both back near the door. Jamie scurried along with her, relieved, but also just the tiniest bit disappointed.

"That's all we need, Mr. Carruthers," the doctor said.

Richard nodded sharply. "Then I hope you don't mind if we get going. It's a long way back, and this place gives me the chills. No offense."

The doctor waved them out, and before Jamie really knew what was happening, the door was opening and they were out of the room, her last glimpse of her uncle coming as she was pulled further down the hall, the bars separating him from her.

Darlene sighed as they approached the elevator. "I suppose we won't have to worry about that for another month."

"I'm just glad nothing went wrong," muttered Richard. "They say he's in a coma, but who knows. He's one tricky bas-" He cut himself off as Darlene glared at him, then looked down at Jamie, back to being squashed between the two of them. "Are you all right, Jamie?"

"I'm fine."

"Did anything happen?" He was looking at Darlene when he asked that. "You know, we don't have to come back here again. If it's too scary for you, we'll just end it all now, screw the consequences." Darlene sighed loudly.

Jamie tucked her hand into her pocket, squeezing the fabric inside hard. She was grateful to them right then, for trying to give her a way out. Before the visit, if they had said she never needed to come, she would have leaped up and down and told them, yes, yes, don't take me there, I don't ever want to go there again.

But nothing had happened, and even if the hospital was a little scary, and the guard really weird, it hadn't been that bad. And her uncle was kind of interesting too, even if he didn't do anything. She hadn't even gotten that good of a look at him, to see what he looked like, if he looked like Mommy, or Daddy, or her.

Besides, they had to, didn't they? That was what the man in the suit had said.

"I think I'm okay," she said hesitantly, tilting her head up to look at Richard. "I – I don't mind if we come back. If we don't, he might – he might get out, right?"

Richard nodded resignedly. "Yeah, he might. It's why we'll have to keep doing this, at least until the state shuts up about it. You're a brave little girl, Jamie. Don't you forget that." Darlene patted her hand too.

They walked the rest of the way in silence.

Snow was on the ground the next time they came back, Jamie bundled up while the car heater hummed in the background. Darlene had to clutch her hand even tighter as they walked across the slippery, icy parking ground, their breath blowing out smoky puffs in the chill air. By now the Christmas and New Year's decorations were down and Jamie was going back to school with her classmates, trudging about with scarfs muffling their noses and mouths, mittens on her hands, and a woolly hat almost covering her eyes.

Everything in the hospital seemed to be working even slower now that it was so cold. Several of the lights were out entirely, and the elevator was actually shaking as it went down. The guard was less talkative too, mumbling a "How you folks doing" as he shivered under his coat. Despite being inside, none of them pulled off their jackets.

The doctor was there again when they entered the hall, opening the door to the room himself. Jamie made the mistake of grabbing the knob to hold it open, and felt her hand stick to its cold metal. It stung as she pulled away, and she bit down on her tongue as she shoved her hand deep into a coat pocket.

It was the same thing as last time, Darlene and Jamie near the door while Richard signed stuff. They muttered polite hellos to each other, and then Richard asked something her uncle's medical needs, and the doctor launched into a whole speech about what they had to do to keep him alive and how much money it cost and the staff they needed and how he had been there for so long and it had all added up. Jamie thought it quite boring, but Darlene seemed interested, interested enough that she momentarily loosened her grip on Jamie's hand.

Once again, Jamie found her eyes fastened on the motionless figure on the bed. Nothing about him had changed since her last visit, at least nothing that she could tell. He was still lying in the same position, still bandaged around his face, still attached to the same machines which beeped in the exact same way as before. Tugging her hand free of Darlene's, Jamie got on her tippy toes and craned her head forward to get a better look at where his face would be.

She was too far to see much though, even standing as high as she could. Jamie snuck a peek at Darlene, who was listening raptly to the doctor blabbering on, and decided to risk getting a bit closer. She sidled over an inch, then another. Now she could really see the straps that held down his legs and shoulders, and how tightly buckled they were, and it reassured her some more. Even if he woke up, he couldn't do anything to them.

Jamie moved over – very quietly, and always making sure Darlene and Richard did not see – until she was a few feet from her uncle's bedside. Now that she was closer, she could see that her head just barely higher than the edge of the bed. If she were closer, she would be almost level with his body. This didn't really help with seeing him clearly over the ridges and hills of the blanket over his body, so she got back up on her toes to stare at him more closely.

It still did not tell her much. She had thought if she got closer she could see more of his face behind the bandages, but she couldn't make out anything more than the dark holes where his mouth and eyes would be. His breathing was steady, and there was no other movement under the blanket, not even a twitch. It was rather boring, in fact, this supposedly scary uncle of hers.

Was he really the boogeyman, the nightmare man of her dreams? Was this who her Mommy had spent nights screaming over in fear?

And she still could not tell who he looked like.

Jamie tilted her head to one side as she continued to stare at him, getting off her toes as her feet began to ache. Darlene was still distracted listening to the doctor, who had now pulled out a fat bundle of paperwork and was mumbling something about "vegetative state" and "limited cognitive abilities", so Jamie thought it okay to creep just a tiny bit closer. Now only a few inches away, she could begin to see parts of his body under the blanket, like his legs, and feet, and arm. In fact, the arm nearest to her was just outlined beneath the cloth. She stared hard at it, wondering if he would move just with her looking at it.

A watched pot never boils, Darlene had said once to Rachel, which had confused Jamie at the time because Rachel had been staring at the phone, not a pot. But she thought she could grasp a bit of what her foster mother had meant, as she stared and stared at her uncle's hand and it did nothing.

Or did it?

Because for one second, she had seen the tiniest spasm under the blanket.

Jamie held her breath, waiting and staring even harder, but nothing else happened. Maybe she had imagined it. It was kind of dark and the shadows made it seem like things were moving when they weren't. Maybe it was just the blanket twitching softly with his breathing.

"…but I can't imagine you'll want to help with that," said the doctor, with a flip of his papers.

Jamie leaped back, realizing that she was way, way too close, exactly what Darlene and Richard had not wanted her to do. She returned to Darlene's side just in time for all three of the grown-ups to turn around and find her, standing where she was told to be.

"I suppose you'll be wanting to sign this?" said the doctor, passing the pen and clipboard to Richard. But as Richard signed it, he was looking down at Jamie.

In the elevator, Darlene shivered. "God, at least that's over. Why did you have to get him talking about Myers's medical state? Kept us there for ten minutes."

"Well honey, it might be something we'll need to know if Jamie retains guardianship over him…"

Darlene's shiver turned to a full-blown shudder. "Don't say that. You'll scare Jamie." She stroked Jamie's dark hair as she glanced down at her foster daughter. "You know, I think we can do this alone, sweetheart, the doctor seems quite accommodating. Twice is more than enough, and you don't even need to be there to sign anything. You can just stay at home with Rachel while we go, how does that sound?"

Jamie gnawed on her lip. It was the same thing they had said last month. But... she still felt the same way as then. "I don't mind going," she said softly. "I… I want to see him."

It was the wrong thing to say, she could tell immediately, though Darlene and Richard were trying to hide it. But she could feel it in the way Darlene let go of her hand, how the two of them looked at each other.

"I thought you were scared of him, Jamie," said Richard.

"I am," Jamie said without thinking. She stared at her boots as they waited for the elevator, at the melted bits of snow that made it look shiny wet. "I just… wanted to see."

"Wanted to see what?"

Jamie hesitated. "What he looks like."

Darlene and Richard looked at each other. Carefully, Darlene asked, "Is that really important to you, Jamie?"

She looked back down at the floor again and did not answer, did not do anything except enter the elevator as it dinged and opened for them. She wondered if she had said too much. Her foster family were one of the few who had never looked at her funny, and she desperately wanted that to never change.

"Honey, I know you miss your parents," said Darlene. Jamie felt her hand in her hair, trembling as the elevator creaked upwards. "It hasn't been that long. But…" She stopped for a second as Jamie just stared harder at the pattern on the floor. "You don't need to feel anything for this man. The fact that he's your uncle is just a terrible accident."

So they had guessed. But though Jamie nodded along and followed quietly as they walked back to the parking lot and their car, she wondered about it to herself. Darlene and Richard had been trying to be nice, but all they had done was reminded her that her Mommy and Daddy were gone and not coming back. They treated her like their own daughter, Rachel especially was just like a big sister, but she was not a real one, no matter how much they all tried to be.

Her only real family member was here. And it made her shiver and curl her arms around herself, even with the heater on, all the way back.

Winter was still going strong on their next visit, the streets even thicker with snow, the ice more slippery, the drive longer as they tried not to slide along the treacherous roads and avoid the snowbanks. Darlene had tied Jamie's long, dark hair in a ponytail to keep it out of the way, and Jamie tugged on it once inside the hospital and free of her thickest winter coat. Her fuzzy mittens made the hair stand up on end and trail along her cheeks and neck.

As they strode down the hallway, Jamie could see that the normal winter decorations of snowflakes and snowmen were coming off, replaced with sugary hearts and pink flowers that made her wrinkle her nose. Darlene did not seem to share her feelings, actually smiling at one particularly gushy phrase scribbled on a heart, but Jamie had no time to read it before Richard was guiding them along the hallway that was beginning to seem very familiar, with the same guard who had given up trying to scare them with horror stories about the patients. The elevator still creaked threateningly, but Jamie had stopped thinking it might drop them to the basement.

"The paperwork is here," said Dr. Hoffman without greeting them. Like the guard, he seemed to know that they all wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. Richard hurried over, pen in hand. Darlene, meanwhile, stayed with Jamie. Nothing had changed this time either, and Darlene was gazing around it, frowning at the machines.

"Isn't there supposed to be another doctor for Myers?" Darlene asked abruptly. "Loomis, I think?"

Richard snorted from his clipboard. "I remember that crackpot. Running around on Halloween ten years ago, shouting something about evil escaping. Course, he turned out to be right…"

"Dr. Loomis is the doctor, but at this point in the patient's care, his position is purely ceremonial." The doctor added, "Plus, he never reads my memos anyway."

"Is it true that he worked with Myers for fifteen years?"

"Oh yes, it's all he goes on about-"

Jamie lost track of the conversation, just looking at the figure on the bed. Darlene's hand was not in her own, but hanging loose at her side as she chatted alongside her husband. Snatching a glance at her, Jamie once again crept over, until she was as near as she had been last time. Cocking her head to one side, she looked down at his arm.

It was tucked in, nice and tight, under the blanket.

That seemed a little different from their last visit. A funny fluttery feeling filled up her chest. She shot a quick look back, but everyone was talking about Dr. Loomis or somebody and not paying much attention to her. Slowly, she poked at the blanket. Her finger sprang back at touching it, so tightly drawn was the fabric.

Rather more curious now, she grabbed a bit of the cloth, which was rough and scratchy, between her fingers, and gave it a tug. It was caught pretty hard under his body, or maybe the bed, and did not come loose at her first pull. She tugged harder, feeling it give, then shot a wary look at the body, the man. He had not moved, so she deemed it safe to keep going. Her coat rustled as she pulled a third time. One edge finally came loose, and Jamie hauled it up, almost over her head, to look under. It was shadowed beneath the blanket and dim lights, but she could see a bare arm with the strangest looking patterns over it.

Burn scars, she realized, like Mommy had said. And just like the girl at her school. And so bumpy looking. Bumpy enough she was tempted to poke a finger in and give the tiniest little nudge.

That didn't really tell her much. She had barely felt anything, actually. Though she didn't really know what it should feel like; the girl with the burn on her arm had said they could touch it but nobody in her school had dared to –

School… which was where that girl and all the mean kids in her class were, especially Kyle, who had said her Mommy was dead because of her uncle, her boogeyman uncle, her nightmare uncle –

Oh. Oh. She should not be here. She should definitely not be this close to him, this close to touching him. He was the uncle she had had bad dreams about –

And she would be in big, big trouble if her foster parents saw her.

As fast and as quietly as she could, she dashed back to Darlene's side. Maybe not quiet enough, because Darlene shot her a sharp look just as Jamie came zipping up next to her. But Jamie put on her best innocent expression, and Darlene, after narrowing her eyes, just shook her head before clearing her throat.

"Honey, this is fascinating and all, but I think we've more than fulfilled our end for today, hmm?"

"What? Oh, yes." Richard passed back the clipboard to Dr. Hoffman, who did not look all that pleased at being interrupted in the middle of his conversation. "Guess we'll see you next month, Doc."

There was a little bit more small talk, and then the doctor unlocked the door and gestured the three of them out of the room.

They were in the elevator when Richard suddenly grunted, as if remembering something. "Crap. Actually, now that I've thought of it… we might have a bit of a problem for next month." He looked at Darlene. "You remember that Los Angeles appointment I talked about a while ago?"

"Oh geez, is that next month? You said it was up in the air-"

"I know, I know, and for a while it looked like it wasn't going to happen, which was why I put our next visit on a date in the middle of it, but you know how it is – slots open up, businesses can't make it, and it's looking to be a sure thing. I'll be out for two weeks."

Jamie was silent. Her foster parents had always had some kind of work thing every year for a few days, and Darlene always went with Richard, leaving her with Rachel.

Darlene seemed to think for a moment. "Well, if it's set, then I don't know about this next visit…"

"We can re-schedule or just skip it. Quite honestly, I don't think Dr. Hoffman would protest, the man seems to have more than enough on his mind, and it would save all of us a drive. Useless, this entire thing-"

"Can't Rachel take me?" Jamie piped up. She glanced from one foster parent to the other. "She said she could before."

Richard snorted. They had reached the car, and he unlocked the back door for Jamie. "We're not going to force Rachel to come all the way down here. Besides, who knows what might happen here, with all these raving lu – erm – patients, around."

"But nothing's happened," Jamie said, surprising herself a little with her persistence. She tried not to dwell on it, tried not to think why she wanted to come back, except that it had to do with that fluttery feeling, standing in front of her uncle's bed and wondering what he looked like beneath the bandages, if he had moved. "Rachel watches me at home already, can't she bring me here?" She clambered into her seat and clicked her seat belt in place.

Darlene raised her eyebrows as she got in the passenger seat. "Rachel's a very responsible girl, honey, and if the doctor won't let us re-schedule…"

"It'll depend on her," said Richard with an air of decision. He closed the front door and started the engine. "Her and what the doctor says. Though Jamie, I'm a little surprised at you. I'd think you would not want to come here anytime soon."

Jamie pretended to be busy taking off her jacket. Since it was not a question, she didn't have to answer it… and she didn't really want to right now.

Darlene made a noise. "She's a fearless little girl, Richard. I certainly wouldn't want to be back."

"Who would? Crank the heat up honey – you'd think a hospital that size would be able to afford some central air…"

They chatted like that, their minds safely off Jamie, pulling off her coat in the back. She stared out the window in silence as the car pulled out of the parking lot and away from the hospital, wondering just what might happen at her next visit.

Chapter Text

"How you feeling, kiddo?" asked Rachel as they pulled past the barred gates of the sanitarium. "Not getting antsy back there, are you?"

"I'm okay," said Jamie. Rachel had, as always, put just the right word for it – antsy, like there were bugs in her butt, exactly how she was feeling. "Do I have to wear my jacket? It itches."

"Nah, it's getting warmer anyway." Rachel turned off the engine and came over to open the door as Jamie undid her seat belt. "Come on, let's get this over with. Then we can get ice cream on the way back, seeing as how it's almost spring, how's that sound?"

"Double scoops!" Jamie exclaimed, and grinned as Rachel laughed.

They went quiet, though, as they entered the building. Jamie had never noticed until now how heavy the silence was – maybe because she never spoke much when she had come with Darlene and Richard. But Rachel was always so chatty, even when Jamie had first come to her home and spent all her time staring out the window, filling the quiet with funny jokes and pointing out their weird neighbors and playing with Sundae. Now that she had to be so quiet, it was weird and just a little scary.

"Purpose of visit?" yawned the guard from behind his window.

Jamie had come enough times that she knew the words by heart, but Rachel didn't. "Um, visiting?"

"Visiting who?" demanded the guard.

Jamie tried to tug on Rachel's arm to tell her what the proper words were, but Rachel ignored her. "A patient." Even Rachel seemed to realize this was a dumb answer. "I mean – her uncle? This is Jamie Lloyd."

"Oh, that patient." The guard smirked. "I got you. Right this way. You're new to all this, aren't you?"

"Yeah, a little." Rachel smiled self-consciously, as the guard buzzed open the door for them.

Jamie was pretty used to this part of the journey by now, and focused mainly on keeping hold of Rachel. But Rachel was not, and kept staring around at everything or asking questions or muttering comments under her breath or pausing to read one of the many signs written with giant, black and red letters. If a patient passed by them, she would stare, or watch bug-eyed as nurses walked past with big trays of pills or guards pushed forward a gurney. And when a bang echoed from down another hallway, she jumped so badly Jamie's hand almost pulled loose from hers. The guard, of course, noticed and started to talk.

"Bet you don't know what kinds of people we have here, do you?"

Rachel shivered, pulling herself closer to Jamie. "Uh, the insane?"

"Yep, criminally. Why, some of the stories here… brrr. Give me the willies. Did you know-" And he launched into a story that had Jamie staring, because he had never spoken this way when she had been with her foster parents. He told them about a lady who had murdered all three of her children and tried to kill one of her neighbor's and blamed it on the demons in her head, and a hitchhiker who would pretend to be injured so that he could kill kindly drivers and steal their hood ornaments as trophies, and a man who dug up bodies to steal pieces of their skin until he realized, one day, that he could do this just as well with living people, and -

"Okay, enough!" shouted Rachel after this last one. They had reached the elevator and the guard looked about ready to launch on another terrifying story. "Can you just take us down without telling us any of this? Jamie is only eight years old!"

"Sorry," said the guard, once again not looking sorry at all. He swung open the doors as the elevator reached its stop. "Just letting you know – be on your guard." He winked as the elevator doors closed.

"Jesus," said Rachel, so forgetting herself that she didn't even notice Jamie's wide-eyed stare. She looked around and muttered the word again, shaking her head. "This is where they keep him? Well, come on then."

She pulled Jamie along in a way that was more like Rachel's mother than Rachel herself. So intent was she on just walking that she almost passed the spot. Jamie had to tug on her hand to stop her. "Rachel, it's over there."

"Oh, right." Rachel came to a sudden halt and backtracked, dragging Jamie in her wake. When they reached the shadowed hospital area, she peered through the bars, then spied the doctor, who was immersed in his clipboard, and waved a hand. "Hey. We're here to visit-"

"Myers," said the doctor, looking up. "Yes." To a nearby nurse, "Let them in, please."

Jamie watched the barred door swing open, then pulled on Rachel to go in.

As usual, her uncle seemed unchanged, still strapped to his bed, still bandaged, still not moving. She felt Rachel squeeze her hand as they both stood, staring at the figure.

"That's him?" whispered Rachel.

Jamie nodded, but it was the doctor who said, "Yes. No change in condition, as per usual."

"What's wrong with him?" asked Rachel. Jamie thought her voice sounded funny – scared but also fascinated.

"He came with multiple bullet wounds, at least one or two stabbing or piercing wounds, and second and third degree burns over 90% of his body," said the doctor. He sounded like he was reciting something. "Surprised he survived that kind of damage. We did what we could, but he was already comatose when he arrived, and in that regard, he hasn't changed. Normal levels of blood pressure, heart rate, breathing rate, for the last ten years, which is almost-"

Jamie let the two talk, hand coming loose from Rachel's. Rachel was not like Darlene or Richard, she was more easily distracted, forehead wrinkled in concentration as she listened to the doctor, the way she looked when working on a really hard math problem. Jamie glanced at her to make sure it was okay, then crept over to her uncle's bed until she was maybe less than a foot from him. She was close enough to see the blanket rising as he breathed, to see the individual wrappings of the bandages.

She had spent a long time this month just thinking about her uncle. Kyle had been even meaner to her this week than ever, as if he wanted to get all his insults out before they had a week off from school. A few days ago, he had followed her all the way out the school, yelling, "Your Mommy is dead! Your Daddy is dead! The only one left is your uncle, and he's the boogeyman! Boogeyman, boogeyman! Jamie's uncle's the boogeyman! Why don't you go live with your boogeyman uncle, Jamie? Then Jamie's gonna grow up to be a boogeyman!" and she had almost turned around and shouted that she was visiting the boogeyman and if he woke up she would go live with him, and if he did not shut up she would send him after Kyle and then he'd be sorry!

But she could not do that, because if she did, they would all know for sure what she was doing, who she was. All her teachers already treated her funny, and some of her neighbors, and a few of her babysitters. So she kept her visits secret, a little dark thing held close to her chest.

Why don't you go live with your boogeyman uncle, Jamie?

She couldn't live with anyone anymore, except the Carruthers. Mommy and Daddy were dead and her uncle was in a coma. She had not understood at first what it meant, for someone to be dead, and she had thought that maybe Mommy and Daddy were just on a very long trip, like the one time her Daddy had flown away for a week for work. She had waited up nights, thinking she might see their car pull up in the driveway, and stared out the window to see them return, hauling suitcases from their trip. She had even dreamed of them coming back and hugging her and bringing her back lots of presents from all the places they had visited. But gradually she had realized that "dead" meant never coming back, that "dead" meant she would never see them again except in the pictures she kept in her memory box.

She wondered if her uncle was dead, or almost. Jamie had asked Rachel what exactly a "coma" was, since everyone kept saying her uncle was in one, and Rachel had said it was like being asleep, except for a very long time. She'd said that sometimes people did not wake up from them for years, so other people had to take care of you or you'd starve to death. She had even said that a few never woke up at all; the longer they slept, the harder it was to wake up. According to her, Jamie's uncle had been in a coma for ten years. It was a very long time to Jamie. He had been asleep since before Jamie was even born.

Jamie wondered what it was like to be asleep all that time. Did her uncle know that Mommy was dead? Did he know about her, Jamie, and that she was standing near his bed right now? What would he do if he did? Whenever Daddy had come home, Jamie would always leap down the stairs and run into his arms, and he would smile and lift her on his shoulders and race around with her in their backyard. Darlene and Richard were very nice and she loved them, but they had never done that with her. Would her uncle ever do something like that?

She did not think so; all anyone ever talked about was how scary her uncle was, and scary people did not hug children or run around with them. But could he? Her foster parents had said this was a hospital for people whose brains were sick. Hospitals were supposed to make people better though. If they fixed her uncle, could he do things like her Daddy and Mommy had done?

Well, she probably would not ever know, because her uncle had been asleep so long nobody thought he would ever wake up. And since she never knew what was happening when she was asleep, he probably didn't either, probably didn't know about her Mommy and Daddy being gone and that Jamie was here. It all seemed a little sad to Jamie. Probably nobody ever told him anything either, since they thought he was asleep, but Jamie had sometimes been able to hear things people said when she was asleep. Maybe her uncle could too.

Jamie stepped forward as far as she could. "Uncle?"

She stood and waited for him to do something, but nothing happened, just the machine beeping and her uncle, breathing slowly.

Well, maybe she had been too quiet. If he was asleep, she would have to talk a little louder, right? So she raised her voice – but just a tiny bit, because she didn't want Rachel to notice – and said, again, "Uncle."

But nothing happened, not even a movement. Biting her lip, Jamie stepped back, as the machine beeped a little louder. No, he might as well not know that Jamie even existed.

She felt movement beside her, and looked up to see Rachel near her. "Hey kiddo, what're you doing so close?" Rachel took her arm and pulled her back, glancing at the doctor. "She shouldn't be this close, right?"

The doctor just shrugged tiredly. "Technically, I would say no. But she is a relative and Myers's legal guardian, and he has been quiescent so long…" He shrugged again.

"Well, let's not tell Mom and Dad about it, huh?" Rachel gave her a smile that nevertheless seemed a bit nervous. "Come on, everything's finished up here. Time for ice cream, right?"

Jamie nodded eagerly, and couldn't help reminding her, "And double scoops!"

Rachel laughed. "Yeah, double scoops. Let's go, the faster we're out of here, the faster we can get it!"

What little snow remained this late into the month had melted into a gray-brown slush when Jamie and Rachel came for their next visit. Their last had gone well enough that the Carruthers, still recovering from their two-week-long work conference that had turned into more than three weeks, had delegated the task to Rachel again. Jamie was more than happy with this plan, as Rachel was more chatty, more relaxed, and had already promised to buy her another treat on the way home "if you are very, very good".

"Watch the puddle, Jamie!" Rachel called out, as Jamie, who was comfortable enough now to run on ahead a little, almost splashed into one. She dodged just in time, narrowing her eyes – on the black asphalt surface of the parking lot, and with so much melted ice and snow, it was hard to pick out the shining wetness. She took a step back, then ran and leaped, landing right on the edge.

She laughed. "Did you see that, Rachel?"

"I saw it, I saw it." Rachel was making her way more sedately towards her. "Real risk-taker, aren't you? Watch, you're going to grow up into a big thrill junkie, start dragging me on all the scariest rollercoasters…"

Jamie didn't know what a "junkie" was, but rollercoasters had always looked so fun. She happily imagined riding some of the really big ones as they entered the building.

Rachel glared at the guard – still the same one – as soon as he stepped out from behind his room. "No stories," she almost snarled, in a way Jamie had never heard before. She was clutching Jamie protectively towards her too, almost painfully pulling her arm up.

The guard just smirked. "No stories. Knight's honor. Or guard's honor, maybe?" He snickered and began leading them down the familiar path, to the old creaking elevator, to the shadowed room.

"Miss Carruthers," Dr. Hoffman said, also in his usual place. "No parents again?"

"No, that trip to LA was extended and they're wiped, I still don't think they've recovered…"

That was definitely true. The last few weeks all Darlene and Richard had done was just sit around, nursing cups of coffee. Darlene had barely even cooked, instead buying an endless around of burgers and sodas for their dinners. When Rachel had reminded them of Jamie's appointment, Richard had just grunted and mumbled something about letting Rachel take her again. But Jamie didn't particularly want to think about that. She wanted to see her uncle.

This time, she decided to be a bit bolder. "Hello, uncle," she whispered, standing once again at her bed. Rachel had let her. She had raised her eyebrow a bit when she saw Jamie moving towards the bed, but she hadn't said anything, so it was fine.

Jamie waited, heart beating tremulously, but there was no response. Disappointment ran through her, but she reminded herself again that he was sleeping really, really deeply. When she was asleep, Mommy had sometimes had to shake her very hard to make her get up, and Daddy had always laughed and said she "slept like the dead".

"Hi, Uncle," she said, just a bit louder this time, but she looked over her shoulder anyway. Rachel had let her walk up to him, but she wasn't sure her foster sister knew about her talking to him too. But she and the doctor had not heard, were still talking about Darlene and Richard's trip and what Rachel was doing in school ("I've actually been thinking about going into nursing, but I'm not sure I'd want to be working in a place like this, uh, no offense…"), so she inched closer. "I'm Jamie."

There was nothing, not one movement or change. Jamie looked back again, wondering just how much trouble she would get into for this. But it could not really hurt to talk, could it? Not when he hadn't done anything even though she'd been coming so many times now? Or when he had been asleep for so long he might never, ever wake up? Jamie tried to imagine sleeping and just never waking up. Would they even wake up before they died? It sounded a bit scary, but also kind of peaceful. She'd watched movies about people getting shot or stabbed or run over and it always seemed so painful as they screamed and bled, but just sleeping and going away did not sound so bad. Only it made her a little sad, because then her uncle might never know what was going on around him. At least if people were shot, they could give a little speech and say goodbye to the people they loved, always crying too, like she saw in her movies.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, inching yet closer. "I know who you are. You're my uncle." She frowned, pressing her hands against her sweater, thinking of her uncle and her Mommy and her Daddy now, and how they were also like those people in the movies – dead and not coming back. She hoped they had not died painfully, because thinking of that made her tummy ache.

"They said you're my Mommy's brother. Do you know that Mommy's dead? And Daddy?" Her lip quivered and she tried to suck in a breath. She did not want to cry here, in front of her uncle. "They said that's why I had to come see you. Because I'm the only one left."

She twisted her hands in her clothes, her throat closing up. It was just like the kids at school had said – Jamie's an orphan! There was nobody left in her family except for herself. And her uncle. Who was so deep asleep he could not hear her and would probably never wake up.

Jamie began to turn away.

Something moved.

She had seen it, right there, in the corner of her eye. She turned back around.

There was nothing she could see that was different. But Jamie was sure she had seen something happen. Again, she looked at the doctor and Rachel, and again saw they were still absorbed in the conversation.

What had it been?

Jamie leaned closer, to where she could see her uncle's arm under the blanket.

That was where she had seen the movement.

She shot another swift glance back before drawing up to the bed. Remembering last time, she braced herself against the bed and gave a hard tug until it came loose. This time, she pushed the blanket up and tucked it against her uncle's side, exposing his arm.

Jamie stared. She was so close she could trace with her eyes a web of ridged scars from the back of his hand up to his arm. She had never seen anything like that – was that how burn scars looked? Her classmate's had just looked like a large patch circling one part of her arm. The thing on her uncle was more intricate, thicker, coiling up and out of sight into the blanket, made of different colors, some darker than the rest of his skin and some much paler. Then she remembered something the doctor had said, about him having burns all over his body.

Was the rest of his body like that? Even his face? Was that why it was bandaged up? Jamie tried to imagine her Mommy's face, her Daddy's face, with the scars she had seen on her uncle's arm, but could not combine the two. It was too strange.

But now she was forgetting the reason for pulling away the blanket, and she tried to refocus. She was sure she had seen movement, and she was sure it had come from under the blanket, right where her uncle's hand was. But however hard she stared now, there was nothing, not even a finger twitch.

"Hey." Rachel's hand came down on Jamie's shoulder, making her jump. "What are you doing?"

"I was just looking-"

"Did you do that?" Rachel interrupted, pointing at the blanket and her uncle's arm. Her grip on Jamie's shoulder tightened, pulling her away. "Come on, Jamie, you know now to touch him."

The doctor grunted behind them. "I agree with your sister, little girl. Some of our patients are in a very tenuous state of care, and any haphazard movements or jolts can unbalance them, send them into a crisis state."

Jamie only understood about half those words, but she got the gist of it – no touching. So she nodded, like a good girl, and waited until they were out of room and in the elevator before she said anything else.

"I thought I saw him move," she whispered to Rachel.

Rachel's face turned wary, and she swung her head back to examine Jamie's uncle. But nothing happened.

"Maybe it was just your imagination," said Rachel, though she sounded doubtful. "But you heard the doctor, okay? No touching him. I mean, why would you, anyway?"

Jamie just stared at the floor, not saying anything because even she did not have a good answer for that.

Rachel sighed, tugging her even further back. "Never mind, we've been here way longer than we should have. Let's go. You don't want to miss out on your ice cream, do you?"

Jamie shook her head and eagerly followed after Rachel, promises of vanilla and chocolate swirl with fudge in her ears. But as the door opened, she could not resist looking back one more time. She had to crane her neck, but before Rachel pulled her out of view, she saw his scarred, naked arm and Dr. Hoffman pulling the blanket back down so that it covered him up once more.

There was no movement.

It was raining again on their next visit, but a light, warm rain that didn't make Jamie shiver too much when droplets crept into her slick yellow raincoat. Stepping around a particularly massive puddle, she turned around. "Come on, Rachel!"

"What's the rush?" asked Rachel, catching up and almost slipping in the same puddle Jamie had just dodged. "I'd think you almost wanted to come here." She laughed to herself, but when Jamie did not immediately respond, she grew serious. "Jamie, you don't really want to visit, do you?"

Jamie tried to look very interested in the signs on the building, but Rachel was smarter than her parents. Stopping at the door, she gently took hold of Jamie's shoulders.

"Look, Jamie, Mom and Dad told me about what you said to them before. I know this has to do with your parents-"

"It doesn't!" Jamie protested. It did. "It has nothing to do with them."

"Really? So if this was just a random stranger we were visiting, you'd be just as happy?" When Jamie did not answer, Rachel put a hand on the back of her head. "We just don't want you to forget who you're visiting. I don't know how much your mom told you…"

Jamie continued staring at the wet ground. "She said he tried to hurt her. Daddy too. And that he hurt lots of other people." And the way Mommy had said "hurt", she knew it had meant a lot more than that, that they had ended up like Mommy and Daddy – never coming back.

"Yeah, he did. I was just a kid when it happened, but I remember all the sirens. The kids at school were telling stories about it for weeks; you'd have thought Halloween had lasted the entire month of November, the way they were going on. Mom and Dad wouldn't let me out of the house for days." Rachel attempted a grin, but stopped when it did not bring any reaction from Jamie. "Look, why do you want to see him then, if it doesn't have anything to do with your parents?"

She shuffled her feet for a moment. Rachel wouldn't laugh. She had never laughed at her bad dreams, she would not laugh now. "I want to see what he looks like," she whispered.

"If he looks like your mom?"

Jamie played with her sleeves. "Like me."

Rachel hesitated, then pulled her into a hug. "Jamie, he won't look anything like you, I promise."

But what if he did? The thought pounded in Jamie's head as she hugged Rachel back. What if he didn't?

And which of those was worse?

Their serious talk over, Rachel led the way into the building, a well-aimed glare at the guard warning him that she would not put up with any scary stories from him this time around either. It was so effective that the man was silent almost the entire way down. He even opened the door to the cell himself, since neither the nurse nor the doctor was there (the guard mumbled something about the doctor being detained by a patient and that he would hover outside the room himself until he had come, before retreating as fast as possible).

This left Jamie and Rachel alone in the room, staring at the bed with its swathed figure lying in it. The gentle beeping of the machines provided the only noise, so familiar by now to Jamie. She did not try to lean forward or step away from Rachel, not when her foster sister had her eyes on her, but her entire body was tense with wanting to.

Rachel broke the silence. "Jamie…" She hesitated, looking as if she was struggling to decide something. "What do you want to do?" When Jamie did not say anything immediately, Rachel bent down to her level and forced Jamie to look at her. She said quietly, "I'm not stupid, you know. I saw what you were doing last time. You were talking to him."

Jamie could not lie, not to Rachel, not when that had been exactly what she was doing. She peered at her shoes. "I wasn't saying much. I just wanted to tell him that… Mommy and Daddy are gone."

Rachel sighed. "Jamie, I don't think he..." She stopped, shook her head, blonde hair straying over her eyes. "Actually, you know what? Go on and tell him."

Jamie's eyes widened. "Really?" It was more than she had ever expected.

"Yeah." Funnily, Rachel did not look as if she liked her decision much either. "No touching, though, you hear me? Like – don't push it. But if it helps you – I mean, if that's what you, um, want to do – then we'll do it. Okay?"

Jamie nodded, then glanced at the bed. So did Rachel.

They both stood there for a second. "Might as well?" suggested Rachel, though everything on her face suggested otherwise.

Jamie nodded, but didn't move. Now that she did not need to sneak her way over, now that Rachel had let her, she was actually more frightened. This wasn't something she could sneak towards and then dash away from in a few seconds. Now Rachel thought she should, very slowly and calmly, walk up to her comatose uncle and stay there.

She chewed on her lip before peering up at Rachel again. "Can you come with me?"

Rachel's face softened. "Of course. Come on."

Holding hands, the two of them walked forward until they were right by her uncle's bed, almost as close as Jamie had been on their last visit. Then they just watched the still body on the bed, with its constant breathing.

Jamie, meanwhile, was having the same problem as approaching the bed: now that she had permission to speak to him, she could not think of anything to say."Rachel..." she whispered, a hint of pleading in her tone.

"What, now you can't think of anything?" Jamie nodded. Rachel thought for a moment. "Maybe just say hi. That's all you have to do."

It was as good a solution as any. Jamie looked back at her uncle. "Hello, uncle," she attempted, "again." She thought for a second, trying to remember what she had already told him. "I'm supposed to see you every month, because of what happened to Mommy and Daddy." She looked down at the patterned tile floor. "They're gone. I think I told you that. They went away and didn't come back."

She felt Rachel's hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Now I have to visit you." She had already said that. "I hope you can hear me. Or maybe I don't." She tried to remember that this was her nightmare man, the boogeyman who had made so many other people go away, but it was hard when he was just lying there, unthreatening. "But I guess I'll be coming here every month from now on."

That was all she could think of. She thought about telling him about the Carruthers, school, the bullies, how much she loved Rachel and Sundae and how much she missed Mommy and Daddy, but it felt strange, like telling a new kid at school her entire life. She did not know Uncle, she would never know him, and he probably would not be interested at all in what she said, if he could hear her in the first place.

The door creaked open, and both girls turned to see Dr. Hoffman entering, rubbing his glasses.

"Ah, my apologies for being late," he said, replacing his glasses. "Let me get the papers ready for you." He shuffled about, glancing up now and then to examine Jamie. "Growing comfortable now?" His eyebrows were raised slightly, as if he would not believe anything she said.

"A little bit." It was not Jamie, but Rachel, who said that, turning away from the bed. "I mean, it's been, what, almost six months? We were all terrified at first, but it's kind of becoming routine now."

"Well, I can't say I'm surprised. I've been the medical administrator of this hospital since before Myers was brought here, and he's been one of our most stable patients. Not one fluctuation. I would keep reminding the nurses, even the guards, of who the man was, but after two years, three, five, even I began to wonder if there was any point. Hell, even if he awakes, his muscles would be too atrophied to be of use. Here, let me get you a pen…"

With Rachel gone, Jamie drew nearer the bed, eye drawn once more to the outline of her uncle's body. Were the scars from last time still there? Sometimes she had dreamed of it, strange dreams of the twisted scars pulsing over a faceless, shapeless figure she knew was her uncle, or crawling atop her own legs and arms. They weren't scary dreams though, not like her old nightmares of her boogeyman uncle. They were… quiet dreams, she thought was the right word, which left her waking up with a feeling of tightness in her chest.

She began to push aside the blanket, then hesitated. Rachel had said no touching. But she wasn't touching him, which was what Rachel had meant. She was only moving the blanket. That couldn't be bad.

Decision made, she tucked aside the blanket – it was looser than before – and stared at her uncle's hand. It did not look as bad as her memory or dreams had made it. Actually, it kind of reminded her of Daddy's hands, or at least the size did; she had always been fascinated by how much bigger her Daddy's hands had been compared to hers. Though Daddy did not have any scars, of course. Still, even the scars only went partway over her uncle's hand and some of his arm. Sometimes it almost looked like part of his… blood vessel, was the word she had learned in school.

She wondered what it felt like. Jamie still remembered being very young and sitting on her Daddy's lap and squishing the thick, dark blood vessels that spanned his hands and arms. They were soft, like part of his skin. Did the burn scars feel the same, or when they lumpy and hard? She frowned a bit, head tilting, and with a quick glance to make sure nobody was watching, tilted forward and ran her own fingers lightly over the scarred skin.

It was definitely rougher than her Daddy's hands had been. Not smooth at all. Nor did it depress down as much as she thought it would. Still, it was kind of nice to stroke her fingers over them. It was bumpy, but in kind of a pleasant way. She used to like running her fingers over wood that was just cut for the same reason, the funny, scratchy roughness. She stopped as a new thought occurred to her. Were the bumps on his palms too, or his fingers? She leaned over, taking hold of his hand to turn it.

She felt a squeeze.

Jamie leaped back as if an electric shock had gone through her. His fingers – she had been gripping his arm and had slid her own hand under his palm to turn it only to feel all his fingers contract, grasping hers.

"Jamie?" Rachel had turned at Jamie's scampering, had seen her flying back from the bed and was rushing over. "You've gone white as a sheet, are you okay?" She cast a worried look at the figure in the bed, drawing them both back. "Did he do something, Jamie? Did you feel or hear something?"

The doctor hurried over, examining the limp hand before turning to the machines. But Jamie saw no further movement. None of the fingers twitched, the hand did not reach out, the arm did not withdraw under the blanket. It just lay there, as if its owner was practically dead.

"No change in his vital signs," he muttered. "Nothing in his heart rate, breathing rate, brain waves…"

"What does that mean?" asked Rachel.

"Well, if there was any change in Myers's condition, the machines would surely pick it up. A faster heart beat, a rise in his breathing or his blood pressure. But seeing as there were none..." He squinted down at Jamie over his glasses. "Perhaps it was just your imagination getting the best of you?"

Jamie started to shake her head, then paused. Standing all the way back, with nothing was happening, it seemed so silly, so stupid, like a scary story. She had been so sure she felt a squeeze – but the doctor was saying that nothing had happened. Maybe she had imagined it, like she imagined dark shapes in her closet when she was half-asleep. Had she scared herself by doing what she was told not to do? But no, she had felt him grab her! She had! And last visit, she was sure she had seen his hand twitch just a tiny bit!

"We can't assume it was that," Rachel was saying. "Look, I remember all the stories. Everyone says that Michael Myers stayed quiet as a mouse, until he broke out and killed a bunch of people. What's stopping him from doing it again? How do we know he isn't faking it?"

Dr. Hoffman pointed to the machines. "Everything is monitored on those machines. Whatever others say, Myers is still human; if he awakes, there will be some change. Yet I cannot see any indication of that." He tapped his pen at his side though, brow furrowed. "The only conclusion we can draw, then, is… nothing."

"Are you ser-"

"Nothing we need to worry about. If anything, the lack of fluctuations in his signs is rather unusual. Many comatose patients exhibit some signs of movement. It's quite normal."

"But you just said he's not normal," retorted Rachel.

"I also said that he is a human being. He's not some supernatural figure, Miss Carruthers. Even Michael Myers can't fake being comatose for ten years."

Rachel made an expression that was clearly her trying very hard not to roll her eyes. "Believe what you want. But I say that we've had enough for one day," she said, tucking Jamie close to herself. Dr. Hoffman had lifted Jamie's uncle's arm back in place. "Come on," and Rachel pulled at Jamie, "let's go home."

And so commanding was Rachel's tone that Jamie did not dare disobey, not even to look back, one last time, at her uncle.

"Look Jamie, you remember our deal, right? The only reason I'm bringing you and not telling Mom and Dad anything is because you're going to tell me if anything weird happens."

Rachel sounded dead serious. Jamie understood. She had had to beg and beg Rachel all through the car ride on their last visit not to tell Darlene and Richard anything. She suspected the main reason Rachel had not was because there was nothing to report, nothing big.

The other reason, Jamie thought, was to not make her foster parents worry, and so they would not ask more questions. If Rachel said something, they might ask if anything else had happened. Then Jamie might have to tell them everything that had happened, and she definitely, definitely did not want to do that.

Everything that had happened between her and her uncle had to be a secret, her tiny, dark secret buried deep inside herself.

So Jamie looked at Rachel and nodded, just as seriously. "I will." She looked down at her sweater, a light thin one now that it was summer. "Can I still talk to him?"

Rachel sighed. "I really don't think you should."

"Please, Rachel? I know he can't hear me, but I liked doing it."

"Jamie – look, you can always talk to us, you know that right? None of us are too busy to listen to you."

But it wasn't the same, Jamie wanted to say but didn't, because it was so shameful and ungrateful. She had tried but it was not the same as talking to Mommy or Daddy. Rachel was the best sister anyone could ask for, and Darlene and Richard so nice, but none of them had had dreams like she had. Mommy had, and Daddy too at times, which was why they had been so good at making them go away. But Mommy and Daddy weren't here anymore. There was only her uncle.

Jamie wondered if her uncle had bad dreams. If all he did was sleep, was that all he was doing – dreaming? And were they good dreams or bad dreams? She hoped it was good, but then she thought about her own dreams, how the bad ones always seemed so much stronger and scarier than the good ones. And Rachel had said that being in a coma meant you could not wake up. She tried to imagine being trapped in a world of nightmares, unable to escape, and shivered.

Rachel pulled her close, not understanding why she was shaking. "Still chilly, huh? Come on then, let's go inside." She led the way, but not before whispering, "You can talk, but I want to be there the whole time, 'kay?"

"Okay."

So down they went, to the cell, where a nurse was standing outside who murmured to them that, yet again, Dr. Hoffman was busy in some meeting and would be down in a bit, but she had been delegated to watch them and would let them know when the doctor had arrived. So Jamie and Rachel entered alone, once more.

"Let's just stay back here, okay?" suggested Rachel, keeping Jamie several feet away from the bed.

Jamie did not protest, but she did not speak either. It was strange to talk when she was this far, with the room so quiet. She would almost have to shout, and she did not want to do that and have the nurse hear.

After a moment of this, Jamie dragged at Rachel's hand. "Can't we move a bit closer? A tiny bit closer?"

"Jamie, come on…"

"Please? We won't have to go that close, and you can stay with me and I promise I won't do anything." She made her eyes very big, the way she had when she was asking Daddy for something, though not Mommy, it had never worked on Mommy.

But it worked on Rachel. "Fine," she said, with a bit of a groan. "God, I'm going to regret this. But only a tiny bit. I'm not standing by his bedside. And no puppy eyes when we go get ice cream, okay?"

So closer they stepped, and closer again when Jamie insisted by pulling at Rachel's arm.

"I think that's more than enough," hissed Rachel, when Jamie tried to move another inch.

Jamie was not paying attention to Rachel though. She was looking down at her uncle's arm. It seemed to be sticking out a bit more than usual from the blanket. She could see the shape of his fingers beneath the cloth. Once, she even thought she saw them move.

"Hello, Uncle Michael," she said, just like before. "I'm visiting you again." She always got stuck after that, every visit. It was hard to think of things to talk about when he never said anything back. "It's getting warm now. I finished third grade, so I get to have all of summer for fun." She tried to think some more. "Rachel, what else should I say?"

"You don't have to say anything else," said Rachel, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Just saying hello and telling him about your life is more than he des- I mean, it's more than expected."

Jamie pondered that a moment, but it did feel very strange to say 'hi' and then say 'bye' right afterwards. She was thinking of telling him she wanted to do over summer break, and how happy Darlene and Richard had been when they saw her report card, when they heard the nurse murmur something and an answering grumble in a familiar voice. In a few seconds, Dr. Hoffman had swung the cell door open and came shuffling into the room.

"Apologies again," he muttered, already flipping through a clipboard. "Sometimes being an administrator of a hospital has its drawbacks. Sign here…"

Rachel put a hand on Jamie's shoulder. "Could you bring it here, please? I want to keep an eye on Jamie."

The doctor raised an eyebrow but did not argue, bringing a pen and the papers over and almost pushing it under Rachel's nose. Rachel took her hand off Jamie's shoulder to focus on the papers.

Quick as a flash, Jamie pressed her hand atop the blanket where her uncle's hand was, scooting close enough to the bed so that neither the doctor nor Rachel could see what she was doing, but doing it in her sneaky way, her way that let her creep up silently on people without them noticing until it was too late. She had done it to Mommy and Daddy, to listen in on their nighttime conversations; she had done it to Rachel last Halloween when her boyfriend had dumped her; and now she was doing it to her uncle.

Her hand searched the thin, scratchy folds of the blanket until she hit something bumpy. She knew it was her uncle's hand. Was it moving like she thought it had been? Like she was sure she had seen before? She pressed her own against it, finding the shape of his fingers, the hard bones of his knuckles. If she pressed hard enough, could she even feel his skin, the patchy scars? She frowned in concentration, letting her hand rest before it got Rachel's attention. Nothing was happening; her uncle's hand remained stiff against hers.

Or did it? She stifled a gasp, not wanting to draw any attention. There was a light bump against her own fingers, like a muscle jumping, she thought, remembering how her own legs would sometimes do that, cramp and twitch of their own accord. She clutched her hand tighter against the blanket and over her uncle's, thinking she could feel it better if she did that. His hand was so much bigger than hers, her own fingers could not wrap around his entire palm –

She really jumped then. He had moved again, moved more than a twitch. This time, she felt his entire hand jerk under the blanket, turn so that its palm was up, towards her own –

And grasp it.

Her breath caught in her throat, but Dr. Hoffman had just raised his voice to explain some long word on the papers and Rachel had not noticed. So Jamie was stuck there, her uncle's hand holding hers, and she almost thought it was tightening its hold on hers through the blanket, squeezing her smaller fingers against his. When she tried to move back, it clasped at her even harder, not enough to be painful, just enough to keep her there. Jamie stopped, part of her wanting to move back, another part too frightened to do so.

And there was a third part of her that did not want to draw away at all, a part that kept rubbing at the back of her mind, a reminder of something she had forgotten, a curiosity as to what might happen next. Curious enough to give her uncle's hand a little squeeze of her own.

The answer was an unexpected loosening of the hand under hers. It last only a split second before the hand clasped at hers even harder, almost crushing her tiny fingers against his. Jamie held her breath, not sure what to do, not daring to go any further.

"I guess that wraps – oh my God! Jamie! Get away!"

Rachel's hands were on her then, pulling her back. The movement tore her hand loose, brought Jamie's head up so that she was no longer looking down at her uncle's hand but up at the rest of his form, so that she saw that her uncle's head was no longer facing the ceiling, but had turned towards her.

Jamie squealed, loud enough for it to echo around the tiny room. She stumbled back and straight into Rachel's legs, her fingers were tingling from how tightly her uncle had been holding them.

"Move, Jamie!" Rachel shouted. "Get back, get away from him!" Over her head, Jamie could hear the doctor trying to say something but totally drowned out by Rachel, who was screaming, "What the hell! What the hell is this?! Look! Look at him! He's moved! He's moving, he wants her-"

Dr. Hoffman had raised his hands, was trying to calm her down, but Jamie no longer heard what he said, no longer heard even Rachel. Her eyes were fixed on that bandaged head, and even though she could not see his eyes, she knew that her uncle had opened them and was staring right at her.

"Run!" Rachel grabbed Jamie's hand and wrenched her out of the room. "Jamie, come on! Go! Go!" And to the doctor: "We're not coming back here, not without my parents! There's something weird going on here and you know it, and until you tell us what it is, you won't see any of us!"

Jamie tried to say something, but nothing could come out. All she could see was Rachel's furious face; all she felt was the fading touch of callused skin against her own fingertips.

When she looked back, she thought she saw her uncle's head. She thought he had moved to watch her.

Chapter Text

Their next visit was much later in the month than before.

Rachel had gone home and told her parents everything – how close they had gone to her uncle's bed, all the times Jamie had talked to him, the times Jamie had been frightened or startled and, finally, her Uncle Michael actually moving. Darlene and Richard had yelled at Rachel for a bit, which had made Jamie feel really bad, then sat Jamie down and asked her dozens of questions about what she had said, what she had done, what she had seen and felt.

Jamie had said nothing. Nothing at all.

Where she got that stubbornness, she did not know. She had never refused Darlene and Richard anything, never refused her Mommy and Daddy either. But what had happened between her and her uncle was her secret. She could not just tell them. So she shook her head and refused to answer, and kept on not answering and not speaking as the days went on. Darlene and Richard had tried to be kind at first, had pleaded with her and bribed her, then been disappointed with her, and finally stern and angry, telling her that she was expected to always tell the truth and that her Mommy and Daddy had surely raised her better than this and that it was all for her own good, her own protection, anyway, and why would she not want to tell them?

Jamie could not say herself, why she so desperately wanted it to be a secret. When they had been scolding her, a part of her had wanted nothing more than to open her mouth and pour out everything, all the strange movements and funny feelings she had gotten while she was there. Sometimes she lay awake entire nights, trying to figure out why she couldn't say anything. Everything they said was right. Mommy and Daddy had told her to always tell the truth, and she always had. She knew the Carruthers were just trying to keep her safe. She knew her uncle was a scary, evil man who had done terrible things. Hadn't she always called him the nightmare man who had stalked her in her dreams?

But she could not think of the bandaged man in the bed that way. That man was different, somehow. The nightmare man came after her, but her uncle did not. The nightmare man would slash at her with a knife any time she was close to him, but her uncle did not. The nightmare man had no face, only a pale mask, while her uncle did not. She supposed the bandages could be like that, but even then, she felt like she could see parts of his eyes and mouth, even if she still did not quite know what he looked like. And sometimes when she could not sleep, she would lie down with her head propped on one arm and look at the hand that he had grabbed at.

It had felt familiar, when he took her hand. Like when Mommy and Daddy would hold her hands when she was afraid.

When the Carruthers couldn't get anything out of Jamie, they had started calling Dr. Hoffman and yelling at him. Sometimes all Jamie would hear when she came down for breakfast was Richard shouting things like, "God damn it, she's not going anywhere near that freak! I don't want her within a hundred miles of him! You think I trust your expertise over what my own daughter saw?!"

And then she would hear Darlene get on the phone too and say, "Blood relation or not, Jamie is our responsibility, and we make the decisions for her! Don't you throw your legal mumbo-jumbo at me, she is a child-"

After that, Jamie had clammed up entirely, and nothing Darlene or Richard had said, none of Rachel's cajoling or Sundae's worried woofs, could make her speak. She pulled away from their caresses and their begging and stayed in her room, cuddling Pop-Pop and staring out the window.

Then, of course, all the conversations became things like, "Ever since we started going there, Jamie is different! Now she won't speak at all! How dare you continue to insist-" or "If you expect us to let you get away with putting our foster daughter's mental health at risk, you have another think coming! No, I don't care what the papers say-"

It was Rachel, with Sundae following loyally behind, who had finally come in and sat by her bed and said quietly, "Jamie, what do you want to do?" It was Rachel who had stroked back her long hair and told her, "I know you're scared of what Mom and Dad will say, but you don't have to be with me. I only care about what makes you happy. So tell me? What exactly do you want?"

Jamie had watched as Sundae hopped onto her bed and laid his head next to her leg. She had run her fingers through his silky fur, remembering the twitch of her uncle's hand, the feel of his skin against her palm, the warmth of his grip and the heaviness of that sightless gaze.

"I want to see Uncle."

The shouting had changed again after that, with Darlene and Richard's strident, "How can you even think of doing this? Your own foster sister and you want to send her back? Are you that self-absorbed, that uncaring-" contrasting against Rachel's insistence that, "This is what Jamie wants, she told me herself! Yes, she did, believe it or not she will talk if you actually take the time to sit down and ask her! No, I don't think it's safe, I know what I saw and I think that doctor is full of crap, but if you want to keep arguing about what's best for Jamie, then maybe you should actually listen to what she wants!"

Until finally, the entire family had trooped into Jamie's room and sat on her bed (shoving an annoyed Sundae out of the way) and said, "Okay, Jamie. Rachel-"

"-and the doctor," added Darlene.

"Yes, both of them have told us, well… that it may be in your interests to, er, return."

Jamie peeked up between her bangs. Neither Darlene nor Richard looked happy at all.

Richard cleared his throat. "I can't say we're convinced, but they've at least made their arguments." Darlene glanced away, lips pursing. "Legally, you are required to go, and we all know the consequences if you don't. And Rachel has told us of your…wishes."

"Dr. Hoffman at least seems convinced that all of it has been random movement," said Darlene, though she looked quite skeptical herself. "He said all of Michael Myers's vital signs remain unchanged and that there's no sign he's so much as breathed funny all this month."

Richard grunted, rolling his eyes at the ceiling. "Useless. What school did that man get his degree from? I think the only reassuring thing is that even if the bas – ah, the man does wake up, he'll have been comatose for so long he won't be able to move, let alone get out of his bed and start attacking us all."

Jamie, remembering how hard her uncle had clung to her hand, did not say anything.

"It's what will help Jamie," said Rachel quietly, the only one looking at her. "I don't like it either, and I feel… weird about it. Like something is about to happen." She wrapped her arms around herself. "But it was good for Jamie, I think, at least in the beginning. It let her talk through some things. And it's what she said she wanted."

"Jamie is a child," Darlene said to Rachel, as if Jamie were not sitting right beside her. "She doesn't know what might happen – the kind of danger-" But she went quiet.

And Richard just shook his head and grumbled, "If that's what Jamie needed, we should've just gotten her a therapist."

After that, it seemed the Carruthers were resigned to taking her. They made their appointment – all the arguing meant it was pretty late in the month, but the doctor was nice enough to forget all their insults and yelling and make some time for them – and all the while, Jamie waited, half anticipating, half in trepidation. Like Rachel, she was aware of a strange tingling as the day drew nearer, a feeling that something was going to happen which only grew stronger and stronger.

Now they were driving up to the hospital, all four of them, the hours feeling like they had both dragged sluggishly and flown by; then going down the familiar hallways and the still-creaking elevator, the same guard sliding open doors and unlocking the cell, where inside Dr. Hoffman awaited – and Jamie's uncle.

"Thank you for coming," said Dr. Hoffman before the Carruthers could even open their mouths. "I understand that this was a difficult decision on your end-"

"Damn right it was difficult," snapped Richard, while Darlene jabbed him in the side. "Only thing that did it was you somehow got our daughter on your side-"

"Dad, come on…"

Jamie wriggled out from between them, noticed only by Rachel, who went after her, hissing, "Jamie, stay with Mom and Dad! Come on-"

But Jamie was too fixated on her uncle in his bed, exactly the same as before – or was he? Rachel seemed very far away, her and the Carruthers and the doctor. The only thing drawing her attention was her uncle, and she was sure now that there was something different, something just a little off about the pace of his breathing and his stillness.

He was tense, she realized. He was only lying there and yet he was waiting, she knew it deep down, could almost see it in the way he was holding his body. Her uncle was no longer asleep. He was awake, or on the verge of doing so, because he was waiting for something. For someone.

For her.

Jamie came up beside the bed, where she could see the blanket was pulled taut over his form, the straps digging into the folds. Ignoring Rachel's insistent tugging, she laid her hand on the metal siding of the bed.

Something stirred beneath the blanket. Jamie held her breath.

She did not jump back as her uncle's hand shot out from under its cover, tugging free, to grab hers, no hesitation, like he had known all along she would be there. Behind, Rachel gasped, but Jamie did not shrink away, did not try to free herself even as the fingers tightened around hers possessively. Instead, she only watched in half terror, half fascination as her uncle's bandaged head turned towards her, her eyes locking onto the gaping darkness behind the wrappings. There was an awful snap as the strap across his shoulders broke, for he was sitting up, straight up, one arm still clasping her hand, his faceless head tilting as he examined her.

Someone was screaming; another person was shouting curses. An alarm rang as the beeping of the machines increased in speed and volume. Jamie was aware of pattering footsteps down the hall and Dr. Hoffman shouting for everyone to be calm. She felt hands on her shoulder, trying to pull her back, but with every tug, her uncle's grasp on her hand only increased, and she felt herself responding to it not by struggling but by tightening her own small fingers around his.

And all the while he stared at her, the tilted head straightening. His other arm came up; there was no sleeve covering it, he was wearing only a hospital gown, so that Jamie could see that all of it was exposed, the scars twisting their way into his flesh and creating light and dark patches of skin. But still she could not find it in herself to be scared, still she found herself caught in the fixity of his stare as his free hand reached for her face.

With a great jerk, Rachel pulled her loose, breaking her uncle's hold on her. Jamie stumbled back against her, her uncle's hand cupping empty air. More hands dragged her towards the end of the room. She shook her head, everything dazed and hazy, but even so, with the shouting, the guards shoving open the barred door, all she could look at was Uncle, who was sitting straight up and reaching to pull the covers off himself –

Several men in uniforms rushed in, grabbing at Jamie's uncle and shoving him back down on the bed. Jamie heard Darlene scream something - then all three of the Carruthers were shoving Jamie out of the room. The alarm was a howl echoing up and down the hallway, nurses were running in holding syringes and strange, padded jackets, and all four of them were stumbling for the elevator.

But Jamie managed to peek out just before the doors closed, and what she was her uncle, tearing furiously at the covers and the straps. And all the while he kept staring at her.

"What do you mean the state won't have him?!"

Jamie saw Rachel wince at Richard's bellow and glance at her. Beneath the table, Sundae whimpered. But Jamie paid it little attention, focusing on spooning up her cereal. She was getting used to hearing shouting in the Carruthers house, especially about her.

"Oh so they wouldn't take him first because he was not a threat, and now they refuse because he is? No, he was stable for ten years, but no, that means they can let him out into the streets - no, this is your job! Not ours! Ours is to protect our children, which, I might mention the state, and you, are not doing if they insist on having a child come see him-"

She stirred her milk, watching it form swirls around her remaining bits of cereal. Below, Sundae, as if sensing her unease, pressed his head near her foot.

They were starting to look at her funny now, the Carruthers.

"How do we know this isn't some trick to help your precious patient? Get us all down there on some pretext to sign something, and then unleash him on Jamie-"

Rachel abandoned her own breakfast and put her head in her hands. At the sink, Darlene was trying in vain to make her dish-washing louder, clattering plates and utensils as hard as possible to drown out Richard's voice. Jamie thought she saw her foster mother shoot her a look as well, but she was not sure and didn't really care.

They were still trying to be kind to her, still trying to treat her like she was one of their own children, but ever since that day, Jamie had felt it, a creeping along her back that she knew were the strange looks, the look of nervousness she had seen in her neighbors, her teachers, her classmates at school, and that the Carruthers were now giving her too.

She wondered what her uncle was doing.

"And that's all that's needed? Sign one thing – yes, fine, have Jamie sign one thing, and then relinquish all visitation rights? End this entire charade?"

Jamie stopped, trying to figure out what Richard was saying. It sounded a lot like she would not have to visit her uncle anymore.

"Well no, I can't say that it does satisfy me, given that you only chose now to spring this on us... No, yes, I am aware. Very well. Yes, yes, this coming weekend. And you can guarantee that the Myers freak won't go anywhere near Jamie? …No, I don't like it, but I'm guessing we have no choice. Yes. Yes, goddamnit. Fine."

A bang on the phone's cradle. Jamie found herself clutching her spoon tight in one hand.

She was going to see her uncle. It did not matter what Richard said, she would see him. She did not know how it would happen, and Jamie had no thought of running away or fighting the Carruthers, who had been nothing but kind to her even if they were treating her oddly right now. She just knew that somehow, her uncle would know she was coming, and he would find a way to get to her.

That thought kept beating in the back of her head as the weekend approached, as they drove to the hospital for what Richard declared was the very, very last time. Jamie sat behind Darlene and next to Rachel, who kept looking at over worriedly. Jamie knew, because she could feel Rachel's gaze on the back of her head, but she kept her own eyes out the window, watching the fields pass by. They were a bright yellow and green, almost shimmering in the summer heat, stretching endlessly on either side of the road, before turning to the dark, thickly wooded forest, the trees looming out and crowding towards the car.

Just like before, it seemed to take both an age and a second to reach the hospital, shining white atop the green hill. But this time, it was Dr. Hoffman himself who greeted them at the entrance, beckoning them through the door. And as he took them down, the elevator only dropped a short distance before letting them off into a very different hallway.

"Where are we?" Jamie asked. She saw Darlene and Richard start and stare at her, and realized why – she had not ever spoken up in the hospital, not until she reached her uncle's room. She had not been talking very much at all lately.

"We are in the staff area. I am taking you to my office to sign a few papers." He looked down at her with what might have been a half-smile, had he not looked so tired. "In a few moments, you will no longer have to make any more trips here, Miss Lloyd."

Jamie halted in her tracks, realizing what it meant, the doctor meeting them here, this different hallway, this different room. "What about my uncle?"

A look of discomfort passed over the doctor's face that was mirrored on that of her foster parents. "There is no need to worry about him."

"But where is he?"

She caught the tiniest shake of the head from Darlene. The doctor cleared his throat and said, "He is being kept under heavy security. As I said, no need-"

"Is he awake?" Part of Jamie was quaking at being so daring, at actually interrupting an adult. But a much stronger part needed to know what had happened since her last trip. "Did he wake up when we left?"

"Jamie!" snapped Richard.

But Jamie had pushed in her heels, stopping them right in the hallway. Two nurses, speaking in hushed whispers, almost walked into them and had to dodge around them at the last second, staring at the small group.

"If he's awake, I want to see him." Jamie could not believe the words coming out of her mouth, but she had never come here without seeing him. And if was her last time, surely he should know. She had to tell him she was leaving and not ever coming back, so he wouldn't be sitting up, waiting for her. Even her parents had said goodbye to her one last time before leaving the house and never coming back.

"Young lady, that is a difficult if not impossible request," said Dr. Hoffman. He tried to glare down at her.

To Jamie though, he just sounded very much like one of her teachers when they were losing control of a class. "Don't I need to sign something?" When the doctor nodded, she pushed out her lower lip. "I'm not signing anything until I see my uncle."

"Jamie!" Richard barked.

"What has gotten into you, Jamie?" demanded Darlene, trying to push her along. "This is not like you at all!"

Jamie shook her head. "I want to see him."

"We don't need to do anything here in the first place," said Richard. "We can go straight home and you can just mail the papers to us, can't you?"

The last was addressed to the doctor, who blinked, then hurriedly nodded. "Oh – er, yes, of course. Nothing needs to be done here at all, young lady, it can all be done at your home."

Jamie crossed her arms. The man was lying. She could just tell.

"You know what, let's just do it that way," Darlene interjected. She took hold of Jamie's arm as Jamie determinedly dug her shoes into the floor, trying to plant herself there. "If you can't be cooperative, Jamie, then we won't stay here." She gave a tug that was almost painful. "Jamie, come on-"

"Guys, just do it," said Rachel.

There was a silence as both of Jamie's foster parents stared at their daughter.

Richard snapped, "Rachel, don't you dare support her."

"Oh, so we should keep fighting in the hallway like this?" asked Rachel. She looked between her parents. "Look, this isn't going anywhere. We all know this is just an empty threat, and you know Jamie is not going to give in on this. And maybe seeing him awake will finally convince her to stop coming."

Jamie peered up at Rachel, not sure if her older sister believed those words or was trying to use reverse psychology. Both her foster parents, and even the doctor, seemed to be seriously considering that last sentence.

Darlene glanced at the doctor. "Can it be arranged?" she asked, sounding very much liked she hoped it couldn't.

The doctor pursed his lips. "It will take some maneuvering, but… yes. If you two both give permission."

"He'd better be under maximum security," said Richard, not noticing the mingled disappointment and irritation that crossed his wife's face. Jamie felt her stomach leap at those words, for it almost sounded like he was agreeing to it.

"Yes, we had Myers moved – under heavy sedation, of course – as soon as he awoke after your last visit. He's being kept in his own cell in a locked ward. If we bring him out, he'll be restrained, of course, and little Jamie here-" his look down at her gave her the sense that she was being a massive inconvenience, "-won't be allowed to see him unless accompanied by you and several guards."

Darlene and Richard exchanged a heavy glance. "I suppose that's the best we can hope for," said Richard.

Dr. Hoffman gave a curt nod and moved towards a nearby phone. One call and half an hour of waiting later, during which the three of them repeatedly plied Jamie with the paper she had to sign while she ignored them, they were going down the elevator, down very low, then through darkened hallways where the doors were not barred but entirely closed, with only tiny slits for windows and a slot for food. Jamie tried to peer into some of them, wondering which was her uncle's, but her foster parents walked so fast there was no time to do so.

Finally, they came to a side hallway, to a wall with a large window, the only one Jamie had seen all day. She was only just tall enough to look over its edge, and when she did, she saw a man in a hospital gown, with bandages wrapped around his face, sitting in a chair in the middle of an empty room. His back was to them, but Jamie could see a chain around his waist. He held his hands in front of him while another chain manacled his ankles.

This was her uncle, awake at last, and Jamie could not take her eyes off of him.

"It's a one-way mirror, so he cannot see or hear us," explained Dr. Hoffman.

"He's sitting up," Jamie heard Richard mutter. "How the hell is that possible? You told us he'd be completely useless if he woke up."

"It is certainly unprecedented, I will admit that-"

"Oh, you'll admit that? Will you also admit that he was faking the whole coma after all? Or maybe you should admit that you don't know anything about this at all-"

"Honey, please-"

"Don't 'honey' me, Darlene, this is nuts…"

Jamie shut her mind off to her foster parents' arguing. Rachel had her hand on her shoulder as they both peered into the room. Jamie wondered if her uncle knew they were there, if he knew she was watching him.

As if catching her thoughts, Dr. Hoffman said, "Remember, if you want to go in, you need to have both your parents' permission, and we will need to call some security guards to go in with you. This is a very dangerous man."

"So you would not recommend we go in at all then?" asked Darlene, hopefully, to Jamie's ears.

"Michael Myers has not received a visitor – while awake at least – in over fifteen years," said Dr. Hoffman. "I really cannot say as to what his reaction might be. But Jamie," he was looking down at her again, "remember what this man has done and ask if you would risk yourself and everyone here just to go inside."

Jamie knew what he had done – gone after her Mommy, gone after her so badly that she had not slept well in all the times Jamie remembered, gone after her so that Mommy had cried when she was alone or jumped at small sounds or tugged Jamie away from windows. But her uncle had not done that to Jamie. He had done nothing except hold her hand, the way Daddy had held hers when they crossed the street or when Jamie was scared of a thunderstorm or when she needed help going to sleep after a nightmare.

She pressed closer to the mirror, putting her hand on the cool glass.

For a moment, there was no sound but Darlene and Richard whispering behind her, debating whether they should go inside or try to persuade Jamie to sign the paper. Jamie stared hard into the room, thinking of the superheroes with laser eyes on her favorite TV shows and wishing she had their ability to make people feel when they were looking.

Her uncle straightened in his chair.

Jamie blinked, moving back an inch but keeping her hand pressed to the glass. For a few seconds, her uncle maintained that tense position. Then he turned his bandaged head in one smooth motion while the rest of his body remained almost immobile in the chair.

She felt his eyes gazing straight at her.

Rachel's hand was squeezing her shoulder as her uncle slowly got up, without taking his eyes – or what she assumed were his eyes behind the bandage, and how did he even see through them? – off of her, and began to move towards them.

Jamie knew when everyone had noticed when she heard Darlene gasp and Richard say a word he'd never said around her. She felt Rachel's hand leave her shoulder, but Jamie did not draw away. Her hand was plastered to the glass, her face riveted to the man who was walking over towards her, almost unhindered by his chains. A tiny part of her head did think of how funny he looked, with his wrapped up head and in that hospital gown, but the rest of her was just tight in anticipation.

He stopped right in front of the glass, his head dropping to look down at her. The doctor had said that her uncle could not see or hear them, but he was looking right where she was and nowhere else. Without a blanket covering him and in the empty, brightly lit room, she could see the burn scars on his hands and arms and legs more clearly than ever, fascinating grooved patches and raised bumps and spots, curling tendrils of flesh that twined around his muscles and bones.

Slowly, he raised a hand. He had to bend slightly because of the cuffs, and shuffle even closer, but he was able to lift his palm high enough to place it on the glass, right where Jamie's was. He pressed in, flesh turning white along the edges. She almost imagined she could feel his skin through the glass, warm and slightly bumpy.

Jamie looked up into where she thought her uncle's eyes might be, behind the wrappings. She still could see nothing of his face, but she imagined something a bit like Mommy's, a bit like Daddy's.

"Hi Uncle," she said.

He tilted his head, and she almost wondered if he had heard her. For several seconds he kept his hand on the other side of the glass from hers. Then he dropped it, letting it hang in its cuff, yet he remained standing there, tilting his head to the other side, as if to examine her.

Someone was whispering; it sounded a bit like Darlene, and she kept mentioning "the paper" and "sign it". Jamie drew back from the glass, her hand falling, and almost thought she saw her uncle's posture droop slightly.

"Can I go inside?" Jamie asked.

There was an immediate outbreak, a babble of voices, but none of it really seemed to reach her, not with Uncle standing there, waiting, watching on the other side. They seemed to argue a long time about "permission" and "going inside with that monster" and "security personnel". None of it sounded all that important though, and Jamie just waited for them to make the inevitable decision, her hand resting on the sill of the window. She thought she saw her uncle's gaze drop to her fingers when she moved them.

Finally, the doctor forced her to turn around and explained a lot of rules. "You will not be alone with the patient. If your parents or the guards tell you to do something, you do it. No touching the patient. No giving the patient anything. You do not speak to him if we tell you not to. You do not move any closer than we allow you to. If you or he break any of these rules, the visit is over. Do you understand?"

She nodded, and felt her stomach knot itself in fear and excitement as the doctor beckoned forth a pair of men in blue uniforms. They marched over to a door several feet from the window and unlocked it. Jamie looked back once and saw her uncle. His head was turning so that he was following her every move, so it felt like there was no break at all between moving from outside the visiting room to inside; like there was just a thin barrier briefly separating his gaze from her. As she entered, flanked by her foster parents, Rachel, the doctor, and the two guards in front of them, all she saw was Uncle, shifting his position so that he was always facing her.

Her uncle was awake, fully awake, and she was now in the same room as him.

She took a step towards him, only to feel three hands jerk at her shirt. Her uncle's head jerked at her movement.

"No Jamie, remember what the doctor said!" Darlene hissed in her ear, and Jamie did recall, No closer than we allow you to, and she stopped.

But her uncle, he had no such warning.

And he began moving towards them, a slow shuffle that sent his manacles rattling.

"Keep back, Myers," growled a guard, baton held out threateningly. But Uncle did not acknowledge him, did not seem to see or hear the guard at all. He was just looking at Jamie and moving closer with every second despite his shackles.

"I mean it, stay back!" said the other guard, pushing the family back. Jamie tugged forward, but she could not get free of her foster family, who were holding onto her tight. Something in her uncle's body went taut, and somehow he actually began moving faster, as if the cuffs were no encumbrance at all.

"Keep back!" Richard shouted, shoving wife and daughter and foster daughter behind. "Keep back, you freak!"

"Open the door!" Darlene exclaimed, voice higher than Jamie had ever heard it. "Please, don't let him get here!"

Jamie gave a huge leap forward, freeing herself from the Carruthers, only for a guard to almost knock her back as he stepped in front of her, his body colliding with hers and blocking her view of her uncle.

"Get them out of here!" he shouted.

Someone else yelled, "He's not stopping, get the syringe-"

"Screw that, get a goddamned Taser-!"

Dr. Hoffman shoved open the door, shouting indistinctly at the Carruthers. Jamie could see nothing except a confused mess of bodies pressing around her, but they were pushing at her arms and legs, scooping her up and lifting her bodily out the room. She struggled to get free, unable to breathe – saw the doorway as she passed through it – and then gasped as she was released, out in the larger area of the hallway. She twisted her head around to try and look back, but Darlene grabbed her hands and began dragging her down the hall through another door

"But-" she started to say.

"Let's go, get moving!" Richard roared, drowning her out completely. He jerked Rachel and Darlene, who was still grasping Jamie, in front of him, pushing them down the hall. "Christ, we have to get out of here before that maniac does anything else! Move!"

But Jamie was still able to twist her head around and see through the big one-way window, to where the guards where pushing her uncle back into his chair and Dr. Hoffman was inside, a big needle in his hand that he plunged into Uncle's body.

That, and Darlene and Rachel screaming and sobbing as they fled the hospital, was the last thing Jamie remembered about that visit.

The doctor came a few days before their next visit.

Jamie was not sure if they would visit again, actually. The Carruthers had shouted at each other the entire ride home, though mercifully not at Jamie, who just stayed curled up in the back, staring out the window. Darlene argued that the whole trip was for nothing because they still had not signed anything. Richard argued that after that incident nobody would ask them to ever come back. Both of them argued with Rachel for taking Jamie's side and persuading them to come, and they all argued with everyone else over what exactly had happened.

Nobody thought to ask Jamie what she had seen, not even Rachel.

Jamie had fled to her room as soon as they were home, and for once, none of the Carruthers had tried to get her out. School had just started, so she had an excuse to hole up in her room with her workbooks and her colored pencils and lots of sheets of paper. Or that's what she told the Carruthers she was doing, when they bothered to ask. Most of the time, she preferred to say at her window or in her closet with her box of memories, staring at the street or at the photos of her Mommy and Daddy. When she came down to eat, the Carruthers would talk in these funny, high-pitched voices about the most boring things, how hot it was or what the neighbors were doing or what the sports was like. Even Sundae seemed to be avoiding her.

So she had not asked if they would go again, afraid they would say no. Yet she had been on tenterhooks for the last few weeks, afraid as well that if she did not bring it up, they would "forget" to go. And then what would happen to Uncle?

Jamie did not think he was going to do anything bad. She knew he had done terrible things, knew that she was being stupid, but this was different. He had known. He'd known she was there the entire time and he had just laid there, and pressed his hand to the glass, and squeezed it against hers. Nothing else. She wasn't too sure what else he wanted, but some little part of her did not think he was going to hurt her, like the Carruthers were so convinced. Because if that's what he wanted to do, why hadn't he done so before?

So she had waited for the Carruthers to announce the day of their next visit, and when they didn't, she had started working up the courage to ask. They had said she had to sign something to not go, but she had not signed anything, so didn't that mean she still had to? She had just gotten to the point where she was ready to say something when a man had come walking up the driveway.

He was a funny looking man, bald but bearded and wearing a long, brown trench coat. He walked funny, and it had taken a second for Jamie to see the long cane he held and the limp in his leg. She watched as he knocked on the door, and she waited upstairs, thinking he was one of those men coming by to sell something who Richard or Darlene would always politely, but firmly, say no to.

But he did not leave, and after a time, Darlene came to her room and asked for Jamie to come downstairs.

She came down nervously, for the last time they had asked her to come down to see someone, it was to tell her that her uncle would one day be under her care and that she had to visit him, the visits that had started so much trouble. The man was standing – not sitting – in the living room, even though he was leaning quite heavily on the cane. Jamie entered hesitantly, saw Richard and Rachel already in the room with Sundae lying at their feet, then stopped.

His scars looked just like her uncle's.

Oh, it was in a different spot – over his right cheek, mostly, and part of his hands – but the shape, the color, it was like Uncle's. Jamie ended up staring so long that Darlene had to murmur a reminder to her to sit down.

When she had done so, the man introduced himself as Dr. Loomis. Jamie was just thinking that he looked even less like a doctor than Dr. Hoffman when told her, in a strange, creaky voice, that her uncle was no longer at Ridgemont Sanitarium.

"Where is he?" Jamie blurted out.

"When we learned he had awoken from his comatose state, we had him transferred back to Smith's Grove Sanitarium, to be placed under my care."

Jamie asked, "Is that closer?"

That got a raised eyebrow from the doctor. "Is there a reason you are asking that?" he asked hoarsely.

Jamie looked down at her hands. After a moment of silence, this new doctor pulled out a sheet of paper. "Before he transferred him back to Smith's Grove, Dr. Hoffman informed me that you had been on the verge of signing this, waiving all visitation rights to Michael." He had a pen in hand, and placed that and the paper on the coffee table, pushing it towards Jamie.

Jamie only stared at it, squeezing her fingers. Another second of silence passed before Dr. Loomis glanced around at the Carruthers. "May I speak to Jamie alone?" he asked, his voice barely able to go above a whisper.

The family looked at one another, then trooped out of the room, Sundae following.

Dr. Loomis finally let himself sit on an armchair, only a couple feet across from Jamie on the sofa. His body collapsed heavily on the cushions, the man himself letting out a deep sigh. When he spoke, he was still raspy, like he had something in his throat he needed to cough out, yet he sounded stronger, more sure.

"Your foster parents have been talking to me about your… unique situation, Jamie." Jamie looked up at the man, at the scars surrounding his tired eyes. "They tell me that you have been visiting your uncle for several months now, that you have developed an… attachment to him."

Jamie said nothing, just laced her fingers together.

The doctor watched her for a moment, before leaning towards her. Even that movement looked like it pained him. "Do you know what it is your uncle did, on Halloween night?"

A second of thought as Jamie chewed on her lip, before saying, "He went after my Mommy?"

"Did she tell you that?"

Jamie nodded.

"And was that all she said?"

She hesitated before nodding again – something about the phrase, "was that all", had her stomach quailing.

Dr. Loomis gave a heavy sigh. "Your mother was trying to spare you the truth. But I will not do that, no matter how hard it may be to hear."

And so he began to speak. He told her about how her uncle, when he was younger even than she was, had murdered his older sister on Halloween night. He told her how he had then broken out, exactly fifteen years later, to track down his younger sister – Jamie's Mommy – and killed her friends as well as a dozen other nurses, doctors, and policemen, all to get to her. He told her too exactly how they had died – stabbed, strangled, forced into boiling water, drained of blood or pierced with needles. He told her how he and her Mommy had finally blown up part of the hospital trying to stop him, how he had risked his life doing so, only for her uncle to survive anyway.

When he was done, Jamie could only sit in silence, her head filled with the terrible images of all the people who had died at her uncle's hands, all to get to her Mommy, all because her uncle… why? Because he hated Mommy that much? Because he enjoyed killing? Because he did not feel anything?

Now she knew, really knew, why Mommy cried to herself at night; why the kids at school avoided her; why the Carruthers had not wanted her to go, why they stared at her strangely when she kept asking anyway. Why she had nightmares.

"Jamie." Dr. Loomis's rasping voice broke into her thoughts. "I need you to know that I am not telling you this to frighten you, though you very much ought to be. I am telling you this because I want to ask that you not visit this man again."

Jamie just looked at him, feeling very far away from everything, feeling like she was her uncle as he murdered his sister, her Mommy as she fought off her brother.

"Michael Myers broke out and murdered sixteen people just to get to his younger sister. I cannot explain why he does what he does, but he has an… obsession, with those of his bloodline. You are his niece, Jamie, and by letting him know that you exist, you are putting yourself, and those close to you, in very grave danger." He leaned forward on his cane. "I nearly gave my life protecting your mother ten years ago. I do not want to see another massacre happen again. Please, tell me that you will not see this man again. Do not let his obsession with you deepen."

She looked at this strange, serious, tired man with the scars so much like her uncle's. So much was reeling through her mind – her uncle in his bed, her Aunt Judith butchered as a teenager, her uncle's hand gripping hers, Mommy shooting at her uncle and then setting him on fire, her uncle gazing at her through the glass. She had not thought he was trying to hurt her, yet he had tried to kill everyone else he had ever encountered. Had he been holding her hand or grabbing her so that he might strike? Grasping it because he did not want her to let go, or making sure she did not escape? Had him approaching her truly been just to be close to her, or would he have grabbed her, put his hands around her throat, broken her bones and limbs and torn her little body apart…

Jamie shook herself from those dark thoughts. "Would he really have hurt me?" she whispered. "What if he just wanted to find Mommy to…" be with her, said her mind, while her mouth said, "…not hurt her?"

Dr. Loomis gripped his cane. "Your mother was sent to the hospital with bruises around her neck where he had strangled her, a fractured ankle from when he hurled her down a staircase, and a cut in her arm where he had tried to stab her. Jamie, you must believe me when I say that his intentions were not good."

And Jamie knew he was speaking the truth, for she had seen her Mommy's arm and the scar once, when she was very young. She still remembered pointing to it and asking her Mommy where she had gotten that funny bump, only to see her mother's face twitch with pain before she dashed off to the bathroom. She had not asked again.

"Please, Jamie, promise me that you will not go to Michael again." He was gazing at her through those weary eyes, the scars puckered around his skin. "You are too young to be burdened with this, I know. But I know that had your parents been alive, they would not want you to see him. Your mother would have done everything she could to protect you from him. Do not go running into his arms."

Jamie bit her lip, thinking of her Mommy with her scar, her Daddy with his arms around her Mommy as he tucked Jamie's hand against his side. Of Uncle, grabbing her hand, approaching her even as guards shouted at him.

She nodded, and Dr. Loomis sighed.

"Good, Jamie. That's good." He reached over and patted her hand. The scars brushed roughly against her skin. "I will let your foster family know. And I will do everything in my power to keep Michael Myers locked up until the day he dies."

He heaved himself to his feet, leaning more heavily on the cane than ever, while Jamie stared out the window, wishing once again that her Mommy and Daddy would come walking up the steps to tell her what to do.

Chapter Text

She does not visit her uncle.

In some ways it was easy to forget him, especially as the school year went on. They had a new teacher who had moved all the way from some city in another state and who had never heard of Michael Myers. When someone told her, she just shrugged and talked about how she used to see murderers and muggers every other day where she came from. Jamie might have loved her for that, if she had been her teacher last year. Kyle had also moved, and all his friends were split into different classes, so without him, the taunting that Jamie had experienced last year was much less.

The Carruthers welcomed her decision and did their best to make her a part of the family again. Darlene would call her down from her room for meals. Richard took her to the nearby store to pick out some new clothes – she was growing out of her old ones – and a couple of plush toys. Rachel would take her to the park or the library or the movies, drag her around to hang out with her friends or take her on play dates with her new boyfriend, Brady.

(What if her uncle had been there? What would he have done with her?)

Every couple of weekends, the entire family would coax her into going someplace, a zoo, a theme park, a museum. (Jamie tried not to notice that it was on days where she would have gone to visit her uncle.) Rachel would pick her up to get a treat after school, Darlene would cook her favorite meals, and Richard would help her with homework. (Jamie tried not to imagine what her uncle was doing, what he was eating, when he slept.) She played in the backyard with Sundae. (Did her uncle like dogs? What would he have done, had he been able to approach her?) At night she slept without dreams, pooped from the activities of the day.

(What would it be like, to have been with her uncle?)

The summer heat turned gently to autumn coolness; the leaves changed their colors from bright greens to dark reds and oranges and yellows. Jamie went to school and back; played in the park and came home; went with the Carruthers on their weekly trips and returned to sit at her window with Pop-Pop, watching the driveway for someone to come up to the door. But nobody came, and nobody called.

(What was her uncle thinking, what was he feeling, with her not coming as expected?)

She did her chores and did not talk of visiting, just like the Carruthers wanted her to do. She arranged her dolls and cuddled with them and talked to them, just like Darlene expected her to. She went to school and did all her homework perfectly and turned it in, like Richard said she should. She raised her hand and answered questions and played with the other kids at recess, like her teacher thought she should. She looked at picture books and watched kid's movies and television shows and played on the children's playsets in the park, like Rachel kept telling her to do.

(What would her uncle do, when she did not come as she had before?)

The visiting day came and went. Jamie spent it in her room, stomach knotted like someone had taken a rope to it and tied it up tight. She did not look out the window and she did not jump when she heard a call. (It was Richard's office, telling him he had a meeting coming up.)

Nothing happened. But the knot did not go away.

Before she knew it, the month had almost passed, and Haddonfield was truly entering fall. The nights were cooler than before, "sweater weather", Darlene said as she pushed a new pink jacket over Jamie's coveralls. The leaves had stopped turning colors and begun littering the ground, blowing around Jamie's sneakers and over the brown lawns. Stores were putting out their newest, scariest costumes on display and selling candy on sale. Rachel pointed it out now and then, trying to encourage Jamie to join in.

The knot was still there too. But it was getting easier to ignore as she tried to stay focused on keeping up with her homework, on making friends, on doing what the Carruthers wanted her to do. She could almost pretend she had not noticed that visiting day had come and gone. Could pretend she did not think about Uncle while curled up with Pop-Pop and Sundae. She could pretend that she had stopped thinking about him, that she could rest without dreams of hospital hallways and bandaged figures or alarms sounding and a shape advancing on her. She could even think about getting a costume for the first time, tentatively telling Rachel that maybe, this year, she would go trick-or-treating. Rachel's response was to hug her and whisper that of course they could, and then to take her out first thing that afternoon, pulling out the coolest clown costume and mask Jamie had ever seen.

She could almost forget, until the phone call came.

Jamie was up in her room when she heard Richard's bellow.

"What do you mean, he's out? How could he be out?!"

There was a babble of voices, sounding a lot like Darlene and Rachel's arguing together, and then the next few sentences were muted, muffled. Jamie set Pop-Pop down and crept to the top of the stairs, glad for her pajamas and how they softened her footsteps.

"-said he was quiet, promised us he would be under constant restraint and sedatives. You said you would do everything to keep him locked up!" A pause. "Don't you think that's the first thing on our mind? She's already asked to go trick-or-treating! What the hell do we tell her?!"

Someone, probably Darlene, murmured something that sounded like, "-can't tell her, Richard! She's only just begun to recover from those… visits we had to do. At best, she'll be terrified, at worst-"

"Yes, I know," hissed Richard, voice quieter. Then, in his previous upraised tone, "I suppose you have a plan? Some way to catch him? Halloween is only a few days away and – god damn, it's going to be ten years. Ten years exactly. He's been planning this, hasn't he? Ever since Jamie-" Another pause. "That's it?! That's your idea? And Jamie? Does she figure into any part of this brilliant plan of yours?"

There was a much longer silence, and Jamie strained closer to hear.

"Well, you've been a terrific help, doc," snarled Richard at last. "I'd tell you to call us, but I'm guessing you'll be in Haddonfield soon." There was a clang, which Jamie assumed was her foster father slamming the phone down.

"We're not telling her?" Jamie heard Rachel say immediately.

"What would we say if we do?" asked Darlene tiredly. "You remember how she was. The way she acted around that… that monster."

"But if she doesn't know, how do we keep her safe? What about Halloween?"

"Halloween is cancelled," said Richard brusquely. "At least, that's what the doctor predicts will happen, once he tells the sheriff. Meeker's a good man, he'll do what's necessary. And even if he doesn't, do you think there's any way we're letting Jamie outside, at night, with him wandering loose?"

She heard Rachel sigh. "She was so looking forward to trick-or-treating, Dad."

"She won't be after this. God." There was a crack, like someone had slapped their hand on a wooden surface. Darlene hissed something indistinct. When Richard spoke again, he sounded calmer. "All right. Here's what we do. Jamie still has school, but Rachel, I want you to drop her off and pick her up every day from now on. Make sure she gets inside that building before you leave, and I want you there on the dot soon as that bell rings. Once gets home, she doesn't leave. None of us will."

A beat of silence. "Guess I'll have to cancel that date with Brady."

"Well, your mother and I won't be going to that meeting we had planned, either. It's our job to keep that little girl safe, and if we have to make sacrifices, so be it. And none of this gets back to Jamie. Far as she knows – far as the truth will be, most like – there's no Halloween at all. Just a regular night."

"Yeah, yeah, I get it Dad."

Jamie had heard enough at that point. Turning around, she crept back up to her room, where she settled at her window. She tried to cuddle Pop-Pop, but for once, his soft, squishy body did not allay her unease, and she shoved him against her bed pillows.

Uncle was out. And he was coming for her.

The days passed slowly, full of tension and short, sharp silences. The Carruthers walked as if they were on hot coals, a conspiracy of whispers and quick glances at each other. The clattering of dishes and utensils at meals was too loud, the drive back and forth from school full of watching eyes and wary looks. Jamie spotted police patrolling streets and outside buildings; the teachers were all out during recess, scolding kids if they wandered so much as a foot away from the playground. Decorations were being taken down, costumes pulled from their racks, candy disappearing from shelves.

"My mommy says I can't go out on Halloween tonight."

"My daddy said that too! He said nobody is going out, not even for trick-or-treating!"

"My mommy took away my costume."

"You're just like Jamie, she never wears a costume on Halloween!"

"It's Jamie's fault we can't go out!"

"Her uncle's the boogeyman!"

"Her uncle got out and now he's coming after all of us!"

"He's coming after her!"

"The boogeyman's gonna get you, Jamie!"

It can't hurt me. Jamie wiped her eyes as she hid inside the stall of a bathroom. It's not like that. He's not like that. They're just stupid kids who don't know anything!

She shoved open the door, washing her hands frantically. It isn't my fault.

But did she really believe that?

Her face was clear by the time she got into the car with Rachel, who was waiting outside the school, right on the dot, just like Darlene had told her to be.

"Hey Jamie, did you want to get ice cream? Vanilla, chocolate fudge, sprinkles…" Jamie turned away, and Rachel let the words trail off, her hands clutching the wheel tight enough to make her wrist bones just from her flesh. There was a long beat of silence as they traveled up the familiar roads, before Rachel said, "You heard the phone call, didn't you?"

Jamie tried to focus on the floor of the car. There was something sticky at the bottom; Darlene was always telling Rachel to clean the car more.

"Jamie, everything is going to be okay, do you hear me? We're not going to let him get you."

She twiddled with the strap on her backpack, not sure herself whether her uncle was coming to "get her" at all. Hadn't she stopped visiting, just like that strange doctor had asked? The ever-present knot in her stomach grew as she tried to envision her uncle's thoughts. Maybe he didn't care about her at all, now that she was no longer going there. Or maybe he was mad she had stopped. If she had only had one visitor and they stopped coming, she'd be angry at them too. Maybe he really was coming to hurt her. But maybe it wasn't any of those; maybe he had escaped to… to…

To what? What did she think he was going to do?

What she did she want him to do?

She said nothing to Rachel as they parked along the street. Her foster sister made her stay in the car until she had come out and looked all around the street for strangers, then held her hand the entire way into the house, scooting past another car that had decided to park in their usual spot. They let Sundae in from the backyard where he stayed when nobody was at home, and he barked and wove around their legs as the two settled in for the afternoon, turning on the television to watch some of Jamie's favorite shows before she started on her homework. She noticed Rachel kept standing up and pacing and glancing out the windows, and looked very relieved when her parents finally pulled up the driveway.

Night seemed to fall with startling quickness. Darlene and Rachel did not let Jamie leave the room without one of them following her; Richard bolted all the doors and windows and shut the curtains as soon as the sun had set. They kept the television on loud, like it would make things feel more normal if they did.

"Anything strange, Rachel? Out of the ordinary?"

"Nothing, Dad, you know I'd tell you if there was."

"I don't like this, Richard. It just feels like we're waiting for something to happen when we should be doing something about it. We should've taken the sheriff's advice and gone to the station…"

"They have the entire force searching the streets for him, we'd have almost no protection there either…"

They continued in low whispers as Jamie pretended to be engrossed in the news, pretended not to hear them. Then the newscaster started talking about "infamous escaped mental patient-" and Darlene rushed over and announced it was time for bed.

Jamie washed up, patting dry her damp hair, and changed into her warmest pair of pajamas. Rachel and Darlene led the way into her room, creaking open the door. The window was still closed, as she had left it before she'd gone to school. Her bed was perfectly made, all her dolls and plush toys lined up on her pillow, at the window, or along the shelves.

Darlene let out a breath that Jamie wasn't sure she was meant to hear. "It's almost over."

"Yeah, Mom. We got through it. We're all okay." Rachel's hand rested on Jamie's head as she turned her around. "Sleep tight kiddo. You call me if you have any bad dreams, okay?"

Jamie nodded and did not mention that she no longer had nightmares, not anymore. They tucked her into bed and Darlene kissed her goodnight while promising pancakes for breakfast, and Jamie snuggled into her bed covers and prepared to let sleep wash away the last hours of Halloween night.

Thump.

Halfway into falling to sleep, Jamie opened her eyes. The sound had come from her closet. She lay absolutely still, barely breathing, straining her ears for the sound.

There was nothing.

Gradually, her fear abated. It was just the house creaking – "going to bed with us," was what Daddy liked to say whenever she heard an odd creak in the middle of the night. Nothing to worry about at all. Pressing her face back into the pillow, she curled into her warm covers and began to drift off once more.

Thump.

Her eyes snapped open, all sleepiness gone. It was the same sound, from the same location, and within just a few moments of the first. She could not have imagined that.

"Sundae?" she called tentatively, but she knew it was not the Carruthers' dog, who she had last seen trotting loyally after Rachel. Nor would Sundae have settled for thumping twice and then waiting. Again she waited, holding her breath.

Again, nothing.

Just more house noises, Jamie told herself. She tried to relax, to close her eyes.

Thump.

Jamie's breath caught in her throat.

Thump.

Slowly, she pushed aside her covers and sat up, staring at her closet. The darkness made all the details and edges of the room fuzzy, but she could see the outline of the door, closed just the way she liked it.

She slid off her bed quietly and padded over to the other end of her room. The large wooden door of the closet loomed over her in the darkness. Jamie hesitated a moment, building up her courage, then grabbed hold of the handle and pulled it open.

The closet was a black hole in her room, its inner regions sucking in all light. Jamie looked around, blinking rapidly in an attempt to adjust to the darkness. There was enough light filtering in from the rest of her room to illuminate the closet floor, including the patch currently occupied by Pop-Pop the doll.

He had fallen from his place on the shelf. Had that been the sound? She tried to tell herself it was, while also trying not to remember that she had heard four noises. She scooped up the doll and put it back in its usual spot, watching to make sure it did not move. She rubbed her eyes as she began to turn, feeling sleepiness wash over her. Maybe it was all just part of a funny dream.

The door slammed shut in her face.

A second later, something shoved itself over Jamie's mouth.

Jamie screamed, but was muffled by the rough thing covering half her face. She felt it squeeze tighter around her jaw, and she realized what it was – a hand! There was a hand – there was a person in her closet! She thrashed about, trying to grab at the restricting arm, only to feel the person's other arm wrap itself around her entire body, then shove her against the wall hard enough to make it thud. Spots danced across her eyes, her entire spine felt bruised, and she was still trying to shriek out her fear when she bit down. But the hand twisted so that she could not reach any flesh. Jamie struggled in his grip, gasping for air, the dirty, musty smell of his hand suffocating her.

The pressure came off her body for just one moment. There was a click, and the closet light came on, the bulb swinging wildly in the commotion and flinging shadows along the toys, the clothes, the walls of the tiny space. Jamie looked up and saw a pale-faced man wearing a dark uniform, head only inches from her own, using one arm to keep her quiet, the other to press her against the wall.

Jamie really tried to scream this time. The boogeyman! The nightmare man was here, and he was going to hurt her, he was going to kidnap her, he was going to skin her and eat her flesh and break her bones –

The arm loosened its weight on her. Still with his hand over her mouth, the figure – who was half bent over to reach her – scooted nearer. Jamie tried to squirm back, her whimpering muffled by his hand, hoping uselessly that she could wear away at the wall until she fell back into her room – that she could run for Darlene and Richard and Rachel to save her –

The man released his hold on her body, and kneeled down fully to her level.

Jamie was so surprised that she temporarily stopped trying to struggle. The man's right hand was still over her mouth, but his left was reaching, scrabbling behind himself for something – and Jamie, eyes widening, noticed that it was a very familiar hand, with scars she had seen several times before…

As the light settled, Jamie saw the man drag something from out of the shadows: her memory box.

She went very still and quiet as the pale-faced man – the pale-masked man, she realized, as the light finally stopped swinging and she could see the rubbery texture of his "face" – opened the box. Her heart was thumping, not sure if she was imagining all this, if she was dreaming, if she had been thinking of him so hard that she had conjured him up like magic. But his bumpy, mottled hand – and yes, it was those exact same scars she had seen only a couple months before – brushed through the photos, surprisingly gracefully considering he was using one hand, before pulling out one she had glanced at several times before, only to push away because of the bad thoughts it would bring…

The photo of a young boy in a clown costume.

Her uncle.

What last doubts had lingered in her mind, disappeared.

The man – her uncle – kept holding the photo up to her face, as if unsure if she was making the connection. But Jamie had; she had known this would happen, deep down, had been wishing and hoping… She tugged on the hand, trying to pull it down. Slowly, almost reluctantly, the man did, that pale blank of a face fastened on hers as if waiting for her to scream again. But Jamie only peered up into the eye holes, though she could see nothing in the darkness behind the mask.

"Uncle?" she whispered.

The scarred hand fell, the photo dropping to the floor. Both arms dropped, the man's entire body slumping as if in relief. It made her feel less scared, even as he kept staring at her, made her feel brave enough to scoot forward, away from where she had been squirming against the wall. With every tentative step, she kept her eyes fixed on the white mask, but still she could not see anything behind it, the mask almost as good at hiding his face as the bandages…

She reached for the flap of mask. "Can I see?" she asked. Quiet as it was, her voice seemed to echo in the tiny closet.

Her uncle jerked back just as her fingers brushed the rubber, whether at her words or her unexpected nearness, she wasn't sure. But she planted her feet right there and just looked at him with all the determination she could muster when standing in a closet, in her fluffiest pink pajamas, with her uncle who had broken out of a mental hospital to find her.

For what felt like quite a long time, there was no response from her uncle. But Jamie could feel something, perhaps his eyes raking over her face, trying to figure out how serious she was.

"Please?" she said at last.

Her uncle's body was tense, the entire line of his shoulders tight – but then he reached up, his scarred hands grabbing at the flaps. Slowly he lifted the edges and tugged the white face of the mask off. Still staring at Jamie, he let it fall to his lap, never taking his eyes off her, daring her to react.

Jamie just stared. Oh, it was bad, the light illuminating everything and throwing dark shadows from every ridge and bump, worse than anything she had seen on his hands and arms… but she was not staring because of that. She was looking, looking for what she had hoped to see all this time, if her uncle matched up at all to what she had imagined. And as her own gaze roved over his – her uncle's unmoving, fixed on her own, rapt expression – she knew that it was not at all like in her head… yet also exactly like it.

He looked a bit like her Daddy. And a bit like her Mommy. But most of all…

"You look like me," she said in wonder.

The tense line of her uncle's body seemed to soften, then sag. The mask dropped off his lap as his hands went limp at his sides, falling to the floor, as Jamie continued to stare at him, shuffling forward on her socked feet, one hand reaching out to feel those strange looking scars.

Perhaps she came too close; perhaps her uncle had felt he risked enough letting her see. For as she drew nearer, he pulled back, grabbing the mask and pushing it over his face again. Jamie stopped in mild disappointment, but the knot that had taken up home in her body was gone. Her uncle was here, and he had not hurt her. She was right, and she had seen what he looked like at last.

Like her parents. Like herself.

Like family.

Uncle got to his feet, once again towering over her, and Jamie had to crane her head up at him, but she was no longer afraid, not after seeing him like this. He bent, hunkering down to her level, and his arms came up like he was going to hug her – then stopped, hands hovering in midair just around her body. She could feel his puzzled gaze on her, and realized that he was asking for something, looking for her permission.

Jamie hesitated as an inkling of what he was trying to do passed through her mind. She pressed forward, slowly, watching his every movement, and carefully tucked her arms around his neck.

She had guessed right. He encircled her body and tightened his own hold on her, and she snuggled her head against his shoulder – then almost yelped when he swung her up, settling her against him. Only then did she know, truly know, why he had come, what he wanted with her.

For a second she thought of the Carruthers, of her foster parents' kindness and acceptance. She thought of Sundae, with his playfulness and loyalty. She thought of Rachel, most of all, Rachel who had helped her and loved her and taken her side every time.

But then she felt her uncle's arms squeeze her body, clumsy but reassuring, and she let her head drop against his shoulder once more. Her forehead rested against the rubber of his mask, its chemical smell tickling her nostrils and mixing rather badly with the oily scent of his uniform. Whoever he was, whatever he had done, this was her uncle. And with him holding her like this and her head pillowed against his neck, she felt a wave of tiredness start to overcome her. She felt him adjust his grip on her. A hand, still tentative but with a little more assurance, rested itself in her long hair. As she curled herself into him and closed her eyes, she found herself thinking of Daddy.

There was a creak as her uncle opened the closet door. The light from the bulb filtered out into her bedroom, a large shaft of whiteness that burned against her eyelids. She pressed her face into her uncle's shoulder until it had faded as Uncle left the room. Without looking around, he passed by her bed, then walked out of her room, still without a break in his movement, down the stairs, and then out the front door, Jamie clasped firmly in his arms.

The following was found in the room of Dr. Samuel Loomis, deceased:

KIDNAPPING BAFFLES TOWN AND POLICE

November 2, 1988

Haddonfield, Ill. The disappearance of an eight year old girl on Halloween night has thrown the town and the Haddonfield Police Department into shock.

The child, whose name has not been released, was living with Darlene and Richard Carruthers when she disappeared from her bedroom sometime between the hours of October 31 st and November 1 st . The entire police force has been sent out in search of the child, the circumstances of whose disappearance has puzzled investigators.

" As far as we can tell, there was no sign of a struggle, no sign of a break-in," said Sheriff Ben Meeker. "The Carruthers put the girl to bed, and when they woke up, she was gone. It was like the kidnapper just walked out the door with her."

The investigation is currently ongoing…

POLICE CONNECT KIDNAPPING TO MYERS ESCAPE

November 7, 1988

Haddonfield, Ill. The Haddonfield Police Department has made a possible breakthrough in what is now being referred to as "the Halloween kidnapping" of a young girl, now revealed to be eight year old Jamie Lloyd.

Local storeowner Howard Elrod reported to Haddonfield Police that his store had been robbed sometime during the morning of October 31 st , noting the disappearance of a knife and Halloween mask. The police have now determined that the mask is a near-duplicate of one worn by infamous Haddonfield murderer, Michael Myers, who was reported to have escaped from Smith's Grove Sanitarium on October 30 th . Myers had previously been held at Ridgemont Sanitarium for the last ten years.

Jamie Lloyd has also been identified as Myers's own niece. Myers was first incarcerated at the age of six for murdering his seventeen-year-old sister. His escape fifteen years later on Halloween 1978 witnessed him murdering or attempting to murder at least sixteen others, including his younger sister.

Sheriff Ben Meeker reported, "Because of these connections, I feel it's safe to say that Myers is the most likely perpetrator of the kidnapping of Jamie Lloyd."

Meeker has placed a seven PM curfew on the town until Myers is captured. He has called for residents to be on the lookout for suspicious activity, but urges them to leave the matter to the police.

" Myers is dangerous, and I shudder to think what he is doing to his niece. I cannot stress enough that this is a matter for the police department to handle, and that civilians are not to engage in heroics, no matter what they see."

BREAK-IN AT LOCAL STORE

January 30, 1989

Haddonfield, Ill. The local convenience store reported a robbery late last night.

Mr. Raymond Nickels, of the Nickels Convenience Store, was managing the counter around 11 PM on January 29 th when "a weird man" entered his store and knocked him unconscious. Nickels did not manage to get a clear look at the man before being knocked out.

While the man did not steal any of the money in the register, Nickels reported that he did make off with several large quantities of food, including packs of soda, frozen dinners, chips, and candy. Video footage has so far been inconclusive, showing an indistinct figure with blurred facial features.

Police are asking residents to report anything they know about this case.

VACATION CABIN MYSTERY

May 4, 1989

Haddonfield, Ill. An out-of-town couple has issued a complaint regarding their residence.

Mr. and Mrs. Baxter, of Langdon, Illinois, are the owners of a small cabin in a forested area within the town borders of Haddonfield. The couple typically use the cabin in the spring and summer months, leaving the rest of its upkeep to a paid groundskeeper. On arrival to their cabin in the afternoon of May 1 st , the couple were greeted with a shocking sight.

" Well, let's just say someone has clearly been living in our vacation home!" Mrs. Mixter said to reporters. "There was trash on the floor, the bed was unmade, dishes everywhere on the counters, the sink, the table, items flung about – some of it not even ours! My husband and I do not have children, so we certainly would not have a girl's pajamas or a dirty toy lying about!"

The gamekeeper could not be reached for comment.

POSSIBLE MYERS SIGHTING?

October 29, 1989

Haddonfield, Ill. Police are renewing their search for the missing Jamie Lloyd after a local resident reported a possible glimpse of the child and her kidnapper.

Jamie Lloyd was kidnapped from her home a year ago. Police determined that the most likely suspect was the child's own uncle, serial killer Michael Myers, who has remained at large since his escape last Halloween. Neither had been sighted since Lloyd's disappearance despite a month-long search by the police department.

Lydia Martin had rented out a nearby cabin on the outskirts of town, where she claims to have encountered a young girl and an adult male. The girl, who Martin described as being petite, pale-skinned, and with long, dark hair, matches the description of Jamie Lloyd.

" It was bizarre," stated Martin. "I almost thought I'd walked into the wrong house at first. The little girl was just sitting on the sofa, swinging her legs. The place was kind of a mess; I remember seeing some children's clothes piled in one corner, and trash in another. She seemed so out-of-place. The TV was on and she was watching something, a kid's cartoon or whatever, and she had some food in front of her and was cuddling this… I think it was a teddy bear? Some toy."

Martin reported that the girl was surprised at Martin's appearance but appeared unafraid, and claimed to have been living at the cabin for "a while." Martin noted that the only time the child showed any sign of fear was when she asked where the girl's parents were, at which point the girl became "weirdly still."

" I was about ready to call the police, because you know, there's this girl just camping out here with no adults in sight, when I heard this noise. There's these stairs straight up to the second floor, and the noise was coming from there, so I looked and there was this man standing at the top of the stairs, wearing this mask. And I remember wondering why it was so familiar, but then I realized it was the mask Michael Myers wore!"

Martin went on to say, "He started coming down the stairs, and I think was trying to see if the girl was taking off too, but she wasn't. That was the scariest thing of all – she was just perched over the sofa, watching, and I think I heard her say something to the man, but I wasn't going to stick around any longer with Myers in there!"

Police have been alerted and have doubled their search of the nearby area. By the time they arrived, both Myers and little Jamie Lloyd had disappeared. Subsequent investigation of the cabin revealed a broken lock and indications of long-term squatting in the cabin. They are asking residents to leave the area, and if they insist on staying, to keep their doors and windows locked and to observe the curfew, which has been renewed in light of the upcoming holiday.

When asked if there was anything else notable, Martin said the following: "It was the girl, really. Just the way she was. I don't think she was scared of Myers at all. I went home and read all about the kidnapping and what Myers did, but the way that girl, Jamie Lloyd looked – she didn't seem like she was abused or hungry or anything. She seemed perfectly healthy. And she looked… happy. That was the funniest thing. She looked happy."

" The colors of light are infinite through refraction, yet they all come from the same source. Thus I cannot detach myself from the wickedest soul, nor fail to identify with the most virtuous." – Dalai Lama XIV

END