The Smashwords promo ends on July 31st, so get in there now. You don’t have to just get my books; many authors are discounting their titles for the rest of July.
If you don’t have a Smashwords account, it is completely free to make, and many books are always free for download, while most of the rest are reasonably priced, so now is the best time to take advantage of Smashwords.
Anyway, back to Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction….
I must admit that while writing this, I ended up keeping Michael as a boy for far longer than I had intended. I also believe this little, horror, fanfiction is going to be a bit longer than I had presumed. Unfortunately, I’m having to divide my time between the Halloween fanfiction, touching up War and Glory, Lokians 3, and setting up The Dragon of Time 3, Dragons Falling (Working title).
There is also another book I’ve finished writing and will probably release that one around Turkey Day, but enough BS. Here’s the fourth chapter of Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction….
It had taken two days to get everything under control after Michael and the kids killed Marla, the orderly. Loomis had sent his reports to Lt. Reichstag in the meantime, and when she showed up, she demanded Loomis to show her the boy.
Michael found himself inside one of the rooms with the paper covered bed; the rooms that always had a man in a white coat. He sat on it, crinkling the paper in both hands. There was always an odd smell in the room, something light that made the insides of his nose feel funny.
Disregarding any kind of ordnance, Reichstag, a tall, blonde woman dressed in a black uniform with colorful ribbons, pulled a cigarette from a pack, placed it between her lips, and lit it. She took a long inhalation before blowing out a cloud of smoke. The scent quickly assaulted the boy’s palate; Loomis glanced at her with a wince.
“Separate him from the rest,” Reichstag ordered.
“You want him in B block?”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” the doctor shook his head when he spoke. Reichstag glared at him. “I have to tell you, he can’t grow up to follow complex orders. He’s not the kind of patient for A block.”
“Leave that to me and Ushiro,” Reichstag was indifferent. “You just make sure he starts getting the proper dosage.”
“He’s too young! Most of A block have already gone through puberty. You remember what happened with Jones. You want a repeat of that?”
Reichstag shoved Loomis by the shoulder, her cigarette dangling from her lips. She took another drag then.
“It doesn’t make any difference. If I have to put him down, I will.”
“You don’t put anybody down,” Loomis frowned. “You have me do it….”
“Then, you’ll do it.”
With that, the woman left. Michael was still crinkling paper when Loomis pulled a stool with wheels from the corner. He sat on it and scooted closer to the boy.
Scrutinizing the gashes and bruises covering the boy, Loomis suffered a moment of doubt or remorse. There wasn’t much of an alternative; Reichstag’s superiors funded Smith’s Grove, and they had placed Loomis in charge because of his service record, and his ingenuity in the field of biology. His job was to create forms of super soldiers, but not every boy and girl was cut out for A block.
“I guess you would have gotten killed one way or another,” Loomis sighed. “Still, B block would have been better; all they do is charge and shoot whatever’s in front of their eyes…but A block…they require precise cognition, forethought, planning. You don’t understand any of that, do you?”
Michael started nodding the way Ushiro had taught him, but Loomis knew it was just an action; he had been trained to nod after a question. Loomis looked to the counter behind him. There was a jar of cotton balls; he took one and placed it in the boy’s hand. He rubbed his face with it. Loomis shook his head in dismay.
Months went by. Michael was relocated to a very bright room. There was a single, padded bed, but there was no space to move around. There were no other children in the room either, but he did have his very own cotton ball.
Every time the lights went out, he went to sleep. When the lights came back on, someone slid a tray of food through a sliding transom. After he ate, Loomis came in to give him a shot, and then he was led through the hallway with a few other kids; most of them were big. None of them ever made eye contact.
Finally, they were herded into a very spacious room. The lights were way overhead. The room had all kids of strange things; there were big, black, rubber tires, there were heavy, round, metal plates, big, red bags. There was even a big square that had stairs and ropes around it. Kids fought each other on it.
Every day, after Ushiro forced them to run drills, he made them fight. Sometimes, something soft was placed over Michael’s eyes; the first time it happened, he just stood there, but someone kept shocking him with the prod and yelling to move—it made sense; if he moved, he didn’t get prodded until he wound up in a spot where he couldn’t move anymore because there was something hard and smooth. Then, he got zapped again. Other times, there were blocky things, which he had to crawl over or climb onto, but after a while, Michael learned how to move without being shocked at all.
By honing his other senses, the boy quickly memorized Ushiro’s maze. One time, he even smelled Reichstag’s cigarette, and he heard her voice; she was there, speaking to Ushiro.
“He’s pretty good for a rug rat,” she said.
“Yeah, but the bigger kids still whip his ass in the ring. He’s got guts, and I don’t think he feels pain, but he sure as Hell hates the prod. Fortunately, he’s learned to stop trying to take it from me, and at the end of it all, he’s just happy to get back to his room and diddle his face with cotton.”
Reichstag laughed. “Loomis says he’s responding to the drugs, too.”
“Yeah, he must’ve already grown two inches and packed on some muscle, but I have to admit…I think Loomis might’ve been right….”
“About?” Reichstag sounded angry.
“I just can’t imagine you’ll be able to give this kid a target and expect him to deduce the best methods for hunting it down; he’s a killer, sure, and he can easily move through this maze, but what if I change it? He’ll have to memorize its layout all over again; he can’t improvise.”
“That’s really not my problem.”
Thanks for reading Michael Myers, a Halloween fanfiction Ch 4.
There’s still a long way to go, and I have a few more chapters written out. If anyone has any comments or suggestions, please let me know. Thanks again. Like, share, all that!