A Nightmare Unleashed

BASED UPON CHARACTERS CREATED BY:

Wes Craven: A Nightmare on Elm Street

Victor Miller: Friday the 13th

Sam Raimi: The Evil Dead

John Carpenter: Halloween

Clive Barker: Hellraiser

EDITED BY:

Miriam Belle

CREATIVE CONSULTANTS:

Tessa Alexander, Sean Renaud & Simply_Cyn

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

"There's no sex in this chapter, really. Just forewarning you..."

***

A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL

Dark Hollow, Michigan

Sunday, August 15th 2005

Lori Rollins stood alone in the spacious reception area of the Jade Dragon. Several waiters and guests had passed her by, though she couldn't fault of any of the restaurant's staff for having overlooked her. She purposefully remained still behind one of the huge fan shaped plants near the glass double doors, leaning against the elegant emerald green and gold wallpaper. Her eyes watched with a tired and almost haggard weariness. No one had to ask if she wanted to be here.

She didn't.

It had only been a few months since she had left the smoldering remains of Springwood, Ohio behind her. She had lost a lot in that town, more than most people could ever know. The evil that dwelled there had taken her mother, and then her friends, and then her father and then finally her husband. Those losses had combined to form a weight in her soul almost too heavy to bear, but it didn't compare to the burden of what she knew she had become.

Lori rubbed her eyes, her mind frantically giving her a thousand bullshit excuses to walk away and leave right then and there. She didn't want to face the evil again, whether it came in the form of Freddy Krueger's bladed glove or the bloody machete of Jason Voorhees. She wanted to forget and move on, to leave the faces of those dead buried in the past. There were so many of them, and most of them she knew. Most of them she loved.

"Jesus, what I am doing here?" she whispered, hugging her arms to her body. Her simple black business suit felt too tight and hot against her. She could feel cool sweat on her forehead despite the fact that her soul was heating her body like an inferno trapped inside a metal and concrete basement. She could feel her hands shaking even as she grasped her arms to steady them.

Fear. It was what gave the monsters of the world beyond the living their power. Fear was the fuel to the fires in which they flourished and burned. Lori knew better than to give in to her fear, and yet she couldn't shake the searing cold fingers caressing her mind.

"Miss?"

Lori looked to her left and saw a lanky Asian man dressed in black slacks and a smart white shirt smiling at her. She stood up straight and forced a warm expression onto her face. "Yes?"

"Can I help you?"

"I'm here for the Loomis party."

"Oh good, they've been expecting you," he motioned his hand towards the banquet room off to the side of the kitchen, "They've been here for some time now."

Lori followed the waiter past the general dining areas, the thinly veiled haze of eastern incense trying to soothe her mind. She took a deep breath and ran a hand through her thick blonde hair. She had cut it short since the last time she had seen Doctor Loomis, shortening her mid-back locks to just shy of the nape of her neck. It was one of the many small changes she had effected to try and remove herself from her life before the Friday the 13th last May, before she had faced Freddy Krueger again.

The waiter, whose very un-Asian name was Robert, opened the doors to the private room and Lori stepped inside. She smiled her appreciation to Robert and faced the members of her party. The doors closed heavily behind her, probably much louder than they actually did. To Lori, they sounded like the heavy, ancient oak doors of a medieval horror chamber rumbling shut and locking off with some kind of bulky latch. She felt herself recoil from the sound and again found herself feeling both silly and scared out of her mind.

The eyes of curious people gazed her over as she stood there, expectant and even anxious about her. She smiled and walked to the empty chair beside Dr. Loomis at the end of the table. Loomis looked as he had when she left him, though his beard was trimmed to close-kept goatee and his fringe of gray-sprinkled hair buzzed short. He looked younger and rather dashing in his trademark charcoal suit.

"Lori," the doctor stood up and pulled out her chair for her, "Welcome to Dark Hollow."

"Dr. Loomis," she smiled and surprised herself by embracing him. She felt a sudden lump in her throat, tight and constrictive as she held him close. The doctor patted her back, his English-accented voice as calming as ever, "It's good to see you too."

She released him from the embrace and said, "I'm sorry I wasn't in touch before now."

"We all have our duties, Lori," and he smiled reassuringly, "Considering what you've been through in the last little while here, it doesn't surprise me. Don't give it a second thought."

"Thank you," she squeezed his arm and then sat down.

"Allow me to introduce our guests," Loomis said. Three strangers sat around the table, all of them foreign and unknown to her, yet somehow familiar. The gathering at the table felt more like a ceremony to her, a certain weight and shadow cast over the regal happiness of the Jade Dragon. Loomis motioned to the strong looking black man at the other end of the cherry stained table, "This is Dr. Yaphett Parker. He's a professor of psychology at UC Davis and a former counselor at the Elm Grove Youth Shelter."

"Call me Doc," he said to Lori, his voice powerful and filled with solid, quiet authority. He was a bear of man even sitting down, not so much heavy but stocky like a father bear out of some deep woods fairy tale. Gray swept back from his temples in a smooth shade of kinky hair, his dark eyes penetrating and almost as hypnotic as Loomis's could be. The colorful knit sweater he wore over his large frame complimented the dark chocolate hue of his skin. He leaned back in the chair, his large hands clasped over his stomach and added, "Everyone does."

"A pleasure, Doc" Lori smiled.

Next to Doc sat an attractive woman with obsidian black eyes and premature lines around her beautiful features. Lori was struck by her simple yet exotic looks, but then she imagined most people were upon seeing her. Beyond her face, there was something Lori sensed both cold and eerily close to her. There was something about her that touched Lori at the base of her skull and chilled her. She looked away from her, trying not to show her discomfort.

Loomis said, "This is Dr. Maggie Burroughs. She's one of the foremost experts on sleep analysis and dream interpretation. She's also an expert on matters of the, shall we say, darker side of Springwood history."

"Dr. Burroughs," Lori smiled and considered offering her hand for a shake, but then thought better of it.

"Please, its Maggie," she corrected and held out her hand. When the two women touched their flesh together, Lori's unrest became even more pronounced. She could feel something frigid in this woman, like a frosty residue after a very cold night. It was almost as if she had shaken hands with an ice sculpture. Images of dark things and blue flames drifted before her eyes as Maggie squeezed her hand gently. Lori steeled her mind and tried to keep her expression pleasant, but her anxiety had already been revealed. Maggie frowned, "Are you alright?"

"Yes," Lori shrugged the sensation off and released the woman's hand, "I've just had a very long day. Jet lag, I guess."

Maggie nodded and sat back, though she looked none too convinced. As intuitive as Lori was, she figured Maggie Burroughs was equally attuned if not more so.

"And," Loomis motioned to the third woman sitting on the other side of Doc, "You already know Alexis Rowan."

A spark flashed in Lori's mind. Rowan was one of the doctors that came to the Springwood Power Plant after she had killed Freddy Krueger a few months back. The smell of kerosene and charred flesh filled her nose briefly, as did the screaming rage of Krueger himself. She forced him from her mind. Even thinking about him was dangerous. She said, "Of course, Dr. Rowan. Pardon my memory."

"It's okay," the petite, dark haired woman waved her off reassuringly, "Happens all the time."

"How are you?" Lori asked.

"I've been better," she replied and then sat forward, straightening out her business suit and clasping her hands together. She looked to Loomis who nodded and sat back. Whatever was happening in Dark Hollow, she had no doubt that Loomis was already neck deep in it. Lori smiled despite herself. No one could ever say that Matthew Loomis hid from danger. Had it been up to her, she never would have set foot in the middle third of the United States again.

'Then why did you come here?' her mind asked, 'Why?'

Lori couldn't explain it. There was safety in her apartment in New York. She could deal with muggers, rapists and dope heads but the thought of facing truly evil men like she had seen recently terrified her. With each passing second she wished more and more she hadn't come to this dinner.

'Did I really have any choice though?' she thought, 'Do any of us have a choice. I don't think I could have said no to Loomis anymore than Loomis could have said no to Rowan. There's something bigger at work here, and whatever it is doesn't give a fuck whether we want to go or not. I'd have to be here no matter what.'

'Because you're the Dream Master,' a soothing voice in the back of her mind whispered, 'It's your job.'

"I had been hoping for one more person to show up tonight, but I think we're all the little Indians that are left," Rowan took a drink of her water and then said evenly, "We have a problem."

"What kind of a problem?" Lori asked, though in her heart she already knew.

"As you may already know," Rowan addressed them all as Loomis sat down, "Shortly after Jason Voorhees was taken into custody this last May, an accident occurred during his transport to our Dayton facility. He escaped from several heavily armed guards and ever since then he has been on the loose across three states."

"I've been watching it on the news every night," Doc said, "Next to the war in Iraq and Springwood burning down, it's the biggest story in the nation."

"Much to everyone's dismay," Rowan agreed and continued, "The good news is people have been staying indoors so the casualties are down as much as they can be, but the bad news is Jason seems to have learned some new tricks in hiding from the authorities."

"He's avoided the law for most of his life," Maggie said and pulled a cigarette from out of her jacket pocket, "I don't find it that surprising."

"Normally, I'd agree," Rowan nodded. She then reached down beside her chair and pulled up a black leather briefcase trimmed with brass. She popped the twin locks and opened it, pulling out several folders. She said, "We can look at these now or after dinner."

"I got a strong stomach," Doc said, "It don't bother me none."

"Everyone?" Rowan looked at the others.

There was a silent agreement amongst the five guests. Rowan spread out dozens of black and white photos across the cherry wood table. The elegant plant and dragon designs of the tabletop were suddenly hidden by gruesome crime scene photos and reports on the latest rampage of Jason Voorhees. Lori shuddered as she saw the dead eyes of a young girl, maybe not much older than she had been when all this shit started three years ago looking up at her from the flat world of the photo.

The group looked at the pictures soberly, each of the processing the horror of what they were seeing in their own way. The pictures captured the brutal methods of the Crystal Lake Slasher with perfect clarity, every broken bone and every inch of lacerated flesh commemorated for all time. Maggie examined the pictures with a cool detachment, cigarette in one hand as smoke jetted from her nostrils. Doc shook his head, his mouth turned in a frown of sorrow and disgust. Loomis ran a hand over his bald pate and then scratched at his hairy chin.

"Good lord," he sighed and rubbed his eyes.

"All of us here are familiar with the mindset of serial killers in one way or another," Rowan said after a few minutes, "But can anyone here tell me what is unique about the these murders that sets them apart from every other Jason Voorhees murder?"

There was a moment of silence from them all as they looked at the photos until finally Lori spoke, much to her own surprise, "I think I know."

Rowan looked at her expectantly.

"The slash marks," Lori said immediately and pointed to the gruesome bloody mess in the photo she held, "The slash marks, right? I mean you can see where he used his machete, but there's a bunch of smaller slash marks too."

"Yes," Rowan said and held up one of the pictures. It was of a teenage kid, maybe eighteen years old. He had been cut across the chest with four long sharp blades from the looks of it, and he had been cut deep. The look of wide-eyed terror on the dead boy's face seemed to say what they all were thinking. She showed another, this one of a boy whose face had been sliced off. Another: a naked girl sporting what looked like a snake tattoo over her right breast, broken and bloody with her eyes gouged out. Rowan said, "Jason Voorhees has been something of a creature of necessary simplicity. Early on he used whatever he could get his hands on to carry out his murderous impulses. When he found his weapon of choice, a machete, he became very monogamous with it for the most part."

"Like Michael Myers with his knife," Loomis said.

"Or Freddy Krueger with his bladed glove," Maggie added.

"Yes," Rowan said, "Exactly. Jason is brutal and to the point. Hacking and slashing motions to get the job done has been the cornerstone of his M.O. for years now. We know Jason did this, but not all these wounds are consistent with his past murders."

"Freddy," Lori said weakly. She was glad they hadn't eaten yet. In that moment, she might have thrown her food up right there on the table. She breathed, "It's Freddy."

"How is that possible?" Doc asked.

Rowan nodded. "That's why you've all been called here," the pretty young doctor said grimly, "All the evidence points to someone else being involved here with Jason. You're all the foremost experts on Freddy Krueger, and considering what just transpired in Springwood a few months ago... well, I don't believe in coincidences."

"Officially," Doc put his photo down, "The story is that only Jason and Michael Myers were involved there."

"Come on," Maggie smiled sardonically, "It's Springwood, Doc. Whenever something bad happens in Springwood, Freddy's most likely the cause."

"Freddy was involved," Loomis said, "But he was dispatched by Lori here."

"Sweetie," Maggie looked at Lori sympathetically and took a deep drag on her smoke, "I don't know how to tell you this, but Freddy Krueger can't be killed."

Lori met her eyes, feeling that frigid antagonism again. She said, "I know. But he can be stopped."

"Temporary solutions for a permanent problem," Doc interjected, "That was part of the problem those idiots in Springwood ignored back when we all sat down and tried to figure out how to get rid of Krueger."

"All that aside," Loomis said, "We're faced with a serious problem. Either Freddy somehow survived his immolation and death in the flesh, or he's taken up residence in a host body."

"A host?" Doc frowned.

"We've seen it before," Lori said, "He did it to a friend of mine and then he did it to Dr. Loomis's ex-wife."

"Typically," Loomis closed his eyes, losing his thoughts for a moment. He hadn't been able to forget the horrific manner in which Mary Stilfreeze had died in the Springwood Police Station holding cell during the waking hours. Freddy had tried to birth himself from her decaying body right before his eyes, and Mary had felt everything from the first broken bones and torn muscles to the final hail of bullets that ended her misery. But at night, when he slept (if he slept) he could see it all in vivid recollection. Loomis shoved the memories and the choke in his throat away, focusing on the facts at hand, "Typically a host is used for him to return to a flesh and blood state of being. This results in the host either dying or being killed before the transformation can be completed."

"You're saying Freddy jumped into the body of Jason Voorhees?" Maggie cocked her brow, "Matthew, are you serious?"

"Very," he replied and held one of the photos up, "Look at the slash patterns."

"Either way," Rowan said, "The wounds on these victims have Jason's power and aggression behind them, but the form of Freddy Krueger. I think we have to at least investigate the possibility."

"Even if it was Freddy," Maggie said, "Why would he and Jason work together? If what you're saying about them is true there's some bad blood between them, yes?"

"True," Rowan conceded, "But there is one more thing."

She reached into the briefcase and took a single, large 8" X 10" photo out. She held it up for them all to see. If things had been quiet before, the room fell dead silent now. Lori felt her skin break out in a cold sweat as she gazed at the photo. It revealed a single concrete wall, probably a left over of some old house foundation. The black and white clarity of the picture captured every crack and stain on the pale cement as well as the words written across it in a demented scrawl. The lettering was black, but Lori knew as everyone else did that in the world of color it had been a crimson red.

"Oh Jesus," Lori gripped the arms of her chair, "Oh Jesus."

Four names had been spelled out across the wall in thick blood. Some of the letters had dribbled and ran before they dried, but the language was clear and concise despite the crude manner in which they had been written. It was clear a clumsy, untrained hand with large fingers had been at work. It looked as though it were a finger painting done by a child, a vindictive parent holding said child by the arm and forcing the words out.

Lori Rollins... Matthew Loomis... Yaphett Parker... Magdalena Burroughs...

The names were presented in a list, as though the writer had been thinking of people he needed for a special shopping list. Below the last name on the list, that of Maggie Burroughs was scrawled the following: "Daddy's waiting... come home."

Lori looked to Maggie, who only stared at the picture, her jaw clenched tightly.

"You see now why I had to call you all here," Rowan said after a moment, "Whatever is about to happen, you seem to be a part of it."

"He wants us all," Loomis eyed the picture, "He mentions us specifically."

"But why?" Lori asked, "Why would he purposefully call us all to confront him."

Doc spoke up, "Because we're the last."

"What do you mean?"

"We're the ones that got away," he said grimly.

***

Ashley Williams was leaning against the register in the Housewares Department of the Dark Hollow S-Mart. The clock over the employee exit slowly ticked closer and closer to the end of his shift with a maddening hesitation. He drummed his fingers along the edge of the register drawer, trying to will the hands of the clock to move faster, to pick up a little speed and get him the hell out of there. It wasn't that he hated his job. No, S-Mart had always been good to him. Even when that possessed bitch of a woman stormed the sports department and he had to shoot her dead in front of twenty people.

It was the monotony of the whole routine that killed him. No one really believed him about what had happened. He hadn't really expected anyone to, to be honest. After all, he had seen a lot of shit in a short amount of time. He had seen his friends taken and killed by evil spirits. He had watched his girlfriend become possessed and then had the horrific task of killing her. He had been taken over by a demon himself, and then had to chop off his own hand to get rid of it.