The radio screamed with eerie cheer.
A Halloween tune blared, its twisted melody full of bouncy guitar riffs and sharp drumbeats. The solo wailed like something halfway between a carnival act and a funeral march, a sound so cheerful it looped back into sinister.
Michael leaned his head against the seat, eyes closed as if in rest—but his chest rose a little too steady, too deliberate.
Jessica, hands light on the steering wheel, mouthed along to the lyrics, her lips moving in silence. She tapped her fingers against the wheel, an uneven rhythm betraying nerves she tried to mask with casual calm. Every few moments, she stole a glance at the man in her passenger seat.
This stranger.
This broad-shouldered, hard-faced man who had stumbled into her night.
He looked out of place—too rough around the edges to belong in sleepy Haddonfield. His jawline was sharp under the dim dashboard glow. She could see the tension in his arms, the kind of readiness that comes from living like the world is always out to get you.
Jessica told herself it was pity that made her bring him along. He looked like he had nowhere to go, nothing to return to. A man left behind by life.
But now, with the road stretching empty under the streetlamps, she realized what she was actually doing—bringing a stranger home on Halloween night.
It was insane.
It was reckless.
And it felt… surreal. Like the kind of bad decision the main character of a horror movie makes right before the opening credits roll.
She dared another look at his "sleeping face." Strong cheekbones. Lines around the mouth that spoke of someone who'd seen too much, fought too much. She thought about how easily he could hurt her, here, in the middle of nowhere. And yet, something about his silence almost made her trust him.
Michael, meanwhile, kept his eyes closed.
He had no interest in answering her barrage of questions earlier.
Where you from?
Did you see who took you?
What you gonna do now?
He couldn't give her answers even if he wanted to.
And truth was, he didn't care about explaining himself.
Right now, his mind was locked on one brutal fact:
I'm stuck in a horror movie.
Not the fun kind with dumb jump scares. The real kind. The curse-on-your-bloodline kind.
Michael Myers.
That name itself made his stomach twist. This wasn't just some tall white boy in coveralls running around with a kitchen knife. Nah. Myers was something else—more curse than man. The dude got stronger the more he killed, like some kind of demon leveling up with every scream.
And worse—he didn't die.
Didn't stay locked down.
Didn't stay buried.
Michael knew enough horror lore to understand the score.
You can't fight him. You can't trap him. And you sure as hell can't outrun forever.
All you could hope for was to not get noticed. To live quiet and pray the Shape walked right past your door.
He prayed Jessica's house was far from the coming bloodbath.
vrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!
A sudden roar split the night.
Headlights slashed past their windshield as a car shot out of nowhere, swerving into the wrong lane.
"Whoa!" Jessica cried, jerking the steering wheel. Tires screamed against asphalt as the car veered dangerously close to the ditch. Her chest heaved, breath ragged as she slammed the brakes.
The momentum yanked Michael awake from his pretend sleep. His eyes snapped open wide, adrenaline rushing so fast it made his skin crawl.
"The fuck?!" he barked, hands braced against the dashboard.
Jessica's knuckles whitened on the wheel. She stared after the speeding car, taillights already shrinking into the black. Her hands shook uncontrollably, lips parted as though trying to breathe through water.
"You good?" Michael asked, voice low but sharp.
"I—I'm fine," Jessica whispered, barely louder than the hum of the engine. She said it again, as if repetition could convince her trembling body. "I'm fine."
Her breaths came in short, shallow pulls. She forced herself to inhale slowly, one hand rising to her chest before gripping the wheel again. The faint sound of her pulse seemed louder than the music.
The car inched forward once more, moving slower now, headlights painting the narrow road in pale yellow.
Michael kept his eyes fixed ahead, heart still hammering. "… that happen a lot out here?"
Jessica shook her head quickly. "N-no. Not like that. Something must've… happened." Her voice cracked. "People don't drive like that here."
"Or somebody drunk," Michael muttered. He turned his head toward her, watching her profile in the glow of passing lights. "It's a holiday. Folks get stupid."
She glanced at him sharply, as if his nonchalance stung. He held his hands up slightly, shrugging.
"Hey, I'm just sayin'."
But secretly, his chest loosened in relief. For one brutal second, he'd thought it was over—that death had already come roaring down the lane.
The thought made his mind wander.
What if it had been Myers?
What if the boogeyman drove now, too?
The image alone chilled him to the bone. Myers behind the wheel, mask glowing white in the dash-light, calmly steering straight into you while opera music blasted from the radio.
Michael swallowed hard. He no longer felt safe pretending to sleep. the darkness shadowed his expression as he stared silently through the windshield.
Jessica stayed quiet too, too rattled to fill the air with small talk.
The silence thickened, broken only by the occasional rattle of loose gravel under tires and the faint hiss of the radio still playing its haunted melody. Every bump in the road jolted Jessica's already frayed nerves.
By the time the car finally slowed, the street felt like it had stretched on for eternity.
The engine cut, leaving the two of them sitting in eerie quiet.
Jessica exhaled shakily. "We're here."
Michael blinked, lifting his head. They had pulled into a neighborhood—houses sitting dark and quiet, jack-o'-lanterns grinning on porches. Their carved faces flickered with candlelight, casting shadows that looked alive.
Michael pushed the door open, stepping out into the cool night. The smell of damp leaves hit his nose.
Jessica shut her door gently, standing beside him. For a long moment, neither spoke.
The silence was unsettling; where there should have been giggles, footsteps, and shouts of 'trick or treat,' there was only an eerie stillness that made the night feel abandoned.
Michael muttered, "This don't feel right."
Jessica couldn't argue. he was right.