Halloween

by John Passarella

  “Happy Halloween, Mr Elrod,” Oscar said, trying to act nonchalant. “Cool mask. Sorry… I’m not trying to trespass on your shit, but I was talking to this pretty girl over there.” Oscar pointed toward Allyson, near the far end of the yard, to bolster his excuse. “It’s just I guess I always kind of liked her. And I know she’s bummed out about Cameron, so I thought maybe… Stupid, right?”

  The Shape stood there, unmoving.

  If Oscar had hoped for a little sympathy from another guy, an older guy who had probably had an unrequited crush or two back in the day, he was disappointed by the complete lack of response. Not that he knew Elrod all that well, but enough to know he wasn’t one of those “get off my lawn” geezers who hated anyone young enough to still have a life.

  “All right,” Oscar said. “Peace. Thank you.”

  Suddenly, the motion-detecting spotlight winked out, casting Oscar into darkness until his eyes could readapt to the ambient light. He blinked frantically, blinded by afterimages of the bright bulb, frozen to the spot to avoid tripping over his own feet or a misplaced can of beer.

  * * *

  At the far side of the yard, Allyson heard Oscar talking to someone but thought it as likely that he was talking to himself. The motion-detecting light he’d tripped winked out by the time she reached the fence. On this side, facing an alley, the fence was six feet high and each iron fence was tipped with a spike, a dangerous design to discourage trespassers, although she needed to get out of, not into, Elrod’s yard. Using the calf-high horizontal rail to boost herself up, she carefully climbed the fence, pulling her hand away when it pressed into one of the spikes. It was certainly not razor sharp, but she wouldn’t want to put any of her weight on one of them as she navigated the top of the fence. Taking as much care as possible, she supported her weight by placing her hands on the upper horizontal rail, swinging her legs over the top. Once her body cleared the spikes, she pushed off and dropped down on the other side.

  Proud of herself, she brushed her gritty palms on the front of her trousers. She’d scaled the nasty fence on her own, injury-free. A small victory in an otherwise crappy night. But she’d take it. Don’t need Oscar or his grabby hands and lame excuses.

  * * *

  Again, the motion-detecting sensor switched the yard light back on.

  Shielding his eyes with his forearm, Oscar looked at where The Shape had been before the lights winked out. Nothing. He looked left and right. More nothing. Oscar had started to get a bad vibe about the time the light went out, beginning to wonder if the figure hadn’t been Mr Elrod after all.

  “Yo!” he called. “Where’d you go, bro? You’re acting super sketchy right now.”

  Okay, don’t panic, Oscar thought, hoping the fog of alcohol had begun to clear out of his mind. Maybe it was Elrod and he went back inside. He had his back to the light, so his eyes were adapted to the dark. So, after seeing I’m just a goofy, lovesick teen, he ignores me and goes inside. Or decides to call the cops on me. Either way, I’m out of here!

  With as many beers as he could recover, he clutched the case to his chest and rushed toward the far fence to rejoin Allyson, who couldn’t have gotten f—

  He slammed into the unmoving figure, the dark shape with the creepy pale mask—and gasped. Instinctively, he backed up a step, ready to utter another apology when the figure raised his right arm, revealing a long kitchen knife gripped in his hand, the blade gleaming with reflected light. Oscar’s damaged case of beer slipped free of his numb hands again, crashing to the ground. Several cans hissed.

  Desperate, he raised his forearm to block the knife.

  The spotlight switched off—

  —plunging Oscar into total darkness.

  33

  Not that she wanted to admit it, even to herself, but Allyson had been nervous walking through the dark alley, breathing through her mouth to avoid the unpleasant odors of rotting food and fresh urine. Several smelly metal dumpsters lined the alley, hulking shapes, no doubt harboring rats and other squirmy vermin she’d rather not think about, but her imagination ran wild anyway. Each trash bin offered hiding places—yuck—and blind spots for someone to lie in ambush. They might try to grab her as she passed or wait until she thought she was clear and pounce on her from behind.

  When she passed the last dumpster, she whipped her head around to the left, making sure nobody crouched beside it. She sighed in relief—then nearly jumped out of her skin when a feral cat yowled and bounded out of the dumpster. For a second, it balanced on the edge, then leapt to the ground and scurried to the street ahead of her.

  She didn’t resent a hungry cat. Best case, he reduced the rat population in Haddonfield, specifically in the creepy alley. Worst case, he contracted rabies during his nocturnal hunting. But that unpleasant thought had her obsessing about nearby rabid rats.

  She quickened her step and turned onto the connecting street, grateful for the wan illumination provided by the widely spaced streetlights. After a few steps, Allyson heard a scream and stopped, turning to look back the way she’d come. To her ears, the sound seemed to have originated from the far end of the alley.

  Returning to the alley entrance, she looked back the way she’d come. The thought of going back filled her with dread.

  * * *

  By the time the light switched on again, Oscar was already running toward the fence. Blood ran from the stab wound in his forearm down to his elbow, dripping in his wake. A quick glance over his shoulder revealed The Shape—definitely not Elrod—walking after him, unhurried but determined, Oscar’s blood staining the deadly knife. Too panicked to think about who had attacked him or why, Oscar simply focused on surviving. He stared at the wrought-iron fence in front of him, fixing its location in his mind so he’d remember exactly where it was when the lights went out. One imperative ran though his mind on repeat.

  Get over the fence; outrun the monster!

  Primed by a surge of adrenaline, Oscar leapt for the top rail of the fence. He swung one leg over and felt sudden resistance—not from the lunatic with the knife but from his cape, snagged on one of the sharp post points.

  A primal cry of fear and frustration erupted from his throat, “FUUAAHH!”

  Another quick glance back. The Shape was closing the distance between them—knife raised, gleaming in the light, dripping with Oscar’s blood.

  Oscar pulled against the resistance, trying to rip free of the cape—

  He gasped at the sudden, jarring impact of the knife plunging into his back. The pain felt like a spike of fire ripping through him. Unable to breathe from the overwhelming agony, poised above the wrought-iron fence, he felt the muscles in his arms and legs quiver with fatigue. A moment later, strong hands gripped his feet, tugging down. Oscar struggled to hang on, but the pain and blood loss betrayed his efforts.

  Abruptly, the light winked off, shrouding Oscar in darkness.

  And a moment later, his arms gave way.

  So close to escape and freedom, he fell on the fence. The sharp iron spike on the post underneath him ripped through the soft flesh under his chin, impaling his jaw on the fence…

  * * *

  Despite her reservations about traversing the dark alley again, Allyson couldn’t ignore the scream, fearing Oscar had hurt himself and needed help. Even though he was largely responsible for ruining her night, she couldn’t let him suffer alone in the dark. If she couldn’t help him, at least she could assess the situation and get help—which would be so much easier if Cameron hadn’t tossed my phone in the damn nacho cheese bowl.

  “Oscar?” she called. “Oscar!”

  Walking blind, she hurried down the alley, gritting her teeth each time she passed a smelly dumpster. At least she knew from her first pass that nobody was hiding by any of them. When she reached the far end of the alley, Elrod’s motion-detecting lights flicked on again and—

  Allyson froze in horror.

  She’d found Oscar—stuck on the fence. One of the sharp iron spikes atop had pier
ced the underside of his chin and come out between his lower and upper teeth. His jaw protruded far enough that the spike stuck out in front of his face. She shook off the gruesome thought that his jawbone had detached from his skull, held in place only by the skin of his face.

  Standing on tiptoe, Oscar sagged against the fence, one trembling foot propped on the lower rail. Beneath his feet, a spreading pool of blood stained the ground.

  He choked, gargling his own blood.

  With half-lidded eyes, fading, he tried to speak, “Guh-guh…”

  Go? Get help? It didn’t matter. She couldn’t help him. Not alone. She caught herself hyperventilating, panicked by indecision, and looked around, hoping to find anyone—she hadn’t expected—

  Out of the corner of her eye, for a split second, she noticed a dark shape standing on her side of the fence, holding a bloody knife—

  Then the lights winked out.

  Allyson screamed.

  Overwhelmed by the horror of Oscar’s plight, the terror of the stranger standing beside her, Allyson whirled around and sprinted down the alley, running faster than she’d ever run before. Colliding painfully with the corner of a dumpster, she spun away from the glancing blow, staggering to catch her balance, then course-correcting to continue her desperate flight through the dark passage.

  She burst onto the street at full speed, too fast to turn onto the sidewalk, veering across both lanes, fortunate not to have been hit by a car. But if a car had hit her, she thought insanely, she might have rolled across the hood, landed on her feet and kept going without a glance at the driver.

  Though she was by no means dressed for a run, she’d had plenty of practice and, if she hadn’t been running to save her life, she might have slipped into her natural gait and cadence. Instead, she sprinted at maximum effort as if within sight of a finish line that retreated with every stride she took. But maximum effort had a price. She couldn’t maintain this speed forever.

  Her eyes darted left and right, settling on the first home with downstairs lights aglow. Veering left, she jumped over the curb, cut across the sidewalk, ran up the front lawn and bounded up the porch steps, almost slamming bodily into the front door before halting her forward momentum. With her fists curled, she pounded on the door, casting a quick glance over her shoulder before shouting, “Help me! Open the door!”

  A second light inside the house switched on.

  “Please open the door!”

  Allyson continued to pound on the door, her excess energy pouring out through her fists.

  A nervous face appeared in the window.

  Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

  * * *

  Officer Phillips drove the patrol car, with Officer Francis beside him. Laurie, Karen, and Ray sat in the back. A shared nervous silence kept everyone on edge. Even within the safe confines of a police cruiser, sitting behind two well-armed law enforcement professionals, they couldn’t relax, not with Allyson missing.

  Laurie tried not to think about Allyson out there alone at night with Michael on the loose. She’s the one at risk, the most vulnerable among us, while we get a police escort to my house.

  At least Allyson was on the move. Maybe she’s less of a target—for now. But she had a hard time buying her own reasoning. Skepticism born of experience. I should be the one out there, she thought. Allyson should be safely locked in my house. I fortified my home specifically to stop him when the time came. And right now, it sits unoccupied. A cruel irony.

  Karen’s cellphone rang, startling them.

  Laurie glanced over at the display before Karen answered. Unknown caller.

  Karen’s hand shook as she pressed the button to answer the call. “This is Karen… Allyson?” She smiled with relief, the pent-up tension draining from her shoulders, her free hand gripping Ray’s. “Thank God you’re all right. The police are looking for you. Where are you? Where are you?”

  Laurie stared at her own reflection in the window as Karen listened to Allyson’s story. With Allyson safe and accounted for, Laurie could turn her attention to her primary goal, stopping Michael once and for all.

  * * *

  Standing behind the bole of a large tree next to a sidewalk, The Shape turns from left to right and back again, looking for any sign of her. Or anyone walking alone on the street. But the roads are deserted.

  Suddenly, The Shape hears the roar of a powerful car engine approaching, speeding down the suburban street.

  The Shape lost sight of her when she exited the alley but knows which way she ran. So The Shape follows in the same direction. No doubt, no concerns. Steady breathing. And an unrelenting purpose.

  As The Shape steps out from behind the tree, the police car speeds past, answering some other call. Turning to the left, The Shape looks at the blue-and-white car, glimpses the two faces inside. Familiar faces.

  They do not notice The Shape.

  * * *

  Officer Hawkins turned onto the street where the emergency call had originated. At last, Allyson had been located, frightened but apparently unharmed. He had orders to get her to Laurie Strode’s house. After that, he could return his full attention to apprehending Michael Myers. A small crowd of neighbors had gathered in front of the house in question. Safety in numbers, he supposed.

  He pulled up at the curb in front of the onlookers but pressed the button to give a short yelp of the siren to make sure everyone stayed clear. As he climbed out of the patrol car, a young woman broke from the crowd and ran toward him. Even if he hadn’t seen the photo her mother had provided to the police, he would have recognized Allyson. Considering the family’s history, specifically Laurie’s infamous encounter with Myers forty years ago, he had kept tabs on the family out of professional curiosity.

  “Officer!” Allyson called as she neared him. “I saw him. My friend was attacked! He came out of nowhere—”

  Allyson was breathing heavily. Hawkins felt her fear, the tension rolling off her in waves, panic finally giving way to relief. Placing a comforting hand on her shoulder, Hawkins said, “Take a deep breath, Allyson. You’re going to be all right. Take a deep breath.”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me about your friend,” Hawkins said. “Is she…?”

  “He,” Allyson corrected. “I don’t know. I only saw him for a moment. He’d been stabbed—more than once I think. And the fence, he fell and the fence—”

  “What about the fence?”

  “The fence—the fence had iron spikes on top and he fell—Oscar fell, and it—the spike—it went right through his chin, all the way through! It was awful! I think he’s dying… he may already be—but then I saw him, the killer, standing there with a knife, so I ran—I had to run before he—before…”

  “Of course you did,” Hawkins said. “You were right to run. You’re still alive because you made the right decision.”

  “But Oscar…”

  “Where is he?” Hawkins asked. “I’ll send an ambulance.”

  “The Elrods’,” Allyson said. “At the back of the property—we went around—near the alley.”

  “I know it,” Hawkins said. “Let me call it in. Then you need to come with me.”

  “Why? I don’t understand?”

  “I’m taking you to your family,” he said. “Your grandmother’s place. Your parents should be there with her by now. You’ll stay there until we apprehend Myers.”

  A worried look flashed across Allyson’s face. “Has something happened at home?”

  “No,” Hawkins said. “But you’ll be safer at your grandmother’s house. Apparently, she’s fortified the place.”

  “Oh,” Allyson said, nodding. “That makes sense.”

  Only in your world, kid, Hawkins thought. I don’t envy you.

  As Hawkins stepped away from Allyson to make the call to dispatch, several people in the gathered crowd started shouting questions, their concerned voices overlapping each other.

  “Can you tell us what’s—?”

  “How many people have b
een killed?”

  “What are the police doing to keep us safe?”

  “Do you know who the k—?”

  “Has Michael Myers really returned?”

  Hawkins raised his hand to request silence. “Everyone! Calm down,” he shouted. “I need you all to return to your homes—now! Lock your doors and windows. We’re in pursuit of the suspect.” A bit of an exaggeration, but more reassuring than telling them they were still searching for the suspect. “If you notice anyone or anything suspicious, call 911 and report it to the emergency operator. Once the suspect is in custody, the sheriff will hold a press conference and all your questions will be answered. For now, please go home, lock up and stay safe!”

  Reluctantly, they quieted down and dispersed. All of them lived relatively close by, so didn’t have far to walk to get back inside. Hawkins radioed dispatch to request an ambulance at the back of the Elrod property, but judging by Allyson’s descriptions of his injuries, Hawkins doubted the boy had survived.

  And he doubted the boy would be the last victim tonight.

  34

  As Officer Phillips turned the squad car off the rural, tree-lined road onto Laurie’s gravel driveway, the twin sets of spotlights mounted on the sloped roof of her house powered on, bathing them and the entire front yard in light. In the passenger seat, Officer Francis raised his forearm to shield his eyes and said, “Forgot to bring my sunblock.”

  “Damn,” Phillips said. “How do you afford the electric bill?”

  “They’re motion activated,” Laurie said, then, “I don’t get many visitors.”

  Phillips rolled up to the intercom and looked over his shoulder at Laurie. “Pass code for the gate?”

  “Open my door,” she said. “I’ll get it.”

  “Case you haven’t noticed,” Phillips said. “We’re the good guys.”