Halloween IV: The Ultimate Edition (10 page)

Oh my God
.

Her reflection in the mirror had changed. What this an illusion? Yes; now it was gone. She thought for a moment that she was no longer gazing into the mirror at herself. It was the image of a boy a boy wearing
her
clown costume. He had a knife, a butcher knife, and he he was grinning back at her, grinning mindlessly, as if there were no real thoughts behind that grin; as if the grinning were only a reflex from the evil….

Startled, Jamie blinked and stepped away from the mirror, unbelieving. Alarmed, she turned and began to run, but the legs of the shape she thudded into made her halt. She gazed up to his face at the precise moment the dark figure slipped a pasty white Halloween mask over his features.

She was stunned, and for a second her mind was having difficulty perceiving. “Uncle Michael?”

Silently tilting his head downwards, the shape’s bulky hands came together and started for her. Once again she turned, slamming head-first into the mirror behind her. The mirror shattered, perhaps knocking her senses back into reality, a reality where she
knew
this was actually happening, that somehow, by some means she knew only within the boundaries of nightmares, her uncle was truly there and was truly attempting to take her life. She screamed. Splintered shards crashed and spun across the hard tile floor, and she nearly slipped on them; and had she attempted to run any further she most likely would have, except she now saw Rachel and Brady. They were running up to her from the other end of the aisle. She hadn’t realized it just then, but she hadn’t seen Rachel ever look so seriously worried.

The two ran for each other, Rachel knocking over a rack of children’s books in the process. Rachel grabbed her foster sister and held her close, feeling her tremble in her arms.

“Jamie,” she said, “what happened?”

Jamie began to sob weakly. “It was the nightmare man.”

“What?”

“He’s…….
he’s come to get me, Rachel.”

Brady stood there, not knowing what to do. He was soon joined by his two friends, who gazed around at the shattered glass.

“Shhhhh,” Rachel consoled her. “You’re okay. You probably saw a mask and it scared you. At least you’re not cut.” She double—checked Jamie’s features to make sure. Then, satisfied, “Come on, let’s go home.”

“You said ice cream,” Jamie said, rubbing her eyes innocently.

“Ice cream,” she remembered, “I didn’t forget.” “Busted mirror,” Wade commented. “Seven years bad luck.”

“Shut up, butthead,” Tommy said.

And as they began to escort the two girls out to the front of the store, none of them saw the shape, his reflections staring blankly from the dozens of shards of glass amidst the masks and some stray children’s books.

***

“Better?” Rachel asked Jamie.

“Yeah.”

The sun prepared to set upon the two girls strolling down the sidewalk; they each carried double- scoop cones of ice cream, their long shadows accompanying them as they went.

“Ready for tonight? Rachel said.

Jamie smiled expectantly. “I’ll get lots of candy?”

“Lots,” she answered. “But let Mom go through it first. Sometimes people play mean tricks on kids.” “Your mom’s real nice, Rachel.”

“She’s your mom, too. And pretty soon, who knows, maybe my parents’ll make it legal.”

Casually and happily, Jamie continued to lick her cone until she caught sight of something ahead suddenly, and she froze in her tracks.

Up at the end of the block, standing partially within the shade of the tree on the front lawn of the corner house, was the Shape, the dark man; the one she ran into unexpectedly at the Discount Mart. The one she didn’t quite frankly want to run into ever again.

It was the nightmare man.

It was Uncle Michael.

Rachel turned and looked at her. “What’s the matter?”

“It’s him,” Jamie all but whispered.

Rachel was confused. “Who?”

She turned only to see an empty distant shadow beside the corner house. At least, that was where Jamie seemed to be casting her fearful gaze. Rachel looked around; there were only a few children Jamie’s age walking on the opposite side of the street, and a Plymouth passed them by.

Nothing more.

“The nightmare man,” Jamie answered, still staring. There was this distant, far-away stare deep within her eyes, as if she were entranced; Rachel also noticed a certain shade of terror within that look. Or was it momentary shock? Regardless, Rachel was concerned. “He was next to that house.”

There was no one there now.

“I’ll go look, okay?” Rachel told her, to which the little girl didn’t at first reply.

Then, as Rachel proceeded to walk over to the shadows, Jamie cried out diffidently, “Rachel. Don’t.”

But Rachel continued; and as she did so, she stepped around the edge of the corner house and out of view.

Long seconds passed; too long for Jamie. Her worry ached within her, growing into an irrepressible panic.

Now, Rachel had joined the shape’s absence. “Rachel?” Jamie called out.

Nothing.

“Rachel!” she repeated, yelling.

Her ice cream cone slipped from her fingers and dropped upside down on the sidewalk. She ran--- ran to the front lawn of the house at the corner, ran right through the shade of the tree, crushing multitudinous fallen leaves, stamping through a wide river of water formed by a water hose stretched across the darkened grass---ran until she arrived at the other side.

No Rachel.

There was a white wooden fence that ran along the edge of the house until it gave way to a separate wall crawling with English ivy. She again called out for her foster sister.

“Rachel, are you all right?”

And around the other side of the ivy covered wall, a middle-aged German Shepherd, startled, began to lunge at her; held back only by the length of its chain. Jamie jumped backwards as the dog barked and snarled backed right up into a figure.

She screamed.

“No nightmare man,” Rachel told her. “Just your imagination.”

Chapter Twelve

Twilight rose with the new moon and cast its dim light upon the first evening trick—or—treaters on their quest for the very things their mothers had always said would make their teeth fall out. At times, one could see some of these very mothers accompanying their children out on the night time sidewalks, but for the most part, a majority of the children’s overseers were fathers or big brothers and sisters.

The tranquil silence of Autumn gave way to an evening of festivity, a tradition the likes of which Haddonfield, along with the rest of the country, had seen year after anticipated year. Actually, however, no one really anticipated Halloween; at least not as much as most other holidays. Halloween just
arrived
. Sure, as the days grew closer to October 31st, the children grew more excited and the parents made ready the costumes and the churches began to spread flyers about their Fall festivals and hay rides, but it just seemed to come natural. Not like Christmas, surrounded by all the hustle and bustle of shopping and tree decorating and whatnot. Then again, Halloween, when it finally arrived,
did
have its own, very unique magical properties as do all holidays. Tonight was no exception to that magic.

But sometimes that magic can be deadly.

He
was watching. He was watching those children, watching as they strode from house to house with their plastic bags or papers bags or plastic jack-olanterns. He saw how protecting their guardians were; their mothers or fathers, friends or relatives making sure they got their kids back from each stop, keeping them all out of trouble.

They did not see him; he stood perfectly still, like the Caruthers’ willow tree beside him. If anyone
did
see him, they must have paid no attention to him. It was Halloween, and strange sights or absurdities were overlooked tonight. Besides, how absurd can a simple man in a mask standing beside a tree
be
? But standing within the shadows as he was, one terrible aspect was certain:
he could see them better than they could see him
.

He was no longer beneath the willow. He reappeared now beside the Caruthers’ kitchen window, gazing inside, upon the teenage girl clearing a table full of the evening’s dinner dishes. And there was the little girl; she was helping the older one by stacking the rinsed plates inside the dishwasher.

Darlene and Richard entered the kitchen, and Rachel was the first one to see them garbed in their party outfits. They looked splendid, Rachel thought.....Dad in his tux and Mom in pink and white ruffled froufrou dress. They appeared elegant together, and the by the look in Jamie’s eyes as she turned also, she agreed. Now, to Rachel, they would look even more elegant out the door.

“All right,” Darlene told them both, “we’re leaving. How do we look?”

“Elegant,” Rachel said. “You guys always look great.”

“We’ll be at the Fallbrooks,” her mother told her. “The number is next to the phone.”

Rachel hated this part of babysitting……..the beginning lecture. “I know. Next to that is the Police, hospital, fire, and probably the National Guard.”

The last of the dishes within the dishwasher, Jamie accompanied her foster family to the front door, and Mr. and Mrs. Caruthers exchanged her kisses. Then she darted up the staircase to where a clown costume was waiting for her in her bedroom.

“Have a good time tonight, you two,” Richard told them as Jamie disappeared. Then, to Rachel, “Make sure Jamie’s in bed by nine—thirty. No later.”

Rachel was indeed right; they do look more elegant out the door. “You’re going to be late. You don’t want to blow your promotion.”

“Don’t make fun,” Darlene said back. “Tonight is the difference between vacations in Bermuda and another two weeks visiting your grandmother in Cleveland.”

“So hurry up,” said Rachel.

And that is what her parents did. Rachel then closed the front door and automatically went for the livingroom telephone.

Upstairs, Jamie busily brushed her teeth as she always had done every evening after dinner. Within her bedroom, down the hall past the master bedroom, Sunday moved cautiously toward the shadows beyond the opened window. Suddenly he sensed something, and he backed up towards the open door. There was something there. A presence. A low growl swelled within his throat.

Something was in Jamie’s room.

But when Jamie entered and flicked on the light switch, the light flooded over dozens of dolls and nothing else. Jamie thought the clown costume looked great on her; that it looked fantastic just like she knew it would. She gazed at it admiringly in the full-length mirror.

Downstairs, Rachel’s voice echoed through the livingroom as she sat on the couch cross—legged, preoccupied with the extremely urgent business she needed to take care of over the telephone.

“Is Brady there?” she spoke casually but hopefully. “Has he come home from work yet? Okay. Well, when he does, tell him to drop by about eight. I’ll be home by then. Okay? This is Rachel. Okay, bye.”

Then, upon setting the receiver down upon its cradle, Rachel called out, “Come on, Jamie. Let’s go. You’re going to miss all the good candy!”

Jamie heard her calls. She set the mask over her face, gazed at it for a moment, smiling, realizing that she
even looked way better than those stupid kids who made fun of her
.

Something distracted her. She turned towards the closet.

Didn’t she hear the door creak? Was that coming from
her
room? Where was Sunday?

“Come on, kiddo,” the call echoed from downstairs.

Nevermind
.

She darted happily towards the voice of her foster sister.

But the shape had been watching, even as she admired her costume, and, in a way, he admired it too. From within the shadowy depths of the closet, he gazed down upon the opened box of memories. He lifted up pictures, photographs of days gone by, memories he shared unknowingly with the little girl, and memories only he alone could summon. He saw the woman Laurie Strode. A teenager. He saw the little girl with her father, posing with a barbecue in the background. And he saw himself, in the ever familiar clown costume, the one the little girl even now wore proudly, and he was standing next to his sister on that night so long ago yet so recent.

That night was here again.

Downstairs, Rachel was checking the stove burners in the kitchen. She grabbed her jacket on the rack near the front door and checked her pockets for the house keys. Finally satisfied, she turned to Jamie, who was just then coming down the stairway.

“I thought you were ready,” Jamie said, observing Rachel slipping into her jacket and returning to the kitchen to turn off the lights.

“I’m ready,” she replied. “I’m ready. Okay, let’s go.

The shape at the top of the stairs watched silently, silent with the exception of the ragged breathing which seemed to reverberate through the darkness surrounding him, as the two girls disappeared out the door.