Кристофер Голден - The Predator - The Official Movie Novelization

He pondered all of this as he picked up the Frankenstein’s monster mask and poked his finger through the eyeholes. At the same time, he wondered how many people would be giving away Hershey chocolate. Hershey chocolate and Reese’s Cups were his favorites. He liked the neighbors who allowed him to choose from their candy bowl instead of choosing for him. Usually he came home with about forty percent candy he would eat, and his mother would complain for a week about her lack of self-control as she ate the other sixty percent.

The thought made him smile. Mom liked Baby Ruths the best, which was funny, because from his observations in overhearing the conversations of his classmates and other kids in the neighborhood, nobody liked Baby Ruths the best aside from Emily McKenna.

Amid these thoughts, Rory paused, a frown creasing his forehead. He turned to glance at the small box window, high up on the basement wall. A scratching at the window made him cock his head. He heard a snuffling noise, like a big dog might be right outside, sniffing and scraping at the ground. He remembered the pit bull from earlier and wondered if it might be the same dog.

The sound moved off and after a few seconds, he couldn’t hear it anymore.

Rory turned his attention back to the Frankenstein mask. Unimpressed, he tossed it onto the table. After all, it wasn’t the only mask he’d gotten that day.

Emily stood at the sink with the water running. The bowl from Rory’s pasta was in her hand, but her mind had wandered a moment, as it often did. He seemed happy tonight—the prospect of chocolate usually accomplished that—but she always felt nervous about him trick-or-treating without her. Emily knew there were kids at school and in the neighborhood who were less than kind to Rory. There had been instances of outright bullying. He tried to put on a brave face, or hide the hurt from her, but even with the difficulty that sometimes came with deciphering his feelings, a mother knew. But Rory had a lot of heart and no one could deny he was brilliant—he would have to make his way in the world without his mother around. He had to learn to negotiate the social landscape in a way he could manage for himself, for a lifetime.

She sighed and rinsed the red sauce out of his bowl.

A creak on the floor behind her nearly made her drop the bowl, and she swung round. Had she heard the back door click shut? Placing the clean bowl in the drainer by the sink, she grabbed a dish towel and started for the kitchen door, wondering if Rory had gone outside.

The doorbell rang. She frowned—it must be that time already, but it felt to her as if the kids showed up earlier and earlier every year. She tossed the dishtowel onto the counter. She grabbed the bowl of candy as she made her way through the foyer to open the front door.

The men on her front steps weren’t there for candy.

In the center, there stood a handsome guy in a dark suit. He flashed a brilliant smile at the same time as he brandished an ID badge. Armed men flanked him on both sides and Emily wondered how many more there might be, out there in the dark on a street where hundreds of kids were about to go door-to-door.

“Mrs. McKenna?” the suit said. “Can we have a word?”

She squinted at his badge. Last name TRAEGER.

“Let me guess,” she sighed. “He’s done something crazy.”

That smile again. “Why would you say that?”

Emily silently cursed her husband—ex-husband—whatever he was to her now. “Because the look on your face says he’s not dead, and yet here you fucking are.”

Agent Traeger’s gaze shifted past her. Emily glanced over her shoulder and saw that he was eyeing Quinn’s gun case.

“Those are his,” she explained. “He’s a hunter.”

Traeger nodded sagely. “Shot a buck when I was six.”

Good for you , Emily wanted to say. Get off my stoop .

Instead, she mirrored his sage nod. “Our son never took to it. He’s more a ‘rescue bugs’ guy. He actually burns ants he thinks might hurt other ants. And sports… forget it.” She frowned as a memory touched her. “His dad did teach him to slide, though.”

“Slide?”

“Baseball,” Emily explained. “Didn’t go well.”

“Your son. Where is he?” Traeger asked.

“Around here somewhere.” She narrowed her eyes. “Why?”

“Mind if we speak with him?”

Emily shifted her body slightly, almost unconsciously. Smiling secret agent man and a bunch of black-clad fuckers with guns wanted to talk to her boy? Instinct kicked in, and she couldn’t help the way every muscle twitched, wanting to put herself between these guns and her son.

“Why the hell would you want to do that?”

Traeger arched a questioning eyebrow. “Just being thorough, ma’am.”

Emily inhaled slowly, running scenarios through her head. These guys weren’t here because Quinn McKenna had won a medal. They were here because he’d done something he shouldn’t have done, and it wasn’t the first time. What worried her was the biggest question of all—if they were here looking for him, that meant the army didn’t know the whereabouts of one of its Rangers, so where the hell had Quinn gone? In some ways, that question worried her more than what he might have done.

“Fine,” she said, then pointed at the armed men behind Traeger. “But they stay out here.”

“Agreed,” Traeger said, stepping over her threshold.

Emily let him pass, then paused to take in the expressionless, black-clad men on her stoop. “It’s Halloween, boys.” She handed the candy bowl to the soldier nearest her. “If kids show up at my door and you scare the shit out of them, at least give them some candy while you’re at it.”

The soldier seemed about to argue. One of the others gave her a “Yes, ma’am,” and gestured for the rest to spread out. The one with the candy seemed to sigh and resign himself to trick or treat duty. He slung his gun across his back.

Satisfied for the moment, thinking the kids would assume the soldier was in costume, Emily led Traeger through the kitchen and down into the basement.

“Rory, honey?” she said as she descended the steps.

Silence from the basement. She heard his absence, felt it, even before she reached the bottom step and glanced around. Behind her, Traeger scanned the basement and then looked back up the steps.

“That’s weird,” Emily said, but already her mind was going back to the moment while she was washing the dishes, right before Traeger had rung her doorbell. The floor had creaked. The back door had clicked. In the moment, she had thought she might be imagining it. Now… “If he’s not in his room—and he’s not—he’s always here. He said he was going trick-or-treating, but…”

Her words trailed off as she caught sight of the Frankenstein mask. And then the pirate mask. Both costumes she’d bought him were here, scattered on his worktable and laid across a chair. Her frown deepened.

If Rory had gone trick-or-treating, why would he leave his costume behind?

McKenna felt like a fool hiding in the bushes outside his own damn house, but he knew Emily and Rory might be in danger and he wanted to make certain he didn’t make it worse. He and the Loonies were gathered in the bushes across the street, with a parabolic microphone that had been with all the weapons in the gun dealer’s RV. They’d set up surveillance only twenty minutes before Traeger had rolled in with his team, and now they sat and listened to every word Traeger and Emily said.

Beside him, Nebraska held the parabolic mic and glanced at him. “You think this guy’s low enough to hurt your family?”

“Under the right circumstances,” McKenna said, “I think so, yeah. I don’t trust that smile of his. He thinks he’s charming; I think he’s a sociopath. But if the Predator shows up, I don’t mind Traeger and his men providing some cover—”