Джон Пассарелла - Halloween - The Official Movie Novelization

A deeper darkness than the night sky encroached on his vision, spreading fast, narrowing his view to pinpoints, as his legs gave out and his arms dropped to his sides, until finally the light winked out.

Laurie descended the stairs from the second floor right to the unsecured front door, gripping a pump-action 12-gauge shotgun in her hands. Even though she had her hunting knife in its sheath, she considered that weapon her backup. She felt safest when she had her revolver, bolt-action rifle, or pump-action shotgun in hand.

She’d been in Karen’s old room when she thought she heard rattling downstairs. Ray had been in the kitchen, fiddling with a yo-yo of all things, when she’d gone upstairs. But the sound she’d heard came from the front of the house. Expecting news that Allyson had arrived, but hearing nothing but a rattling of locks, she feared something was wrong.

The house was only as secure as its weakest point of entry but, by inviting others into her home, she’d added new variables. Human variables. People who had not spent the last forty years in a low-level state of fear and paranoia, always expecting the worst to happen on any given day, at any given moment.

“Ray?” Laurie called.

As she suspected, Ray had gone outside to converse with the police, and had, naturally, left the front door unsecured. She peered through the right vertical window panel, trying to take in the scene through the obscure glass.

First thing she saw was The Shape, standing below the front porch, his back to her. Then she saw a body sprawled unnaturally at his feet— Ray!

Her breath caught. Stunned, she swayed forward and raised her hand to the doorframe to steady herself. As quickly and quietly as possible, she re-engaged all the door locks and lowered the open bar into its brackets.

Karen hurried down the stairs. “Mom?”

Recovering from the shock of Ray’s death, Laurie slipped into defensive mode. The years of drills and weapons practice had brought her to this moment. She was prepared. She was in control. She would not panic.

Laurie shook her head at Karen, index finger pressed to her lips to command silence. With a head nod, she directed Karen away from the door, toward the middle of the room. “He’s here, Karen,” Laurie said. “Michael is here. Go to the shelter and hide. You’ll be safe there.”

Wide-eyed with a fright she’d never thought she’d experience, Karen seemed to accept that Laurie’s dreaded moment had finally arrived. But Laurie had trained her daughter well enough that she didn’t panic. Her concerns were practical: “What about Ray? What about Allyson?”

“I’ll take care of it,” Laurie assured her, hoping Karen felt her confidence and determination—but not the sliver of fear that had her heart racing. “It’s time. Now. It all ends tonight.”

Without protest, and nodding through tears, Karen rushed to the kitchen and spun the island counterclockwise. She lifted the secret door built flush with the surrounding tile but, before descending the steps to the shelter, Karen turned to face her mother—armed and ready to face the psychopath that had haunted her for years—and they shared an intense look. In that moment, Laurie knew what her daughter was thinking. Is this goodbye? Will I ever see you again?

Lips pressed tight, Karen gave her mother a brief nod, went down several steps before reaching up to grab the door and flip it closed. Laurie stared after her, watched the island spin back to its normal location, once again hiding the shelter entrance.

Immediately, she returned to the front door with her shotgun to keep an eye on The Shape. As she neared the right vertical pane of distorted glass, a fist smashed through the left window and Michael’s right hand grabbed her face, dislodging her glasses as he pulled her closer to the door. She tried to twist free, but his powerful arm slipped lower and wrapped around her throat, shoving her face against the wooden door. Despite her struggles, her strength was no match for his and she remained helplessly pinned there. With the door separating them, he couldn’t strangle her, only hold her in place, until—

—his left arm burst through the other window-pane, his hand reaching desperately for her. If he got both hands on her head—her face—

She blocked the gruesome thought. Since she couldn’t pull herself away from the door, she twisted around within his grasp, trying to loosen his hold, and ended up with her back pressed tight to the door. But that freed her arms and her hands.

Angling the shotgun barrel toward the window, she switched off the safety and pumped a round into the empty chamber. A second later, Michael’s frantically grasping left hand closed over the top of the barrel—

Laurie pulled the trigger, momentarily deafened by the roar as she watched Michael’s left hand explode in a mist of blood, his index and middle fingers completely disintegrated. Only his thumb, ring and little fingers remained.

As both his arms let go and withdrew through the broken windows, Laurie staggered away from the door, her momentum carrying her to the base of the stairs before she regained her balance.

Glancing back at the shattered windowpanes—new breaches into her home—Laurie needed time to reassess. Crossing through to the kitchen, she moved the island along its turning axis and opened the secret door to join Karen in the shelter below. Once there, she flipped a circuit breaker to turn off the upstairs lights, then turned the switch to slide the island back into place.

Breathing deep and measured, The Shape reaches his intact right hand through the broken window closest to the locks and lifts the open bar barricade, tossing it aside. Then The Shape feels along the doorjamb for the locks, unlatching them one by one, finally turning the deadbolt above the doorknob. With the restraints gone or disabled, The Shape turns the doorknob and enters her house, now cloaked in darkness .

In the basement shelter, Laurie opened the weapons locker and swapped her 12-gauge shotgun for the high-powered bolt-action rifle with its detachable magazine. Then she stood before a frightened Karen and squeezed her hand.

“This is it. It all ends tonight,” Laurie said softly, repeating her statement from earlier, hoping it would comfort her daughter, knowing the fear would end—and soon. “I’m ready—we both are. Do you believe me?” After a moment, Karen nodded. “Good!”

In the momentary silence, they both heard distant footfalls on the floorboards, the slight creak of the joists. From the direction of the sound, Laurie placed him in the living room.

Karen glanced up at the ceiling, following the sound. “That’s him,” she whispered. “Isn’t it?”

Laurie nodded.

Minutes ticked by and Laurie began to wonder. What the hell is he up to? What’s taking him so long to search the house?

Then she heard the creak of the stairs.

She should have had security cameras in the house, with monitors in the shelter. It was maddening to have him roaming through her house with no idea where he was or what he might do next…

Before the growing anxiety became overwhelming, Laurie said, “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You think this house is my cage?” She smiled. “You’re right. But not tonight. Tonight, it’s a trap.”

They both looked up. Finally, the measured footsteps had moved closer, almost directly overhead. A fine mist of dust motes filtered down, glinting in the light.

He’s in the kitchen .

“I’m scared,” Karen said.

“We can do this. We can kill him,” Laurie whispered, her voice even softer than before. “Let’s burn this motherfucker to the ground.”