Halloween IV: The Ultimate Edition (9 page)

Chapter Ten

Doctor Hoffman had been dialing his desk phone for centuries. At least, it certainly seemed like that long. He sat there, in his office, and he knew he had much paperwork to get finished for the next day: reports; receipts for new equipment needed to be handled, there were some tax papers needing to be looked at, and on top of it all he had personal business to attend to, all sorts of bullshit. But, try as he did, he could not mange to get his mind in focus. It was because of that damn Loomis. He hadn’t heard from Loomis all day, and he had urgently called Haddonfield time and time again throughout the day, calling and fidgeting with his papers, calling and fidgeting.

But all he got was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

His patience wearing thin, he tried once more. One final time. Frustrated, he listened to the same automatic voice reciting the same automatic lines from the same accursed monotone female voice:

“We’re sorry, your call did not go through……”

He slammed the receiver down onto its cradle. Then he decided to dial the operator.

“Yes, operator, I’ve been trying to reach the police in Haddonfield off and on all day, and now it’s become quite urgent…..”

“I’m sorry,” the voice rang through the receiver, and it actually sounded like the same recorded monotone female, “we’re experiencing technical problems along our long distance lines.”

“This is an emergency!”

“I suggest you try your call again in an hour. Thank you for dialing AT&E. By the way, are you familiar with our new state-to-state long distance daytime services? For only ten cents a minute ”

Infuriated, the doctor slammed down the receiver once more, this time shoving the phone from his desk and onto the floor with a
clang
.

“Damn you, Loomis,” he cursed. “Why did you have to be
right
?”

Chapter Eleven

“Make your move, Wade,” Brady told him, provokingly.

Wade was hesitant. Actually, it was more than that; Wade was
nervously
hesitant. There was a difference. Looking back upon his friends with the distinct expression of someone asked to strip down to his balls in the center of the parking lot, he responded, “Don’t rush me, Brady. The timing’s got to be primo.”

Brady stood there in his dark blue sales clerk smock with his two friends, Wade and Tommy, conversing with them from behind a service counter. It was usual for them to visit him this time of day, and at times he thought it a bit weird for them to come into the store to talk to him only an hour after he started. But his boss didn’t seem to mind, because it was at this particular time when business was slow, and he didn’t have any other work to do, anyway. Besides, he was a
sales clerk
, and not a stock boy.

Then again, there was Kelly, who happened to be a sales clerk also (and an extremely attractive one at that), and
she
was busy at work stocking a series of racks with batteries two aisles down from a display of cheapo, half-priced watches. Nevertheless, since Brady had nothing whatsoever to do at the moment, he had taken up conversation with Wade and Tommy, the two eggheads that were always hot over Kelly. Perhaps
that
was why they always showed up at that time; not to see their good friend Brady, but to see the eighteen-yearold with the big batteries.

Wade didn’t like to be rushed with these matters.
Of course
he wanted to ask Kelly out. What guy his age in their right mind wouldn’t? A fool, that was for sure. A
damn
fool. But Wade was no damn fool; he just need
time
. Tommy and Brady both just couldn’t seem to understand that, and both of them had better chances at her than he did. Hell, plenty of girls eyed Brady every day, with his cute features.
Come on, Wade, admit it. Brady was cute and ol’ Wade just wasn’t. He hated that word, CUTE. It was something girls had an affinity for. That word.

Then again, maybe he hated that word because nobody ever said that about
him
.

He looked at Brady, irascibly. “I don’t see you asking her out. You got the best chance.”

“You’re the jock,” Brady responded.

Yes, it was true, Wade was a jock, but buff guys in the world of jocks do not necessarily have tickets to the Game of Getting Women. Well, Wade wasn’t an
unattractive
jock.

“Jock itch, maybe,” Tommy jested.

Wade resented that. “Shut up, assface.”

Tommy continued, “You don’t have the guts God gave a cockroach and you know it.”

“Don’t bet on it,” Wade said back.

It was Brady’s turn. “Money talks, Wade. Bullshit walks.”

There we go: Tommy’s digging in his pocket for money again. He’s always one for bets
.

Tommy slammed a ten—dollar bill down onto the service counter. “Double or nothing you won’t ask Kelly out.”

And he saw in his eyes that Wade was actually going to go through with it.

“Don’t forget,” Brady warned, “she’s Sheriff Meeker’s daughter. Remember Reed Collins?”

“Yeah,” Tommy recalled. “Meeker made Reed wear his balls for a bowtie.”

Wade
was
going to go through with it. He dug from his pocket a wad of bills, counted out ten ones, and placed them on the counter on top of Tommy’s ten.

“Sheriff don’t scare me,” he declared. “I’m gonna nail his little girl right in the trophy room of that big old white elephant of a house.”

“Screw you,” Tommy taunted.

And, as if to say the same, Wade walked down past the rest of the counters, turned, and advanced toward Kelly. She was still in the process of placing the batteries on the racks; she had started with the top row and worked her way to the bottom. As Wade approached she proceeded to do the bottom row, bending over, unknowingly inviting his hormones to react deliciously.

Wade slowed.

Her clothes were just tight enough, her body was sooo firm, and in all the right places.

Wade stood there, having inched his way closer. He didn’t bother to pull a glance at his friends, who were undoubtedly cracking jokes to themselves. They were just secretly jealous.

The young woman still didn’t notice him; he certainly noticed
her
.

He cleared his throat.

“Nice try, Wade,” she said, not looking up. Wade was stunned.

Finally, she
did
look up, a consoling smile across her face. Maybe she pitied him. “But the answer’s no. Sorry.”

She returned to her work as if nothing happened.

Damn
!

Wade turned and proceeded sheepishly towards the service counter once again, not wanting to have to face his so—called friends. He could see them laughing; hear their tormenting remarks. Being seventeen years old and with no girlfriend certainly sucked.

Tommy, of course, was the first one to speak. “You really nailed her.”

“The timing was primo, man,” Brady added. Wade resented that. “Shut up.”

Just then, Brady spotted something beyond Tommy, who was beginning to bicker with Wade about who actually got the bet money.
I did ask her, you idiot, Wade would say; but you didn’t get anywhere, would be Tommy’s reply
.

But Brady was beyond them now, and he gave a look of surprise as his met Rachel’s coy smile. She had entered the store with her foster sister, Jamie.

“I thought I was picking you up?” he said.

Rachel told him casually, “Jamie needs a Halloween costume.”

“End of aisle A,” Brady directed. “Those are the best in the store. Actually, just about the best in
any
store here.”

Jamie tugged at Rachel’s belt. “Come look with me, Rachel.”

“In a second,” Rachel told her. Then she said to Brady, bluntly, “We have to talk.”

“Sure,” Brady blinked. “About what?”

Brady and Rachel separated themselves from Jamie, and Jamie took this as a hint to go look at the costumes by herself. Actually, she’d much rather prefer Rachel’s company, but she was delighted just the same to get to where she wanted, passing Wade and Tommy who were adjourning to the magazine racks, past rows of bagged candy and boxed chocolate bars; she turned to the aisle over which hung a large red “A”, and entered. There they were, to the left and to the right of her, oodles upon oodles of them: Halloween costumes and cool stuff of the celebrated season.

Tons of it. Loads of it. Masks and capes and clown noses and clown wigs. Cardboard skeletons, vampire teeth and tubes of fake vampire blood, rubber witches on brooms, and, as she walked further on, there were entire outfits with colorful arrangements of plastic masks with rubber bands, latex head huggers and thin, plastic body suits.

***

Brady led Rachel to an aisle on the far side of the store where there were no customers or employees, and it was there they commenced with whatever conversation Rachel was going to begin.

Instead of conversation, Brady slowly pulled Rachel close and into a tender kiss; warm, compassionate. And she accepted this kiss fully, embracing. But this was no time to remain passionate. Not now. Rachel broke away.

Brady knew what was to happen next. “It’s about tonight.”

It was time to talk, regretfully.

“My parents’ babysitter cancelled,” she admitted, not wanting to.

“So?”

“So, I have to watch Jamie tonight.”

Now he was upset. “And you’re just telling me now. Christ, it’s after five o’clock! Why in the hell didn’t you call earlier?”

Rachel was upset right along with him, knowing he would be this way. But, unlike him, she held it all in. Or, at least, she tried to. “Don’t get angry.”

“I’m
not
angry!” he half-yelled. Then, finally, he
did
manage to compose himself. “Why don’t I come over after Jamie goes to bed?”

“My parents won’t be home.”

“Good.”

After a moment, after Rachel had time to swallow this idea, she became tense, uncomfortable. “I don’t know, Brady. My parents ”

Exhaling frustration, Brady turned to get back to whatever work he was doing. As he did so, he spotted Kelly at the end of the aisle. She’d been watching them, maybe even listening, and offered him an alluring smile before she disappeared down the way. Just then, something echoed through his mind; something Wade had said.

I don’t see you asking her out. You got the best chance
.

No. There was Rachel.

But you got the best chance

But then, perhaps by his will, the voice faded.

***

Jamie stood at the rack of costumes, looking each one over carefully. Well, almost each one; there were so many.

There
, she thought,
this one.....I like this one
.

Beyond the wolf man, between the Casper and the Ronald Reagan, was a clown outfit. She pulled it out.

There was something interesting about this particular clown suit; something reminiscent.

Something vaguely familiar. It was red on one side and silvery white on the other, pompom-like buttons trailing down the middle and voluminous, white nylon ruffles about the collar. Removing it from its hanger, she looked around for a mirror. There was one down the way near the wall. She walked up to it and stood there, holding the costume out before her at first, admiring it.

“Rachel,” she called out, “I found the perfect costume. Come see.”

She held the clown costume up to herself and gazed into the mirror, imagining how nice it would be, how splendid it would look when she wore it. Then Kyle and the other kids wouldn’t talk; they would see how wonderful her new clown costume was, and they wouldn’t say anything. They would just leave her alone, for once. Perhaps they wouldn’t even recognize her in this outfit, partly because they wouldn’t even expect her to be wearing one, so they wouldn’t mention Uncle Michael, too. They wouldn’t say anything about