Halloween IV: The Ultimate Edition by Nicholas Page B

the slightest movement---ears for the softest sound. His hands were shaking as he held the gun, unsure as to whether he would be quick enough if he came in contact with
    A telephone . There was a telephone under the counter. A trembling hand felt for it, his eyes never leaving the area before him. Then he looked down and saw to his disappointment that the receiver had been crushed. It was as if someone had simply lifted it and broke it within his grasp.
    Dammit !
    Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw something. A figure. It was standing at the diner’s far end in the shadows. Loomis swung around, pointing the gun feverishly.
    There was no one there.
    A door stood opened where he thought the figure had been. There was a sign indicating with a red arrow where the restrooms were. Another sign indicating public telephones. A silent video game with a cardboard sign taped over the coin slots reading OUT OF ORDER.
    Blinking, Loomis crossed over to the open door. Carefully, he peered inside and discovered a dimly lit hallway leading into a series of back rooms, two of which were marked WOMEN’S and MEN’S. Mounted onto the wall across from them to the right were two pay phones, the receivers torn away. Frustrated, the doctor turned and stepped back into the main room. What he saw then made him freeze. Terrified, he could say nothing; he barely let out a single breath, his heart nearly ceased its frantic beating.
    There It was.
    It was just standing there, motionless, occupying the space where the body of the strangled waitress lay; where Doctor Loomis had been only a few minutes before. Hospital gown now absent, the shape now wore mechanic’s coveralls. His face was shadowed, yet Loomis could feel his cold gaze---that awful, hideous gaze.
    Loomis held his gun up at eye level, attempting relentlessly to aim, his finger trembling against the trigger, his arms far from rigid.
    Silence.
    Then, finally, Loomis spoke. “ Why now ? No answer.
    Loomis continued, a nervousness in his voice. “You’ve waited ten years. I told them to let you burn. I knew this day would come.”
    The shape stood, remaining there, silent and still. The diner was so incredibly tomblike at that moment that the doctor could detect the figure’s steady, oppressive breathing, even from his distance.
    “Don’t go to Haddonfield,” Loomis demanded, lowering his gun. “If you want another victim, take me. But leave those people in peace.”
    Yet another moment of silence. Then, finally the dark shape turned and walked away toward the door of the kitchen.
    At once, Loomis again raised his gun. “Goddamn you, Michael!”
    The overwhelming silence of the diner was now interrupted by the booming thunder of three rapid shots. Michael was down, fallen behind the counter.
    Loomis waited.
    Nothing.
    Quickly, he raced over to the counter. Brushing aside dishes and glassware, he cautiously leaned over the side.
    Michael was gone; there was only the body of the waitress.
    His first impulse was to continue into the kitchen itself, as this was the only direction Michael would have gone to. Still, he would have heard something; a shuffling, perhaps. It was as if the thing could disappear and reappear at wil1; as if he were a ghost. But the bodies were evidence he was no ghost. His second impulse was simply to turn and get the hell out of there, and he did so without further hesitation.
    Outside in the warm breeze, he walked across the dusty expanse, the sounds of his soles on grit echoing throughout until they met the asphalt across which stood the service pumps and his sedan. His eyes scanned around, behind him and to his sides, expecting to see something, waiting for something to happen. The mechanic’s garage was nothing but a shadowy cavern. Thoughts swept through Loomis’ mind, making him paranoid to his circumstances. The figure could suddenly appear from the mouth of the garage, or surprise him from behind. What a wonderful trickor-treat