HALLOWEEN: SPIRITS OF THE DEAD
by Matt Anderson & Myron James
(a
fan work copyrighted by authors, based on characters & situations owned by
Trancas International Films)
EXT. FIELD – NIGHT
Fade in to an open, isolated field of swaying tall grass. We slowly pan over
it as we hear nothing but a gentle breath of wind and a subdued chorus of
crickets. A title in white letters slowly fades in at the bottom of the
frame:
OCTOBER 30, 2004
After a few moments more of moving across the field, a second title fades in
below the first:
15.8 MILES OUTSIDE
HADDONFIELD,
ILLINOIS
As
the titles fade away, we begin to hear the faintest noises of grass
crunching under many sets of feet, followed by sounds of a struggle; grunts,
heavy breaths, the continuous noise of feet being dragged over the ground.
Above it all, we hear a MAN’S frantic voice.
MAN
For the love of God, let me go! Who are you people?! What do you want, I’ll
do anything, Christ, just let me go!
The man—a thin, balding, middle-aged individual with a mustache—is dragged
into the frame and has his mouth covered by a hand in a black glove. We now
see that he’s being held captive by a number of figures. There looks to be a
few dozen of them, and they’re cloaked in flowing black robes and clothing,
their faces hidden by both masks and heavy hoods. We hear their unfortunate
prisoner’s stifled scream and see his eyes widen in terror when they carry
him to the center of the field.
From the man’s POV, the camera emerges from the grass and into a wide
clearing, revealing a mound of rocks surrounding what looks like a huge
wooden basket. It’s more akin to a cage, but the crisscrossing boards and
the open top give it the basket-like appearance. There are smaller stones
arranged in a perfect circle around the mound, each one having a different
strange mark or symbol jaggedly carved on its surface. Cut back to the man
as his mouth is uncovered and four of his captors drag him onward while the
rest come to a stop and hang back.
MAN
No…no! Oh God, what’re you going to do?! Just let me go, please, why are you
doing this?! Stop! Let me go!
He
keeps struggling as three of the figures come to a momentary halt, the
fourth stepping back to remove a length of rope from inside his robe. They
then tie the man’s arms behind his back and pull a small door on the side of
the basket open. They stuff him into the basket and slam the door shut
again, then take out a padlock and secure it on the door.
As
the four of them step back and return to their ranks, the whole group slowly
gathers around the mound in a circle. They’re like ghosts as they quietly
drift into their positions and ignore the caged man as he rams his shoulder
against the solid wood.
MAN
Just tell me what you want! Why are you doing this to me?!
The wind suddenly picks up and whips through the dry grass, bending it all
in one direction as a single mass and showering the anachronistic setup with
dead leaves and brown pine straw from the menacing trees with the warped,
gnarled branches that surround the field. An eerie chill ensues, one that
prompts the man to fall silent and stiffen in an ever-tightening grip of
fear. The black specters surrounding him then begin to engage in a low,
disconcerting murmur, but not one of conversation. It sounds like a chant or
incantation, but it’s not together. Their soft, monotone voices drone on in
a language that is alien to him, each one of them motionless and seemingly
in a trance.
The man cringes as a screeching bat flaps by over the top of the basket. He
then looks back at the crowd and sees them slowly begin to part like the
biblical sea before Moses, clearing a path for another dark apparition, a
MAN IN BLACK, to ceremoniously make its way toward him.
When the figure is clear of the others and comes gradually closer, we see
that this one is dressed a little differently from the others. He’s draped
in a long black duster that billows in the breeze like a cape. The collar
stands up around his head, and that, combined with the black fedora tipped
down low over his visage, completely obscures his face in shadow. The silver
tips on the ends of his boots clink like blades striking stone with every
ominous step he takes. The prisoner doesn’t dare say a word, his blood
running cold as the Man in Black finally comes to a gradual stop about three
feet away from the mound. And for a moment, the two only stare at one
another.
The Man in Black raises his right forearm to silence the macabre
congregation. All is now quiet as the grave. He then holds his hand out to
his side as if waiting to receive something. Upon seeing this, one of the
cloaked spectators emerges from the crowded circle with a thick chunk of
wood, lighting it into a blazing torch as he comes imperiously forward and
places it in the waiting hand.
After a momentary delay, his shoulders rising and falling slowly…as if with
a heavy sigh…the Man in Black takes a few steps back and touches the torch
to the ground, igniting a trail of gasoline that leads to the mound and the
basket. The flames hungrily engulf the fuel, perfectly following the trail’s
cryptic formation of a vertical line with a sharp triangle pointing out of
its right side; the mark of THORN. The conflagration spreads quickly through
the strange symbol and into the mound, immediately leaping greedily upward
to the dry wood of the basket. The man inside erupts in terrified screams as
it only takes seconds for the whole thing to burn like a marshmallow over a
campfire. As they watch, the Man in Black and his followers remain silent
and unmoving, transfixed with intense concentration on the man they’re
burning alive.
Soon, the shrieks of agony subside. The Man in Black holds the smoldering
torch out for another one of the robed attendees to come forward and take
it. Once it’s out of his hands, all their stares turn to him. They still
don’t move or speak, but it’s no less evident that they’re as anxious and
expectant as a courtroom audience awaiting a trial verdict. When at last the
Man in Black speaks, his voice is deep and prophetic.
MAN IN BLACK
It’s time.
The wind returns, icily slicing through the field and casting more leaves to
the ground as the camera pans up to the sky, embellishing a full harvest
moon. The familiar Halloween theme begins to play when the pan-up starts.
Once the angle comes to rest on the moon, it slowly begins to close in on
it. The opening titles roll as clouds drift by and the moon fills more of
the frame. The music is accompanied with sounds of wind rushing through
trees, dry leaves hitting the ground, owls hooting and wolves howling in the
nearby woods, the symphony of crickets picking up again, and the screeching
of another bat as it flutters past the light orange disc in the sky. The
music dies away when a bigger cloud finally veils the moon and stars,
plunging the screen into total blackness. Against this black screen, we
begin to hear a VOICEOVER, spoken by investigative reporter DAVID LYTENER in
a deep, smooth tone.
LYTENER (V.O.)
There are few things in this world that capture our attention as well as
stories of senseless violence and murder. Now I’m not going to climb onto
some moral high-horse and try to pass judgment…after all, I’m no different.
EXT. ROAD – NIGHT
Cut to a quiet, rural back road surrounded by fields. After a moment, the
headlights of a newer-model red Taurus become visible as the vehicle rounds
a bend, passes the camera, and continues on down the roadway, disappearing
around another curve.
INT. CAR – NIGHT
The lit-up clock display and instruments cast a greenish glow on Lytener’s
rigid features, the driver and sole occupant of the Taurus. As he grips the
steering wheel and struggles to stay awake, we see he’s around his
mid-thirties with an average build. His face is rugged, his angular chin
covered by a close-cropped beard that matches his shock of wavy brown hair.
He repeatedly blinks and widens his bright, keen eyes through a pair of
thin-rimmed spectacles, then suddenly shakes his head from side to side and
sits up straighter. We can tell he’s been on the road for a good while. As
he fights a battle with drowsiness, his narration continues.
LYTENER (V.O.)
I
went to the little town of Haddonfield, IL because of a story I’d heard.
You’ve probably heard it, too. It starts with a little boy named Michael
Myers, who killed his sister on Halloween night when he was only six years
old. He spent the subsequent 15 years locked up in Smith’s Grove
Sanitarium…then he escaped, and went after his other sister, Laurie Strode.
She survived, but after hiding himself away for two decades, he came
back…and attacked her again. And again, she managed to escape him…if only
briefly this time. Two years ago, he finally succeeded. Then, after he’d
killed his sister, he returned to his childhood home in Haddonfield and
slaughtered a group of college kids doing a live web-cast there. By the end
of that night, he was thought to be dead. His body was even taken to the
morgue. But by morning, the only corpse to be found there was that of a
young medical examiner. Myers was gone.
Close-up on Lytener’s face as the struggle with sleep gets a little more
difficult. But he stares forward intensely, determined to reach his
destination tonight.
LYTENER (V.O.)
Sound like a peculiar story? Maybe you can understand, then, why I felt
there had to be something more to it. I was right, too. But once you’ve
heard all of it, maybe you’ll understand why I now wish with all of my heart
and soul that I’d been wrong.
He
starts losing the fight. His eyes flutter closed, and his head begins to
droop, but he suddenly snaps awake just in time to slam on the brakes and
avoid rear-ending the car stopped in front of him. He screeches to a halt
and just stares at the car’s rear bumper and catches his breath for a
moment, slowly shaking his head at the close call. At least he’s wide awake
now.
He
sits still to recover, then feels a wave of curiosity. He sticks his head
out the driver’s side window to get a better glimpse of why he’s not being
allowed to move. It turns out there’s not just a single car ahead of him,
but a whole line of late-night travelers that have been brought to an
impromptu stop. But beyond the string of brake lights is something else that
arouses his attention even more. There seems to be a soft orange light
coming from the field just beyond the hills next to the road. The diffuse
radiance is hard to discern, but he definitely recognizes the flickering
reds and blues of police cruisers and fire trucks about a quarter of a mile
down the highway. Adding to it, he sees several vehicles pulled over in the
grass with a few new additions walking up to join a crowd of onlookers
gathered at the top of a hill.
An
instinct kicks in that won’t allow Lytener to leave without finding out
what’s going on. He backs up and brings the Taurus around behind a pickup
truck resting on the grassy shoulder. Gazing across the street at the
waiting spectacle, he kills the ignition and steps out of the car.
EXT. FIELD – NIGHT
Lytener makes his way through the perturbed line of motorists and up the
hill to join the captivated audience, buttoning his tan trenchcoat against
the chilly breeze. He casts his eyes downward with the rest of them, taking
in the sight of the burning field and the firefighters attacking the blaze
with the hose. The police officers behind the barrier of yellow tape
carefully contain those leaning forward and around for a better peek. And
with a sweeping glance at the people surrounding him, Lytener sees that most
of them are middle-aged or elderly couples, many in their pajamas. The looks
on their faces betray senses of dread and trepidation instead of just
casual, inquisitive concern, as one would expect in the face of such an
event.
LYTENER (TO NO ONE IN PARTICULAR)
What happened?
He’s met with silence for a few seconds before a forty-ish WOMAN in a heavy
housecoat gives in and answers him.
WOMAN (WITH A BIT OF A COUNTRY ACCENT)
Someone called 911 a few hours ago about hearing screams. They sent a deputy
out, and he found this field on fire.
LYTENER
Any idea what caused it?
WOMAN (SHAKING HER HEAD)
They don’t know yet.
LYTENER
What about the screams? Did they find anyone out there?
WOMAN (BITING HER LIP IN A TROUBLED PAUSE)
They found a body, but they don’t know who it is yet. That’s what most of us
are waiting for.
Lytener falls silent, unsure of how sensitive she may be and therefore how
to reply. The woman then turns toward him as if to say something else, but
before she can speak, an expression of recognition spreads over her face.
WOMAN
You look familiar. I feel like I’ve seen you somewhere before…
LYTENER (A LITTLE EMBARRASSED)
I’m sorry, I haven’t even told you my name. You might recognize me from the
picture next to my articles in the Chicago Sun-Times. I’m David
Lytener.
She nods with a weak, but pleasant smile and shakes his hand.
WOMAN
Right, you do that Mysteries Unraveled section in the paper…all those
investigations and things.
LYTENER
That’s me.
WOMAN
Well, I’m Doris Johnson. Nice to meet you.
LYTENER
Too bad it’s under these circumstances.
DORIS (SHRUGGING LIGHTLY TO CHANGE THE SUBJECT)
So
what mystery are you here to solve, Mr. Lytener?
LYTENER
Actually, I’m just passing through. I’m on my way to Haddonfield.
Doris suddenly grows quiet.
LYTENER (A LITTLE EXCITEMENT SHOWING)
There’s a story there I’ve been wanting to do for almost my whole career.
DORIS
The Halloween killer.
LYTENER
Right…Michael Myers.
DORIS (HER TONE A LITTLE COLDER)
Honestly, is that really a story?
LYTENER (CONFUSED)
I’m sorry?
DORIS
Those poor people have been terrorized by that monster for so long now. Do
you really need to go down there and rub their faces in it?
LYTENER
Well, I-
DORIS
There’s no mystery there. They’re just trying to live out their lives like
normal people. Don’t you think they worry enough about that maniac without
you reminding them?
LYTENER
I
just want to tell their story…
DORIS
No, you want to tell his story. You want to glorify a murderer and
get famous for it.
LYTENER
Mrs. Johnson-
DORIS
Why do you do it? You don’t feel the least bit guilty exploiting those folks
and everything they’ve been through?
LYTENER
It’s my job to-
DORIS
To
what? Profit off other people’s pain?
LYTENER
No, I’m just-
DORIS
I’m sorry, but I just have to say you make me sick. Without your kind, the
world wouldn’t be the sort of place it is. Maybe if you had to see some of
the things those people in Haddonfield have seen, you’d think twice before
doing something like this.
Doris turns her back and walks away. Lytener gazes after her with
frustration for a moment, then takes a look around and notices that everyone
is staring at him with scorn and contempt. He’s obviously no longer welcome
here.
Before leaving, Lytener takes one more glance at the field below. But
something odd catches his eye, something off to the side of all the
activity, where the flames have already been put out. The whole blanket of
grass is scorched, but one particular spot is almost devoid of it
completely, burned all the way down to the dirt and making it stand out from
the rest. It creates a very peculiar shape; a straight line with two sides
of an equilateral triangle jutting out of its middle.
Lytener commits the formation to memory and starts back down the hill to
head for his car. The people gathered behind the police tape still have
their eyes on him, but one MAN in particular is staring after him with a
look of anxious interest. The man has dark, graying hair combed back from
his face and enough wrinkles in his visage to suggest an age of at least
sixty. The look in his clear, ice-blue eyes says he’s here for a very
specific reason. He glances nervously, seemingly almost paranoid, at the
faces around him, then looks back at Lytener’s retreating form, obviously
taking note of who he is and to keep track of him.
Cut down to the field with the fire in the foreground. We pan over to the
firefighters, then off to the side, where a paramedic zips up a body bag
containing a charred, twisted corpse.
INT. HOUSE – NIGHT
Cut to blackness and fade in to the dark, dingy interior of an obviously old
house. We sweep through the abandoned, neglected rooms on the lower level
with ragged, dusty furniture, peeling walls, cracked floors and cabinets,
and broken and boarded windows. As we go through the family room to the
kitchen, we begin to just barely hear the sounds of breathing. They become
more prominent as the light thumps of footsteps join them, growing heavier
and deeper, but sounding as though they’re meeting with resistance…like
passing through holes in a mask. The breaths echo and grow louder as we
travel up a staircase.
Flash-cut to a side view of the stairs as a shadowy, severed head with
short, blonde hair tumbles down to the floor below. Flash-cut again to the
nondescript SHAPE of a man’s torso coming slowly up the stairs, its head and
legs cut off by the frame. Flash-cut again to a young black man screaming in
pain and terror as a hand buries a third knife into his chest and secures
his impalement against a door. Sounds of more horrendous, cacophonous
shrieks then join the still-present breathing and footsteps as we flash-cut
back to the Shape, its details obscured in shadow, reaching the top of the
stairs and turning to walk down a hallway. As the Shape advances towards the
room at the end with the symphony of deafening sounds, more flash-cuts
strike in with images of a pair of hands crushing a dark-haired young man’s
skull, another young man with a bloody, lifeless look on his face dangling
upside down from an attic hatch, and a redheaded young woman stuck stiffly
against an iron gate with a gnarled, broken bar jutting through her stomach.
Flash-cut back to the Shape carefully opening the door at the end of the
hall. It enters a room that seems completely out-of-place; a bedroom with
white walls and carpet, clothes and stuffed animals scattered on the
furniture, and a bed with flowery blankets. This room isn’t in any state of
decay and even appears to have someone sleeping underneath the sheets. A
head of black hair is just visible above the blanket and against the pillow.
And it’s not until the Shape raises a gleaming butcher knife over the
unfortunate sleeper that we finally see its face, or rather, the mask that
conceals it. But even if we could see its real face, it somehow doesn’t seem
that it would be much different. The pale skin is as white as bone, the
emotionless expression enough to send ice running through our veins. Its
dark hair is dementedly tousled, and the eyes are nothing but empty black
voids that are bleak windows to a soul born in hell…eyes that know no love,
hate, fear, joy, compassion, or remorse. The uncaring eyes of Death.
The knife plunges downward, and the slumbering young woman, SARA MOYER,
bolts upright in her bed with an ear-wrenching screech of terror. She leaps
out of the mass of blankets and throws her back against the far wall of the
bedroom we just observed. She screams again, scrambling into a corner with
her eyes still wide and terrified. There’s nothing else in her room, the
breaths and footsteps are gone, and the only screams are her own.
The door of the bedroom suddenly bursts open, and her father, GIL MOYER,
charges inside in his cotton pajamas. He bewilderedly searches the room with
his eyes for any possible threat, then fixes his gaze on his petrified
daughter and rushes over to grip her shoulders.
GIL
Sara! Sara! It’s all right, there’s no one here, there’s nothing to
be afraid of!
Sara still screams, but a little quieter and less urgent now. Her eyes
finally start to clear as she slips out of the dream state, but her
breathing is still labored, and she still trembles uncontrollably.
GIL
Calm down, sweetheart, it’s just me. There’s nothing to be scared of, it’s
okay. You’re safe, you hear me? It’s all right, you just had a dream.
There’s no one here, take it easy.
She slowly calms down in her father’s arms. She’s stopped screaming, but she
begins to break down in sobs as she shakes and rests her head against his
shoulder.
GIL (SOOTHING)
Shh, it’s okay now. Don’t worry, baby. Let’s just get you out of here and go
downstairs. Come on.
Reluctantly breaking the embrace, Sara tries to control herself as Gil leads
her out of the room. When they emerge into the hall and start down the
stairs, we see that her dream was obviously combining a number of elements,
as dreams tend to do. As Gil passes the lights and flips them on, it’s shown
that the Moyer residence is bright and cozy, nothing like the ramshackle
hovel we saw a few moments ago.
Cut to the well-lit, homey-looking kitchen with a woman in a white
housecoat, DONNA MOYER, Sara’s mother, standing in front of the stove. She
has a pleasant face with graying brown hair extending almost to her
shoulders. When the tea kettle in front of her whistles, she turns off the
stove and carries it over to the counter next to the sink, where a small
‘HAPPY HALLOWEEN’ banner is hung in the windows above. After she prepares
the tea in a coffee mug, she sets it over on the black and orange checkered
tablecloth. She then pours herself a mug and takes the first sip.
Gil enters the kitchen and gently guides Sara to a seat at the table. Donna
hurries over with a blanket she’d retrieved from the living room to drape it
around her shoulders.
DONNA
Here you go, hon, I made you some tea. Is everything all right, do you need
anything else?
Sara shakes her head with a dead look in her eyes. She fragilely grasps the
mug and brings it to her lips, seemingly oblivious as her mother strokes her
hair and continues to try to comfort her. Gil watches them as he leans
against the pantry, seeing that his wife’s having little to no effect.
Sara’s calmed down, but she’s obviously still a wreck. It’d be
understandable for anyone who’d just woken up from such a bad dream, the
only thing is that he hasn’t seen her look any better or happier than this
in a very long time.
GIL
Donna, let’s leave her alone for a second. Just let her relax a little bit.
Donna’s reluctant to follow his request, glancing momentarily between him
and Sara. But she then gives their child a quick, reassuring smile.
DONNA
We’ll just be in the other room, okay?
Sara nods weakly as Donna shuffles out of the kitchen with her tea in hand,
Gil following her with a final look of concern and shake of his head in
Sara’s direction. Once they’re out of sight, the young woman tries to down
more tea with the same drained expression on her face. She gets a small
start when a cold breeze stings her skin, her face turning frightened again.
Her head snaps to the right and sees it’s just the wind flowing in through
the open window above the sink, the small, thin curtains in front of it
fluttering like ghosts. The shadow of a jagged, bare tree branch waves
threateningly as the breeze dies down. Sara brings a hand to her forehead
and sighs heavily…wondering how much longer this is going to last.
EXT. STREET – MORNING
Cross-dissolve to a road lined with houses, sidewalks, and trees for as far
as the eye can see. It’s a dim, cloudy morning as the camera pans around to
see parents dropping their kids off at the bus stop, dull-colored leaves
falling off the trees and drifting through the air, unlit jack-o-lanterns
sitting on porches, and skeleton and witch decorations on most of the
houses. As the view works its way around, a title in white letters fades in
at the bottom of the screen:
HADDONFIELD
The camera begins to elevate as it completes its pan-around, settling at an
angle about even with the roofs of the houses and looking down the street as
it stretches into the distance. Once it comes to a stop, the title subtly
cross-dissolves into another word:
HALLOWEEN
Cut to another street in Haddonfield’s “downtown” section, with the camera
crawling slowly and horizontally down the facades of several little shops
and a drug store. It comes to a stop on a motel where the parking lot is
largely deserted, save for Lytener’s Taurus.
INT. MOTEL – LYTENER’S ROOM – MORNING
The electronic ring of a cell phone sounds as we cut to Lytener asleep on
the bed, still in his green button-up shirt and black slacks from the
previous night. The cell phone sits on the nightstand. He stirs as the ring
comes again, then, with his eyes still closed, he reaches over, turns it on,
and brings it to his ear after three more rings.
LYTENER (GROGGY)
Hello?
The voice on the other end is the gruff and demanding one of his BOSS.
BOSS
Lytener, did I catch you sleeping?
Lytener suddenly snaps to his feet with his eyes open as though his superior
can see him.
LYTENER (SCRAMBLING)
No—well, uh—I mean…I had a long drive last night…
BOSS
Enough with the excuses. You can sleep when you’re dead.
LYTENER
Right. Gotcha.
BOSS
How’s the article coming?
LYTENER
Good. It’s moving right along.
BOSS
Better be. This Myers story is huge, Lytener. I’ll be sending Harding and
Jameson down to take pictures, too.
LYTENER
Both
of
them?
BOSS
My
best photographers and my best reporter. Like I told you, you’re getting a
full page here. I want something really good.
LYTENER
Oh, it’ll be good. Trust me.
BOSS
I
am trusting you. That’s why this is your ass. If I don’t get what I’m
expecting, you’ll be writing about aliens running brothels in Philly for
The National Enquirer.
LYTENER
And if I deliver? As you know I will?
BOSS
Maybe I’ll promote you to my personal coffee-retriever.
LYTENER
My
dream come true.
BOSS
Just get your ass out there and bring me my story, Lytener. Then we’ll talk.
LYTENER (WITH A CONFIDENT SMILE)
I’m on it.
Lytener turns off the phone, sets it down, and starts changing his clothes.
But he only manages to replace the shirt he’s wearing with a black dress one
before his phone rings again. He sighs with a slightly perturbed look on his
face, then sits on the edge of the bed and answers it.
LYTENER (WITH MILD ANNOYANCE)
Yes?
The soft, feminine voice that answers him belongs to DANA, his wife.
DANA
Sorry, is the big-shot reporter too busy for me? Should I go through his
secretary?
LYTENER (SMILING)
Yes, he’s on a very big story at the moment. You might want to leave a
message with one of his aides.
DANA (PLAYFULLY)
Well, if that’s the case, just tell him he’ll be sleeping on the couch when
he gets back.
LYTENER (LAUGHS)
Never mind, he just walked in.
DANA
I
thought he would.
LYTENER (AFTER ANOTHER CHUCKLE)
What do you need, babe?
DANA
Do
you really need to spend two days out there?
LYTENER (SIGHING TO SIGNIFY THEY’VE BEEN THROUGH THIS)
That’s how long it’s gonna take to do all the interviews and research and
put everything together, hon. Can’t do it any quicker than that. But I
promise I’ll be back tomorrow as soon as I’m done.
DANA
Why do you have to go over Halloween, though? You know, I’ve finally got a
weekend off. I thought we’d be able to spend some time together.
LYTENER
Dana, you know I’d much rather be there with you. But this story revolves
around Halloween. I’ve gotta be here now to catch the human element. See how
the people in town handle it.
DANA
So
you’re leaving your new wife alone over Halloween with nothing to do?
LYTENER
You could wear the world’s most hideous mask and scare all the
trick-or-treaters who come to our door.
DANA
They don’t make masks of you, though.
LYTENER (SMIRKING)
My
sides are splitting.
DANA
I
try.
LYTENER (AFTER A PAUSE)
Look, I’ll be back as quick as I can. I’ll see you tomorrow night, okay?
DANA (HOPELESSLY)
All right.
LYTENER (PAUSE)
I’m sorry, but-
DANA
It’s your job. I know.
LYTENER (SIGH)
Yeah. Well, I love you, kiddo.
DANA
Love you, too.
Lytener turns off the phone and stares at it for a moment, sighing again in
thought. After a minute, he glances at the clock and shakes Dana from his
mind. He finishes changing his clothes and throws his trenchcoat on, then
pockets his phone and a tape recorder, pen, and notepad from his overnight
bag. Then he’s out the door.
EXT. MOTEL PARKING LOT – MORNING
Lytener emerges from the front doors of the motel and heads for his Taurus.
As he unlocks the door and slides into the driver’s seat, we slowly pan
around to the other side of the street, coming to rest on a black Honda
parked in front of a nearby ice cream shop. We cut to a view that looks in
through the windshield to see that the man sitting behind the wheel is the
same dark-haired, blue-eyed man we saw take notice of Lytener the night
before. He stares with intent, but also with the same level of anxiety as
last time.
When the red Taurus starts up and hits the road, the black Honda quietly
slips out of its parking space and follows a careful distance behind it.
EXT. PARK – DAY
Cut to a bleak view of a wooded area that’s one of the oldest parts of
Haddonfield’s local park. It’s nothing but open hills with masses of trees
in the background beneath a heartless, steel-gray sky. The autumn day is not
bright and beautiful, but instead cold and cheerless, promising an early
winter. Even the brightest of the leaves are dark and subdued.
The camera slows when it reaches an old playground setup. The equipment
consists of only a slide, monkey bars, a see-saw, and a jungle gym. But most
of the wood is split and almost black with rot, the metal is dull in luster
and splotched with rust. Weeds and kudzu threaten to smother all of it. The
end of the see-saw sitting on the ground has almost disappeared into a sea
of leaves and stems. The jungle gym looks ready to collapse under the weight
of all the plant growth on top of it. Somehow, it all looks to be a fitting
place for Sara.
She lights the cigarette in her lips as she leans against the massive trunk
of a tree. Her eyes are empty, their once bright green hue seeming to have
now faded to a melancholy gray. Against the setting, with her dark clothes
and pale complexion, the shot almost seems black-and-white. Color has
drained from her as life has.
After a few moments, her eyes begin to brighten ever so slightly as she
stands and gazes at the playground, the subtlest hint of their former
sparkle beginning to return. She obviously sees something in the playground
that we can’t, something that mercifully takes her to another time and
another place…another life. It’s almost enough to raise the corner of her
mouth in a smile. But she’s reminded that she’s the only one who still
carries whatever memory she’s experiencing. She’s the only one in it who’s
still alive.
The hint of a smile quickly disappears. Her eyes return to the color of ash.
She brings the cigarette back to her lips as the faint sounds of feet
crunching over the leaves begin to fill the background. She already knows
the footsteps most likely belong to her friend KRISTY CARTER.
KRISTY (STEPPING IN FROM AROUND THE TREE)
Thought I’d find you here.
Sara doesn’t give her any real acknowledgment, but Kristy doesn’t look like
she was expecting much anyway. She’s a fairly stark contrast to Sara, her
lively chestnut hair flowing past her shoulders and away from her pretty,
youthful face. Her skin is much the same color as the small tan jacket she
wears, and she obviously dresses to call attention to her attractive form,
unlike Sara, who hides hers beneath a bulky leather jacket and black
sweater. But despite their differences, we can tell right away by the look
in her eyes that Kristy knows Sara pretty well and has a good idea of why
she’s here.
KRISTY
Little cold for this, isn’t it?
SARA (IGNORING THE COMMENT)
See that see-saw over there?
KRISTY
Yeah.
SARA
That’s why we used to be known as the playground terrors. Rudy was notorious
for making a catapult out of it.
KRISTY
How’d he do that?
SARA
Well, he needed Jen’s help. He’d start out just sitting on it by himself,
then when a smaller kid finally got on with him, he’d give Jen the signal to
jump on his end in front of him, and together, they’d launch a five-year-old
like a cruise-missile.
KRISTY (WITH A SMILE)
It
actually sounds like they were the playground terrors, and I’m
betting you were the one standing off to the side telling them to stop.
SARA (SHRUGS AND TAKES ANOTHER DRAG)
They never listened to me anyway, so I just lump myself in there with them.
(PAUSE)
Maybe if they had listened to me for once…
KRISTY (HER SMILE INSTANTLY FADING)
Sara, don’t.
SARA (SMILING HOPELESSLY)
Sorry…looks like not even reminiscing really helps anymore.
Sara steps away from the tree, brings the cigarette back to her lips, and
starts for the leaf-covered walking path. Kristy stares after her for a
second, trying to decide what to do or say, then jogs to catch up with her.
They then walk in silence for several seconds, Kristy repeatedly glancing at
the hollow, pallid expression on her friend’s face. Eventually, she sighs
and comes right out with what’s on her mind.
KRISTY
Sara…I want you to answer a question for me.
SARA (SIGHS AS IF SHE KNOWS WHAT’S COMING)
What is it, Kristy?
KRISTY
How much longer are we gonna do this?
Sara doesn’t answer. She keeps walking and brings the cigarette up for
another puff, but Kristy steps around in front of her and blocks her path.
They stop and gaze at one another.
KRISTY
I’m serious. You act like it’s no big deal, but this is eating you alive.
You’re getting worse, Sara.
SARA (PAUSE)
I’ll live with it. I have for the past two years, haven’t I?
KRISTY
Sara, dividing all the time you spend out of your house between here and the
cemetery isn’t a life.
Sara says nothing.
KRISTY
You should at least try to do something with yourself…maybe go back to
school, get a job, go out once in awhile, associate with some people…
SARA
I’m associating with you.
KRISTY
Only because I came out here after you. If it was left up to you, we’d never
see each other.
Sara doesn’t respond again.
KRISTY
All I’m saying is maybe it’s time you tried to put it all behind you a
little bit.
SARA (PAUSE)
Just forget about it, huh?
KRISTY
Yeah. Think of it as a second chance. A new lease on life, you know?
SARA (PAUSE AS SHE SMILES BITTERLY)
Sure. Carpe fucking Diem.
Sara steps around her and continues walking, reaching the front of the park.
Kristy, visibly frustrated, turns around and jogs to rejoin her. She briefly
starts talking again, but Sara suddenly halts and silences her. Her friend
only looks perplexed, but Sara has urgency in her eyes. She starts snapping
her head in all directions, obviously thinking they’re not alone.
KRISTY
What’s wrong?
Sara remains silent, frantically scanning their surroundings. A twig snaps.
SARA (ALARMED)
What was that?
KRISTY
A
stick breaking in the wind.
SARA
I
don’t think so.
The camera switches to a view of Sara and Kristy from about 20 feet away,
behind a cluster of bushes. It could be from someone’s POV, but the shot is
unwavering. And the only noise is the wind.
Cut back to a close angle on Sara and Kristy.
KRISTY
What? Do you think someone’s out there?
Sara only shakes her head with uncertainty.
KRISTY
Sara…
SARA (STILL FRIGHTENED)
Let’s go. Come on, let’s just go.
Sara quickly shuffles past Kristy and towards a clear path that leads to the
road nearby. Kristy remains behind for a moment, searching the area for what
could’ve had her friend so spooked. But she finds nothing. Just the park’s
meager Halloween decorations. She finally gives up and takes off after Sara
again.
KRISTY
Hey! Wait up!
She disappears off camera, and behind them, the deserted park suddenly looks
more sinister. The wind rushes faster, swinging a plastic skeleton dangling
from a dead tree branch like a hanged corpse.
EXT. STREET – DAY
Cut to Lytener’s Taurus making a turn towards the camera from a stop sign
and rolling through a residential area. The sidewalks and road are buried in
a mess of sticks, pine straw, and leaves from the bare trees in the houses’
lawns. Lytener’s vehicle crunches over a particularly sizable mass of debris
as it swings into a driveway and climbs a mild incline, stopping just to the
right of the concrete path that leads up to the house’s front stairs.
Lytener turns off the car and gets out. He ventures up the concrete path to
the stairs and rings the front doorbell once he reaches the porch. It takes
a moment, but the door is eventually opened by a man who appears to be in
his early forties, dressed in a green, long-sleeved shirt and blue jeans
with a pointed, silver Cross hanging around his neck. His short, black hair
is combed back, his goatee neatly trimmed. Upon his first sight of Lytener,
the man, SEAN LOOMIS, narrows his eyes a little suspiciously.
LOOMIS
Can I help you?
LYTENER
Yes, are you Mr. Sean Loomis?
LOOMIS (NODS, STILL SUSPICIOUS)
Yes I am.
LYTENER
Hi, I’m David Lytener from the Chicago Sun-Times.
(STICKS HIS HAND OUT TO SHAKE)
We
spoke on the phone a few days ago.
Loomis’s suspicion disappears. He shakes Lytener’s hand.
LOOMIS
Right, I remember. Come on in.
LYTENER
Thanks.
INT. LOOMIS’S HOUSE - DAY
Loomis steps aside for Lytener to enter, then shuts the front door behind
them. He takes the lead and heads for the kitchen as Lytener follows him.
LOOMIS
Would you like some coffee? I just brewed a fresh pot.
LYTENER
Sure, that’d be great.
Lytener stops near the table as Loomis proceeds to the counter and starts
preparing two mugs.
LYTENER (AFTER A SILENCE)
Interesting place you have here.
LOOMIS
It
was my mother’s. She died about eight months ago, and I moved in from my
apartment to fix it up a bit. But what can I say? Working on your Ph.D.
doesn’t leave much time for home maintenance.
LYTENER
Ah. Is this where your parents raised you?
LOOMIS
Where my mother raised me, at least. Like I told you last time, I
only saw my father a couple of times when I was little. Other than that, we
only got a call or a letter every few years. He was off chasing his
Bogeyman.
Loomis finishes the coffee and hands a mug to Lytener.
LYTENER
Think you might’ve seen more of him if he’d been able to catch his patient?
LOOMIS (WITH A SHRUG OF RESIGNATION)
Who knows? But I have to say, that’s the reason I wonder why you’re
interested in his manuscript.
LYTENER
What do you mean?
LOOMIS
It’s just an account of all those years he spent chasing after Myers. And he
never found him again before he died, so I don’t really see what it could
tell you.
LYTENER
Well, you’ve been through it, right? There has to be something
worthwhile in it.
LOOMIS (PAUSE)
I’ve never read it, actually.
Lytener appears taken aback.
LOOMIS
I’m not sure why it was willed to me. I’m not interested in Michael Myers,
Mr. Lytener. I know what my father said about him in his letters, and
frankly, that was enough for me to want nothing to do with him.
LYTENER (SMILING)
Well then…who knows what kind of useful information I might find in it?
Loomis nods and takes a sip of coffee, then starts forward and motions for
Lytener to follow him into the hallway.
LOOMIS
Well, I have the manuscript upstairs, and as I told you on the phone, you’re
welcome to it. But there’s something you should know before you get into it.
LYTENER
What’s that?
LOOMIS
Just that you might not get all the answers you want. It’s actually not
quite finished.
LYTENER
What? I thought-
LOOMIS
He
finished it once, then went back to add some things about nine or so years
ago. I don’t know what he was adding, but I was told he passed away before
he got it all down.
They climb the stairs and venture to a dusty, uninhabited bedroom at the end
of the hallway. Loomis slides open a desk drawer, removes a mildly thick
stack of paper bound in a blank, black cover—Dr. Sam Loomis’s manuscript—and
hands it to Lytener.
Lytener’s reverence is obvious as he quickly flips through the pages. When
he closes it again, he sighs, stares at it for a minute, and looks back at
Loomis with an inquisitive look on his face.
LYTENER
I
can’t understand why you’ve never even looked at this. I mean, even if
you’re not interested in knowing it all, I’m sure there are a million
publishers that would kill for whatever’s in here.
LOOMIS
That’s something else. My father didn’t write that to make money, and I
didn’t think it’d be right for me to profit from it, either. I was told he
never intended this for publication, it was just his way of “exorcising some
demons.”
Loomis steps in front of Lytener and starts leading him back into the
hallway and down the stairs.
LYTENER
Well hopefully, his demons will fill in those gaps and finally show everyone
the whole picture. Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if all the weird
things that go on around here are connected somehow.
LOOMIS
What’re you talking about?
LYTENER
Just something I stumbled on when I was coming into town last night. There
was a field with a weird symbol burned into it and a dead body hauled out of
it.
LOOMIS (MUSING)
You found the crystal ball.
LYTENER (CONFUSED)
Crystal ball?
LOOMIS (SHAKING HIS HEAD)
Never mind. Just something else my father used to do.
LYTENER
No, tell me. What do you mean by crystal ball?
Loomis waits until they fully descend the stairs and stop at the front door
to answer him.
LOOMIS
It’s just an expression I came up with from all the parallels my father used
to draw between what goes on around here and the practices of the ancient
Druids.
LYTENER
Druids?
LOOMIS
You know…that Celtic religious order that populated northern Europe a couple
of thousand years ago. One of the rituals they used to perform was to take
prisoners, animals, or the insane and burn them alive in baskets. Through
watching them die, the Druids believed they could see the future.
LYTENER (EYES WIDENING WITH PIQUED INTEREST)
You mean to say you think…
LOOMIS (LAUGHS)
Don’t take me literally, Mr. Lytener. Like I said, just historical parallels
my father used to make. I read a few in his letters, and even though some
were a little unsettling, they were basically just rhetoric.
Lytener almost looks disappointed.
LOOMIS (NOTICING THE OTHER MAN’S SILENCE)
But hey, who’s to say someone’s not out there keeping the old Druid
traditions alive? Stranger things have happened.
LYTENER (BRIGHTENS AND SMIRKS)
Yeah. I’ve written about most of them.
Loomis laughs as Lytener hands him the now-empty coffee mug and turns toward
the door.
LYTENER
Well, thanks for the coffee. I should get going.
LOOMIS (TAKES THE CUP)
All right, but if you need anything else of my father’s, I can tell you
where to find it.
LYTENER (SURPRISED)
There’s more?
LOOMIS (NODS)
That manuscript’s just the tip of the iceberg. All his notes and research
from over the years are still in the house that used to belong to his nurse.
LYTENER
Who owns the house now?
LOOMIS
It
went to the nurse’s brother after she was killed a few years back. His
name’s Jordan Chambers. I’ve only talked to him a couple of times, but I’m
pretty sure he’s just left the place the way it was. If you give him a call,
I don’t see why he wouldn’t give you directions and let you in to look
around.
LYTENER
Could I have his number?
LOOMIS
Sure.
Loomis rattles off the number for Lytener to program into his cell phone.
After it’s done, he pockets the phone again and grasps the doorknob.
LYTENER
Thanks for all your help, Mr. Loomis, I appreciate it very much. And I’ll
have the manuscript back to you as soon as possible.
LOOMIS (SMILES)
Happy hunting.
Loomis’s smile fades when Lytener disappears out the door. His eyes are
focused as he watches him leave through the window.
INT. CAR – DAY
The camera cuts to the POV of someone sitting in a car parked about half a
block down the street. Through this person’s eyes, we see Lytener heading
for his Taurus, sliding inside, and cranking the engine.
EXT. STREET - DAY
The view cuts outside again with Lytener backing out of the driveway in the
foreground. In the background, we see the black Honda from earlier, parked
inconspicuously along the front edge of a lawn several houses down. Lytener
edges out into the street, shifts the car into drive, and starts rolling
forward.
INT. CAR – DAY
Back in the Honda, we once again meet the dark-haired man with the icy eyes.
He lets Lytener have a good head start, and as we see him then turn the key
and release the parking brake, he hears an electronic tone ring from the
passenger seat. He picks up his cell phone and, after debating for a few
seconds, anxiously answers it. He tries to hide his nervousness.
MAN
…Yes?
The VOICE on the other end is cold and demanding.
VOICE
You weren’t there last night.
MAN (TRYING TO SOUND CONFUSED RATHER THAN AFRAID)
Where?
VOICE
You know damn well where. Now why did you miss it?
MAN
Miss what? I don’t-
VOICE (IRRITATED)
The prophecy.
MAN (FEIGNED SURPRISE)
It
was last night?
VOICE
Don’t pretend you didn’t know.
MAN (APOLOGETIC)
I’m sorry, I was-
VOICE
Don’t insult me with excuses.
MAN
Sorry.
VOICE
Don’t let it happen again. Tonight is very important.
MAN
Tonight…?
VOICE
The prophecy told that it’s time for the torch to be passed.
MAN
You mean…?
VOICE
Yes. And everyone has to be there. Tonight will be a revival.
MAN (EAGERLY)
I’ll be there, I promise.
VOICE
What are you doing right now?
MAN (CAUGHT OFF-GUARD)
What?
VOICE
What are you doing right now?
MAN
Keeping an eye on the reporter.
VOICE (DARKENING)
Reporter?
The man shuts his eyes and clenches his teeth, banging his head against the
headrest for giving away what he thought they’d surely already know.
MAN
It
doesn’t look like he’s a threat, I don’t think he’ll find anything leading
to us. I’m just making sure he doesn’t get too close.
VOICE
Don’t slip up on this one.
MAN
I
won’t.
VOICE
And don’t forget again tonight.
MAN
I
won’t.
The line goes dead, and the man puts his phone away with mild relief
spreading over his face. When he sits up straight again, he looks down at
his forearms, piled loosely in his lap. He turns his left wrist up to face
him, slowly pulling back the sleeve of his plaid shirt and exhaling heavily.
The black mark of Thorn is clearly tattooed in his flesh.
INT. CHURCH – DAY
The shot of the man’s tattooed wrist cross-dissolves into a shot of a stone
wall embellishing the same symbol in red. The camera pans back from the wall
and drifts through the rest of the sanctuary, over the other ancient-looking
stone walls and through the equally archaic balconies and wooden,
Thorn-shaped pillars. Only one set of doors at the back of the sanctuary
leads to the rest of the building beyond. A single skylight in the roof
above provides a pale shaft of light to shine in from outside, but other
than that, the room is lit only with the flaming torches that line the
walls, allowing only the hues of orange and black to envelop the dank
structure.
The view comes to rest on the end of one of the ground pews, revealing that
the dark hideaway is deserted except for one man in the signature black,
hooded robe. The camera closes in on the Thorn FOLLOWER’S back as he toys
with something in his hands. After a moment, we see it’s a cell phone as he
brings it to his ear.
FOLLOWER
I’m sorry to disturb you, but I just spoke with Devlin. We may have a
problem.
EXT. SIDEWALK – DAY
Cut to Kristy and Sara walking down one of the roads of residential
Haddonfield, passing through a more rural area where crop fields reign and
houses are spread pretty far from one another. The flat, rolling fields
match the drab, gray tone of the day. One of them displays a scarecrow in
the distance, its outstretched arms spindly and skeletal. Its torso is
covered with a torn, ragged shroud, its shadowy, nondescript face is trapped
in an expression of a haunting moan. When Sara glances at it, it seems to
prompt her to warily survey the rest of their surroundings, then return her
blank, haunted stare to the road in front of them.
They now travel alongside an old wooden fence. Kristy turns her attention to
what lies beyond it as the fence gives way to a metal gate; the front
entrance of the town’s biggest recreational area. Behind the entrance, she
sees the event being hosted.
KRISTY
Look, the Fall Fair’s going on.
Sara turns her gaze towards it, obviously unmoved by the sight.
KRISTY
Let’s go check it out.
SARA
Why?
KRISTY
Because you haven’t said anything since we left the park. I think it might
cheer you up.
SARA
You just want to see Ray.
KRISTY
An
added bonus. I really think this is what you need.
SARA
Cotton candy and a tilt-a-whirl?
KRISTY
Come on, for old time’s sake.
Sara’s still not convinced.
KRISTY
It’ll be good for you, let’s go.
Before Sara can protest any further, Kristy takes her arm and brings her to
the gate. She pays for two tickets, then they enter and start wandering
around.
EXT. FAIRGROUNDS - DAY
Kristy takes it all in with bright eyes and enjoyment on her face, but
Sara’s looking at everything a little differently. She first notices there
aren’t many people here at all, and even most of those present seem a little
skittish, guarded…as though they’re trying to have a good time, but somehow
can’t. The attempts to be excited and make everything festive by the
employees running the rides and the games in the booths are noble, but the
day’s atmosphere keeps the mood subdued. The jack-o-lantern carving contest
has few participants, and even fewer are bobbing for apples. Many of the
game booths are deserted. And having been used annually for many years now,
the fair’s own equipment is old and contributing to the overall effect. The
Ferris wheel runs with a grinding screech at the end of every rotation, the
tilt-a-whirl is rusted and rickety, and the wooden booths are split and
cracked all over. Stereotypical carnival music plays through the speakers
mounted on the light poles, but the aged speakers distort the tune into a
dissonant, spine-tingling cacophony.
Sara sighs and casts her eyes to the ground, waiting for Kristy to lead them
to whatever destination she has in mind. Soon, they reach a dunking booth
decorated and advertised as “Dunk the Witch,” but the “witch” is obviously
on break or otherwise occupied. The only one present at the booth is the
young man who gives out the baseballs for the customers to take their shots.
LEX WESTIN stands staring off to the side with boredom in his rounded
features, the breeze tugging at his brown hair. He doesn’t notice anyone
approaching until the two girls are practically right in his face.
LEX
Kristy!
KRISTY
Where’s Ray?
LEX (SMIRKING)
Hello to you, too.
KRISTY (LAUGHS SLIGHTLY)
Sorry, I just need to tell him something. How’re things with you, Lex?
LEX
Pathetic as always. I don’t even know why I volunteer for this thing
anymore. There are more productive ways I could be wasting my life.
KRISTY
Like working the drive-thru?
LEX
That’s only temporary, I said. Just until my internship is over and my dad
actually hires me.
KRISTY
And the final phase of the cloning process is complete.
LEX (GRINNING)
Who am I to challenge fate?
KRISTY
So, now that we’ve exchanged proper greetings, where’s your brother?
LEX
But I haven’t asked how you are yet.
KRISTY
Peachy. Now where-
A
speeding form suddenly flashes across the screen and latches onto Kristy.
Lex doesn’t react, Sara jumps, and Kristy squeals. Sara then relaxes with
some visible irritation when she hears Kristy start laughing as the other,
slightly bigger and taller brown-haired young man, RAY WESTIN, whisks her
off behind a booth.
LEX (NONCHALANTLY)
He’s right there.
Sara remains in the same spot and averts her eyes toward the Ferris wheel.
Lex appears to notice her for the first time, eyeing her face with interest.
LEX
I
don’t believe we’ve met.
Sara turns to him with her same lack of expression.
SARA
You’re right.
The corner of Lex’s mouth goes up in a subtle smile as he offers his hand.
LEX
I’m Lex Westin.
Sara shakes his hand after a moment of staring at it, the smallest hint of
warmth finally coming to her pale face.
SARA
Sara Moyer.
Lex’s smile broadens a little bit with the growing spark in his eye.
Cut to Kristy and Ray behind the booth, their lips torridly locked. They
kiss hungrily for several seconds, but when Ray’s hands start to wander and
grope, Kristy gently brings the session to a halt and looks into his eyes as
a grin still tugs at his mouth.
RAY
What? Trying to save up for tonight?
KRISTY
That’s what I need to talk to you about, actually.
RAY (THE GRIN FADING)
What’s going on?
KRISTY
I’m thinking there needs to be a change of plans.
RAY
Not canceling, are you?
KRISTY
I
don’t know. I mean, I know it was supposed to be just you and me tonight,
but…
RAY
…But what?
KRISTY
I’m really worried about Sara. It’s bad, she’s worse than usual today.
RAY (PAUSE)
Think I can understand why.
KRISTY
So
you see why I don’t want to leave her alone tonight.
RAY (NODS RELUCTANTLY)
Yeah.
KRISTY (APOLOGETICALLY)
She needs somebody there, Ray. I can’t leave her by herself. If I did, I’d
just be worrying, pacing rings around the carpet, and bugging you all night.
RAY (NODDING)
You’re right. Just do what you need to do, I understand.
KRISTY
Really?
RAY (STILL NODDING)
Yeah, sure.
KRISTY (SMILES)
Thanks. I’ll make it up to you, I promise.
RAY
Well, hold on, there’s a catch. You’re not getting off that easy.
KRISTY
What?
RAY
I
still wanna see you tonight. How about you tell me where you guys are gonna
be, and I’ll come over later?
KRISTY (SMILING)
Won’t quite be what we were planning, darlin’.
RAY
Just to be in the presence of such a beautiful woman is already more than I
could ask for.
Kristy’s smile widens, and they lean in to pick up where they left off.
Cut back to Sara and Lex next to the dunking booth. Lex is leaning on the
small podium in front of him, looking at Sara when he speaks, but she still
manages to stare distractedly off into the distance. We join them in
mid-conversation.
LEX
So
what brings you to the Fall Fair?
SARA
It
was Kristy’s idea. I don’t really get into Halloween.
LEX
Why not? You used to.
Sara turns and gives him a strange look.
LEX (LAUGHS)
Sorry, that probably sounded weird.
SARA
A
little.
LEX
We
haven’t really met before today, but I knew who you were. One of those
you don’t know me, but I know you type of things.
SARA
Really?
LEX
I’ve been volunteering at this thing since I was in first grade. And I
remember seeing you here every year, without fail.
SARA
I’m surprised you noticed me.
LEX
Well, it was hard not to. I’d be lying if I said you didn’t catch my
attention.
Sara just smiles faintly.
LEX
But it always looked to me like you were enjoying yourself. Then I didn’t
see you the past couple of years, and now…
SARA (PAUSE)
Things change.
Lex smiles distantly as though he might understand more than he’s letting
on, then silence ensues. They’re both lost in thought for a moment, but it’s
shattered when a little boy in a Frankenstein costume dashes by and runs
into Sara, dumping half his mug of apple cider onto her sweater. She yelps
in surprise and staggers back as the boy recovers and continues on his way.
Lex shouts after him with an irritated look.
LEX
Hey, watch where you’re going!
The boy disappears around a corner, leaving Lex scrambling for something to
help Sara clean herself up.
LEX
Sorry about that. Here, we gotta have a towel around here or something…
SARA (AS HE STARTS LOOKING)
No, it’s okay, just show me where the bathroom is.
LEX
You sure? I’m almost certain we have something here…
SARA
It’s all right, Lex, really, just point the bathrooms out to me.
LEX (GIVING UP AND GRANTING HER REQUEST)
They’re over there behind the pumpkin patch. See?
SARA
Yeah, thanks. I’ll be right back.
Sara walks off, passes the pumpkin patch, and hikes through a somewhat
lengthy area of weeds and tall grass. The building housing the restrooms is
seated far back from the rest of the fair, and like the other structures, is
old and ramshackle. Ivy twists in and out of the cracks in the gray, faded
wood. The doors leading to both facilities repeatedly blow open and closed
in the wind for the absence of locks, obviously broken or rusted off long
ago.
Cut to a far-off shot from the brush behind the building as Sara slows down
and tenuously disappears inside. Again, the shot could be a POV, but it
doesn’t move at all, and the only sound is the creaking of the weak wood in
the wind.
INT. RESTROOM - DAY
Cut back to Sara stepping through the door and inside, mildly annoyed at the
dark, dingy interior. The floor is cracked, stained, dusty concrete, the
walls the same rotting wood that can be seen from outside. She moves up,
snatches a few paper towels from the dispenser, and wets them in the sink.
After a few moments of scrubbing what cider she can off her sweater, her
motions gradually slow down, and her eyes narrow with focus. The sleeve of
her jacket is repeatedly rolling back as she wipes herself off, revealing
and calling attention to what’s underneath them. Even though Sara knows very
well that they’re there, she reacts as if seeing them for the first time
when she turns her forearms up, shakes her sleeves back, and stares at the
black, scabbed-over slash marks on her wrists.
She normally looks at them with cold apathy, but she now finds herself
gazing at the wounds with nothing but an empty, lonely sadness in her eyes;
as if they represent what her life has come to. And seemingly to confirm
that, she meets the distorted image there to greet her when she looks up
into the mirror…the web of cracks in the glass is centered right on her
cheek, splintering her face into a mismatched jigsaw puzzle of jagged pieces
that don’t fit together. It makes her smile sadly as she slowly reaches up
and places a finger in the center of the cracks, then begins gently tracing
a path outward and over its marring of her reflection…as if to smooth it
over.
Suddenly, she stops cold when her finger reaches another, darker image in
the mirror. Her hand shrinks back from the mirror, her eyes widen, and her
breath quickens with fear. She doesn’t know how long it’s been there, but
she sees it now, still and silent in the corner behind her, staring as only
a predator can…the Shape.
It’s largely in shadow, but she can the light streaming in through a hole
and barely splashing across the left side of its face, giving her the
slightest hint of the ghostly pale mask and a black, empty eye slit. The
hair on the mask is the only thing moving, blowing subtly in the entering
breeze. The rest of its body is as still as a statue…waiting patiently to
pounce whenever she decides to move.
She tightly shuts her eyes and grits her teeth, telling herself it isn’t
real. It’s just a hallucination, just her paranoid mind playing its
ceaseless tricks on her. She counts to ten in her head, then slowly opens
her eyes again with a look in her irises that pleads for nothing to be
there.
It’s gone.
She releases a thankful sigh of relief and wipes the sweat beaded on her
forehead. She tries to calm herself and clear her head.
Cut back to a view from behind the restroom building. We pan slowly back,
expanding the frame more and more until a shoulder in dirty, dark blue
coveralls appears on the left side, the bottom edge of a white mask just
visible over the collar.
EXT. MOTEL – DAY
Cut to the outside walkway on the motel’s second level. After moving over
the doors to several rooms, the camera comes to rest on Lytener, standing in
the angular bend of the walkway at the corner of the building. He rests one
hand on the railing, takes another swig of a beer with the other. When he
lowers the bottle from his lips, we see the hint of satisfaction on his face
as he gazes out over the landscape. The gleam in his eyes is like that of a
hunting dog. He’s sniffed out a trail he knows is going to lead him
somewhere. He’s tracking now, knowing where he can pick up the scent again
and find everything he’s looking for…out there…somewhere.
He
smiles and takes another swallow of beer. Then, a slightly familiar female
VOICE suddenly sounds behind him.
VOICE
So
this is what you call working on a story, huh?
Startled, he almost drops the bottle. When he turns around in the direction
of the voice, he’s faced with Dana’s tall, slender, dark-haired form.
LYTENER (STILL RECOVERING)
Dana! I…you…
She smiles and struts toward him, tossing her hair back from her shoulders
as she approaches. She’s dressed in a gray sweatshirt and blue jeans, a
definite contrast to her husband’s more business-like attire.
DANA
Surprised?
She hugs him and plants a kiss on his lips before he gets the chance to
reply. He keeps an arm around her when the embrace is parted.
LYTENER
A
little. What’re you doing here?
DANA
Well, since you weren’t gonna come home to me, I decided to come to you
rather than sit around the house feeling sorry for myself all weekend.
LYTENER
Well, I’m just taking a short break right now. I’ve got a lot of ground to
cover on this story.
DANA
I
know. I thought maybe I could tag along.
LYTENER
What?
DANA
We
could go after the story together. Be like Clark Kent and Lois Lane, you
know?
LYTENER (SURPRISED)
You’ve never shown any interest before.
DANA
Well, if it’s the only way I get to see my husband for the next two days,
I’m willing to give it a shot.
He
smiles, kisses her forehead, and squeezes her shoulder, then lets her go so
he can walk over and toss his empty bottle in the trash.
LYTENER
Y’know, it might actually be good to have your insight into this…you
wouldn’t believe some of the stuff I’ve already managed to dig up.
DANA
It’s up to your usual standards of strange and peculiar, I hope.
LYTENER (ALMOST LAUGHS)
Babe, this is far beyond anything I’ve handled before.
DANA
How’s that?
LYTENER
I
just spent the last few hours reading a manuscript written by Michael Myers’
psychiatrist.
DANA (NARROWING HER EYES)
Psychiatrist…that would be…Loomis, right?
LYTENER (NODDING)
Dr. Sam Loomis, the guy who spent most of the latter part of his life trying
to hunt Myers down.
DANA
So
what’d you find in the manuscript?
LYTENER (GRINNING AND LEANING AGAINST THE WALL CONTEMPLATIVELY)
I
don’t even know where to start, really…
(PAUSE)
Tell me everything you know about Laurie Strode.
DANA
Laurie Strode?
LYTENER
Yeah. Come on, you saw that primetime documentary on her. We watched it
together.
DANA (LAUGHS)
Okay…uh…
(PAUSE AS SHE BITES HER LIP AND THINKS)
She was Michael Myers’s sister…he tried to kill her when he first escaped
from that mental institution. After he disappeared, she faked her death and
changed her name…went into hiding…got married, had a son, got divorced…and
he found her again after 20 years. But I don’t think he actually got her
till a couple years ago. Is that right?
LYTENER (NODS)
That everything you remember?
DANA
The highlights, I guess.
LYTENER (GRINS)
That’s about half the story.
DANA (PERPLEXED)
What else is there?
LYTENER (STILL SMILING)
Plenty.
(PAUSE)
You said you remembered them saying she had an ex-husband and a son.
DANA
Yeah.
LYTENER
She had a daughter, too.
DANA (EYEING HIM STRANGELY)
I
don’t remember that.
LYTENER
That’s because they didn’t say anything about her. In fact, none of
the research I read prior to coming to Haddonfield mentioned anything about
a daughter. But according to Dr. Loomis, the ex-husband and son we heard
about on TV were actually her second family.
DANA
What?
LYTENER
Laurie Strode first married in 1979, to someone named Jimmy Lloyd. They had
a daughter, Jamie…but their marriage hit the rocks pretty quick. Laurie was
living in paranoid fear of her brother, heading toward a complete nervous
breakdown, and Jimmy couldn’t take it.
DANA
So
they got divorced?
LYTENER (PAUSE)
Sort of. After they’d been together about eight years, Laurie came up with
the idea of faking her death and going into hiding. Jimmy went along with
the idea, but Laurie was still afraid that Myers might find her. So to
protect their daughter, they decided to leave her behind, rather than taking
her along.
DANA
And they did.
LYTENER (NODS)
Laurie and Jimmy staged their deaths in a car accident and went their
separate ways…and Jamie was adopted by a family living here in Haddonfield.
DANA
Well what about her second family?
LYTENER
Not that much to it. Laurie changed her name to Keri and moved out to
California. There, she met a guy named Rob Tate and his six-year-old son,
John. Tate’s wife had died giving birth, but it turns out that John never
knew that. Tate never had the heart to tell him. He just kept telling him
she’d gone away for awhile.
DANA
So
he’s the husband we heard about on TV…Laurie’s second husband.
LYTENER
That’s him.
DANA
See, I remember that, but I didn’t know the son wasn’t really hers.
LYTENER
That’s because she didn’t tell anybody but Dr. Loomis. They told everyone
else, even John, that she was his biological mother. She treated him
and talked to him as if she’d given birth to him.
DANA
But didn’t he ever ask why she wasn’t around for the first six years of his
life?
LYTENER
Eventually, when he was a teenager. That was when she finally told him about
her mass murdering brother.
DANA
I’m guessing she didn’t tell him everything, though.
LYTENER
Not everything, no. Just that she’d spent those six years trying to work her
way through all her problems. She didn’t tell him anything about her
daughter or first husband…or that she wasn’t really his mother.
DANA
And you got all this from a manuscript written by Dr. Loomis?
LYTENER
They kept in touch after he rescued her from Myers that first time in ‘78.
He even helped her stage her death and disappear. They communicated back and
forth afterward, mostly by mail. She kept him up-to-date on her life, and he
kept her up-to-date on Myers.
DANA
And you’re going to put all this in your story for everyone to read?
LYTENER (SHRUGS)
It
can’t do much harm now. Laurie Strode’s dead.
DANA
What about her son? Don’t you think you should at least talk to him before
putting all that stuff about his family in the newspaper?
LYTENER (PAUSE)
John Tate put a pistol in his mouth and blew his brains out over a year ago.
Dana falls silent.
LYTENER
Suicides don’t usually make headlines the way killers in Halloween masks do.
You know the newspaper business.
Lytener strolls over to the railing and resumes looking out over the town.
It takes a moment for Dana to look at him and pick up the conversation
again.
DANA
Well what about her daughter? Jamie?
Lytener turns his head toward her.
DANA
You said she was adopted by a family here in Haddonfield. I mean, is she
still around? Or did something happen to her, too?
LYTENER
That,
my dear, opens a whole new can of worms.
Without elaborating, Lytener turns away and starts down the walkway. Dana,
visibly annoyed at being left hanging, hurries behind him.
DANA
Aren’t you going to tell me about it?
LYTENER
When we get inside. There’s some things I’ll need to show you.
EXT. FAIRGROUNDS – DAY
Cut to the remnants of the Fall Fair. Lex strolls around behind a line of
booths, sweeping his eyes over the calm, windswept fields nearby and the
stretch of woods farther back. He slows down as he releases a ponderous
breath, coming to a stop and fixing his stare on the horizon. Apparently
lost in thought, he doesn’t seem to notice when Ray emerges from around a
corner and comes up behind him.
RAY
Looking for something?
LEX (PAUSE)
Just keeping an eye out. Sara looked a little rattled about something when
she and Kristy left earlier.
RAY (PAUSE)
Already on a first name basis with her, are we?
Lex just smiles sheepishly.
RAY
Well, I wouldn’t exactly warn you against her, but just remember that if you
get scared every time she does, you’ll put yourself in an early grave.
LEX
What’re you talking about?
RAY (PAUSE)
You honestly don’t know, do you?
Lex just shakes his head with a perplexed stare.
RAY
Come on, let’s take a walk.
Side by side, they wander back to the main grounds, heading in the general
direction of the gravel parking lot.
RAY
You remember Halloween a couple years ago? When they did that web-cast in
the old Myers house?
LEX
Yeah. And all the morons who did it got killed.
RAY
Well, not all of them.
LEX
Except for the one or two survivors, I mean.
RAY
Two. And you met one of them today.
LEX (FINALLY MAKING THE CONNECTION)
Sara? That was her?
RAY (NODS)
See what I mean now?
Lex doesn’t reply.
RAY
Kristy tells me she’s pretty messed up, Lex. I just want you to know what
you’re getting into.
Lex is silent for a moment more, but when he looks ready to speak, their
attention is suddenly diverted by the sound of glass breaking nearby.
RAY (CONCERNED)
You hear that?
They both instinctively go in the direction of the noise, stopping in the
parking lot just in time to see the driver’s door of an old, dark blue Ford
swing shut. A hole about the size of a grapefruit has been broken in the
window of the door behind it.
LEX
…The hell?
RAY
Think Rick’s drunk and pissed off again?
LEX
Must be really bad if he’s breaking windows this time.
(SHOUTING)
Hey, Rick!
The car’s engine suddenly roars to life. The two brothers stagger back to
shield themselves from the surging dust as it then swerves out in reverse
and launches onto the road with its tires screeching. They watch it for a
moment, stunned, then slowly turn around to be faced with CLARENCE, an elder
fair worker.
CLARENCE
What’re you two doing down here? We need you back in your booths.
RAY (DISTRACTED)
Sure…
(PAUSE AS HE GLANCES BACK AT THE PARKING LOT)
Any idea what got into Rick?
CLARENCE
Rick?
RAY (GESTURING)
Yeah…we just saw his…
CLARENCE (CONFUSED)
Nothing, as far as I know. Rick’s back at the Ferris wheel…he’s the one who
told me to come get you.
Ray doesn’t say anything else. He and Lex just exchange wide-eyed looks.
INT. MOTEL – LYTENER’S ROOM – DAY
Cut to Dana standing behind Lytener as he sits at the table in the corner of
his room and eyes her expectantly. Her attention is not on him, but on the
handful of old newspaper articles she has in her hands. She glances at each
one, narrowing her eyes in perplexity as she skims over headlines such as
“HALLOWEEN KILLER RETURNS,” “MYERS AND NIECE FEARED DEAD IN EXPLOSION,” and
“ANOTHER TRICK-OR-TREAT TRAGEDY.”
DANA (CONFUSED)
What’re these?
LYTENER
I
found them stuck in the manuscript. And they confirm something that I’ve
suspected for a long time.
DANA
What’s that?
LYTENER
Michael Myers didn’t just crawl into a hole and go to sleep for 20 years
after he first attacked Laurie Strode. He was right here in Haddonfield,
trying to kill her daughter.
DANA (TAKEN ABACK)
What?
LYTENER
He
didn’t just disappear after that first time he escaped. He was in a coma,
locked up in another sanitarium for ten years. Then he escaped and went
after Jamie Lloyd.
DANA
You’re saying he resurfaced before he attacked Laurie Strode again?
LYTENER (NODS)
Three times, actually. He tried to kill Jamie once in 1988, but couldn’t get
her. Then he tried again a year later. They managed to capture him and take
him to jail that time. Then, there was some kind of explosion at the police
station, and both he and Jamie disappeared. Everyone gave them both up for
dead, but Dr. Loomis says he came back again in 1995 and finally killed her,
the night before Halloween.
DANA (STRUGGLING TO GRASP IT)
That doesn’t make any sense. Wouldn’t all this have shown up in the news?
The most infamous mass murderer this country’s ever seen, and we haven’t
heard about three of his killing sprees?
LYTENER (PAUSE)
Don’t have an answer for that. I’ve been wondering the same thing. But right
there in your hand, you’ve got the proof that all of this happened, so
something’s going on here.
DANA (PAUSING TO LOOK THROUGH THE ARTICLES AGAIN)
Did Laurie know about any of this?
LYTENER (NODS)
Dr. Loomis told her about all of it in the letters they exchanged, and he
told her he’d do everything in his power to protect Jamie. But I guess
Laurie didn’t want to scare her son with that part of the story, because she
never told him. Makes sense, I guess…especially after she found out Jamie
was dead.
There’s a momentary silence as Dana drops the news articles back to the
table and takes a seat on the bed.
DANA
I
still don’t understand how this could slip under the radar. The papers here
carried the stories. And after all the attention the national press has
given everything else he’s done…
LYTENER
It’s bizarre, I know. And that’s just one of the things that convinces me
there’s even more to this. I get the feeling this is just the tip of the
iceberg.
DANA
Why? What else have you found?
LYTENER (PAUSE)
There was a little more going on between Myers and his niece than him just
trying to kill her.
DANA
What do you mean?
LYTENER
It’s a little hard to explain…
(PAUSE)
Loomis says in his manuscript that Jamie started acting strange after the
first time Myers attacked her.
DANA
Strange how?
LYTENER
Best way I can put it is…that she started acting like him.
DANA
Acting
like him? You mean-
LYTENER
She stabbed her foster mother for no apparent reason…with a pair of
scissors.
DANA
My
God…
LYTENER
She also became withdrawn, stopped speaking…she acted just like him.
DANA
Why?
LYTENER (SHRUGS)
No
one knew for sure, not even Dr. Loomis. Didn’t put any theories in the
manuscript, at least. But the weirdest part is it didn’t last.
DANA
Did they give her some kind of drugs or psychotherapy?
LYTENER
Of
course. But she wasn’t receptive. Then suddenly, she was fine. Dr. Loomis
said that it seemed as if she’d fought it and gotten over it somehow. She
stopped withdrawing, she started talking again…just as if she’d finally
recovered from a cold.
DANA
It
wasn’t gradual, like normal mental improvement would be.
LYTENER
Right. And there are a few other things that make me wonder, too.
DANA
About Jamie?
LYTENER
Some of it. Again, this started after she was attacked the first time, but
she also seemed to develop some kind of…connection with Myers.
DANA
What do you mean ‘connection?’
LYTENER
At
times, she could see where he was or what he was doing…as if she was looking
through his eyes.
DANA (WITH SOME DEGREE OF SKEPTICISM)
What? Like some kind of psychic thing?
LYTENER
I
know it sounds crazy…but apparently, the police were actually able to find
him that way. More than once, even.
DANA
David, this stuff is getting really out there.
LYTENER
I
know, you’re telling me. And there’s still one thing I haven’t told
you.
DANA
What’s that?
LYTENER
It
doesn’t really have anything to do with Jamie, but it’s something similar to
what was going on with her. It has to do with a family who moved into
Michael Myers’ old house in 1995…not long before he killed Jamie.
DANA
I
thought no one had lived in that place since the ‘60s.
LYTENER
Looks like more withheld or overlooked information, for whatever reason.
DANA (PAUSES, THEN DISMISSES IT FOR THE MOMENT)
All right, so what happened?
LYTENER
Just like Jamie, there was a little boy in that family who started acting
like Myers right out of the blue. His name was Danny Strode.
DANA
Strode? As in Laurie Strode?
LYTENER
They were related, but not closely. Chances are, Laurie never knew Danny’s
mother. And she was already living in California as Keri Tate when Danny was
born.
DANA
So
did Danny Strode stab somebody, too?
LYTENER
No, he never actually hurt anyone. But he did exhibit some of the
behavior…he’d go silent, look like he was in a trance sometimes, he’d even
pick up knives and hold them in a stabbing position. It says he did it
because he heard a voice that told him to.
DANA
A
voice?
LYTENER
Whether it was schizophrenia or something else, I don’t know…but it seemed
too similar to what had happened to Jamie for me to just let it go.
DANA
What happened to him?
LYTENER (SIGH)
Don’t know. There wasn’t much on him, and that was basically the end of the
manuscript.
DANA
It
ended with that?
LYTENER
Yeah, but I’m sure there’s more to it. I was told Dr. Loomis died before he
had a chance to finish.
DANA
So
how’re you gonna get the rest of the story?
LYTENER
I
figure there’s gotta be more in the rest of Loomis’s notes at his last
address. That’s where I’m going next.
DANA
You think everything in there’s related somehow? Like there’s some big
connection between Michael Myers, Laurie’s daughter, and that Danny Strode
kid?
LYTENER (PAUSE)
Could be. I’m not jumping to any conclusions yet.
DANA
And what about the media blackout on all those other Halloween killings?
LYTENER (STANDS UP)
I
don’t know, hon…those are the same answers I want.
Dana watches and says nothing for a moment as Lytener throws his trenchcoat
on and starts gathering his materials.
DANA
So
you’re going now?
LYTENER
Got to. My work’s cut out for me, wouldn’t you say?
DANA
I’m coming with you.
LYTENER
It’s just gonna be a lot of poking around through old notebooks and
journals. About as exciting as a trip to the library.
DANA
What else am I gonna do, stay here and watch TV? Besides, you’ve got me
interested in this thing. And I came out here to be with you.
LYTENER
Most couples have romantic getaways in the Caribbean to spend time with each
other.
DANA
And we do background research on mass murderers. I wouldn’t have it any
other way.
Lytener smiles, takes her hand and kisses it, then leads her out the door.
EXT. MOTEL – DAY
Cut to a view from the street as the two of them walk out to Lytener’s
Taurus. They get in, and he starts the engine and pulls out into the street.
Once the vehicle disappears around a bend, the familiar black Honda slowly
crawls into view from off-screen, following in their same direction. As it
leaves, the camera pans back along the sidewalk and moves over the cars
parked in the parallel spaces, stopping when it reaches a beige cargo van
with tinted windows.
INT. VAN – DAY
Cut to a view of the steering wheel from the driver’s seat. A right arm in
the black sleeve of a duster reaches up with a black-gloved hand to turn the
key in the ignition, the sleeve slipping slightly back to give us a glimpse
of the Thorn tattoo on the wrist.
INT. SARA’S HOUSE – SARA’S ROOM – DAY
Cut to the single window in Sara’s bedroom, the curtains parted and looking
out at the ceaselessly dreary day. The sky is still heavy, the clouds
progressively darkening. Sara, seated on the bed, turns her head to gaze
through it with visible apprehension on her face…her eyes vigilant.
KRISTY
You’re looking for him again, aren’t you?
She turns to face Kristy, sitting next to her. Her friend’s attention is no
longer on the TV blaring in front of them, but now on her as she gives her a
troubled, almost accusatory look.
SARA (UNCONVINCINGLY FEIGNING CONFUSION)
Looking for who?
KRISTY (SIGHS AS SHE TURNS OFF THE TV WITH THE REMOTE)
Don’t even try it. You’ve been jumpy all day, and you haven’t stopped
looking out that window since we got back.
Sara doesn’t say anything.
KRISTY
Sara, it’s just your imagination. I know it’s Halloween, but…all you’re
doing is scaring yourself.
SARA (PAUSE, PREPARING TO LEVEL WITH HER)
Maybe…but what does that really change, huh? All it does is give me one more
year…and that’s almost worse.
KRISTY (MORE OF A STATEMENT THAN A QUESTION)
Really.
SARA
I
don’t live like this because I want to, Kristy. I guess you could say
I do it so I don’t get too comfortable…so I’ll be ready for him when he
does come back.
(PAUSE)
But sometimes, I think he’s taking his time just to spite me. It’s getting
to the point where I just want him to do it and get it over with.
KRISTY (PAUSE)
Okay.
Kristy gets up and starts heading for the door. Sara turns to watch, worry
suddenly spreading over her face.
SARA
Are you leaving?
KRISTY (HALTS WITH HER BACK TO SARA)
If
you don’t stop.
Sara says nothing, bringing her gaze back to the window. Kristy turns back
in her direction.
KRISTY
Sara…if you want to die, just do it. And quit putting all of us through
this.
Sara doesn’t respond. Her face hardens.
KRISTY
I
know I didn’t go through what you did, so I’m not gonna pretend to
understand what it’s been like. But I do know I’ve had enough. Your parents
have been trying to help you, I’ve been trying to help you…but it looks to
me like you just wanna give up.
SARA
I
already have.
KRISTY
Then finish it, for Christ’s sake! Take the knife and make sure you
cut deep enough this time! But it’s time for you to pick one or the other,
because I can’t take this anymore!
SARA
Pick…?
KRISTY
Life or death.
They’re both momentarily silent.
KRISTY (SIGHS)
It’s killing me to see you like this, Sara. I can’t do this forever, so you
need to make up your mind. If you want to die, do it. And if you want to
live…do it.
Sara says nothing, just stares out the window again with an ashen face.
Kristy stands by as if waiting for a response, but her friend is obviously
at a loss. Silence reigns for a few moments before a light tap comes at the
door. Donna’s voice is heard calling Sara’s name before she opens the door
and sticks her head into the room.
DONNA (NOTICING KRISTY WITH A SMILE)
Hey, Kristy.
KRISTY (WEAKLY RETURNING THE SMILE)
Hi.
DONNA
Not interrupting anything, am I?
SARA (PAUSE)
No, it’s all right.
DONNA
I
just wanna talk to you for a minute.
Donna comes in and shuts the door as Kristy steps back and leans against the
wall behind her. Sara turns around on the bed to face her mother, trying her
best to clear the turmoil from her face.
DONNA (TO SARA)
Have you made any plans for tonight?
SARA
Tonight?
DONNA
Anything besides sitting around here?
SARA (PAUSE)
Wasn’t really planning on going anywhere…
DONNA
Good, because I got a call from a man named Hank Bell this morning.
SARA
Who’s that?
DONNA
No
one we’ve met, but he only lives a few blocks away.
SARA
What’d he want?
DONNA
Said he got a referral to you from one of his neighbors. He wants you to
come over and watch his little boy while he’s gone for tonight.
SARA (PAUSE)
Babysit?
DONNA (NODS)
How’s that sound?
SARA (PAUSE)
I
haven’t done that in years…
DONNA (NOTICING SARA’S DISMAY)
Should I call him back and tell him you don’t want to do it?
SARA
You already said I would?
DONNA
I
thought you’d want to. The boy’s nine years old, said he’s not a handful at
all…you get a little cash.
SARA (PAUSE)
Not tonight, Mom. I just want to…
Her voice trails off as she looks past her mother and back at Kristy. Her
friend is staring at her accusingly, awakening her attention once again to
how she continuously lives in a rut. And she remembers the previous
conversation about choosing life or death. Whatever she decides in this
seemingly trivial matter, Kristy is obviously going to consider that her
choice.
SARA (SIGHS)
Never mind. I’ll do it.
DONNA
You sure?
SARA (NODS, TRYING TO SMILE)
Just tell me where and when.
DONNA (SMILES WARMLY)
It’s on the message pad downstairs. Just come take a look when you’re ready.
I’ll leave you girls alone now.
Donna gives her daughter a squeeze on the shoulder, then exits. The
uncertainty in Sara’s eyes says she’s not entirely sure of what she’s just
done. She looks at Kristy as if seeking approval.
KRISTY
It’s a start.
Sara gives a weak smile again, averting her eyes.
KRISTY (CHECKING HER WATCH)
Well, I really need to be going. Promised my parents I’d stop over and eat
dinner with them.
Sara just nods slowly.
KRISTY
Listen…you want some company tonight? I could come over, and we could do
this together if you want.
SARA (NODDING, HER EYES RADIATING GRATITUDE)
That sounds good. Thanks.
KRISTY
Just call me with the details and when you want me to pick you up.
SARA
Okay.
KRISTY (OPENING THE DOOR)
Talk to you later, then?
SARA
Yeah. Bye.
Kristy winks and disappears out the door.
EXT. STREET – DAY
Cut to Lytener’s Taurus edging through a residential area and slowing to
make a turn into a driveway. Once he parks, they both step out and drift
toward one another as they gaze at the house in front of them. The yard is
unkempt and swept with autumn debris. The house itself is weathered and
decaying in appearance, obviously not really lived in for awhile.
DANA
Whose place is this again?
LYTENER
It
belonged to the nurse who housed and took care of Dr. Loomis before he died.
And since she was killed a few years back, her brother owns it now.
DANA
Looks pretty neglected.
LYTENER
Yeah, but what’s good about that is it means nothing inside has been messed
with. I called him on the way over just to make sure, and he said Dr.
Loomis’s old study is exactly as he left it.
They make their way to the doorstep and ring the bell. After a moment, a man
in his fifties with dark, graying hair, JORDAN CHAMBERS, answers the door
and greets them with an accommodating smile.
LYTENER
Hi. Mr. Jordan Chambers?
CHAMBERS
Yes, sir. You the man I spoke with?
LYTENER
I
am. David Lytener, nice to meet you.
(PAUSE AS THEY SHAKE HANDS)
And this is my wife, Dana.
CHAMBERS
Hello.
(PAUSE AGAIN AS HE SHAKES HANDS WITH DANA)
Come on in.
INT. CHAMBERS’S HOUSE – DAY
Cut to Lytener and Dana entering, Chambers pushing the door shut behind
them. A quick glance around the open, creaking, dusty interior of the house
confirms their suspicions of the level of care it’s received.
CHAMBERS
I’d offer you folks something, but I just got here myself and haven’t had a
whole lot of time.
LYTENER
That’s all right, we’re fine. I’d actually prefer to get right down to
business, Mr. Chambers.
CHAMBERS (KNOWINGLY)
The Myers stuff.
LYTENER
If
it wouldn’t be too much trouble.
CHAMBERS
Nah, that’s what you’re here for, after all. The study’s back this way, come
with me.
He
starts leading them through a hallway.
CHAMBERS
You know, you’re the first one who’s ever asked to see all this, Mr. Lytener.
LYTENER
Well, as far as I know, I’m the first journalist to want to go this in-depth
into the whole thing.
CHAMBERS
You struck gold, then. If it’s depth you’re looking for…
He
reaches into a room and switches on the light, stepping aside for Lytener
and Dana to go in.
CHAMBERS
…You found it.
Both of them are speechless as their gazes travel around the room. The desk
next to the window is piled high with legal pads, loose paper, and
notebooks. The shelves on the wall are jammed with psychology textbooks and
binders and folders marked as additional case notes and studies. A bulletin
board is cluttered with a plethora of photographs, sketches, maps, and
newspaper and magazine articles…all of them related to Michael Myers and his
Halloween murders.
DANA
Holy…
Chambers, standing behind them, begins to look uncomfortable. He obviously
doesn’t share their enthusiasm for what’s in here.
CHAMBERS
Well, if either of you need anything, just give me a yell. I’ll be back in
the den.
He
leaves them alone without waiting for a reply. Dana still looks overwhelmed
by her surroundings, but Lytener is recovering and getting that familiar
gleam in his eye again.
LYTENER
Hope you brought your shovel.
EXT. MYERS HOUSE – DAY
Cut to the childhood home of Michael Myers, almost sticking out like a sore
thumb amidst the other houses on Lampkin Lane. The uninhabited residence is
dark and decaying, its exterior blemished and discolored. Most of the
windows are broken, what glass is left dirty and nearly opaque. The shutters
hang loosely off the windows’ sides. The crooked gutters sag down from the
roof. There’s no longer a yard to speak of, more of a jungle of weeds,
maturing saplings, and overgrown grass. Leafy arms of ivy and kudzu climb up
from the ground and twist around the edifice’s outer walls, now claiming
nearly half of its surface.
A
white SUV pulls up in front of the house and parks in the street. The doors
open, and a young man, BILLY JAMESON, and a blonde-headed woman, LAUREN
HARDING, step out, both of them with expensive-looking cameras dangling
around their necks. Harding is the first to go up to the sidewalk and stare
at the house, and Jameson quickly comes around to join her.
HARDING
Is
this how you pictured it?
JAMESON (EYEING THE HOUSE FOR A MOMENT)
Close enough. About what I was expecting.
HARDING
Seriously?
JAMESON
What, does it not earn the Lauren Harding seal of approval?
HARDING
Well, I was expecting…I don’t know, more. Like a twisted iron gate, big
pillars, statues…and definitely bigger.
JAMESON (SMIRKING)
It’s the Myers house, not Castle Dracula.
HARDING
It
just isn’t very dramatic is all.
JAMESON
We
make it dramatic. We take a boring sight and turn it into a stunning
visual. That’s what photographers do.
HARDING (ROLLING HER EYES)
I’m glad I have you around to tell me what I do for a living.
JAMESON
That’s what I’m here for.
HARDING (SIGHS)
Did the chief ever want us to catch up with Lytener? Are we supposed to find
him at some point?
JAMESON
Didn’t tell us to, no. Could if we wanted to.
HARDING
Nah, I was just wondering. Let him write, we can take care of this
ourselves.
(PAUSE)
You taking the inside?
JAMESON
Sure.
HARDING (PAUSE)
Okay. I’m gonna head around back, maybe I’ll like that better than what I
see here.
JAMESON
Go
for it. Just yell at me if I wander past a window and into your shot.
They’re all broken, I’ll hear you.
HARDING
Got it.
They split up, Harding going through the brush towards the wooded backyard
as Jameson hits the driveway and heads for the front door. The camera
follows him until he’s almost to the doorstep, then stops, letting him walk
off-screen, and lingers on the barely noticeable blue Ford resting in the
overgrowth of the side yard, its back driver’s side window broken.
Cut to Harding slowing down as she wanders to the back of the house. She
cranes her neck around to take everything in as her feet crunch over the
solid layer of leaves and broken branches on the ground. Looking toward the
sky, she obviously wishes for more light. The dense mass of nearly stripped
trees surrounding her blocks out enough sunlight even without the help of
the darkening blanket of clouds above. And the late afternoon sun is fading,
anyhow. Subtle bands of yellow and orange are lightly beginning to stripe
the thinner parts of the gray shroud on the horizon. Directly above, it
seems to be getting heavier, bleaker.
Accepting that this is the best conditions are going to be, Harding takes
her camera and starts hunting for a good angle. She zips her windbreaker
against the falling temperature and opportunistically steps back to snap a
picture with a floating leaf in the foreground. Zigzagging around the yard,
she picks several more prime positions and takes her photos. After a minute,
she gets ready to snap another one, but she stops before pressing the
button, slowly lowering the camera and squinting her eyes up at one of the
windows.
It’s tough to discern at first, but it’s definitely there; a man’s black
silhouette in profile, unmoving and staring at something.
HARDING
Hey, Jameson! Move your ass, you’re in the picture!
The form remains, paying no attention to her.
HARDING
Jameson, I’m talking to you!
This time, the figure turns as if hearing her for the first time. It faces
in her direction, its features still in shadow…and still not moving.
Harding sighs exasperatedly and turns her eyes to the ground.
HARDING
I
don’t have time for this, dammit! I have too little daylight as it is, and
you’re just wasting more! Now get your-
She suddenly turns her eyes back up to the window. There’s nobody there.
HARDING
Asshole.
She takes her camera again and resumes with the pictures. Once she has what
she wants, she waits around for a moment with her hands in her pockets, then
calls out to Jameson again.
HARDING
Are you done in there yet?
No
response other than the light squeaks of the house’s wooden boards in the
breeze.
HARDING
Give it up, Jameson, you’ve outgrown Halloween. Just answer me.
The wind suddenly gusts and tears through, hurling the leaves on the ground
back into the air. The trees sway, the house moans. There’s the ghostly,
distant ringing of old, out-of-tune wind chimes. Harding tries to bury
herself deeper in her jacket with the biting chill, and we see she’s sensing
that something is amiss.
HARDING
Jameson?
Still no answer. A twig suddenly snaps, and the sound is like a gunshot,
making her jump. She whirls in the direction it came from, seeing nothing
but the uniform bending of the tree trunks, the wood making weak sounds of
protest as it tries to resist. A crow caws from somewhere nearby, its
sinister, taunting call echoing through the woods. It makes Harding jump
again, and when she turns in the direction it came from, she finally sees
it.
The Shape. Still mostly in shadow, little more than a looming obscurity. The
trees around it dip and stretch in the howling wind, but it is motionless.
The leaves swirl on the ground at its feet. The western sky behind it is
dark. The colors of the dying sun that streak the clouds are muted. The gray
is predominant.
Gasping, Harding springs back, her heel hitting a hole and landing her on
the ground. Her camera slips from around her neck and strikes the surface at
just the right angle, wrenching it into three pieces. She curses and tries
to pick them all up, even fit them back together somehow, but she quickly
gives up and pushes herself to her feet…only to be met with a hand shooting
out and closing around her neck with a vise-like grip.
The Shape rams her against a tree and keeps squeezing, the sleeve pulling
back from its right wrist to reveal a Thorn tattoo. She struggles as it then
produces a sizable, bloodstained pocketknife in its other hand. She stares
hopelessly into the blank face of its mask, still largely cloaked in
darkness, what’s visible of the white surface appearing as dark gray. When
it starts repeatedly stabbing her in the stomach, she grunts and grimaces,
but is unable to scream.
As
she fights for her final breaths, the camera remains on the Shape from
Harding’s POV. As the wind slows down, she exhales her last, then we see the
Shape lower its arm, watching its form seem to grow larger as we slump down
to the base of tree. All the more ominous, it stares down at us with its
black, compassionless eyes…and tilts its head with interest, as if coming up
with something.
Cross-dissolve to the bodies of Harding and Jameson laid out side-by-side at
the base of an enormous oak tree far in the backyard. Their eyes stare
upward lifelessly, and both of their throats have been sliced open, feeding
an ample pool of blood beneath them. The pocketknife, likely taken from
Jameson, lies next to them. The camera slowly pans up from their corpses to
follow the streaming trail of blood leaking down from the tree. It settles
on a seemingly splashed mess of it on the trunk, unreadable at first…but as
the view closes in, the word written on the tree gradually becomes clear:
SAMHAIN.
INT. CHAMBERS’S HOUSE - STUDY – DAY
Cut to Lytener and Dana perusing all of Dr. Loomis’s old notes and research.
Lytener’s seated at the desk, a smoking cigarette dangling from the corner
of his mouth as he scans through notebook after notebook, jotting his own
bits down on his legal pad along the way. Dana sits in an armchair in the
corner, flipping through a thick binder filled with diagnosis sheets and
reports. Several seconds pass with only the sounds of pages turning and
Lytener’s pen scribbling before he sighs, leans back, and takes his
cigarette in his hand.
DANA
What’s wrong?
LYTENER
This isn’t exactly what I was hoping to find. Most of these notes are about
the early years between Myers and Dr. Loomis at the sanitarium…I’ve already
read most of it in the manuscript.
DANA (CLOSING HER BINDER)
Haven’t found anything else about Jamie, Danny, or those other attacks?
LYTENER (SIGHS)
Not a thing.
DANA
Maybe we should chase some other lead.
LYTENER
I
was thinking about that, but we should really go through everything
in here first. We might…
His voice trails off as he suddenly notices the spine of another binder in a
stack on the floor. His eyes grow narrower as he turns the chair and leans
in for a closer look. Dana looks at him with perplexity.
DANA
What is it?
LYTENER
Hold on…
He
reaches out to pull the binder from the stack, keeping his eye on the
marking drawn on the spine; the line with the triangle extending from its
middle.
LYTENER
Wait a minute…I think we might have something here!
Dana gets up to join him as he stands and makes room on the desk for the
binder. When she comes up next to him, he points at the same drawing on the
front cover.
LYTENER
I’ve seen this before! I saw that symbol burned into a field when I was
driving into town last night.
