HELL'S NIGHT II
CHAPTER 10- THE TOWER FARM


“Damnit! Where the hell is she?” asked 45-year old Jerry Baker as he sat in bed with his wife.

Jerry and his wife Connie had been sitting in bed impatiently waiting for their 17-year old daughter, Brandi, to return home from her friends’ Halloween party. They set a curfew for midnight, and she had clearly already broken it, but Connie decided to cut her some slack since it was Brandi’s first real night out since returning to Haddonfield High for her senior year.

“Will you relax? She’ll be here soon,” Connie urged, turning up the volume on the TV, which was showing a rerun of Everybody Loves Raymond.

“That damned asshole of a boyfriend of hers, I tell you what Connie I don’t like him,” Jerry groaned, clearly agitated with his wife’s lack of concern.

“Oh, for Christ’s sakes Jerry you just met the boy tonight,” Connie fired back. “She went with him to a costume party, NOT to Vegas! You know I called her as soon as we saw the report on the news, and she assured me they were leaving but had to drop off some of her friends first.”

“He’s scum,” Jerry mumbled under his breath. As he was getting ready to say something else, he heard what sounded like a gunshot off in the woods and jumped out of bed to his feet.

“What now?” Connie asked, clearly as annoyed with her husband as he was with her.

“Did you hear that? It sounded like a gunshot,” Jerry replied, racing over to their second floor window for a peek out into the field.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Connie responded, lying through her teeth. She was just trying to calm her nerves. And his.

“Damnit woman, you couldn’t hear a freight train driving through the living room with that damn TV up so loud,” Jerry yelled. “I’m grabbing my shotgun and going out to the barn to see what’s going on. You call that daughter of ours and see what the hell the hold up is.” Then, without letting her get another word in edgewise, Jerry threw on a flannel shirt, a pair of blue jeans, and slippers and headed downstairs.

Connie just rolled her eyes and blew him off. Her husband didn’t understand that their little girl was growing up, and she wanted to be with her boyfriend. She could care less if aliens invaded the earth tonight. This was a special night for Stacey, one she’d been looking forward to for a long time.

After lying in bed another five minutes, she decided to head downstairs and make a pot of tea. Peeking out the window, she was sure she’d spot her husband running around out there like a mad man. However, when she pulled aside the drape, she saw the shape of a man standing alone in the field staring directly up at her.

“What in the hell?!” Connie said to herself as she squinted and wiped the window clearer to get a better view. But after she looked again, the shape she saw was nowhere to be found. She thought this over for a minute, then decided her eyes were playing a few tricks on her.

Never any treats on Halloween, only tricks, she thought to herself as she walked downstairs and into the kitchen.

“Jerry you out there?” she shouted out as she turned on the stove and placed a white teakettle on the first burner.

“Damnit Jerry, get back inside and lay down already!” Connie ordered. This time in response, there was a loud thud on the back door.

Turning her head toward the door, she curiously strolled over to investigate the noise. The door seemed a little bit heavier than normal, and as she flung it open, she saw why and screamed at the top of her lungs.

There, her husband was pinned to the door with what appeared to be a large butcher’s knife sticking out of his neck.

Crying hysterically, she backed up with her hands over her trembling mouth, nearly tripping over her own two feet. A second later, out of the shadows and fog appeared a man in a black suit and white mask. Her eyes widened as she instantly recognized him as the man she saw in the field. Now it was too late, as The Shape slowly lumbered into the house toward her.

Connie’s knees went weak and she could no longer stand. Slumped down in a corner, she repeatedly sobbed, “No, No, No.”

Michael hovered over top of her for an instant before a large hand reached down and pulled her to her feet by the hair.

Connie screamed one last time, but the teapot whistling muffled out her cries.

Moving quickly, Michael tossed the teapot off the burner and shoved Connie’s face directly into the open flame on the stove.

He held her there for a long time, feeling her body heat up as she shook rapidly trying to break free. Michael wouldn’t let her budge, and she soon grew weak.

He didn’t let go until her entire head was engulfed in flames, and tossed her lifeless body to the floor with a thud.

Staring at her body for a second, Michael then noticed a set of keys lying on the kitchen table. The Shape took these keys and made his way toward an old, beat-up black pickup truck parked in the front of the house.

Swinging the driver’s side door open with a creak, Michael entered the cab, but paused before turning the key in the ignition.

Off in the distance, he spotted two headlights from a car rapidly approaching the house, speeding its way down the narrow dirt road toward him.


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