Halloween: The Official Movie Novelization

15

Dana stared at the pair of dirty work boots visible below her stall door. A man’s boots. She recognized the cuffs of the coveralls the mechanic and the clerk had been wearing—the service station’s de facto uniform. Why would a man—even a service station employee—enter an occupied “Ladies’ Lounge” and behave this way? She had no good answers.

“Excuse me,” she said indignantly, fighting the tremor in her voice. “Someone’s in here.”

A closed, bloodstained hand appeared over the top of the stall door.

Slowly the fingers spread, releasing what appeared to be a dozen white pebbles that fell to the floor, clattering around her feet. Glancing down, she gasped. Not pebbles. Teeth! Human teeth—ripped out by the root and streaked with blood.

Looking up again, she now saw two hands as they clamped down on the top of the stall door in a white-knuckled grip. They shook the door violently back and forth, testing the strength of the simple slide lock and hinges. The partition walls trembled, the screws securing them to the wall creaking. In seconds, the metal of the door twisted under the extreme pressure.

Dana rose from the seat in a hunched-over stance to keep clear of those hands and yanked up her pants before dropping to the floor on her rear. Flipping onto her stomach, she began to crawl under the partition into the second stall. She made it halfway before the door to her former stall gave way and burst open. There was a rustle of movement before the intruder grabbed her legs and yanked her backward.

With a shriek, she twisted around, raising both arms to catch herself on the partition between stalls. Strong hands grabbed both her ankles for more leverage.

Her own hands slid across the slippery metal surface of the partition, scrambling for purchase but finding none. She hooked the fingers of her right hand through the toilet paper holder to buy herself a precious second or two. Then kicked furiously against the hands clutching her ankles.

Suddenly—heart racing and gasping for air—she broke free of the powerful grip and scrambled up, slammed the door shut and engaged the slide lock. A moment’s reprieve, time enough to catch her breath before—

Fists banged on the stall door, rattling it against the lock.

The Ladies’ Lounge door swung open again.

Crouching to peer under the door, Dana saw gray trainers—

“Aaron?” she called. “Help!”

As she backed away from the door, she saw a crowbar come down from an overhead swing to strike her attacker three times in rapid succession. With each blow, Aaron yelled, “Down! Down! Down!”

Two sets of arms wrestled for control of the crowbar.

Beneath the stall door, Dana watched as two pairs of feet became entangled. Slowly, the heels of Aaron’s trainers rose off the tile floor. He cried out briefly then began to cough and gasp.

“No!” she screamed.

The crowbar clanged on the tiles.

Crouching, Dana reached across the gap under the door and grabbed the crowbar before her attacker could snatch it. Then she jumped back and climbed onto the toilet seat, one boot braced on each side, for a higher vantage point.

The intruder slammed Aaron into the stall door. A work boot slipped forward, near the edge of the door. Without hesitation, Dana dropped from her perch and turned the crowbar to drive its narrow tip into the boot. Whether from the pain or the distraction, the intruder released Aaron, who collapsed to the floor, his face visible under the door.

They locked eyes, her terror mirrored in his gaze.

“Aaron—”

His throat raw, Aaron whispered, “What have we done…?”

Before she could reply, his body was yanked away. The heels of both trainers slid across the floor as the intruder dragged him away from her. She heard a brief, muffled struggle then a loud crash of shattered glass. Pieces of the bathroom mirror rained down on the tile floor.

“Aaron!”

Unbearable silence followed—no response from Aaron. She couldn’t see either of them. Her palms sweaty, she shifted her grip on the crowbar. Agonizing seconds passed, then…

Shuffling sounds.

The intruder approached. Aaron’s heels slid across the tile floor.

“Aaron!” she called. “Aaron, are you—?”

THUMP!

The door rattled under the weight of Aaron’s body slamming into it.

THUMP!—THUMP!—THUMP!

He’s using Aaron’s body as a battering ram!

THUMP!—CRASH!

The door flung open, banging against the partition as Dana leapt out of the way. Aaron’s body, still clutched in the intruder’s grip, knocked the crowbar from her hands. Dana screamed.

In that moment of contact, she glimpsed Aaron’s bloody face, his jaw sagging. He was alive, but barely conscious. Then the intruder pulled him back and tossed him aside, hurling his body toward the far corner of the restroom where he crashed helplessly into the trash can.

Too weak to offer any further resistance, Aaron felt himself careen through the air and crash into a round metal trash can in the corner of the women’s restroom. Even with the crowbar and the element of surprise, he’d failed to stop Myers. Or slow him down. To Aaron, it seemed as if the man felt no pain—or that physical pain registered as nothing more than a temporary distraction.

Aaron tried to rise, but his legs wouldn’t budge. Each time he tried to stand, he merely twitched in pain. Blood dripped from his face and hands. Broken ribs made breathing painful and difficult. With blurred, fading vision he watched helplessly as Myers entered the toilet stall.

Dana’s boots rose from the floor…

…and her head appeared above the stall as Myers hoisted her in the air with one hand clamped around her throat. She clawed at his hand with both of hers but couldn’t break free. Aaron heard the muffled thuds of her kicking him, frantic at first, then gradually slowing.

Myers’ hand choked the life out of her.

Desperate to act, Aaron redoubled his effort to rise, to come to her aid—but only managed to lift his left arm, hand outstretched, fingers reaching, trembling helplessly.

Horrified, Aaron watched as Dana’s struggles ended.

Her body hung lifelessly in Myers’ hands…