On the street outside the Round Clam Diner, Alaric Thomas happened to cross paths with Tara and Dawn.
Both women recognized him immediately as the handsome guy who had been eating with an equally attractive girlfriend earlier.
Under normal circumstances, Tara might have taken another look or even flirted a little, but after meeting Art the Clown, she only wanted to get home as quickly as possible.
Dawn was completely different.
She had been willing to climb onto the lap of a terrifying stranger for selfies, so approaching an attractive man hardly required courage.
With Halloween only two days away, she was already thinking about parties, drinking, and preferably spending part of the holiday with someone handsome.
“Hey, handsome!” Dawn called with a grin.
“We met at the diner.
Where’d your girlfriend go?
I can’t believe she left you walking around by yourself.” Alaric glanced at her heavy makeup and answered casually, “I had my butler take her home.” The moment Dawn heard the word butler, her expression brightened.
A guy who casually sent his girlfriend away with a family butler was obviously wealthy, and that only made Alaric more attractive in her eyes.
Tara, meanwhile, looked increasingly embarrassed by her friend’s complete lack of restraint.
Dawn stepped closer and smiled.
“If you’re bored, you can come back to my place tonight.
I’m pretty sure your girlfriend doesn’t need to know, right?” Alaric couldn’t be bothered responding to such obvious flirting.
Instead, he looked at Tara and said, “You two should get home early.
If your car isn’t nearby, call a cab or have someone pick you up.” Then he continued toward the diner without waiting for an answer.
Seeing Tara and Dawn outside had already told him something was probably wrong.
In Terrifier, Art returned to the restaurant after the women left, and the owner and employee didn’t survive the night.
Alaric had eaten there only minutes earlier, so he decided that if Art had followed the same pattern, he would at least settle the score for the people who had served him dinner.
After Alaric walked away, Tara immediately turned toward Dawn.
“What is wrong with you tonight?
First you sit on some creepy clown’s lap, and now you’re trying to bring home a guy who already has a girlfriend.” Dawn shrugged.
“I’m single and bored.
What’s wrong with wanting somebody attractive for the night?” She gave Tara a teasing look before adding, “I’d even share.” Tara stared at her.
“No.” She had absolutely no interest in whatever Dawn was imagining.
As far as Tara was concerned, the days leading into Halloween were already becoming a disaster, and she only hoped the actual holiday would somehow be less insane.
…
Halloween decorations surrounded the Round Clam Diner when Alaric returned.
Two carved jack-o’-lanterns sat near the entrance, their orange faces glowing beneath the exterior lights.
Houses and businesses throughout town had already switched to the familiar orange-and-black decorations that appeared every October.
Halloween traditions in America had changed enormously over time.
Customs brought by Irish and Scottish immigrants mixed with older traditions connected to Samhain and later Christian observances such as All Saints’ Day, eventually developing into the modern holiday of costumes, parties, jack-o’-lanterns, and trick-or-treating.
For most people in Round Clam, whatever religious meaning had once existed mattered far less than candy and having fun.
Alaric had celebrated Halloween ever since arriving in this world.
Living in America meant adapting to local traditions, and he had always enjoyed horror anyway.
Still, considering how many actual ghosts and monsters existed here, carving frightening faces into pumpkins to ward off evil suddenly seemed a little ironic.
The diner’s front door was closed.
The lights were still on.
Alaric pushed gently, and the door opened with a faint creak.
The worst possibility had already happened.
Dark red liquid covered sections of the floor.
From a distance, it almost resembled spilled ketchup, but Alaric knew immediately what it really was.
The comparison was the kind of dark joke only someone who had seen too much horror could appreciate.
He continued toward the kitchen.
The owner and an employee were dead.
Their severed heads had been displayed near the back while most of their bodies were missing from sight.
Alaric couldn’t remember every detail of Art’s behavior well enough to know what had happened to the remains, but the clown’s tendency toward mutilation made almost anything possible.
Art himself was nowhere inside.
Alaric glanced around once more before leaving.
He briefly thought about Pennywise, another famous killer clown, but the similarities ended at appearances.
Pennywise was an ancient supernatural predator that fed on fear and frequently preyed on children, while Art behaved more like a silent sadistic slasher whose apparent immortality had gradually become supernatural.
Since Art wasn’t at the diner anymore, Alaric would have to search the surrounding streets.
He didn’t want to leave the matter until morning.
Halloween was getting closer, and Round Clam would soon be filled with people wearing masks and costumes.
Children would be going from house to house for candy, families would attend community events, and adults would hold parties throughout town.
A killer dressed as a clown could walk through the streets without drawing much attention at all.
That would make Art considerably harder to identify.
There would also be haunted attractions, costume contests, pumpkin carving, and every other Halloween activity imaginable.
Art could probably drag a bloody weapon down the sidewalk and half the people nearby would assume it was part of a costume.
Containing him tonight would save Alaric a great deal of trouble.
…
Several blocks away, Tara and Dawn discovered that one of their car tires had been slashed.
Tara immediately remembered Alaric warning them to get home quickly or call for a ride.
For a moment, she wondered whether he could somehow have known what would happen, but the idea seemed ridiculous.
Nothing about the well-dressed guy with the butler suggested he would sneak around puncturing tires.
Then Tara remembered Art.
A police report suddenly came through the radio.
The location mentioned was the same diner they had just left.
The owner and one employee had been found murdered, and the description given by a witness mentioned a man dressed as a black-and-white clown carrying a large black garbage bag.
Tara felt cold the moment she heard it.
She quickly nudged Dawn.
“We’re not waiting here.
Let’s get a cab and go home.” Dawn remained far less worried.
“Why would he still be around?
If he killed somebody, he’d have to be stupid to stay in the same neighborhood.” For a normal murderer, that logic might have made sense.
Art wasn’t normal.
Tara gave up arguing and called her sister Victoria to come pick them up.
After ending the call, she suddenly realized she desperately needed to use the bathroom.
Unfortunately, they were stranded on a poorly lit street with very few businesses still open.
Dawn had no problem suggesting that Tara simply go outside somewhere.
Tara absolutely did.
She looked around and noticed a maintenance worker standing outside an old apartment building while smoking.
The building itself looked partly abandoned, but at least someone was working there.
Tara immediately got out of the car and approached him.
“Excuse me,” she said.
“Is there any chance I could use the restroom inside?” The worker, Mike, hesitated.
Before he could refuse, Dawn shouted from the car, “Come on, man!
Let her use the bathroom.
She’ll make it worth your time.” Tara closed her eyes for a second.
Mike’s expression changed immediately.
He looked Tara over, taking in her leather jacket and outfit before giving her a smile that made his intentions obvious.
“I can let you in,” he said.
“But maybe afterward we could work something out.” Tara wanted to tell him exactly where he could shove that suggestion.
Unfortunately, her bladder had other priorities.
“Sure,” she lied.
Mike smiled and opened the building’s front entrance.
He even gave Tara directions to the nearest restroom so she wouldn’t waste time wandering through the old hallways.
Tara thanked him and hurried inside.
The building was worse than she expected.
The halls were old, dirty, and poorly maintained, with exposed construction materials scattered around several sections.
When Tara finally found the restroom, she stopped at the doorway and stared at the filthy condition with visible disgust.
She didn’t have much choice.
Tara selected the cleanest-looking stall she could find and went inside.
Several minutes later, she emerged feeling considerably better.
She washed her hands as quickly as possible and prepared to leave the building before Mike decided to collect whatever payment he imagined she had promised.
Then she heard something unusual.
A baby was crying.
Tara stopped.
The sound was faint but unmistakable.
“Hello?” No answer came.
For a moment, Tara wondered whether somebody had abandoned an infant inside the building.
Against her better judgment, curiosity and concern made her follow the sound farther down the corridor instead of immediately leaving.
The crying became louder.
Then a hand suddenly touched Tara’s shoulder.
“Ah!” Tara spun around.
A disheveled woman stood directly behind her holding a doll against her chest.
The crying sound was coming from the toy, not from a real baby.
The woman stared at Tara with unfocused eyes while rocking the doll as though it were an actual infant.
Tara cautiously tried speaking to her.
The woman barely reacted.
She muttered to herself and continued comforting the doll, apparently convinced she was holding her child.
Tara quickly realized that the woman was mentally unstable and decided that remaining nearby wasn’t going to help either of them.
“Okay…
I’m going to go.” Tara backed away.
She turned and headed toward the route Mike had shown her earlier, determined to get outside before anything else strange happened.
After several steps, she reached a corner and pushed through another doorway.
Then she stopped.
Someone was waiting on the other side.
Black-and-white makeup.
A tiny hat.
A face covered with fresh blood.
Art the Clown stood in the hallway.
His dark eyes fixed on Tara while a wide, sinister smile slowly spread across his painted face.
Tara remained frozen as every warning instinct in her body suddenly screamed at once.
Art didn’t move.
Neither did Tara.
For several long seconds, they simply stared at each other.
Their eyes met.