SCREAM 2
CHAPTER 1
The Rialto Theatre.
Windsor, Ohio.
1997.
Two years after the Woodsboro Murders.
It was nearing eight o' clock and the downtown streets of Windsor, Ohio were full of life on this Wednesday night.
A band played a cover of a popular Prince song in a nearby crowded bar.
A full moon hung low in the sky. The eerie orange glow of streetlamps illuminated the narrow streets.
Students at the nearby Windsor College were all gathered in throngs outside a quaint movie theater.
The old and worn red brick facade of the Rialto Theater clashed heavily with the tacky advertising for the new horror movie Stab.
22-year old Maureen Evans looked on with disturbed fascination at the giant animatronic hand holding a neon green dagger that was hung above the marquis.
"Sneak Preview: Stab! Tonight only!"The marquis read.
"God, I hate scary movies. You know I got a bio lab due," she said to her boyfriend Phil Stevens, who was a year older and also attended Windsor College alongside her.
But there she was, lining up outside to see the new slasher flick.
Stab was its name.
How original, she had thought.
What a stupid way to give away the plot.
"Let me guess. Somebody's going to get stabbed," she had said when Phil told her about the free tickets he had won off of a radio show.
"Baby, did I mention these tickets are free," he said as he wrapped his arm around her.
She shivered in the slightly cold early spring air and huddled close to Phil, slipping her hands inside his warm, leather jacket.
The African-American couple didn't stand out from the rest of the crowd that was lined up to see the new slasher flick.
It was a diverse group, in age as well as race.
Maureen was aghast at the fact that she noticed a young teenager in line, excited to see blood and guts and waving a prop knife around.
With that mask on their face.
It was a ghostly white, pale face outlined with black. Its' mouth hung open in a silent scream.
It was the mask that the killer wore in the movie. She had seen it on all the previews and everyone was talking about it.
As far as Maureen knew or cared, the horror genre was dead, and she wanted it to stay that way.
But apparently, Stab was "new" and "a hip, scary thriller". People were saying it would breathe new life into the horror genre.
Fat chance, Maureen thought derisively.
Maureen snapped out of her thoughts and looked up at Phil.
"Sandra Bullock is playing right down the street,"
Phil chuckled.
"Don't nobody wanna pay seven fifty to see some Sandra Bullock shit. Unless she's naked," he said.
Maureen's eyes rolled into the back of her head.
"Oh, but you will sit through a film called Stab…" she said, over-emphasizing the film's cheesy title.
"It's the adrenaline, Maureen," Phil said, and wrapped his muscular arms around her. He was quite a bit taller than her. She was short and slender, and he was a jock of a guy, but they were a cute couple.
"It's primal, you know what I'm saying?" Phil continued.
"Nah I'll tell you what it is," she said, holding up her finger in his face. "It's a dumb-ass white movie about some dumb-ass white girls getting they white asses cut the fuck up, okay?
She rolled her wrist with mock sass.
The line was approaching the ticket booth, and Maureen stared glumly down the street at another theater that was showing the Sandra Bullock chick flick.
Why am I even here? she thought.
Maybe it was because with their course load, going to see a movie between classes and assignments might have been the only time they could spend together.
Maybe it was because the tickets were free, and Phil had been so excited to win them off of that radio show.
Or maybe, deep down, she wanted to see Stab.
It was just a nagging curiosity.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad.
Maybe it would have a great script, great characters…
Oh what am I thinking? she thought. The horror genre wasn't exactly known for iron-clad plots and deep character analysis.
It looked like it was just another schlocky cobbled-together slasher flick with wall-to-wall jump scares and lots and lots of blood and gore.
Boring, she thought.
Why couldn't modern horror films be made like they used to?
Barely any blood, no gore, no nudity-just plain, old-fashioned scares with practical effects.
Now, they were all about tits, ass, and gore, and Maureen found it derivative and sleazy.
She also found them very, very….white.
"Yeah, and I suppose Sandra Bullock is Miss Ethnicity?" was Phil's witty reply.
"All I am saying is that the horror genre is historical for excluding the African-American element," Maureen explained.
"Since when did you get your PhD in Black Cinema, Sister Souljah?" Phil teased her.
Maureen held up her finger again sassily.
"Listen, I read my Entertainment Weekly, okay? I know my shit,"
Maureen and Phil were broken out of their conversation by the young, pimple-faced teenager calling out "Next in line please!"
Maureen stepped up to the ticket booth, and Phil handed the cashier the two free tickets.
"Yeah, Maureen, I read my Black Beat too, homie." Phil said.
The attendant ripped their tickets and handed them back.
"Enjoy the movie," he said.
Phil smiled at him.
"Oh, I'm sorry, this movie isn't black enough for our tastes. Tonight we are looking for an all-black movie, all-black cast, black wardrobe…"
The young usher faked a smile and shook his head. It seemed he just wanted to do his job.
"Black eyed peas…"Phil continued.
Maureen rolled her eyes and went into the theater, with Phil teasing behind her.
As they walked through the spacious, well-decorated lobby of the movie theater, an usher stopped them and handed them both two, white ghost masks wrapped in plastic packaging.
The usher, a young, slender, dark-haired woman with angular features, smiled at them.
"What are these?" Maureen asked, examining the ghost mask.
"Stab souvenirs. The studio sent them,"
Maureen gasped in mock-surprise.
"Oh, look…and it's white!" Maureen exclaimed, holding up the mask for her boyfriend to see.
He rolled his eyes.
"Thanks," Maureen said to the confused usher and they both walked off through the lobby amongst the excited wandering moviegoers.
They walked down a corridor, past a small alcove with the ladies and men's restrooms nestled inside, and found their way to Theater Number 2.
Phil held open the door for Maureen and they walked into the theater, arm in arm.
The loud raucous sound of rowdy moviegoers hit Maureen like a truck and she winced.
Her eyes widened as she saw how packed the theater actually was. There didn't seem to be any empty seats. People were running up and down the aisles, shouting, screaming, chasing each other wearing the Ghostface costumes and waving plastic glow-in-the-dark knives in the air.
One girl ran past them towards the exit doors, clearly scared for her life, as two masked figures chased them, laughing with glee.
Two more masked ghosts fought each other playfully next to an irritated looking usher who was operating a fly system.
Ghostface puppets flew across the ceiling of the theater on wires.
They really went all out, Maureen thought.
The theater was a zoo.
Maureen looked up at Phil in dismay. What a movie night this will turn out to be, she thought.
"Very romantic," she said sarcastically, as she dodged some plastic knife blows from a nearby masked ghost.
She could barely hear herself think in the crowded theater.
Another ghost-masked figure ran past them, cackling with glee as he fake stabbed his friend.
"Gonna stab you man!" one of them shouted.
They walked down the aisle, as the opening credits appeared on the big screen.
"Based on the book The Woodsboro Murders by Gale Weathers," was superimposed on a black screen in neon green font.
The crowd cheered.
Gale Weathers…Maureen thought to herself. The reporter from Top Story?
What was she doing writing fiction?
Wait, was this a true story? she wondered, as they meandered down the aisle looking for an uncrowded row of theater seats.
Oh great, Maureen thought.
Usually, when movies claim to be "based on a true story" it's most often very loosely based on true events. They get very few of the details correct, but botch everything else.
And what was worse, was that the poor victims of whatever tragedy became immortalized on screen had to watch as their life story became played out for many eyes around the world to see.
She glanced up at Phil, who stared wide-eyed and smiling at the screen.
He did look like he was having a good time, she thought, so she might as well take the stick out of her own ass.
They found a row somewhere in the middle and
sat down, as the boisterous crowd kept on raging around them.
There were no ushers even trying to calm things down, Maureen noticed, scanning the theater.
They must have realized there was no point.
This movie was clearly a huge deal to drag out this crowd and get them all hyped up.
What was the big deal? she wondered. How could some cheesy popcorn thriller be this exciting?
Onscreen, the title card "Stab" appeared, flashing onto the screen in stylized green lettering.
A musical stinger roared from the speakers.
Then the song, Red Right Hand by Nick Cave and the Bad seeds came on.
The crowd cheered again and Maureen winced. She shifted her position uncomfortably in her seat and tried to ease her nerves. It wasn't working.
They wouldn't even be able to hear what was happening in the fucking movie anyway, Maureen thought.
Just relax and enjoy your night off of studying, she told herself. The movie would be over in an hour and then she and Phil could leave and get back to the apartment.
On the screen, a moving camera suddenly revealed a large, affluent one-story ranch-style home.
Fluorescent flood lights illuminated a swimming pool and a large patio.
Most of the house was glass, and you could see into the spacious living room and kitchen area. A young blond girl moved through the house impatiently, waiting for someone.
The music was low and ominous.
Maureen rolled her eyes.
Guess she's got to die now, she thought.
The camera moved through the inside of the house now, panning into a fancy bathroom. A large plate-glass skylight allowed moonlight into the room.
The blond girl wore a fluffy, terrycloth robe and she started to approach the shower, standing close to it hesitantly.
The crowd grew hushed.
"Take it off!" one man shouted in the silence.
The crowd roared as the blond woman shook off her white robe and it fell to the ground. The camera cut to a shot of it falling, instead of showing nudity.
Maureen threw her hand up in the air and looked at Phil.
She couldn't stand it anymore.
"Now why does she have to be butt ass naked?" she complained. "What does that have to do with the plot?"
"I don't know about the plot, but I got a stiff one," Phil said with a sly grin.
"You betta loosen up that wrist," Maureen remarked.
She relaxed back into her seat and tried to focus again on the screen.
The sound of a phone ringing suddenly jolted the audience and they cheered again, then immediately booed when the blond girl reached for the robe on the floor and slid it back on.
The camera still showed no nudity and the crowd wasn't happy about it.
As the young blond woman turned her head away from the skylight, lightning flashed, illuminating the iconic ghost-faced killer who was leering on top of the skylight, peering in menacingly.
The crowd roared.
Then they grew hushed as onscreen, the girl reached for a portable phone and put it to her ear.
"Hello?" she said.
"Hello," a man's deep voice said.
"Who is this?" she asked.
"Guess," he said.
"No really, who is this?"
"Were you expecting somebody?"
Maureen sat up in her seat, irritated.
"Bitch, hang up the phone and star-69 his ass!" she yelled out.
The crowd, and Phil, shushed her.
The camera cut to the stove, where a pan of Jiffy Pop was sizzling on the eye.
Suddenly, the masked killer popped up right outside the kitchen window and the crowd boisterously cheered once again.
The young blond woman on screen didn't notice.
"Look out back," the sinister voice on the telephone said to her. "Do you see your boyfriend anywhere?"
The woman turned to face a large set of glass patio doors that looked out onto the backyard and swimming pool.
"I don't even have a boyfriend right now," the woman said. She began to pace nervously. The mysterious voice was starting to unnerve her.
"Would you like one?" the voice whispered seductively.
Maureen scoffed. She couldn't stand it any longer.
"Gimme some money, I need to get some popcorn," she whispered to Phil, careful not to perturb the very vocal crowd who were now listening intently to the eerie phone encounter being played out in front of them.
"You got money!" Phil protested.
"I got my money, I asked for your money," Maureen said icily.
Phil saw the fiery look in her eye and decided it was best to just give in. She hadn't even wanted to come; the least he could do is buy her some snacks.
Phil grumbled and fished a ten and a few dollar bills out of the pocket of his leather jacket.
"Thank you," she said with a look, and then stood to her feet.
She carefully slid her way down the aisle, past dozens of masked ghosts. She tried not to look out into the audience to gaze upon the sea of identical ghost masks.
Maureen ambled her way through the rambunctious crowd, dodging a masked figure as he chased his friend down the aisle, laughing and whooping like an animal.
"Jesus…" she muttered.
It was a shame to see something like this at a fairly renowned local arthouse theater. Why were they showing such sleaze? she wondered.
It was probably just a good way to make money. That's what this movie was about too.
All it was was a cash grab, she thought as she made her way to the theater doors. Just another quick buck made off of the suffering of others. And of course the opening character is a young, blond white woman.
She hadn't been entirely joking with Phil about racism in the film industry. She fully believed it was a real thing. Just look at all the faces in the media, she thought. Mostly white.
Young black girls had nothing to look up to, at least, she didn't when she was younger.
The only thing she had to look up to had been her parents, who were the ones pushing her to go into med school and drown herself in biology and chemistry.
Speaking of which, she thought, she hoped this movie wouldn't be too long.She had to get home and study or else her biology lab in the morning was due to be a disaster.
All of a sudden, as she walked out into the hallway, Maureen was broken out of her thoughts by a loud musical stinger coming from the theater. She almost jumped out of her skin.
Then she relaxed. It was just another jump scare. Go figure.
She started to head towards the concession stand, but then realized if she didn't pee now, she might have to go in the middle of the movie.
Maureen moved down the opposite direction of the corridor and headed for the small alcove where the men and women's restrooms were located.
She gently nudged open the door to the women's restroom, and peered inside.
It was empty.
Long rows of stalls lined one wall, and another wall was lined with rows of granite countertops and porcelain sinks.
She felt a sudden chill, as if someone was in the room with her.
She got down to her knees and peered underneath the stalls, and she didn't see anyone occupying the restroom along with her.
Maureen shrugged and headed for the first stall, slipping inside and locking the door behind her.
As she did her business, she thought she heard the door open.
It squeaked on its hinges ever so slightly.
She perked up, listening.
There was the sound of footsteps. Faint footsteps. Sneaky footsteps.
She froze on the toilet, glancing around.
"It better not be one of those masked freaks trying to scare her," she thought to herself.
The footsteps suddenly stopped.
Maureen's eyes darted around, scanning the area underneath the stall door.
She didn't see anyone else in the room.
She took a deep breath, and flushed, leaving the stall to reveal an empty bathroom.
It was just the movie freaking her out, that's all, she thought.
Still spooked, she rushed out of the bathroom and back into the hallway.
She walked down the long corridor after composing herself, and made her way to the concession stand where nobody was in line. That figured, she thought. On a Wednesday night, the only customers the Rialto had were probably there to see the premiere of Stab.
And she knew where they all were. They were acting like fools in the theater.
Maureen stepped up to the dark-haired man in his thirties who was running one of the registers. He smiled at her.
"Hi," he said.
"Hi," Maureen replied. "I'll take a medium popcorn and a small diet Pepsi,"
"You got it," the cashier said, and began making her order.
Over her shoulder, Maureen heard voices. Two more college-aged girls stepped up behind her in line.
"I'm not going back in there," the blond one said, shaking her head.
Maureen stayed quiet and listened, pretending to dig in her purse.
"Come on, you chicken shit, it's just a movie," the blond one's red-headed friend said.
"No, it's not just a movie," the blond girl replied. "It's a true story. A couple of years ago, all these kids got killed in California. Hacked to pieces,"
Maureen perked up hearing this, and her brow furrowed with intrigue.
The cashier handed her her popcorn and drink, she handed him the cash and she began to walk back to the theater, with those girls' conversation playing in her mind.
Maybe they were right. Maybe it was really a true story.
She thought she had heard about some murders in California, but she couldn't think of any names or faces associated with them.
Hacked to pieces…she thought grimly.
What a horrible experience it must have been for whoever those kids were. How could anyone do something so evil? Force someone into their last moments so that they spend them in complete agony.
She couldn't imagine what that must feel like.
To feel someone actually stabbing you.
Then she saw the Stab movie poster and chucked to herself.
"Don't let this sleazeball slasher movie get to you," she told herself.
It was probably made on some half-assed script loosely based on some awful, popularized tragedy that was passed over the desk of some sleazy Hollywood producer.
She couldn't believe that it might be a true story.
How awful for the victims' families, to see the story of their daughter or son's murder on the big screen played out for the world to see.
It must have been hard enough to go through the trial process, but then for a big movie to be made? Money made off of your misfortune?
Terrible. Maureen almost felt bad for seeing the movie, but it was too late now.
As she made her way down the empty corridor towards the theater, the door to a utility closet burst open and out came a ghostly-masked figure lurching at her.
Maureen screamed, almost dropping her drink and popcorn.
She cradled her snacks in her left arm and used her right to swat the figure in the head.
"Ow!" a familiar voice cried out.
The figure pulled off the mask.
It was Phil, who could barely control his laughter.
"You ass!" she swore at him, slapping his chest.
"I had to, baby," he said, smiling like a child.
"Why are you playing?" she asked him, genuinely annoyed.
He heard the heated tone in her voice, and he held up his hands in surrender.
"Would you relax?" he said.
He put his arm around her waist and pulled her in.
"I don't like being scared…" she said. "I don't like that,"
"Baby, it's just a movie," Phil replied, snuggling with her. Besides, scary movies are great foreplay,"
He reached to bite her earlobe sensually and she pulled her head back and looked up at him indignantly.
"Excuse me?"
Phil sighed, defeated.
"Alright, let's go see Sandra Bullock," he said.
"No, no," she said. "Sandra started already, we can stay. Just stop playing so much,"
She kissed him tenderly on the lips.
"Alright…I gotta go to the bathroom," Phil said.
He walked off towards the small alcove where the restrooms were.
"See ya inside!" he called over his shoulder.
And now, there Maureen stood, alone in the corridor.
A cold chill ran down her spine, and she looked around nervously.
There was no one else in the corridor with her.
All was quiet.
No ghost masked figures.
She took a breath, and stepped back inside the noisy theater….
Phil rounded the corner into the alcove and pushed open the door to the men's restrooms.
Two ghost-masked figures stood at the urinals. They slowly and awkwardly turned to look at him as he waited for his turn.
A little spooked, Phil moved on further into the bathroom and ducked into an open stall, shutting and locking the door.
As he unzipped, a strange sound suddenly caught his attention.
It was coming from the stall next to him.
Phil leaned closer to the wall.
It was a strange murmuring noise. Like someone talking to themselves under their breath.
"Billy….tell Mommy what you did…"
Phil snickered to himself, confused and a little amused.
He put his ear to the cheap vinyl stall wall, trying to hear what the person was saying.
"Listen Mommy…..listen Mommy…" the strange, disguised voice went on.
And then, a musical stinger roared out of the hallway as the theater doors opened.
There was the loud scraping of metal.
Phil couldn't have seen it coming.
The blade of a razor-sharp hunting knife suddenly was rammed through the cheap vinyl wall.
It punctured Phil's left ear, and penetrated deep into his brain.
He felt every inch of the cold, steel blade tearing through his nasal cavity, and he felt the sharp pain coursing and pulsating behind his eyes.
The knife was swiftly pulled back out of his skull and back out of the pre-carved hole where it had come ramming through.
Phil staggered forward against the stall door, the panic of the situation overtaking him. His hand went instinctively to the bloody gash in the left side of his head and he felt warmth; there was so much blood. It cascaded out of him like a waterfall.
Phil's trembling, bloody hands found the latch and he pitched forward out of the stall, and landed on the floor in a heap.
As he watched his own blood pool around him, and as his life slipped away, he heard the stall door next to him open, and in the pool of blood, he saw the reflection of a ghost-masked figure staring down at him.
CRASH.
Maureen jumped in her seat as onscreen, a chair came flying through the glass patio doors of the young blond woman's living room, resulting in
a horrendous cacophony that resulted from the intermingling of the movie character's blood curdling screams and screams from the audience.
The audience had gotten much more riled up now, and were absolutely uncontrollable.
A quick cut from the camera revealed the girl's popcorn, still sitting on the stove, and now lit ablaze.
Maureen began watching intently, munching on her popcorn.
She glanced back towards the exit and didn't see Phil coming down the aisle. He was going to miss the climax of this scene if he didn't hurry up.
Where was he?
Her attention was brought back to the screen, as the young girl dodged the knife swing of a ghost-masked figure and ran into a bedroom, shutting and locking the door.
Great, Maureen thought. Locked in a room with no weapons.
"No, no, no, don't do that!" Maureen called out.
At this point, with the crowd as rowdy as they were, she decided if she couldn't beat them, join them.
"Go! Go!" Maureen shouted at the screen.
She couldn't believe that she was actually getting into it. She also couldn't believe the movie was already getting into the action this quickly.
This young woman in the film seemed to be the main character at first, but now it was looking like she was going to be the maniacal killer's first victim.
Just then, a tall, ghost-masked figure wearing Phil's leather jacket slid down the aisle and sat down next to Maureen calmly and silently.
Maureen saw the ghost mask on his face and frowned.
"Baby, give it up," she said.
He didn't respond. He stared ahead in silence.
She snuggled close to him, handing him the bucket of popcorn but he shook his head.
"You came back just in time, it looks like she's about to get it,"
Onscreen, the blond girl was prying open a window. She managed to heave it open just as the killer kicked in the bedroom door and she ducked outside without him seeing her.
She crept around the side of the house, now outside, still wearing nothing but her bathrobe.
And then, there was another sound of shattering glass as the masked killer came catapulting through the bedroom window from the outside. He tackled the girl to the ground as the music became extremely intense.
"Oh God…" Maureen cried out. "Here it comes!"
She buried her head in the masked figure's neck, closing her eyes tightly as the killer onscreen pulled out a hunting knife and buried it in the girl's chest.
The crowd went absolutely wild at that moment, to where Maureen could barely hear herself think.
Between the screams of the girl on screen, the music, and the crowd, it was deafening.
She held onto Phil, waiting for it all to be over, burying her hands inside his jacket.
All she felt was wetness. Sticky, voluminous wetness that ran all up and down Phil's groin, and his thigh. It was all over the inside of the jacket too. Maureen furrowed her brow in confusion.
She held her hand up to the light provided by the movie screen.
It was covered with red.
Crimson red.
Her eyes widened.
And then, the inexplicable happened.
She looked up at the figure and saw through the eyeholes of that ghastly, white mask.
It wasn't Phil.
Then, the figure whipped a hunting knife out and before Maureen could react, he plunged it into her stomach and pulled it back out faster than it went in.
Maureen doubled over, and then looked up at her attacker in absolute bewilderment and despair.
He glared at her, and she saw the abject evil in his eyes.
"No…" she thought. This isn't happening. This is all a dream.
But it was real.
She had felt the cold steel slice into her torso and had seen the bright scarlet that now stained the knife that her attacker was holding.
And now, he was closing in for the kill.
Maureen began to panic.
She staggered down the row of seats, clutching her wound, and fell out into the main aisle.
The killer was hot on her trail.
Maureen lurched forward at the first person she saw, a young woman standing in the aisle. She couldn't even get her attention. Maureen tugged at her sleeve. She couldn't even say anything, the pain was so intense, and it wouldn't even do her any good. The crowd was beyond deafening now.
The woman didn't turn around.
Maureen went in another direction, blindly stumbling, feeling herself getting lightheaded from all the blood that was gushing out of her torso.
She went to another person, and they started cheering her on. Then several more people joined in.
Maureen couldn't believe it.
"Help me…" she managed to mutter out, but no one heard or noticed a thing.
She heard their laughter and their excited cheers.
They thought this was some kind of stunt, the horrible realization hit her all at once and before she could do anything else, she felt the knife pierce her again. And again.
She whipped around but the killer was nowhere in sight. Her vision became blurry now, and she could hardly see her hand in front of her face.
Nobody seemed to be realizing what was happening. It was all one horrific nightmare that was unfortunately very real for Maureen.
The woman on screen was being pinned to the ground and stabbed again.
And again.
Then, she felt her attacker's arm loop around her, holding her in place, and the knife went in a final time, deep into her back.
Onscreen, the knife went down again.
The killer twisted the blade deep inside of Maureen and ripped it out, disappearing like a ghost into the roaring crowd.
Maureen felt everything slipping, and her life flashing before her eyes. Blood bubbled up from her throat and spilled over her lips.
She pitched forward, going towards the first thing in her direction: the stairs going up to the movie screen.
Maureen went to the middle of the screen, and stood, letting out one, long animalistic cry for help that had been trapped inside of her.
Onscreen, the camera zoomed into the killer's ghost mask one last time.
Maureen's bloodied form was silhouetted on the screen as she gazed out at the crowd, who were finally starting to settle down. Many faces grew concerned, and some took off their masks.
Some were running towards the exit for help.
It was far too late to get help for Maureen.
She went to her knees, and then down like a tree onto her back, where she lay still.
The theater grew quiet. Dead quiet.
It was the start of a new game.