Free Halloween by Curtis Richards Page B

front of her and demonstrated the classic move.
    "For one thing, you used the wrong foot. No leverage that way. Here, put your books down for a second."
    Laurie set them down, then positioned herself in front of Brackett, who must have been six foot two and close to two hundred pounds. "I think I could toss an oak tree easier than I could budge you!" she laughed nervously.
    "Some ancient Greek said, 'Give me a lever long enough and I could move the world.' It's all in leverage."
    Laurie blinked. "I'm impressed. Where'd you learn about the ancient Greeks?"
    Brackett laughed. "You'd be surprised how smart dumb cops are. Now," he said, placing her in front of him, "put this foot here, grab me by the arms this way, then roll with your full weight . . . whoa! " Laurie threw her hip out and tossed the big man over her shoulder onto the lawn.
    "Oh, Lord, I'm sorry, Mr. Brackett. I didn't realize . . ."
    "Your own strength? That's the whole idea. I think!" he added, raising himself to his feet and brushing himself off. "Well, now you're ready for the bogeyman." He stooped to pick up her books again.
    "Thanks, Mr. Brackett. Tell Annie I'll speak to her tonight."
    "You bet." Still dusting leaves off his uniform, he ambled home.
    She turned into her street, reflecting on the day's strange occurrences. "Well, kiddo," she said to herself, "I thought you outgrew superstition." For a moment, before she stepped onto the flagstone path to her front door, she observed a group of kids parading down the street in their goofy, store-bought costumes and wondered where it had all started, these traditions: witches, hobgoblins, pumpkins, and black cats. And she had to admit she knew no more about Halloween than she knew about judo throws—less, since she knew at least how to throw one sheriff if he stood still long enough.
    Dimly she realized that the celebration must hearken back to the times when evil was more respected in the world. She'd seen The Exorcist and The Omen , and she knew it was possible that evil and its incarnations—like ghosts, the devil, and witches—really existed. But she'd never met anyone who truly believed it, and deep down she certainly didn't believe it herself. But what had changed since the time when priests had performed exorcisms, when people were afraid to go into cemeteries and attended rituals to make the devil appear or chase the devil away?
    Have I ever known anything truly evil? she asked herself. Except for Mrs. Langholm's history tests, Laurie couldn't think of a thing.
    Yes, there was one thing.
    Something genuinely wicked had happened in this very town fifteen years ago, only a few blocks from where she now stood. There was no other way to describe the horror of a sweet little six-year-old boy stalking up to the room of a pretty, ordinary teenage girl and running a long knife into her guts dozens of times. That was evil. There was no other word for it.
    With a shudder, she stepped into her house. "Hi, Mom, I'm home."
    "Hi, darling." Laurie went into the kitchen, where her mother, a redheaded woman with the same angular slenderness of her daughter, was busy candying apples.
    Laurie unloaded her books on the kitchen counter and stretched her weary arms. She kissed her mother and dipped a finger in the apple glaze, touching it to her tongue. "Mom, have you ever known anyone evil?"
    Her mother cocked her head and looked at Laurie with arched eyebrows. "That's quite a question!"
    "Well?"
    Her mother washed her gooey fingertips in the sink, then wiped them on a paper towel. "Well, they said that Hitler was evil; but I was too young to remember the war, and of course the only thing I know about his atrocities is what I've read or seen in the movies. I mean, I've never experienced someone evil, if that's what you're getting at."
    "I think it is. What about the little boy who stabbed the Myers girl?"
    Mrs. Strode shook her head. "You're certainly thinking some dark thoughts today, young lady."
    "I know."
    "But it's