Scarequel (Scream)

2: Woodsboro 2.0

As I am lying in bed, I hear the phone ring and Hallie gets up to answer it.

"Hello?.... uh-huh...... Who is this? Well, we identify ourselves around here. No, you can't. Uh-huh... yeah, right," Hallie says.

I roll out of bed, as my hair falls away from my face to reveal a new and improved, Katherine Prescott.

This lovely young lady has matured as she has grown older by two years. Her face has a survivor's edge to it, as well as a terrible secret. She seemed to have survived the storm, stronger and more determined.

"I got it," I respond as I get up and stand beside Hallie.

Hallie is my roommate and best friend. She passes the phone to me.

"Knock yourself out," Hallie replies.

"Hello?" I ask into the phone. Silence.

"Hello?" I try again.

"Hello, Katherine," a voice spits out at me. Deep, haunting, and familiar. But, yet I am unmoved.

"Yes?" I roll my eyes.

"What's your favorite scary movie?"

"The one where you die. Who is this?" I say sarcastically.

"You tell me."

I reach over and grab the small number reader that's hooked up to the phone and look. Cory Gillis. 442-8730.

"Cory Gillis. 442-8730," I respond.

"Oh shit!"

"Hot, flash Cory- prank calls are a criminal offense prosecuted under penal code 653M-"

The line cuts.

"Enjoy the movie," I say, hanging up the phone, and turning to Hallie.

"Is it time to change numbers again?" she asks concerned.

"Nah... It'll die off. It's opening weekend. Let's see how it goes," I reasoned.

I grab my robe and shower buck as Hallie channel surfs. Numerous news programs are on our small TV. The channel switches and shows a young man being interviewed. He's attractive, sullen, and sad.

His voice stops Katherine dead in her tracks. She turns to the television to see Cotton Weary. The man that she helped frame.

"He sure gives a lot of interviews for someone who wants to be left alone," Hallie comments as she hits the remote. The TV goes black and Hallie turns towards me.

"Well, get your ass going. You're late. Don't forget we've got rush at the Deltas tonight. Don't wear anything you don't want to be trashed. Kat? Kat?"

I turn away from the TV. Lost in my thoughts and recovered.

"I cannot believe I let you talk me into going Greek," I tease.

I move to the door and throw it open. A ghost figure leaps out at me. I scream, then stop myself.

It's nothing more than a costume dangling on her doorframe. Another joke. Katherine tears it apart and throws the outfit at Hallie.

"Nice handbag. What do you think?" I say coolly as I exit the room. I don't notice as Hallie stares at the Ghost Mask in her hands.

I step outside into the morning sun and breathe in just as a mob of news reporters hound me.

"Katherine, did you know the victims?"

"Do you feel responsible for the murders?

"What murders?" I asked.

Microphones are shoved into my face as I am attacked by journalists and TV cameras. I begin to panic.

"Do you think there will be more murders?"

I am completely mortified. I push and shove, but no vail. Questions and comments come at me like lightning. I see a hole in the crowd and go for it as a reporter with voluminous hair and teeth, and thick sunglasses, moves in her way.

"Did you kill them last night, Kat? Has it gotten to you again? Did you finally snap?"

My mood instantly changes from flight to fright as my fist starts to clench. But, I am beat to it.

A fist seems to fly out of nowhere and connects with the pompous woman's face. She drops to the ground in pain. I spin around to see Gale Weathers. Well, I'll be damned.

Gale stands with her fists tense and at her side. For a moment I am happy to see her.

But the slaughter continues. Cameras flash, and reporters yell. Gale moves in front of me, shielding me from the crowd. They begin to question Gale.

"Quick, get out of here," Gale says urgently.

"What's going on?" I ask.

"Just go. I'll find you later," Gale replied.

I don't waste any time. I bolt off towards the other side of the building. Running right into a man and falling to the ground. Two hands reach out to help her up and in one smooth move Katherina is in the arms of. . . . Dewey Riley.

"What in the hell is going on, Dewey?"

He smiles at her. A safe and warm smile, but still filled with worry.

"It'll be alright," He responds as leads her across campus.

Dewey begins to tell that two students who go here- I should say went here were killed last night at the opening night of STAB.

"Three hundred people watched? Nobody did anything?" I asked horrified.

"They thought it was a publicity stunt."

My jaw dropped open, "Oh my God. How could it happen?"

"They don't know. It was carefully planned. The victims received anonymous passes to the movie."

"It's a fucking copycat," I grit my teeth, "I knew this would happen. That damned movie."

"As of now, they don't see any relation. But, they're looking into it. The state, Special Task Force, FBI- they're all here. They'll find the guy," Dewey assured me.

"Yeah, right," I rolled my eyes. They still haven't found out about me.

"Look, Kat, why don't you take off? Disappear for a while. I'll come with," Dewey suggests.

"No. Absolutely not. I am not gonna crawl under a rock and hide. This world is fucked and people kill all the time. I gotta get used to it."

"Nothing will happen to you. I promise," he vows.

Katherine's tough demeanor begins to crack. She takes a deep breath.

"That's why I'm here, right? We take care of each other. C'mon, I'll walk you to class," Dewey offers.

He sets off, and for the first time that I actually see him, he has a severe limp on his left leg as it drags behind him.

I swallow my guilt, "You go. It's all stairs, I can take it from here."

"Don't worry."

"Dewey, I am completely equipped with mace, alarm whistle, keyring, knife, and a degree in defensive combat."

"Just in case."

"Dewey, no. This is nothing compared to what happened before. I'll be okay. Go back to work and let me try to get back to my somewhat normal existence."

I reach Dewey, giving him a kiss on his cheek, and walk toward my next class. I feel Dewey watching me the whole way in. But, for some reason, I don't just feel his gaze. I don't look back.