I want to know how, where --
if you don't tell me, I'm going
to call daddy.
MARGE gives a laugh -- a rasping chachination from deep in her
chest.
MARGE (CONTD)
Your father the cop. That's a
good one.
(colder)
Forget Fred Krueger. You don't
want to know, believe me.
NANCY
I
do want to know. He's
not
dead and gone -- he's
after me
and if I sleep he'll get me!
I've got to know!
MARGE blinks at her a moment, then cracks a terrible, crooked
grin.
MARGE
All right.
126. INT. NANCY'S CELLAR/NIGHT 126.
MARGE drags NANCY headlong down the cellar stairs and across the
room with a crazy fury, twisting her down near the foundation.
And she thrusts her face so close to her daughter's that NANCY
reels from the alcohol.
MARGE
You want to know who Fred
Krueger was? He was a filthy
child killer who got at least
twenty kids, kids from our
area, kids we all knew. It
drove us all crazy when we
didn't know who was doing it --
but it was even worse when
they caught him.
MARGE draws herself up with a shake.
MARGE (CONTD)
Oh lawyers got fat and the judge
got famous, but someone forgot to
sign the search warrant in the
right place, and Fred Krueger
was free, just like that.
NANCY
So he's alive?
MARGE smiles grimly.
MARGE
He wouldn've stopped. The
bastard would've got more
kids first chance he got --
they found nearly ten bodies
in his boiler room as it
was. But the law couldn't
touch him.
At the mention of "boiler room", NANCY gives a shake. MARGE
misses this, too busy taking a pull on the bottle that's never
left her hand.
MARGE (CONTD)
What was needed were some private
citizens willing to do what had
to be
done.
She reels slowly, looking at NANCY is defiance.
NANCY
(hushed)
What did you do, mother?
MARGE cradles the bottle.
MARGE
Bunch of us parents tracked him
down after they let him go. Found
him in an old boiler room, just
like before. Saw him lying there
in that caked red and yellow sweater
he always wore, drunk an' asleep
with his weird knives by his side...
NANCY
(dreading it)
Go on...
MARGE reaches over and taps a dusty two-gallon jug of gasoline
near the lawn mower.
MARGE
We poured gasoline all around
the place, left a trail out the
door, locked the door, then...
She mimes striking a match --
MARGE (CONTD)
WHOOSH!!!
Her arms shoot up and her eyes go wide with the light of that
fire. There's awe in her voice. Then she drops her arms.
MARGE (CONTD)
(hushed, remembering)
But just when it seemed not
even the devil could live
in there any more -- he crashed
out like a banshee, all on fire
-- swinging those fingerknives
every which direction and
screaming he... he was going
to get us by killing all our
kids...
She stops with a sudden quake and drinks for a long moment. But
the intake doesn't hide the image. Her face bathed in tears, she
looks at her daughter and shakes her head.
MARGE (CONTD)
There were all those men, Nancy,
even your father, oh yes, even
him. But none could do what
had to be done -- Krueger rolling
and screaming so loud the whole
state could hear -- no one could
take your father's gun and kill
him good and proper except
me.
She sweeps her hand across the air in a terrific slash, then
stops, her hand shaking, her voice hoarse and terrified. She
looks at her daughter, begging.
MARGE (CONTD)
So he's dead Nan. He can't
get you. Mommy killed him.
For someone who started this film at a very young seventeen,
NANCY's now the battle-tempered veteran as she takes her mother
in her arms and rocks her.
NANCY
Who was there? Were Tina's
parents there? Were Rod's?
MARGE sags back.
MARGE
Sure, and Glen's. All of us.
But that's in the past now,
baby. Really. It's over.
(slyly)
We even took his knives.
The woman twists around and opens the door on an old furnace -- a
furnace unused since the newer gas one nearby was put in. She
fishes inside the cavity -- as then we hear a touch of the
familiar 'SCRRIITCH'. Next moment she pulls out an object
wrapped in rags, opens it and displays the long, rusted blades
and their glove-like apparatus.
MARGE (CONTD)
See?
NANCY stares at the damn things, chilled.
NANCY
All these years you've kept those
things buried down here? In our
own house?
MARGE (CONTD)
Proof he's declawed. As for him,
we buried him good and deep.
MARGE shoves the knives into their hiding place, closes the
little iron door.
MARGE (CONTD)
So's okay, you can sleep.
She lurches up and staggers upstairs.
NANCY shivers and looks down at her arm. The cut beneath her
bandage has begun to bleed again. And from inside the furnace,
as if from deep below, the PULSING of the boundless
nightmare-boiler room can be faintly heard.
127. EXT. ELM STREET. NIGHT. 127.
WIDE ON THE STREET AND BOTH HOUSES, GLEN's on the right, NANCY's
on the left. A TELEPHONE RINGS. ZOOM IN ON GLEN'S UPSTAIRS
BEDROOM WINDOW.
128. INT. GLEN'S & NANCY'S BEDROOMS - INTERCUT. NIGHT. 128.
129. GLEN, yawning, crosses and picks up his telephone. 129.
GLEN
Hello?
NANCY (telephone)
Hi.
GLEN
Oh. Hi, how y'doing?
NANCY looks out the window and touches her hair.
NANCY (CONTD)
Fine. Stand by your window
so I can see you. You sound
a million miles away.
In the lighted window across the way, she can SEE GLEN move into
sight. In his shot, we can SEE NANCY step into her window behind
the bars.
NANCY (CONTD)
Much better.
GLEN
I heard your ma went ape at the
security store today. You look
like the Prisoner of Zenda or
something. How long's it been
since you slept?
NANCY
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