Chapter Six

Marcie was in the Girl's Restroom.

'Lizzie. You'll be the death of me'. 

She was acting like the her mother's favorite actress, Gloria Swanson. She looked at the glass mirror that was old, and dusty. And the spiders consumed the room. Marcie didn't see the killer's right hand grabbing the cheap, yellow colored curtain. 'Alice...Bill...Are you there? Brenda', she asked. 

No one answered her.

Seconds later, she didn't see the axe hit the chandelier.

And her screams disturbed the gloomy night.

***

Brenda headed towards the bathroom. 

She brushed her teeth. 

The memories of being watched stirred deep, nefarious emotions. She was thinking that the cold weather had shifted its course along the deep squall of Camp Crystal Lake; the old barn's doors shifted---then banged. Brenda ran towards her own cabin. When she took her rain coat off, she was glad to be warm. The heater was on. She read the new Barbara Taylor Bradford romance novel 'A Woman of Substance'. A lamp illuminated the reading room. 

Seconds later, a boy's voice said: 'Help me! Help me!'.

She opened the cabin door.

'Hello. Is there anything I can do to help you?', Brenda asked.

She felt the heavy rain was drenching her nightgown. 

She grabbed a flashlight in her small, right hand.

The lights of the Archery Range were turned on.

Frowning, Brenda screamed, as arrows came towards her. 

Her body slumped onto the ground, and the killer sabotaged the Jeep.

***

Alice noticed the eerie silence. 

'Bill, the archery lights are off'.

'That's weird', he said.

'Where's Brenda?', Alice asked him. 

'In her cabin', Bill answered her.

He made sure the gas was in the flashlight. 

'Bill, can I go with you?', Alice said.

'Sure', Bill said.

They wore their rain slickers, and both of them opened the door. Once the camp counsellors searched the campgrounds, the thunder boomed in the night sky, illuminating the eerie lake.

***

The killer waited.

She was eager to kill again. 

In her small, right hand was a hunting knife.

The moon was full; the glow was like something out of a B horror movie. Darkness consumed the camp. And, as the campers died, the nightmare wasn't over.

***

Steve Christy sighed.

He had been with Edward Gordon, Jr., his  fifty year old lawyer. 

The financial incentive to re-open Camp Crystal Lake was a pain for him. 

The meeting dragged on...and on...and on. 

But, by 2:00 PM, all legalities was smoothed over.

Steve Christy was the owner of Camp Crystal Lake for a decade. 

He headed towards the Diner.

Inside, Sandy Kamper, a sixty year old waitress.

'More coffee, Steve', the glasses wearing local woman said.

'No, thanks, Sandy. I had a cherry pie, and coffee. How much do I owe you?'.

'Two and a quarter', Sandy said.

Steve took out three dollar bills.

'Keep the change, Sandy. I got some new campers at Camp Crystal Lake. I got to go and get back. They'll say I am missing. I had business to deal with'.

'Be careful, Steve. This town is cursed', Sandy said. 

'I don't believe in curses, Sandy. Have a great night. Good bye!', Steve said.

'Good bye, Steve', Sandy said.

The red haired woman waved her right hand, and attended to other diners, before the Diner closed by 10:00 PM.

***

Alice was looking at the cabins. 

She knew it was late. 

'Bill, there's an axe in the bunk. What's going on?', she asked him. 

'I don't know. Ned's pranks, you know. If he did that, I'll kill the bastard', Bill answered. 

'But, he's missing', Alice said. 

'Yeah, so is everyone at the camp', Bill sighed.

'Where's Steve? Why isn't he back?', Alice asked her new boyfriend. 

'I don't know. Get some sleep, okay'.

'Fine', Alice said. 

As she slept on the sofa, Bill searched the camp.

***

Steve's Jeep's engine conked out. 

Sighing, he got out.

The rain was bad.

He waved his right hand in the cold air.

Sheriff Earl Tierney, 62, arrived in his police car.

'Steve, do you need some help?', the Sheriff asked him. 

'Yes, the engine's dead. I'll go to the mechanics tomorrow in the morning', Steve answered.

'I'll drive you half-way to the camp', the Sheriff said.

'Thanks, Sheriff', Steve said.

***

In the car, the Sheriff said: 'Tonight's Friday the 13th. There's more deaths; more rapes; more murders. More bad luck. More superstitious nonsense that plagues Camp Crystal Lake. Everyone believes in evil; everyone. Old Crazy Ralph was at the camp. He spouted the Gospel, and told the campers they're doomed. Officer Dorf, my Deputy, arrested him. He's in a jail cell for being annoying'.

'Great! Old Ralph scaring the campers', Steve sighed.

The radio operator said: 'Sheriff. There's a three car pile up off Miner Road, possible fatalities. Over'.

'This is Sheriff Tierney. I'll drop off Steve Christy at Camp Crystal Lake. ETA, fifteen minues. Over'. 

'Busy night', Steve said.

'Yeah. Got to drop you off, Steve. Good night!'.

'Good night, Sheriff', Steve said.

He took off his black colored seatbelt, and trudged up the road. 

As the wailing sirens blared loudly, Sheriff Earl Tierney attended to the accident. 

It was 9:45 PM, on Friday the 13th.

***

Steve trudged up the gravel road.

The sign read: WELCOME TO CAMP CRYSTAL LAKE, EST. 1935

Suddenly, as his yellow colored rain jacket was drenched, (as well as his blonde hair), someone used a flashlight. It hit his blue eyes. 'Hello, who're you? Oh, Hi, Pamela. What're are you doing out in this awful weather?', he asked the killer.

She stabbed him in the chest, twice.

Steve Christy had had a flashback to when Jason Voorhees drowned in 1957. 

And Barry and Claudette in 1958, a year later.

And the accidents, and fires in 1959...and the poisoned water in 1962.

It was by the same woman.

Her name was Pamela Sue Voorhees, the forty-nine year old mother of Jason Voorhees.

***

Page 7.

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