Friday the 13th

by HornRaptor

This is a novelization I wrote for the original 1980 movie "Friday the 13th". About a group of counselors reopening a summer camp, and they are all murdered one by one. I'm about halfway through. Please read this lengthy first part and I will add more to it! I just wanted to get feedback on my writing skills. Rated T for violence, some language, innappropriate teenager talk etc.

FRIDAY THE 13TH

By Landon Turner

THEY WERE WARNED….THEY WERE DOOMED…AND NOW, ON FRIDAY THE 13TH, NO ONE CAN SAVE THEM….

.

PART I

THE HISTORY OF CAMP BLOOD

Prologue

It all started in June of 1968. At Camp Crystal Lake; a local summer camp for kids, located in the rural town of Crystal Lake, New Jersey. It was a peaceful setting; imagine a few log cabins set back in a clearing, shaded with trees, a dock sticking out into a sparkling lake surrounded by deep woods, a few rowboats and canoes. There were thousands of other summer camps, just the same-small and run on a shoe-string by small-town-families-the Christy's in this case, kind, fond of kids. Camp Crystal Lake wasn't one of those large, well-financed menageries, with a corral of horses and their own cross-country team, but instead it was humble and family-owned, cheap to run, cheap to attend. Lower-income families could afford to send off their kids on a nice vacation. Fresh air and outdoor activities for the kids, peace and quiet for the parents.

You hired a few young adults to help watch kids and run the place as counselors, and they would arrive a few weeks before the camp opened to the children, and they would help refurbish and clean up the camp after lying dormant through fall and winter. The business practically ran itself, with counselors hired to do most of the work, plumbers and groundskeepers coming to tend to the camp every so often, so the owner was rewarded with a minimal job responsibility.

What could go wrong?

It was June of 1968. That's when this nightmarish tale started. On a hot summer day, like any other at Camp Crystal Lake. A young boy by the name of Jason Voorhees sat outside the mess hall, as we would always do, while his mother, Pamela Voorhees, worked inside as a cook. Jason was different from the other children, he didn't actually attend the camp, and he was there because no one was to watch him while his mother worked. Jason was slightly mentally retarded, with deformities that were gawked at by passing campers and counselors. His mother was extremely overprotective of her son, watching him through the window of the mess hall. She would always tell him to never leave that spot by the mess hall, where he would always sit.

But one day, Jason was left at the camp while his mother ran an errand, and a group of counselors were told to watch after him. They did not do as they were told, and they carelessly ran off to engage in other activities. Jason became lost, and began to worry about his mother. As he walked along the dock, he slipped and fell into the lake. He wasn't able to swim, and as he thrashed helplessly in the murky water, his mother arrived and Pamela raced onto the dock, screaming her son's name and reaching for him. But it was no use. In a horrible scene, Pamela sunk to her knees, sobbing, and Jason drowned. And Pamela watched the entire thing. Worst of all, was that the day that Jason drowned fell on June 13th. Jason's birthday.

In grief, Pamela left the camp to never return and shortly afterwards, she was locked in a mental hospital due to a mental breakdown triggered by the death of her son. The campers and the counselors tried to forget about the tragic death. They acted as if Jason had never existed. A new cook was hired, and Jason's drowning wasn't spoken of ever again. The camp went on its schedule as normal. The next summer came, and that's where this tale continues.

Camp Crystal Lake, Friday, June 13th, 1969

It was nighttime. Any good scary story should be told at nighttime. Nighttime is when evil comes out to roam and lurk. Night is the best time for stories.

It's dark at night.

What you can't see in the darkness, you imagine. Sounds you don't hear in the daytime seem very loud, distinctive, and ominous. A slight rustling in the bushes, a faint creak on the stair outside the bedroom door. Perhaps it's only the wind. Perhaps it's only the house settling. Perhaps. The hairs on the back of your neck perk up and you get a cold shiver down your spine. Sounds at night can be disturbing; noises in the darkness make the imagination see what the naked eye cannot. The imagination feeds on darkness. And it's hungry at night.

This story takes place at night. A full moon was out. Wolves were howling, crickets chirping, and the lake was gently lapping on the shore. The reeds on the shore of the lake rustled as the wind brushed them. The camp was quiet; the kids were tucked into their beds, nestled sound asleep in their cabins. The only sound was the sound of laughter and singing coming from one of the cabins. It was a group of counselors. They had gotten the kids to sleep and decided to sit around the fireplace and sing some old folk songs.

The camp had just opened a few weeks earlier and the counselors had gotten most of the work done, unpacking boxes, storing supplies, and lugging targets up to the archery range. They needed a break. They sat around a crackling fire that blazed in the stone hearth, the fire casting an orange glow on the counselor's faces. They started with the first verse of Michael, Row Your Boat Ashore and then went into The River of Jordan.

As the group of teenagers sang, Barry, a ruggedly handsome, dark-haired counselor, sat on the floor and strummed a guitar. But he wasn't focused on playing the right chords. The entire time he stared across the group at his female partner for Cabin C, Claudette.

Claudette was very pretty, her amber hair glinted in the glow of the fire, and her eyes twinkled as she stared at Barry with a loving gaze. Barry absolutely adored her, and by the way Claudette was looking at Barry, she adored him as well. The counselors kept singing and laughing.

"The River of Jordan is deep and wide. Hallelujah! Milk and honey on the other side. Hallelujah!"

Barry strummed the last chord and then handed the guitar to someone else and motioned to Claudette. She smiled knowingly, and took Barry's hand and the two lovebirds snuck away from the group and crept out of the cabin.

"It's a beautiful night," Claudette remarked as she gazed at the starlit sky.

"Yeah, kind of creepy though," Barry replied.

The two held hands and began to walk the lengthy stroll to an old abandoned cabin on the opposite shore of the lake.

The night was quiet, set aside the sounds of the nocturnal animals, of course, but it was almost too quiet. It was an eerie sort of quiet.

They reached the cabin door and stopped inside the entrance. Barry kissed Claudette tenderly, stroking her hair. His hands wandered, Claudette moaned, returning the kiss, running her hands through Barry's silky, brown hair. Finally she pulled away.

"No, Barry. Someone will see!" Claudette cried.

"Nobody will see. Come on, babe." Barry protested and kissed her again.

"Does Mary Anne kiss as well as I do?" Claudette asked coquettishly.

"How would I know?" Barry said.

"Oh you!" Claudette giggled and the two stepped into the cabin and Barry closed the door. Barry flopped down on the couch and Claudette clambered on top of him and they began to kiss. It got hot and heavy, as they began to unbutton their shirts, kissing and moaning.

Creak.

Claudette whirled around to face the door.

"Barry!" Claudette cried.

"What?" Barry asked.

"I-I heard something!" Claudette explained.

Barry groaned and stood up.

"I didn't hear anything." Barry said.

Claudette could not stop staring at the door.

"Hello? Who's there?!" Claudette called.

"There's nobody outside! Come on, let's go upstairs." Barry suggested; a mischievous grin spread across his face.

Claudette smiled and Barry and Claudette, hand-in-hand, ascended the stairs into the loft. Claudette grabbed a wool blanket and spread it across the wooden floor. The loft was large and spacious, and cluttered with old, dusty junk.

The lovers' lips met in a long, passionate kiss.

"You said we were special." Claudette said.

"I meant everything." Barry replied and kissed her again. They lay down on the wool blanket, and Barry climbed on top of Claudette. And soon they were lip locked again. Claudette began to unbutton the yellow counselor's T-shirt that was required for all counselors to wear.

Creak.

"Barry! I heard something again!" Claudette said firmly.

"No you didn't. Look, stop worrying. Come on." Barry complained.

Claudette smiled and they resumed kissing.

Another creak. Then footsteps. Someone was ascending the stairs. But they didn't hear. Their moans of passion drowned out the footsteps. The footfalls grew louder and louder. Creak. Creak. Slowly up the staircase to the two lovers were oblivious.

Then, a shadowy figure stepped into the loft, the person's face concealed by the dark hood of a rain slicker. The prowler surreptitiously pulled a hunting knife from their pocket.

Claudette's eyes widened as she saw the intruder, and jolted upright. Barry saw the figure, and gasped with surprise. They both leapt to their feet, embarrassed. Claudette hastily buttoned her shirt, and watched helplessly as Barry, frantically struggling to button his shirt, approached the figure, trying to explain.

"Look, I'm sorry. We weren't doing anything; we were just fooling arou-"Barry started to say.

But his sentence was abruptly interrupted as the dark figure plunged the hunting knife deep into Barry's stomach.

Barry doubled over, gasping in pain, his hands instinctively going to the wound. Warm blood flowed between Barry's fingers as he clutched the wound. His vision turned from red to black and Barry staggered backwards, toppling over onto a roll of chicken wire. His life ebbed quickly as blood spurted from the gaping wound in his abdomen.

Claudette could not believe what she was seeing. She was watching Barry bleed to death. She brought her hands to her face and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Her attention went almost immediately from Barry, flayed out on the ground, dying, to the killer. The assailant, covered with the slicker, advanced towards Claudette.

Claudette screamed and began to back away, her gaze riveted to the blood-stained knife. Eight inches of steel streaked with scarlet. She couldn't tear her eyes away from it.

"No, please!" She pleaded. But the killer ignored her pleas, and raised the knife in the air, coming towards her.

Claudette darted to the left, and then to the right. But the killer was too smart. It was like a game of cat and mouse, he blocked her every move to escape, one step ahead of her every time. Claudette panicked and ran towards the back of the loft and turned around to see the killer coming closer, cutting off distance between the two, getting dangerously close. Claudette panicked again, hurling anything she could at the killer, boxes and other debris, in a desperate attempt to fend off her attacker. But to no avail. Before she knew it, her back was against the wall and she was cornered. There was no escape. She screamed as she saw the gleaming knife coming down towards her.

There was the sound of slicing flesh, and white streaks of pain flashed before Claudette's eyes, as she felt a brilliant, incandescent, burning pain that ravaged her body. She screamed in agony as the knife stabbed into her again. It bit deeply, sinking in up to the hilt. Blood dribbled down her chin as the knife stabbed her again. It was a rapid blur of silver and red as the knife rose and fell. Rose and fell. Rose and fell. Each stab full with more pain and hatred than the previous. The killer hacked at Claudette like a piece of meat, stabbing her mercilessly over and over.

Claudette's life slowly drained away. Soon her screaming stopped, but the killer kept on stabbing her, like a machine, droning on with the sounds of metal thudding into flesh and bone.

Over the sounds of knife ripping through flesh, came the distant singing of the counselors. And the killer disappeared into the night. The horrifying tale of Camp Crystal Lake was not finished. The horror had just begun.

After the murders, the mutilated bodies of counselors Barry Clark and Claudette Johnson were found in the upstairs loft inside one of the cabins at Camp Crystal Lake by a friend of the victims who was searching for the two counselors. They had been viciously stabbed to death.

After the murders and Jason's drowning, Camp Crystal Lake was shut down by the town of Crystal Lake, worrying something like what happened would happen again. The town was utterly horrified. In the town of Crystal Lake, things like the murders were unheard of; words like the words that were thrown around town when the murders occurred never were spoken. The police never captured the assailant who murdered the teenagers. The case went cold, and the camp remained closed down. For twenty years.

Until the summer of 1989. And the nightmare all started again. Time had worn down the camp greatly. Several of the cabins were now in ruins, and the remaining cabins sat dilapidated and weather-beaten. The camp had been closed down for twenty years, with no means of maintenance or upkeep whatsoever.

Closed down due to its terrible past. Two counselors brutally murdered and the tragic drowning death of a young boy. But, now, in the summer of 1989. Twenty long years after the incident, a man by the name of Steve Christy was re-opening the camp as his own, planning to clean the grounds and refurbish the camp and also planning to open it to the local kids the same summer.

It was going to be a fresh new start for the camp. A new beginning. Or that's what ol' man Christy thought at least. Because to the local citizens of Crystal Lake, Steve Christy might as well have been out of his mind. To the residents of Crystal Lake, it was all a terrible mistake. And unfortunately, the residents were right.

The new, soon-to-be camp counselors were about to have a week where most of the counselors would not be coming home. The nightmare was happening all over again. Because someone is still angry. Angry about the tragedy that happened twenty years earlier. And this someone is seeking revenge. And will stop at nothing to get what they want.

Horror was soon to take place at Camp Crystal Lake once again.

TWENTY YEARS LATER

Chapter 1

Crystal Lake

Friday, June 13th, 1989

The town of Crystal Lake would forever be haunted by its terrible past. The locals would always remember hearing about the murders. It would forever remain in the town's legacy. The locals tried their best to cover up the murders. None of the locals ever talked about the murders at the camp or the drowning. No one wanted to bring it up. Soon after the murders and the camp closed down, the locals gave Camp Crystal Lake a nickname that everyone would remember: "Camp Blood". And according to the camp's gruesome history, the name was appropriate.

But that was all over now, apparently. Camp Crystal Lake was being re-opened by Steve Christy, a local business man from the nearby city, and the nephew of John Christy, the man who had opened Crystal Lake twenty years before. A fresh start, a clean slate for the camp. It would be simple. All Steve Christy had to do was to hire a couple of counselors a few weeks ahead of time to help clean up the campgrounds. Except now Christy needed a bit of extra help, as it wasn't like the camp had been closed down for just a few months. It had been twenty years since the camp was last open. It was going to be rough.

But Christy knew he could do it. It was definitely going to be hard, but all Steve Christy needed to do is hire a handful of willing young adults to help him clean up the camp ahead of time, as well as have them work as counselors. Christy planned to execute some of the bigger work (like re-building a cabin or tearing one down) much more ahead of time, a few months before even.

Now it was approximately three weeks before the camp opened to the public. And there were a lot of things that needed to be done. Mr. Christy had already hired a handful of counselors from around the state, as well as some old friends that lived much farther away, so he had young adults from all around the nation.

The town of Crystal Lake was small and old-fashioned. A very rural town, it was. With the town being in the center of the region. The town wasn't very big at all. Just a few blocks of stores, mainly general stores, old run-down diners and gas stations, a few boutiques, a hodge-podge of different commercial buildings, and then a residential area where the locals resided. Many of the town's residents resided outside of the town, in the very rural area of the town, where many were farmers. The rural area of the town consisted of wide, open fields and lonely dirt roads, as well as pine forests that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Camp Crystal Lake was nestled in a clearing that used to be a wide, open meadow. The lake was man-made and one of the largest in the area. The camp was located in the rural part of town, in the deep woods. It took around half an hour by car to reach the camp from the town, and about twenty miles or so.

It was a fresh and breezy morning. The sun was shining and there wasn't a cloud in the sky. The church bell sounded, signaling ten o' clock in the small town. Birds chirped in the trees that were scattered around the store-lined streets and a squirrel dashed up the trunk of an elm nearby.

The streets were empty; the small, sleepy town was quiet and peaceful. A girl, about the age of nineteen, strode down the street, her face scrubbed clean, and her dark, curly hair falling around her shoulders. She hefted her duffel bag higher onto her shoulder, and walked underneath the awning of a small salon. This was Annie Phillips.

Annie was pretty and appeared to be your average, small town sort of girl. Not too pretty, but not a complete wreck either. She was walking at a brisk pace, her long, skinny legs moving swiftly and gracefully, a smile plastered onto her face as she gazed around at the scenery that the town had to offer.

The town reminded her where she grew up on the Louisiana waterfront. The water in Louisiana sent a breeze through the town, and in Crystal Lake, the lake also sent a refreshing breeze that was sure to please on a scorching hot day. The town of Crystal Lake had small, rustic stores and shops lining the streets, with a kiosk here and there, and narrow streets. It was a picturesque small town, with the quaint buildings mostly made of stucco or faded brick, and the friendly faces, and antique structures and statues.

Annie turned sharply to the right and began to walk down another street, passing underneath an archway. Annie began to think about the camp. She wondered what it would be like. Who would she meet? Hopefully, this was the perfect opportunity to get away from the city life, get away from all the news and busy streets, and spend a relaxing summer in the country, working as a counselor at the newly opened Camp Crystal Lake.

Annie had heard about the camp from a friend, and although she grew up in Louisiana, Annie moved to New Jersey when she was a pre-teen. From then on, New Jersey became her home and she had heard about the camp quite recently and there was a job opening. It wasn't a long drive at all.

Her mother had driven her to the nearest big town, Jefferson, and dropped her off. Annie stayed at a hotel overnight, rode a cab to the outskirts of town, and began to hike. Annie needed the exercise, and since she had never done it quite this way, she had decided to take a walk in the country and get closer to nature, and then spend the rest of the summer getting even closer to nature by working at the camp. Annie planned to hitchhike, but she wasn't sure. She had seen some creepy movies and read some creepy novels about hitchhikers who get into cars and are killed. Annie tried to block that thought from her head, and continued on to the camp.

Annie took a left, deciding to find a shop to stop off at and ask for directions. She glanced up and craned her neck to peer around the corner of the next street. A weather-beaten building stood to her left, and she soon saw the building was vacant and it was abandoned. Annie sighed and looked around, finally spotting a small, country diner on the corner of the street ahead of her. It was the only place she could see that showed signs of life. It was a small white building, with two gas pumps standing outside, and a parking lot. A red, neon sign flashing in the window read EATERY and another read GIFT SHOP. Great, she could get a bite to eat and buy a Crystal Lake souvenir. No, Annie, you weren't here to go on a shopping spree, you were here to ask for directions.

The place looked run-down at first, but soon after walking a bit further, she saw a few cars parked outside, along with two, large red tow trucks with LOWMAN'S TOWING COMPANY emblazoned on the side. As she squinted, she noticed the sign on the door read OPEN. Smiling with relief, she hefted her luggage higher on her shoulder, and picked up the pace, walking bouncily and humming an old song.

Annie desperately needed a summer job. That's why she was so eager to seize the opportunity and call Mr. Christy to ask for a job. It was plain and simple, no interview needed. You asked for a job, and Mr. Christy asked you a few questions, and you could tell that he desperately needed more help. No matter what you could have told him, he was willing to hire anyone, Annie could tell.

Mr. Christy practically gave her the job at no price, no interview or anything. Annie thought it was too good to be true. She even volunteered to work as the camp cook as well. She was going to be a chef during the daytime, and counseling a girl's cabin at night, along with another counselor. Cooking for the whole camp, staff and all. Annie had searched through her mother's kitchen for some recipes when she had agreed to cook for the camp, and finally found some good ones that she definitely had in mind.

Hopefully she would have a bit of help in the kitchen. How was she supposed to cook for over ten staff and no telling how many children? But it was worth it; it paid well at least.

Annie approached the diner, and began to stroll across the garbage-littered parking lot. She didn't care how the place looked on the inside; she just needed directions or the answer to the question of how many more miles until Camp Crystal Lake. It did appear run-down, but soon she saw someone standing at the counter and she even saw some customers sitting at tables. Annie began to stroll past the gas pumps, and noticed a dog sitting on the asphalt, panting like crazy. It was a shaggy, black and white border collie, a red bandana tied around its neck. Its pink tongue drooped over its bottom jaw, and slobber dripped onto the ground.

Annie approached the dog, who obediently sat still, and looked up at Annie, panting. Annie kneeled down and scratched the dog on the head. She smiled, and began to stroke the dog's fur.

"Hey girl," Annie said in a playful voice. Annie then looked underneath the dog, glancing down to check the dog's gender. She instantly knew she had guessed wrong.

"Oh, excuse me, hey boy!" Annie corrected herself with a giggle.

"Hey boy, do you know how far it is to Camp Crystal Lake?" Annie questioned jokingly.

Obviously the dog did not answer and continued to gaze up at Annie.

"That far, huh?" Annie laughed and scratched the dog again. "Ok, see you later!" Annie said and walked towards the diner. She pushed open the glass doors and entered the eatery, and the scent of food immediately reached her nostrils. It was small inside, a square, box-like room with booths along the wall, and tables in the middle and along the right side was a long row of counters with barstools. The place was old-fashioned, and old folk songs played over the loudspeaker. A good handful of customers were inside. One man and one woman, against the back wall and a teenage group sat at a table. Another man sat in a booth near the door, and there was an elderly couple dining in another booth. There was a burly man reading a newspaper sitting at the counter, along with a middle-aged blond woman sipping her coffee next to a small boy, who Annie guessed to be her child, who stared at her for a moment curiously, as a lot of children do. Annie smiled at the boy, and looked up at the waitress who was wiping down the counter.

The waitress was in her later years, about in her early fifties, wearing a beige dress with a white apron, and her grey-blonde hair was tied into a bun. A silver name tag on the right side of her chest read: "Trudy". She could see a few people working in the kitchen in the back of the diner, and other than that, the diner was empty.

Annie approached the counter, clearing her throat to make herself heard over the music.

"Um, excuse me, how far is it to Camp Crystal Lake?" Annie asked.

Everything went silent. The waitress immediately stopped what she was going, and stared at Annie with a blank expression, but with wide eyes. Every customer in the diner stopped talking and glared at Annie. Some tried to make it discreet, but Annie could tell they were all whispering about her.

Annie glanced around, puzzled at the peculiar reaction from the diner patrons. The burly man with the newspaper gazed over his shoulder with a confused look on his face. The blond woman sipping coffee peered at Annie.

"Camp Crystal Lake? They're opening that place again?" the woman asked.

"Yeah, I'm going to be working there for the summer." Annie responded.

No one said a word, the patrons remained silent. She could tell the customers were finally returning back to their business but they still continued to whisper in a hushed tone. Annie wondered why the people inside the diner were acting so weird when she mentioned Crystal Lake.

"Um, can I get a bus or something?" Annie asked awkwardly.

"Not likely," Trudy, the waitress spoke up. Trudy turned to the burly man reading the newspaper. The man was wearing a plaid shirt covered with a navy blue parka and dirt-stained jeans, and he had a grizzled appearance complete with a five o' clock shadow.

"How far is it, Enos? About twenty miles?" Trudy asked.

"It's about that," Enos, the burly man, remarked, nodding his head.

"You're going to the depot pretty soon, aren't you?" Trudy asked and Enos nodded.

"You could give her a lift." Trudy said and then turned to Annie. "It would only be halfway."

"Sure, that would be great," Annie said.

"Well, alright, let's go, little lady," Enos said and hopped off the barstool. He began to lumber towards the glass doors of the diner as Annie followed suit.

"My name is Annie," Annie said with a friendly smile.

"Well, alright, Annie, let's go," Enos replied and pushed open the glass doors and Annie was not far behind.

Enos and Annie began to stroll across the parking lot in the direction of the two, red tow trucks.

"So, Annie, are all the other girls up at Crystal Lake gonna be as pretty as you?" Enos asked.

Annie began to blush and look down at the ground as they strode briskly. The sun shone and gleamed against Annie's hair, and the breeze brushed against her hair and blew it across her face.

"Oh, I don't know, "Annie replied with a grin.

All of a sudden, a man lunged out from behind one of the gas pumps, blocking off Annie and Enos's path. Annie jumped backwards and gasped, startled. She gazed up at the man. The man was tall and skinny, about in his sixties or seventies, wearing an old, brown vest over a white workshirt, with slacks and a brown fedora. His hair was gray and disheveled and the man looked like he hadn't taken a shower in weeks. The man approached Annie, sticking out his long, skinny neck and narrowing his eyes.

"So, you going to Crystal Lake, ain't ya?" the man asked.

"I swear to God, Ralph, you get out of here or else! You leave this here young lady alone!" Enos bellowed, swatting his hand at Ralph. Enos and Annie tried to step around Ralph, as Annie continued to stare at the eccentric man with wide eyes. Ralph placed a hand on Annie's shoulder, as Annie stared at Enos with a terrified expression.

"Camp Crystal Lake has a death curse! Please, young lady, heed my warnings," Ralph warned.

"Ralph, get out of here! Go on! Leave her alone and knock it off with your curse crap, you hear me!" Enos yelled angrily.

"Come on, Annie. Don't give him attention. That's all he's asking for," Enos said and grabbed Annie gently by the arm and tugged her in the direction of the tow truck.

Annie looked over her shoulder once more, staring back at the strange man with the fedora, standing there and staring at the man, whose name was apparently Ralph.

Ralph cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "You'll never come back again!"

Enos ignored Ralph's urges as Annie continued to ponder what Ralph had said.

Camp Crystal Lake has a death curse. Heed my warnings. You'll never come back again.

Those words repeated in Annie's head like a broken record.

Enos and Annie approached the big, red tow truck that was parked near the side of the gas station and Enos opened the passenger side door. Annie clambered into the passenger side, heaving her duffel bag into the back of the truck.

"Sorry about that guy. Don't let him get into your head. He's a real Prophet of Doom, ain't he?" Enos asked.

"Yeah," Annie said chuckling as Enos banged the door shut behind Annie.

"Damn nuisance," Enos grumbled under his breath.

Annie could not stop wondering what Ralph had meant by all of that. She hadn't heard from her friend that her soon-to-be workplace had a death curse. A death curse? What did he mean by telling her that she would never come back again?

Enos walked around the truck and climbed into the driver's seat and slammed the door afterwards. Annie peered out of the passenger side window and watched as Ralph hopped onto an old, rusty bicycle and pedaled away.

Enos ignited the engine and with a loud, shrill beep, the truck pulled out of the parking lot and sped off down the road.

A long, meandering stretch of dirt road and scorching hot weather was the only thing you could see around Crystal Lake on a normal summer day like any other. Endless fields and farmland lined the dirt road on either side of the road and the sun glared down harshly. The heat caused the grass in the field to turn a sickly yellow, and trees were sparse. If a tree happened to appear, the tree would be completely bare and as dry and dead as everything else, with a gnarled trunk and knobby branches.

A red pick-up truck sped down the road, twisting around the curves of the lone, dirt road. The truck drove past a small farm, complete with a barn, which was once red, but due to the heat, it was now a dull reddish-brown.

The driver of the truck, Ned Rubenstein, kept his hands firmly gripped on the wheel, making a disgusted face at the countless number of bugs that were squashed against the windshield. Ned was a strapping young guy with a head of dark hair and a goofy expression always plastered on his face. He was a real joker, the kind of care-free, fun-loving individual who loved to pull a good prank every once in a while. Who am I kidding? Ned's goal in life was to pull the best prank in history. His life revolved around making cheesy wise-cracks and pulling, sometimes very elaborate, pranks.

Ned's best friend and roommate, Jack Durand, sat in the passenger seat, the headphones to his Walkman stuck in his ears. Jack was also very tall and muscular, with wavy, blond hair and green eyes, a real ladies man, much to the chagrin of Ned, who yearned for Jack's good looks and charisma.

In the backseat, Jack's girlfriend, Marcie Cunningham, leaned into the front of the truck, massaging Jack's shoulders and coming up with retorts to yell back at Ned when he cracked a joke. Marcie was pretty and perfect for Jack. A petite frame, slim figure, and a perfect complexion, Marcie was a catch. She was funny and smart, and Jack was the apple of her eye. She had to swat other girls off like flies. Marcie had long, brown hair that fell past her shoulders and brown eyes.

Jack winced as Marcie popped a knot in Jack's back.

"Ow, baby," Jack moaned as he squirmed," Jack complained.

"What? Aw, am I doing it too rough?" Marcie asked.

"Yeah," Jack responded mock-angrily. Marcie smiled and kissed Jack tenderly on the lips.

"Hey Marcie, stop your flirting and tell me something. Do you think there will be other gorgeous girls at Crystal Lake; besides yourself?" Ned asked, with a stupid grin.

Marcie made a face. "Ned, all you can ever think about is sex, isn't it? Is sex the only thing you think about, Ned? Huh?" Marcie questioned.

"No, no, no, of course not," Ned responded.

"Ha!" Jack retorted.

"I'm serious. Sometimes I only think about kissing women," Ned joked.

Marcie swatted Ned on the arm, laughing.

"Jesus Christ, Ned" Jack proclaimed, laughing.

The teenagers continued on their journey towards Camp Crystal Lake, where they would all three be working as counselors, well at least not until three weeks. These first three weeks were all about renovating and cleaning up the campgrounds for the incoming campers. Ned's red pick-up truck began driving through the woods of Crystal Lake, the dense pine forest, locally known as the Crystal Lake woods. It was a thick forest mostly made of pine trees and low-lying underbrush. Many species of wildlife lived in the forest, from bears and deer, to many species of birds and reptiles.

Trees flew by the truck as the truck zoomed down the winding and twisting road that led to Camp Crystal Lake. Sun peeked in through the branches that overhung the road, casting shadows on the asphalt. The road soon turned into a paved road, and the truck soon drove past a house.

"Wonder who lives way out here?" Marcie asked, confused.

"Probably some old hick," Jack replied.

"How stereotypical" Ned remarked.

Jack glared at Ned. "Shut up,"

Ned shrugged and gave Jack one of his stupid grins.

"Ok, guys, I think the entrance to Camp Crystal Lake is going to be up on the right, so keep a look out for a sign," Ned said.

After a few moments of searching, the truck drove past a flimsy, wooden sign that read: CRYSTAL LAKE: 10 MILES.

"Well, we are almost there, guys. Camp Crystal Lake, here we come." Ned declared as the truck continued down the road, as the Crystal Lake woods seemed almost endless.

Enos kept a firm grip on the steering wheel, a tight grip that almost made his knuckles turn white. He had remained silent since he had pulled away from the gas station. Now they were driving down backroads, winding and twisting down a paved road surrounded by dense woods. They passed by an old cemetery at one point and a few small houses off the side of the road, but other than that, they were practically in the middle of nowhere.

Annie glanced around at her surroundings, gazing out of the passenger side window at the trees as they seemed to fly by, and every once in a while, she looked up at Enos to see if he would say anything, but he never did. He never even once looked at Annie.

The red tow truck's engine rumbled and sputtered as they bumped down the road, and some old equipment crashed around in the bed of the truck.

"Thanks again so much for the lift," Annie finally spoke up.

"You're welcome," Enos replied.

"I guess I've always enjoyed working with children. And I really needed a summer job. I just had to take the opportunity." Annie stated, trying to make conversation.

Enos nodded and the silence continued. After a long while of silence, Enos finally said something. But it was something Annie didn't want to hear. Something that made a shiver crawl down Annie's spine.

"Quit. Just quit now. I can turn around and take you home, whatever you want. Just…you can't go to Crystal Lake," Enos said. Annie, at first, thought he was joking, but when she looked up at him, a serious and solemn expression was on his face and he was gazing dead at her. Not even a slight smirk. He was dead serious.

"Quit? You want me to just quit? I can't quit!" Annie protested, bewildered.

"Camp Crystal Lake…it's…Camp Crystal Lake is jinxed," Enos said.

Annie scoffed.

"Jinxed? You're starting to sound like your crazy friend back there, Ralph," Annie declared.

"Well, maybe. But did Christy tell you about the two counselors that were murdered in '69'? How about the boy that drowned in '68? After all that, they closed it down. And they should have kept it that way. But they tried to open it up again in '72 but the water was bad. Then the next year, they tried to open it again and somebody burned down a whole bunch of cabins. People just don't learn, do they?" Enos asked.

"It's just a silly legend. I bet you none of that ever happened. It's just a legend; all camps have one, don't they?" Annie asked.

"You dumb teenagers just won't listen. Just last year, a group of kids went up in the woods hiking and never came back again. Bunch o' people says they got lost, but I know better," Enos said.

"Dumb? Well, at least I don't believe in old ghost stories," Annie retorted, insulted.

"Ol' man Christy must be nuts. He spent close to $20,000 dollars fixing up the place. And for what? He'll end up crazy and broke, just like his folks. Ask anyone around here. Quit." Enos said solemnly.

"I can't quit. I've come so far!" Annie said.

A few more moments of awkward silence filled the air and Annie sighed and laid her head in her hands, leaning her elbow against the car door.

Annie started to think. Is that why everyone acted so strangely in the diner? Has Camp Crystal Lake truly had a horrible history? If so, Annie wasn't going to let something in the past stop her from having a great summer vacation, even if she was going to have to be cooking for everyone at the camp.

What Annie didn't know, is this vacation was about to be stopped short and quickly turned into a nightmare.

Camp Crystal Lake was the same camp from twenty years ago, but now it was dilapidated and time had worn it down badly. Several of the cabins needed more than just a touching-up and many things were in disrepair. Cabins were scattered across the camp, along with a camp office, an arts and crafts cabin, a generator shed near the back of the camp, a boathouse, and the rest were bunkhouses for campers and counselors.

A large cabin near the entrance called the main cabin was where the counselors could hang out and stay up late at night to catch a break from the kids.

Bill Anderson poured the steaming, hot tea into a blue coffee mug, watching as the steam drifted off around the kitchen. The aroma spread across the cabin and Bill took a sip of the tea, slightly burning his lips.

The inside of the main cabin was spacious, and consisted of two rooms, a living room and a kitchen. The living room consisted of a few couches and chairs, a stone fireplace, a bookshelf, a Ping-Pong table, and a small table with a lamp sitting on it.

The kitchen was very old-fashioned with pots and pans hanging from the wall, with a rusty stove, wooden countertops, a small table with four chairs, and a pantry.

Alice Hardy and Brenda Patterson walked into the kitchen and both each grabbed a mug.

"Smells great!" Alice said.

Brenda and Alice watched as Bill poured tea into both of their mugs. Bill, Alice and Brenda walked into the living room and took a seat around the fireplace, Alice and Brenda on the couch, and Bill in an armchair.

Bill was tall and muscular, wearing a brown sweater and jeans, his dark hair swept to the side. Even though Alice and Bill weren't in an official relationship, they acted as if they did, and Brenda, being a close friend of Alice, always tried to urge Alice to make a move, as they obviously had something going on.

Alice was pretty, but in a quiet sort of way, with shoulder-length, coppery hair and blue eyes that lit up every time she saw Bill. Alice was sort of bookish, and always had this sweet, innocent expression, while Brenda was the polar opposite, a wild, party-loving girl that easily caught on to most things and flirted with all the guys.

Brenda's light brown hair fell around her shoulders, and she winked her brown eye at Alice, as she gestured towards Bill.

Alice swatted at Brenda discreetly and turned to Bill.

"This tea is delicious," Brenda spoke up, setting hers on the coffee table.

"Thanks. An old technique," Bill said.

"Oh, please, tea is tea," Brenda joked. Bill made a face.

"You know, tonight, we have to get to have a little bit of fun. Ol' man Christy is gonna want us to have the whole camp spotless by this afternoon," Brenda complained.

"I know. Maybe we should all just drop our paintbrushes and take a little swim break," Alice grinned mischievously.

"I like the way you think," Brenda said.

"Steve would probably find out and get all worked up," Bill said.

"He doesn't have to know," Brenda stated, smiling from ear-to-ear.

"How would he not find out?" Bill questioned.

"We could send him on a wild goose chase or something," Alice suggested, tossing her blond hair behind her shoulders.

"Yeah," Brenda joked.

The three had gotten to know each other the last week, fixing up the camp, having fun at night. They were the only three at the camp, besides Christy, and it had been great.

"I think we are getting some new victims today. Fresh meat," Brenda joked .

"That's terrible!" Alice replied with a chuckle.

"How many?" Bill asked.

"Three, I think. Two guys and a girl. New bods for me to scope out," Brenda giggled flirtatiously.

Alice rolled her eyes. "You are so crazy," she muttered.

"In a good way, right?" Brenda asked.

"Sure," Bill murmured, sipping his tea.

Brenda scowled teasingly, and playfully reached over to punch Bill in the shoulder.

What the teenagers didn't know was their idyllic summer getaway was about to become a summer bloodbath. Because someone was still angry by the damage that had already been done twenty years earlier. And this someone was going to be sure the camp would never be opened again.

The legacy would continue.

Ned, Jack, and Marcie continued on to the camp and the scenery hadn't changed yet. It had been roughly fifteen minutes and the teenagers had chatted about so much. They were making small talk, listening to Ned's corny jokes, and then Ned began to mock-vomit at Jack and Marcie's lovey-dovey talk.

The scenery remained the same, with the tops of pine trees towering above the road, and the sun sifting through the branches, the sky a bright blue.

Soon, the entrance to Camp Crystal Lake appeared on the right.

"Whoo! Here we are!" Jack yelled. Ned stuck his head out the window and began to yell.

"Crystal Lake! Get ready to be vanquished!" Ned screamed in a barbaric tone. Marcie threw her head back and laughed as Jack rolled his eyes.

Ned veered the truck onto the dirt road that led into Crystal Lake and drove under a rickety, wooden archway that read: Camp Crystal Lake.

A yellow sign stood next to the archway read: Camp Crystal Lake. Est. in 1945.

Ned drove the pick-up truck through the archway and down the dirt road. Tall, pine trees lined the road, which was not something they had already seen, of course.

After a few moments, of driving down the rough, uneven dirt pathway, the trees cleared and the camp came into view. The camp looked the same as it did twenty years earlier, except time and weather had definitely roughed it up a bit. The cabins looked old and dilapidated.

The group of teenagers drove further into the camp, eyeing the first building on the left: a small, box-like building with a tin roof. A sign on the door read "Office".

"Uh, do we have to sign in or anything?" Marcie implored, glancing around.

"Just keep driving," Jack demanded.

Ned drove the truck forward and the lake came into view. The lake was large and L-shaped, and surrounded by woods. The lake continued around a bend and disappeared from view, probably leading to the ocean. The sun glinted off the surface of the water, and two ramshackle docks protruded out onto the glassy surface of the lake. The sandy shore of the lake looked inviting to the teens as they looked on in awe.

"Oh, that lake is beautiful," Marcie remarked.

"Yeah, no wonder it's called Crystal Lake," Ned said and pulled the truck to a stop. To the right, a large cabin stood on a small hill and a sign in the front yard read: "Main Cabin." It was a log cabin, with a sprawling front porch supported by stone columns. Big, floor-to-ceiling windows adorned the cabin and big oak trees drooped over the cabin's tin roof.

Straight ahead, the dirt pathway led around the entire camp, and a group of cabins sat in the distance, all shaded by trees. A boathouse was nestled near the shore of the lake, and another large cabin stood ahead to the right with a sign that read: Arts & Crafts.

Up the small hill towards the main cabin, a man was chopping a tree stump with an axe, hacking the side of it and sending shards of wood flying through the air. It was a man of medium height, wearing nothing but jeans and tennis shoes, sweat glistening off of his tanned, muscular body. The man had a clean-shaven face and messy brown hair matted down with sweat.

"I think that's Steve Christy," Ned said and Ned, Jack, and Marcie piled out of the pick-up truck.

Ned, Jack, and Marcie strolled towards the main cabin, approaching Steve Christy, who looked up to greet the teenagers. Steve Christy slammed the blade of the axe into the stump, leaving it embedded in the wood, and approached the three arriving counselors.

"Hi! Welcome to Camp Crystal Lake. I'm Steve Christy," Mr. Christy greeted and shook all three of the teenager's hands. Ned, Jack and Marcie introduced themselves with friendly smiles.

"Ok, guys, we have a lot of work to do and I have some guys I'd like for you to meet. These guys have already arrived and you be working with them for the next two months," Mr. Christy said. "Hey, Alice! Bill! Brenda! Come out here!"

"So, first of all, I have your first task for you. Help me move this stump, guys," Mr. Christy asked.

Jack and Ned stepped forward, and when Marcie approached, Jack held out his arm to keep her back.

"Hey, you just stay back here, let us do this," Jack proclaimed.

"Yeah, this is man's work," Ned stated, grinning.

Marcie made a face at Ned and laughed.

Jack and Ned moved forward and grabbed the stump, as Mr. Christy reached in and took a hold of the side of the stump as well.

"1…2…3…Push!" Mr. Christy yelled and Jack, Ned, and Mr. Christy, with grunts of effort, heaved the stump over and the stump began to roll down the slope towards the dirt pathway and crashed into some shrubbery lining the path.

"Yeah, thanks guys, just leave it there," Mr. Christy said, and mopped the sweat off of his brow with a wet rag.

The three counselors and Mr. Christy looked up at the main cabin. Alice, Bill, and Brenda trudged down the hill from the main cabin, approaching the foursome.

"Jack, Ned, and Marcie, this is Alice, my personal assistant and one of your fellow counselors, and this is Bill, another one of your fellow counselors, and this is Brenda," Steve Christy introduced the three to Jack, Ned, and Marcie. Jack, Ned, and Marcie shook hands with Alice, Bill, and Brenda.

"Ok, um, Alice, have you…" Mr. Christy started to say, when Alice interrupted.

"Yes, Cabin B is all ready," Alice said, smiling.

"Great. Bill, you can start working on the dock, and Brenda, you can come with me to get started on the archery range," Mr. Christy declared. Bill began to trek towards the lake and Brenda walked with Mr. Christy towards the archery range, which was a little ways through the woods behind the main cabin. Mr. Christy looked over his shoulder at Alice, Jack, Ned, and Marcie who stood there, dumbfound, looking at each other awkwardly.

Mr. Christy clapped his hands together and yelled back at them. "Well, come on, get to work, guys!"

Mr. Christy and Brenda strolled away, leaving the four standing beside the main cabin.

"I thought we had three weeks!" Ned exclaimed, laughing.

"Yeah, sorry, guys. Steve is just a little bit frazzled because we have so much to do in not a lot of time. He really is swamped with all kinds of work. Ok, come on, and I'll show you guys the sleeping arrangements," Alice said and began to walk towards the group of cabins as Ned, Jack, and Marcie followed.

Enos and Annie had continued driving towards Camp Crystal Lake, still cruising down backroads. The rest of the ride was dead silent, with Enos focused on steering the tow truck and Annie staring out the window, trying to forget about all the stuff that Enos and Ralph had told her. It couldn't be true. It just couldn't. Two counselors murdered? A boy drowning? She wished she could stop thinking about it, but she just couldn't. It was too drastic.

Enos reached the halfway point, and stopped the truck.

"Looks like I'm going to have to let you off here, little lady," Enos declared.

Annie grabbed her things and climbed out of the truck.

"Thanks for the lift. Bye!" Annie called cheerfully and banged the door of the tow truck shut. She watched as the truck continued down the road they were headed, speeding off and disappearing around a bend.

Annie sighed, watching the truck leave and began to stroll forward, looking for a sign of any other cars that could possibly give her a lift. She had about ten more miles to go, and she was dreading it.

Hopefully, reaching the camp and seeing the lake would make the hike all worth it.

A few minutes passed, and Annie came upon a small, wooden bridge stretching over a bubbling, fast-moving brook, running around and in between small rocks. Reeds and different water plants lined the bank and water lilies decorated the surface of the water.

Annie leaned against the railing of the bridge, looking out onto the small creek, watching as a dragonfly flew by her head.

All of a sudden, the sound of a car motor reached Annie's ears and Annie looked down the road to see a small, brown Jeep driving down the road towards Annie, from the way Annie had come.

Annie waved her arms in the air and finally stuck her thumb out, praying in her head that the Jeep would pick her up.

But the brown Jeep drove right on past, ignoring Annie and cruising by nonchalantly, almost mocking Annie. Annie flopped her arms down to her side and made a wry face, blocking the glaring sun with her hand. But the driver of the Jeep obviously had seen her, because a few yards from Annie, where the driver had passed Annie, the Jeep pulled to a halt and stood there, the motor running, almost calling Annie's name. A hand stuck out of the driver's side window and motioned towards Annie.

Annie's face lit up and she smiled with relief and gratitude as she ran towards the Jeep, opened the passenger side door and hopped into the passenger seat, tossing her duffel bag into the backseat.

"Hey, thanks so much for picking me up! I'm going to Camp Crystal Lake," Annie told the driver of the Jeep. Annie banged the door shut behind her, and the driver pressed down the gas pedal, and the Jeep's engine sputtered to life. The Jeep moved forward, and drove around a bend.

"My name's Annie," Annie introduced herself.

"What's the matter? Cat got your tongue?" Annie asked.

The driver still did not reply, remaining motionless and silent. The driver didn't even look at Annie, just stared out the windshield and kept a vise-like grip on the steering wheel.

"I think Camp Crystal Lake is going to be up on the right. I've always enjoyed working with children, and you know, I hate when people call them kids. It makes them sound like little goats," Annie said, trying to cut through the silence.

The driver still did not say a word. The driver just kept driving down the winding, twisting road, completely ignoring Annie.

"I've definitely come a long way, but when you have had a dream as long as I've had, you'll do anything," Annie told the driver. There was no reaction from the driver of the Jeep.

Annie, realizing the driver wasn't going to speak, decided to just shut up and enjoy the scenery.

Annie began to think again. First there was a crazy man who bumbled incoherently and talked about some curse, then a paranoid redneck who warned Annie about some crazy legend, and then this silent treatment. But it would all pay off with a vacation in the country, campfire songs, cabin hi-jinks, maybe a little skinny dipping, kicking back and looking up at the stars on the shore of the lake. It would be paradise…well at least for two months.

All of a sudden, after a few more moments of driving, the Jeep drove past a dirt road branching off from the right of the road with a few mailboxes off to the side, and over the path was a rickety, wooden archway that read Camp Crystal Lake.

But the driver drove right past it.

Annie looked back, watching the entrance to Crystal Lake disappear from view. A look of dread washed over Annie's face, and Annie's heart began to race.

"Um, excuse me, but wasn't that the road to Camp Crystal Lake back there?" Annie asked.

The driver did not respond, but instead pressed harder on the gas, gunning the engine and sending the Jeep flying forward.

Annie gripped the arm rest of the passenger seat with a choke hold-like grip. Annie began to panic, her breathing becoming heavier and faster and her heart throbbed with fear.

Horror and hysteria began to take place inside Annie, as she looked around frantically. Calm down, Annie told herself. There is an explanation for this, Annie told herself. Annie let out a breath, calming herself.

"Um, I think we need to stop. You passed my stop." Annie replied. "I think we'd better stop," Annie said more firmly.

The driver ignored her pleads, driving even faster.

Annie's eyes widened with fear, and she began to realize this was no misunderstanding. Where was the driver taking her?

"We need to stop. Please stop! Please stop!" Annie began to scream as loud as she could. Then she began to tug on the handle of the passenger side door, trying to open the door, but the handle was stuck. The door would not open.

Annie began to cry hysterically, pleading for the driver to stop.

"Stop! Please stop! Stop!" Annie urged again and again, but the driver still wouldn't listen.

Finally, Annie, with terror gripping her heart and adrenaline pumping through her entire body, lunged over, grabbing the steering wheel.

"Stop the car!" Annie screamed. Suddenly, the driver outstretched his hand and with amazing force, backhanded Annie across the side of her face, and Annie slumped back against the passenger side door, with a yelp of pain. Annie stared at the driver in complete bewilderment and terror, the side of her face stinging with intense pain.

The driver felt no remorse, did not say a word, and kept driving. But then, Annie watched as the driver slowly looked over at her, and Annie panicked, seeing the utter loathing and hatred in the driver's eyes.

Annie had to get out of the car. And there was only one way she was going to do that. She had to jump. Annie tried to open the car door again, fumbling with the latch, and finally managing to yank on the handle hard enough. She shoved the car door open, and the wind whistled past her as she stood on the edge of the Jeep, looking out at the road. Could she jump? Annie closed her eyes, bracing herself, and waited for the Jeep to make a turn. They had to at least be going sixty. The Jeep began to drive around a curve towards the right, and she jumped.

She soared through the air, her limbs flailing, leaping from the Jeep. She landed hard on her right shoulder on the side of the road, on a grassy slope, and began to roll down an embankment, landing at the bottom in a bed of damp leaves.

Annie groaned with agony, as she felt searing pain course through her foot. Annie screamed out in pain, as she began to struggle to her feet. Her foot throbbed, and she knew it was broken. Annie glanced down at her injured foot, as pain began to make its way up to her leg, surging through her entire body, and Annie fell back to the ground again, barely able to stand. Her leg would barely support her.

Annie looked up at the road, to see the Jeep screech to a stop and the engine revved as the Jeep shifted into reverse.

"Oh my God," Annie muttered in sheer horror.

The Jeep drove backwards, finally screeching to another stop right in front of where Annie lay.

The driver climbed out of the Jeep, and began to walk towards his helpless victim. Annie's eyes widened as her gaze was drawn to something clutched in the driver's right hand. The sunlight hit the object, and it glinted with silver. It was a knife.

Annie cried out in pain and terror as she rose to her feet, mustering up her strength and she began to run. She limped into the shelter of the trees, not caring to look behind her to watch for her attacker.

Annie didn't care where she was going; she was running in a directionless panic, she just knew she had to get as far away from there as possible. She kept running, crashing through underbrush, dodging limbs, thorns and briars grabbing at her, tearing her clothes, ripping her flesh, drawing blood. Annie winced at the throbbing pain in her leg, but kept running, pressed on by the adrenaline and fear that went through her body.

The woods seemed endless, as Annie went on, hobbling, dragging her injured leg behind her. She tripped over a tree root, sprawling across the ground, but quickly pulled herself to her feet, and kept running.

Annie glanced behind her once, and didn't see any sign of her attacker. She kept going, dashing to the right into thicker woods, knocking aside branches, maneuvering through the foliage. She tried to scream for help, but immediately realized no one lived out here. Who would hear her?

Annie finally stopped running, and realized she was in the middle of nowhere. She glanced around, and didn't see any sign of her attacker of any sign of the road. She was out in the middle of the woods. Her chest heaved, and adrenaline still pumped through her veins. Her heart was racing a mile a minute and her leg still throbbed with excruciating pain. Annie began to slowly shuffle through the woods, looking all around her for her pursuer

She walked a few more steps, stepping over a fallen tree, and stopping to look around. She listened and didn't hear anything besides the birds chirping in the canopy as well as her own panicked breathing. CRACK. A twig snapped. Annie snapped her head around, looking around to see what made the noise. No one was there.

Annie then turned around and kept trudging in the direction she was going. Maybe she could reach Camp Crystal Lake if she kept heading in this direction. All of a sudden, Annie tripped and pitched forward, falling to the ground, and her eyes met with a pair of boots. And the boots stood directly in front of Annie. Annie's eyes made their way up until she saw no longer just boots, but boots and a pair of legs.

Annie looked up to see the driver of the Jeep looking directly down at her.

Annie struggled to her feet, eyeing the knife held in her attacker's right hand. Her pursuer began to advance towards Annie, and she backed away into a tree, shaking her head 'no', and begging for her life.

"No, please. No, no. no," she begged, tears streaming down her face.

Run, her mind told her. Run! Get up and run! A voice kept screaming it in her head.

But her body wouldn't let her.

The assailant moved closer towards Annie, ignoring her pleads, and raised the knife. Annie screamed and in an instant, there was a flash of silver as the attacker swung the knife, and the blade sliced into her neck. Annie's scream was cut short.

Annie's eyes closed peacefully, and she began to choke on her own blood. The assailant stepped back, watching Annie intently as her life drained away. Annie's throat had been slit. Searing, white-hot pain overwhelmed her and she threw her head back. Annie began to gag and cough up blood, her hand clutching her bloody throat, watching incredulously as blood cascaded down the front of her body. Blood spurted out, spraying the dark raincoat that the attacker wore with crimson.

Annie's killer just watched her life slip away, admiring his or her own handiwork as Annie slumped to the ground, dead. Her lifeless eyes gazed up at the sky, as a vulture circled overhead.

Marcie shoved open the door to her assigned cabin. The cabin consisted of one room, one large, square room that consisted of wooden walls and floors, and two windows, and a few bunk beds.

The cabin was old and rustic, with cobwebs decorating the ceiling and dust lingering in the air. The door made an awful squeak as Marcie closed the door behind her, and Marcie crinkled up her nose at the cabin.

"Yuck," she muttered and tossed her suitcase onto one of the bottom bunks.

Marcie opened the drawer to a small dresser beside her bed, and started unpacking her clothes into the drawer. Sure, the cabin was old and dusty but Marcie knew that working at this camp was going to make for a fun experience. Especially with Jack and Ned along for the ride. Even though Neddy could be a bit…well…exasperating.

The door banged open all of a sudden, and Marcie squealed with fear, spinning around to see Jack standing in the doorway.

"Wow, this cabin is disgusting," Jack remarked.

"Tell me something I don't know. And, Jesus, Jack you scared the living daylights out of me," Marcie whined, slapping Jack feebly on the shoulder.

Jack smiled and wrapped his arms around Marcie's waist, and kissed her on the lips.

"This is going to be great," Marcie said, smiling.

"Yeah. Imagine, this cabin, in three weeks, will be filled with a bunch of screaming little kids," Jack replied.

I know. But let's live our freedom up while we can," Marcie said, smiling.

They kissed again.

"Well, the cabin isn't that bad," Jack said as he plopped down onto one of the bottom bunks. But Jack spoke too soon; as dust flew up from the mattress. Jack began to wave his arms around, coughing as Marcie burst into laughter.

"Come here, you!" Jack yelled playfully, chasing Marcie out of the cabin, as Marcie squealed with laughter.

The counselors all were assigned to tasks and worked on the camp for the next two hours. From around eleven o' clock to one o' clock, the counselors spent the two hours sweeping out cabins, dusting, clearing cobwebs, unpacking supplies, repairing doors, and painting the outside of some of the cabins. Marcie painted while Jack and Ned helped Mr. Christy repair a door, Alice helped Brenda set up the archery range, and Bill worked on the dock and repaired some canoes.

At twelve, the counselors broke for lunch, and they feasted in the kitchen of the main cabin, on sandwiches that the guys helped make. Since Annie, the camp cook had not arrived yet, Jack, Ned, and Bill pitched in to serve lunch. They were all unbeknownst to Annie's fate.

Afterwards, the counselors got back to work. The sun had come out from behind some clouds, and made it almost unbearably hot. But it was a good kind of hot; a refreshing breeze from the lake blew in, making it not so miserable.

The door opened into the dark mustiness of the old shed.

The generator shed was a good-sized crudely built shack. The only source of light was a small bulb hanging from the ceiling. The inside was dank and cluttered. Old tools lined the walls, screwdrivers, hammers, hatchets, knives, and the works. A huge generator sat in the corner, providing the electricity the camp needed to run, and a gun rack lined the length of the far wall; it held several various caliber rifles.

Mr. Christy stepped into the shack, brushing a cobweb aside. He grabbed a cardboard box, and snatched a few wood-working tools off the wall, and placed them in the box.

He glanced around, surveying everything, nodded with satisfaction, and left the shack.

Alice balanced herself on the ladder, wielding the hammer she had clutched in her right hand, blowing a strand of blond hair that had fallen in front of her eyes away. She had been assigned to repairing a broken gutter at the back of the main cabin, and had to end up dragging a ladder, a hammer, and a bucket of nails from the tool shed to the main cabin, which was a lengthy walk.

It wasn't the most rigorous work, and Alice would have preferred to be down at the lake helping Bill. She couldn't help it. There was something about him that reminded her of the guys back home. Alice had flown in all the way from California to help the Christy's out.

Alice caught herself from falling…again…and hefted herself up to the gutter where she placed a nail on the crooked beam, and began hammering it in, careful to watch her thumb.

THWACK! THWACK! Alice drove the nail in, and climbed down to get another.

She hammered that one as well, and began to lift the beam up into the right spot and nailed another nail in. Alice mustered up her strength to shove the beam into place with a grunt of effort. Holding the hammer in her teeth, she lifted up again, shoving the beam into place.

Alice looked towards the left to see Mr. Christy walking around the side of the main cabin, carrying a cardboard box full of supplies.

"Oh, Alice, let me help you with that," Steve said, dropping the box and rushing over to help Alice.

"Oh no, I've got it, Mr. Christy," Alice assured. Steve didn't take no for an answer. He walked over and began to hold the ladder steady.

Over lying on the grass was a large sketchbook. Something Alice enjoyed doing was drawing. It was her ultimate passion. Alice had brought it down to doodle on if she was in between tasks.

Mr. Christy picked it up and leafed through it.

"Wow, these are amazing. You are very talented," Mr. Christy stated, eyeing a certain sketch of himself.

"Thanks. I just wish I had more time to draw. And those are just quick sketches," Alice replied, climbing down from the ladder.

"This one is of me. Do I really look like that?" Mr. Christy asked, chuckling.

"You did last night," Alice teased with a smile.

"You know, I wish you didn't have to leave tomorrow." Mr. Christy declared.

"I know. I don't want to leave either. I just…I don't think being out here is really my cup of tea," Alice explained.

"But you are very talented. And very pretty. I need your help. Your parents have been close friends of mine for a long time, and it would be great for you to stay for the whole summer," Mr. Christy was practically begging.

Alice beamed.

"Thanks, Mr. Christy. It's not you and it's not this place…I just…I have some problems at home that I need to work out, that's all," Alice said.

There was a brief and awkward silence as Alice leaned against the side of the cabin and Mr. Christy looked through more of Alice's sketches.

"Well, I'll tell you what. If things at home aren't better by next Friday, I…I'll put you on the bus myself. So a week from today, it you still aren't happy, you can go and I won't try to stop you," Mr. Christy explained.

Alice smiled and nodded.

"Ok, I'll give it a week. A week and then I have to go. That's the least I can do," Alice replied as Mr. Christy stroked her hair affectionately.

Mr. Christy grabbed the box of supplies and walked off in the direction he had been heading. Alice thought for a second.

"Well, his gutter is not going to fix itself," Alice said aloud and grabbed a nail, climbing up the ladder to get back to work.

Well, the gutter was fixed. And Alice was running an errand. She strolled across the campgrounds towards the lake.

It was true. Mr. Christy really wished that Alice didn't have to leave. And Alice didn't want to leave. She had already met Bill, and Brenda, and the other counselors who she had yet to get to know.

But Alice had problems at home. Alice's mother was in the hospital, battling lung cancer. Alice just felt so guilty she had left for the camp to work, and not stay with her sick mother but she already had made the plans to work at Crystal Lake beforehand, and she didn't want to let Mr. Christy down.

She was going to have to leave at some point. Alice didn't want to have to live with the guilt that she had just abandoned her mother while she was sick in the hospital.

Alice blocked all of the bad thoughts out of her head, trying to think of the week to come at Crystal Lake that she had to use up. She planned to have fun, and spend some time with friends, and not worry about live. Things happen for a reason; maybe going off to Crystal Lake was just what Alice needed to get away from the buzz of city life, and her mother had even insisted on her going. Her mother had claimed it was just what Alice needed, a vacation to get away from the stress of having her mother in the hospital. Her mother had told her to go, saying it would be good for her, that she would be fine and the hospital is taking good care of her.

Somehow, Alice still felt guilty.

Alice walked towards the lake, eyeing Bill kneeling on the dock, painting the dock a fresh coat of white.

"Bill!" Alice called, standing on the shore.

Bill stood up and turned to Alice, wearing nothing but blue jeans. He honestly looked astonishing standing there, the sun glinting off of his muscular body, the lake in the background.

"Steve wants to know if you need more paint!" Alice called.

"Uh…paint is alright, maybe some more thinner," Bill replied, surveying his supplies.

"Great, I'll tell Mr. Christy," Alice said.

"Hey, you think they're going to last all summer?" Bill asked.

"You mean the newcomers?" Alice questioned.

Bill nodded.

"I don't know. I don't even know if I am going to last all summer," Alice said. Bill laughed. But Alice wasn't joking, and she hoped Bill took the hint. He didn't. Alice would tell him later that she might be leaving later this week.

"Yeah, everyone except Annie, the girl who was supposed to be the cook," Alice responded.

"Oh, ok. Well, see you later," Bill said as Alice began to walk away, heading off to find Mr. Christy. She began to walk a little ways through the woods, down the trail towards the rest of the cabins.

All of a sudden, Alice stopped. Freezing dead in her tracks. Bushes rustling. That is what it was. Alice had heard bushes rustling. Alice looked around, puzzled. She felt like someone was watching her. Like eyes were staring right at the back of her head.

Then there were footsteps. Light footfalls crunching over leaves.

Alice dismissed the strange feeling and continued walking, but couldn't shake he strange sensation that something…or someone…was watching her.

Brenda lugged the huge, hay-stuffed target across the clearing, grunting with effort and sweat dripping down her neck. The sun was harsh, pouring down and warming things up and the mosquitoes were definitely out. Brenda slapped at one on her neck and continued to carry the target across the archery range. The target was surprisingly heavy, for a burlap sack filled with hay. The front of the target was adorned with a fresh, watercolor painting of your average round target, perfect for aiming at and shooting an arrow into.

The archery range was a large, grassy clearing. In the middle of the clearing was a small platform supported by wooden posts. You just walked up, grabbed a bow and arrow from the rack, stood on the edge of the platform, and fired at one of the targets that stood on stands perfectly aligned in a straight row.

Brenda heaved the target onto the stand. Her light brown hair was practically drenched with sweat. All of a sudden, a loud TWANG resounded through the air, as if someone had fired a bow and arrow. Before Brenda could react to the sound, an arrow whizzed past her left arm and stuck firmly into the target she just placed on the stand.

Brenda leaped out of her skin, lurching backwards and letting out a small gasp. Brenda looked back towards the bow and arrow shack, scanning the platform for who had fired the arrow.

Ned stood proudly at the edge of the platform, beaming and wielding a recently-fired bow.

"Want to see my trick shot?" Ned joked, laughing.

Brenda scowled and ripped the arrow out of the target and stormed towards the bow and arrow shack, and climbed the steps onto the platform

"Did you come up here to help me or scare me to death?!" Brenda yelled, tossing the arrow onto the ground and fuming with anger.

"You're beautiful when you're angry, sweetheart," Ned teased, imitating Humphrey Bogart.

Ned still didn't get the hint that Brenda was angry; Brenda couldn't hold it in. She burst out laughing at the impression.

"You scared the hell out of me," Brenda said, stifling a giggle as Ned made a face.

"That was the point. Did I get a bull's-eye?" Ned asked, sitting on the porch railing.

"I don't know. I was too busy trying to look for the person who almost killed me," Brenda growled, now growing angry again.

"Oh come on. You trust me, right? Do you think I would have actually hit you?" Ned asked.

"Well, you came pretty close." Brenda said, crossing her arms.

Ned held up the bow, grabbed another arrow, and stepped into position. He pulled back the cord, released, and the arrow fired. The arrow plunged into the target, straight through the middle, hitting home.

"Bulls-eye," Ned proclaimed.

Brenda rolled her eyes and began to laugh.

"You're pretty good with that thing," Brenda remarked.

"You still mad at me?" Ned asked.

"I don't know. Eh, I guess not, you're kind of cute," Brenda teased, tousling Ned's dark hair.

Ned smiled, blushing.

"But if you ever try anything like that again, I will tack you up on the wall to dry. Better yet, I'll cook you for dinner tonight," Brenda joked.

"Speaking of dinner, where's our designated chef?" Ned questioned, placing the bow back on the rack.

"Oh, Annie? I don't know, she never showed. She was supposed to hike all the way up here," Brenda said.

"No wonder," Ned stated.

"Now come on, help me with these targets," Brenda said and began to walk towards the back of the bow and arrow shack as Ned followed.

The arts and crafts cabin was a large, spacious cabin with big, picture windows and tables that were neatly positioned around the room. Old easels, brushes and other art supplies were all neatly arranged in a corner, ready to be set up and put to use for the kids.

The cabin was dusty, the same as everything else, and the wood had partially rotted on one side of the large wooden porch that wrapped around the entire cabin, but things would eventually be repaired.

The counselors had taken a break for a while, and Alice had snuck up to the arts and crafts cabin to practice her sketching. She had propped her sketchbook up on an easel and positioned herself near one of the windows in the cabin and perched on a stool.

She was trying to draw the view out of the window, the lake with the pine trees surrounding it and the reflection of the sun in the rippling waves. She sighed, and pulled her back into a ponytail as she began to draw the outline of the lake. Her pencil glided easily and effortlessly over the paper. She knew what she was doing.

She stopped and erased, then drew some more, then erased again. She couldn't focus. She sighed again as she rubbed her temples. When was she going to tell Bill that she was leaving? She didn't want to; she had met and was going to meet some new people. Maybe she shouldn't. She could phone her mom every day and check on her. There was no way Alice was flying all the way to California to see her and then coming back to New Jersey to help Steve.

It was either leave or stay.

Alice had to call her. She planned to do so sometime today.

After setting that in her mind, Alice began to feel better. She drew a little more, and it started to look good for a second, when suddenly, a hand was placed on her shoulder.

She whipped around to see Bill standing there.

"God, Bill, you scared me," Alice replied, climbing off the stool.

"Sorry," he replied.

He looked at the unfinished sketch and smiled.

"Wow, you are amazing," he said.

Alice began to feel her face grow hot.

"Thanks, I wish I had more time," Alice said, letting her hair down and toying with the hairband.

"Funny, you should say that, because it looks like I'm going to have to interrupt you. Steve wants all us counselors down by the entrance right away. I think he said something about going into town and leaving us here to finish the job," Bill said.

"Oh, great. With my luck, I'll have burned the entire place down," Alice kidded herself as her and Bill walked out the door.

Jack, Ned, Marcie, Alice, Bill, and Brenda all huddled around Mr. Christy's beat-up old Jeep, listening restlessly to his endless instructions.

"Now, I'm heading into town to fetch some supplies. Jack, I want you to continue the work in the office," Mr. Christy said, as he clambered into the driver's seat of his Jeep.

"Do you want it listed separately?" Jack asked, swatting at a bug on his arm.

"Yes, please," Mr. Christy responded. "Brenda and Ned; you two keep working on the archery range, and, um, Alice; I want you to go and clean out Cabin D. Marcie, you can start the paint on the boathouse. And if Annie gets here, start her working in the kitchen. Do your best, alright?"

The teens nodded in understanding.

Mr. Christy looked up at the sky. Dark, ominous clouds were beginning to peek over the pine trees that surrounded the lake.

"Looks like a hell of a storm might be coming in, so get as much done as possible. I don't want to get too far behind," Mr. Christy said. "I should be back sometime tonight. See you guys later, and Alice, make sure they don't goof around too much,"

Alice smiled and nodded.

The teens spoke in a chorus of "bye-s" and other farewells and waved as Mr. Christy's Jeep sputtered down the rugged path, under the arch, and disappeared around the corner.

"Well, I guess it's just us," Jack chimed in after a few moments of silence.

The teenagers began walking back towards the cabins.

"Let's get back to work, guys," Alice ordered.

"You know, Mr. Christy neglected to tell us that in town the locals call this place 'Camp Blood'," Ned explained.

The group scoffed and laughed in mockery.

"What next, Ned? Are you going to tell us that there are crocodiles in the lake and snakes in the outhouses?" Jack joked.

"No, the crocodiles are in the cabinets," Ned teased back.

Marcie swatted at him and Jack pulled her close, kissing her forehead.

"Come on you guys, you heard what Mr. Christy said. Back to work!" Bill called and the teens all strolled reluctantly to their different assignments.

It was about three in the afternoon, and the sun was washing over the entire camp, the golden rays causing the conditions to be miserable. Ned lugged huge garbage bags of leaves all the way across the camp to a dumpster, and Alice had finally gotten a chance to work with Bill on repairing a few loose boards on the dock. Jack was fixing a hole in a canoe nearby, and Marcie had gone off to help Brenda with the archery range.

Everyone was hot.

At three thirty, they decided they had done their best and gotten a lot of work done. The cabins had been cleaned out, trash was picked up, and many things were fixed and clean, but there were still a lot of things to do.

As the teens grouped in the main cabin with towels to mop their sweat and water to hydrate themselves, Alice sat on the couch and began to read through Mr. Christy's checklist.

"Well, good job, guys. It looks like we've finished almost everything on the checklist," Alice informed the rest of them and they gave a cheer.

"Almost?" Marcie said, throwing herself into a chair by the fireplace.

"Yeah, just a few little things," Alice remarked, scanning the list again for safe measure.

"Well, I say we take a swim break," Ned suggested.

"Oh, that sounds heavenly," Brenda proclaimed, sitting down beside Alice.

"That sounds great! Plus, I'd get to see this little thing in a bikini," Jack said, wrapping his arms around Marcie and kissing her passionately.

"Get a room," Ned berated, tossing a pillow at the two.'

They all laughed.

"You guys want to go swim?" Bill asked, leaning against the fireplace.

"I don't know if we should. Mr. Christy might not like the idea," Alice proclaimed.

Brenda nudged her friend.

'Oh, come on, Alice, don't be such a stick in the mud. Ol' man Christy won't be back until late and I think we've got a lot done. I think we deserve a little relaxation," Brenda declared.

They all happily agreed.

The lake was just the right temperature. Cool and refreshing. The sun shone down, baking the ones who had decided to sprawl on the sand and tan, and refreshing the ones who dived right through the glassy surface of the water. Alice and Bill were sitting on beach towels on the sandy shore, chatting and catching rays. Marcie was tanning on the dock, and Ned sat beside her. Jack had swum out further out into the lake, and Brenda treaded water nearby the dock.

Marcie sat up, and looked up at the sun that glared onto her face.

"I think I might jump in for a second," Marcie decided, taking off her sunglasses and setting them nearby.

"Do it, it feels amazing," Brenda said as she leaned back to float on the surface.

Marcie looked up towards the shore where Alice and Bill sat.

"Hey guys, you sure you don't want to come in?!" Marcie called. Alice looked up, and shook her head.

"No thanks!" she yelled back.

"Oh please, Marcie, it's no use. Those two lovebirds can't keep their eyes off of each other," Brenda giggled as Marcie slipped into the murky water.

"I didn't know they were together," Marcie stated, floating over next to Brenda.

"Not yet," Brenda said smiling.

Marcie chuckled and looked at Jack, who was swimming out towards the middle of the lake.

"What is he doing?" Marcie mumbled to herself.

"Probably trying to impress you," Brenda said.

"Ehh," Marcie shrugged.

Brenda laughed.

"So, Brenda, what do you think we should fix for dinner? If Annie is not going to show, then we are going to have to do something," Marcie said.

"You women can do all the cooking," Ned piped in.

Brenda narrowed her eyes.

"How sexist. You know, that the feminist movement has already happened, you know. And the women's right to vote has already been passed. This isn't the 1800's." Brenda explained indignantly.

"Yeah, yeah. Just make us something good, alright?" Ned said, just laughing inside at how much he was angering Brenda.

Brenda rolled her eyes and ignored that comment.

"I don't eat meat, so I guess I'll just make something for myself," Brenda said.

"Oh, you a vegan?" Ned asked.

"Yes," Brenda said angrily, expecting a snide remark. There was none, so Brenda continued.

"I just don't like it,"

"Fine with me. I can whip up a salad," Marcie thought.

"Hey, Marcie, if you were a flavor of ice cream, what would it be?" Ned asked.

"What made you think of that?"

"I don't know. You guys were talking about food, so I thought about ice cream,"

Marcie pondered it for a moment, then a sly smile spread across her face. She gestured to Brenda. Brenda understood. Marcie and Brenda both climbed onto the dock, grinning from ear to ear.

"Rocky Road," Marcie answered and both Brenda and Marcie shoved Ned into the war with a SPLASH. Ned thrashed around for a moment, and then regained his stamina.

"Jesus Christ, that's cold!" Ned exclaimed as Brenda and Marcie guffawed with laughter.

Later, Alice and Bill had finally entered the water and the teens all floated near the dock, while Jack and Marcie lay out on the sand, talking and catching rays. Alice, Bill, Ned, and Brenda were conversing about Brenda's choice to be a vegetarian and health options.

"So, Brenda, what is Vitamin C supposed to do for you anyway?" Alice questioned, swimming across to her.

"Um, I think it's supposed to neutralize the nitrates or something," Brenda's voice trailed off as she glanced towards the far shore of the lake. She squinted, as if trying to see something far away.

Someone in the woods on the far shore of the lake watched the teenagers. A hand reached up and moved aside branches to get a better view. There they were. All stupid teenagers. They were all the same. They were the same twenty years ago, and they are the same now. They were so careless. Off engaging in senseless and abominable sexual rendezvous, doing drugs, heedless to the responsibilities they possessed. They would soon regret their carelessness. Vengeance would be sought. They would never know that hit them. The mysterious prowler held a blood stained hunting knife.

Brenda scrunched up her face, tossing a strand of wet hair out of her eyes, and kept staring intently at the far shore, as if she saw something and was trying to make it out.

"Brenda, what is it?" Alice asked, looking in the same direction she was, but Alice didn't see a thing. Just an endless tree line.

Brenda dismissed what she thought she saw, and looked towards Alice.

"Nothing. I thought I saw someone," Brenda responded, casting another glance towards the trees.

"Probably just an animal," Bill suggested. Alice agreed.

"Yeah, probably," Brenda replied.

But Brenda couldn't shake off the image in her head of what she thought she saw. Someone was there; a shadowy figure standing on the edge of the lake. Watching them in the shelter of the trees.

Crunch. Crunch. The crunching of dead leaves stopped the peaceful silence short. Two black boots slowly walked through the shelter of the trees. Quietly. Stealthily.

The prowler could hear the sounds of laughter and of teenagers. Stupid ones. They never should have opened this place again.

"Looks like when I burned down those cabins, they just didn't learn, did they?" the prowler thought to themselves.

` Well, this summer, the prowler was going to make sure this camp would never open again.

The prowler held a burlap sack in his hand, moving slowly towards the back of one of the cabins.

` It was Alice and Brenda's cabin.

The prowler covertly approached the back of the cabin, making sure he couldn't be seen, and then, ever so furtively, reached in his pocket and withdrew a knife. Slowly and quietly, the prowler slashed the screen in the window with the knife, and then opened the window gently. The mysterious stalker in the rain slicker slowly reached into the burlap sack and pulled out a long, black snake. Very much alive. Hissing with anger and fear.

The prowler slipped the snake into the window and down into the cabin.

Those teens were in for a surprise.

Jack had gotten his portable radio from his cabin and blared it while the teens listen to music and basked in the glorious rays of the sun. Alice and Bill were perched on the edge of the dock; Jack and Marcie still were sprawled out together on beach towels, and Brenda treaded water.

Brenda, puzzled, began to look around.

"Hey, guys, where's Ned?" Brenda inquired.

All of a sudden, as if on cue, a loud "Help!" resounded, echoing across the surface of the lake. Alice jerked her head towards the source of the cry, and her face twisted into horror.

"Oh my God, Ned!" she shrieked.

It was Ned. He was out in the middle of the lake, screaming for help, thrashing around in the murky water. He bobbed up and down, trying to stay above the surface, but water began to enter his mouth, and he began to cough and choke.

"Help!" he screamed again, flailing wildly in the water.

Ned was drowning.

"Someone help him!" Alice cried, pointing towards him.

Jack immediately leaped off of his towel and sprinted onto the dock, Marcie not far behind. Alice clambered onto the dock, and stood to get a better view.

Ned thrashed for a few more minutes, and then slipped underneath the water. Bubbles rose and Ned did not come up.

"Ned!" Alice screamed. "Bill, get that canoe!"

"Oh my God, he's drowning!" Marcie cried. Unanimous cries of "Help him!" and "Ned!" drowned out the sound of the small portable radio the teens had playing.

Bill, who had been frozen with fear for a few seconds, finally came to, and raced over to where the canoe was resting on the shore, skidding across the white sand.

Jack dove into the water and began to swim to the spot where Ned went under. Alice dashed over to the canoe to help Bill, and both began to frantically haul it out into the water. Frantic cries and screaming for Ned all collided together, and the chaos continued. Alice snatched up an oar discarded on the sand and climbed into the canoe with Bill.

She began to row.

Jack knifed through the water with the ease of a motorboat, swimming as fast as he could go.

"Ned!" he called.

He soon reached the spot where Ned went under.

"A little to the left!" Brenda yelled from the shore, huddling close to Marcie apprehensively on the dock.

Jack followed her instructions and went down into the cold murkiness of the lake, swimming around frantically.

"I can't see a damn thing!" he yelled hysterically. Alice and Bill floated up in the canoe, and Bill jumped out into the water to help Jack.

"Bill, be careful!" Alice called. Tears began to roll down her cheeks. This was not happening.

"I got him!" Jack cried.

Relief began to overwhelm everyone, and everybody's faces returned to their normal color.

But the relief did not last long when Jack appeared, with Ned's lifeless body draped across his shoulder.

"Oh my God! Is he breathing?!" Marcie shrieked, cupping her hands to her face in horror.

Bill dog-paddled over to where Jack was hefting Ned's above the water.

"Jesus, he's heavy," Jack said as he grunted with exertion, struggling to keep his head above the water.

"Here, I got him," Bill assured and began to swim to shore with Ned in his arms.

Alice began to row the canoe back to shore.

Bill reached the dock.

"Here, lift him up and watch his head," Bill ordered. Marcie and Brenda grabbed Ned by each arm and heaved his soaking wet, limp body onto the dock. He didn't move. And he didn't appear to be breathing. Flayed out on the dock, his eyes closed peacefully.

"Oh my God, is he alright?" Alice asked as she ran up to join the teens, who all now circled Ned's motionless figure.

"I don't know," Jack said, his chest heaving with exhaustion.

"Wait, I know CPR. Everybody clear away," Brenda demanded. The teens all stepped away precariously, watching anxiously.

"Oh my God, please, Ned, be alright," Marcie trembled as Jack held her in his arms.

Brenda knelt down beside Ned and lifted his head up. She placed her lips carefully to his and began to blow strong gusts of her own air into his mouth.

All of a sudden, Ned jolted upright, grabbed Brenda, and forced her on top of him, kissing her passionately. Everybody watched, dumbfounded as Brenda wrenched free of Ned's grasp, and Ned stood up. Perfectly fine. Grinning from ear to ear.

It was all a ruse.

"How was it, baby?" Ned asked Brenda, wrapping his arm around her and smiling.

Brenda's expression twisted into a look of death and utter disgust.

"You have got to be kidding," Alice muttered.

"Jesus Christ, Ned," Jack moaned.

It was an elaborate prank.

The teens all groaned. Brenda was the angriest she had even been in her whole life.

"You pig. You really think that that was funny? You had all of us scared to death!" Brenda screamed, her face turning beet red with rage.

"Whoa, calm down. It was a joke," Ned assured, laughing.

"Ned, we thought you were dead!" Marcie screeched.

` "Come on guys, are you really this upset at a joke?" Ned asked, holding his hands up in defense.

"And to think I started to like you," Brenda stated and stormed off towards the cabins, shaking her head in repulsion.

"Nice going, Ned," Jack remarked.

"Yeah, real funny," Bill commented.

"Hey, come on guys, it was only a joke. I didn't hurt anybody." Ned protested.

"Maybe not physically," Alice observed, and walked off morosely towards her cabin. Bill followed.

Jack stood there, hands on his hips, almost like a scolding father.

"I screwed up, didn't I?" Ned questioned.

Jack nodded affirmatively and patted his friend on the back and Ned sulked off towards the cabins.

"Can you believe him!?" Brenda screeched as she banged open the door to the cabin. She wrung out a section of her drenched hair, splashing lake water onto the wooden floor. She grabbed a towel from her suitcase and began angrily drying herself off and drying the floor a little as well.

Alice walked into the cabin soon after, leaning against the bunk bed.

"Don't let him get to you. He's just immature, that's all," Alice said, attempting to offer a sense of solace.

"Yeah, you can say that again. How dare he pull a stunt like that? And to think, all just to get a kiss from me. You know if he liked me, why didn't he just try and talk to me instead of pulling some stupid prank to kiss me?" Brenda ranted on and on, plopping down onto her bed.

Alice frowned.

"I don't know what to say," Alice stated.

"There's nothing you can say. I guess I'm going to go take a shower to get this lake water off of me. Maybe it will help me cool down." Brenda said.

Brenda grabbed another towel, some toiletries, a new change of clothes, and left the cabin, leaving Alice standing there in her bikini.

Bill had gone to clear some trails, and Jack and Marcie went to go shower (separately, Alice hoped) and she didn't know where Ned was and, frankly, she didn't care.

Alice sighed and closed the cabin door behind Brenda. Alice peeled off her wet bathing suit, and slipped on a pink robe. She walked over to her dresser to get a new pair of clothes, when suddenly something moved out of the corner of her eye.

Slowly, Alice veered her head to the right. On the floor, right beside her bed, was a long, black snake.

And it was alive. And it began to slither towards Alice.

Alice screamed louder than she had ever screamed, and lurched backwards. Repulsed, Alice ran for the door and threw it open.

"Bill! Bill! Come quick!" she screamed. "Bill!" she shrieked even louder.

Alice kept an eye on the snake, as it slinked across the wooden floor, hissing, the red forked tongue flickering back and forth. Alice grimaced at the sight.

Bill raced into the cabin, wielding a long, sharp machete, from clearing trails. He was in a fresh change of clothes and his hair was damp, and his eyes were wide with fear.

"What it is?!" he asked frantically.

"Th-there's a s-s-snake over there!" Alice forced it out, pointing a quivering hand towards the hideous reptile making its way across the cabin. Bill eyed the snake.

"What am I supposed to do?" Bill asked.

Alice gestured towards the machete clutched firmly in his right hand.

"Kill it!" she whispered, as if she didn't want the snake to hear them.

"It might bite!" Bill replied.

"Haven't you ever been in the woods?" Alice proclaimed, stifling a giggle.

"We're not in the woods!" Bill pointed out.

Slowly, he approached the snake, machete held high. The snake was oblivious.

'How did it even get in here?' Alice wondered to herself, as she cowered behind Bill's muscular frame.

All of a sudden, Jack and Marcie came rushing into the cabin and looked around, both fresh out of the shower in a new change of clothes.

"What's wrong?" Jack asked.

"There's a snake in here!" Alice informed them.

"Ugh! Then what are we doing in here!? Have fun! I'll be out here!" Marcie exclaimed and hurried out of the cabin door and stood there, a look of repugnance on her pretty face.

Jack spotted the snake, and cringed. Then he relaxed and looked back out the door.

"Oh, come on, babe, it's not even poisonous," Jack remarked.

"I don't care!" Marcie squealed.

Jack, Bill, and Alice all crept quietly towards the snake. Bill raised the machete and brought it down. But the snake sensed it and all of a sudden, as if the snake had flipped a switch inside itself, it suddenly dashed to the left and slithered underneath the bed. The machete stabbed into the wooden floor.

Alice leaped backwards and screamed.

"Oh my God, I cannot sleep with a snake in here!" Alice screamed.

"Can you call it out?" Jack asked.

"How do you call a snake?" Bill questioned.

"There it is!" Jack bellowed and dove for the bed, crashing into the nightstand, sending it sprawling. He tore off the covers, and flipped the mattress, revealing the snake on the other side of the bed, making its way towards Brenda's bed. There was a moment of chaos as Alice grabbed a pillow and threw it at the snake. It missed by a long shot.

"Oh no, you don't," Bill yelled as the snake began to head for the shelter of Brenda's bed. Bill knelt down to the snake, slowly raised the machete into the air, and swung it down.

THWACK.

The machete connected, slicing the snake it half. He swung it again, slicing the snake into three segments. Blood oozed onto the wooden cabin floor.

Alice sighed with relief.

Just then, Ned and Brenda raced in together.

"What happened? We heard screaming!" Ned yelled. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw the dismembered snake, and Bill wielding the machete.

"There was a snake in here," Alice replied.

"Oh gosh, I hate snakes," Brenda commented. "Is it dead?"

Ned stepped closer and examined the dead snake.

"Either that, or it's got a very short clone," Ned joked with a cackle.

The whole room echoed in a chorus of some lighthearted snickers and irritated groans.

"Well, I guess we know what's for dinner," Brenda joked, laughing.

"Ew!" Alice squealed.

"Sick!" Jack cried.

The whole room erupted in a hodge-podge of disgusted exclamations.

"You would be the one to say that, considering you don't eat meat," Bill said. Alice picked up a pillow and whacked Brenda with it, and she laughed again.

"That's disgusting. I don't think I'm going to be able to eat dinner," Alice remarked, scrunching up her face in disgust at the snake.

The chaos settled and everyone began to leave the cabin, except for Bill and Alice.

"I don't even know how it got in here," Alice pondered aloud.

"Probably earlier today. Someone left the door open apparently," Bill stated.

"But, I was in here changing before we went swimming, and it wasn't in here," Alice said.

"Maybe it was hiding,"

"I would have seen it. Trust me," Alice assured, frowning with perplexity.

"Maybe it got in through the window," Bill said, pointing towards the slashed screen.

Alice looked towards the window.

"Now how did that happen?" Alice questioned.

"Alice, this camp is old. A lot of things are pretty screwy," Bill said, sitting down on the bed.

"Yeah, but… I could have sworn that window was fine," Alice insisted.

Bill shrugged.

"Oh well, at least it is dead now," Bill said and walked out of the cabin, taking his machete and gently shutting the door behind him. Alice walked over towards the window with the slashed screen and fingered it, running her fingers down the edge of the slash.

It was a pretty clean cut.

Alice examined it for a moment. Even if the snake got in through this window, how did the snake get up to the window? Snakes don't climb, do they? The window was several feet above the ground.

Alice dismissed it. Bill was right. It was over now. The snake got in here somehow, and she wasn't going to worry about how right now.

Sighing, Alice grabbed a fresh change of clothes and headed for the showers.

It was late in the afternoon, probably a little after four. The sun was low in the sky, and the yellow rays shined down through the branches in the trees. Birds chirped and the crickets had already begun to chirp, only a preview for the nighttime symphony yet to come.

The camp looked peaceful, despite the ominous black clouds that started to form over the lake. The tops of the trees that shaded the camp gently swayed in the breeze, and the canoes that sat near the shore rocked back and forth, the waves that moved them lapping onto the sand.

Thunder softly rumbled in the distance, a warning for the oncoming storm.

Brenda had taken a stroll around the campgrounds, walking briskly. Stepping into the warm rays of the sun after swimming in the cold lake felt wonderful. The shower had also done wonders to her aching muscles, a result of heaving those targets up onto the stands for what seemed like hours.

Her damp hair rested nicely on her shoulders as she strolled. The birds tweeted merrily in the trees above her.

"Hey, you ok?" Marcie asked as she jogged up beside her.

"I guess so. God, it feels so nice out," Brenda commented, kicking a small pebble.

"You can say that again. You still upset about Ned?" Marcie questioned as they slowly walked down the trail.

"A little. I'm just shaken up from the shock of it all,"

"Don't worry about Ned. That's just his way of getting attention. I had a chat with him and he is truly sorry," Marcie explained.

"Oh, I'm not really all that mad. It was just a joke. A really sick one, at that," Brenda remarked. "I mean, why does he feel he has to scare people to death to get them to like him? We were getting along fine until he started acting like a wise guy,"

"Ned just takes things too far. He's so used to cracking jokes, and really, his humor is really all he's got going for him," Marcie responded. "He just wants attention, that's all. He didn't mean to hurt anyone,"

"I know, I know," Brenda said, sighing. It was pretty sad. Brenda really wasn't mad anymore. She planned on giving him another chance.

"So what are going to cook tonight?" Marcie inquired. "The guys were talking about making cheeseburgers,"

"None for me, thanks. I can probably make a salad for myself. You know, if you mix the ingredients just right, you get all the proteins you need," Brenda said. "I think I saw some apples in the pantry. Could you make an apple pie for desert?"

"Ah, sure, no sweat," Marcie replied.

All of a sudden, Marcie and Brenda's conversation was interrupted by the sound of a loud engine. They looked towards the narrow dirt road that led into the camp.

"That's definitely not Steve's Jeep," Brenda proclaimed.

Just then, a motorcycle came speeding into the camp, a cloud of dirt flying up behind him.

It was a police motorcycle, complete with blue and white paint and a siren.

Driving it was a police officer, clad in a uniform and white helmet.

The officer pulled the motorcycle to a halt, cut off the engine, and began to climb off of the bike.

Marcie and Brenda both shared frightened and confounded expressions, and inched slowly and uneasily towards the officer, who approached them.

He was heavily built, broad-chested and muscular; a strapping man in his late forties with legs that were small compared to the rest of his body. He removed the helmet to reveal an unpleasant and intimidating face with a stern and serious expression. He was dark hair that was parted by a large bald spot on the top of his head.

A plate on his uniform read Sergeant Tierney.

"Mind telling me what you kids are doing up here?" he asked distrustfully, studying the teenager's expressions.

Marcie hesitated, and then spoke up. "Uh-we're here helping out Mr. Christy,"

"He's opening this place again?" the sergeant asked.

Both nodded.

All of a sudden, Ned burst out of the main cabin and came bounding down the hill, acting spastic, emitting a loud, Indian-like whoop and prancing around jokingly.

Brenda signaled towards Ned, waving her hand across her throat to notify him to knock it off. Marcie buried her head in her hands.

"Ned!" Brenda half-whispered trying to get his attention.

The officer watched in disbelief, as Ned finally ceased the Indian cry and came to an abrupt halt.

"Oh crap," Ned uttered, seeing the police officer standing in front of them.

"And just what the hell do you think you are doing?" the officer demanded.

"Oh, Ned is just fooling around, officer," Marcie responded, patting Ned on the back and giving him a "don't say another word" glance.

"Now tell me what you kids are really doing," the officer said skeptically, crossing his arms.

Ned began to speak, but the officer stopped him with a wave of his hand.

"Hey, Chief Diamond Phillips, can it. How about you young ladies tell me what is going on here," the officer suggested as Ned did as he was told, and stared at the ground innocently.

"Really, officer, we are just helping Mr. Christy clean things up and get this place in shape for the kids," Brenda told the officer, with the best ingenuous smile she could put on.

"Uh-huh," the officer muttered.

Jack began to walk up and he strolled over towards the motorcycle, running his fingers along the handlebars.

"Hey, nice bike," Jack inquired.

The officer grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.

"Hey, what have you kids been smoking?" the officer questioned.

"Oh, we don't smoke, officer. Causes cancer," Jack said, smiling.

"Oh, don't play dumb. You know what I mean. Weed, grass, the other smoke," the officer replied.

"Um, officer, what can we help you with?" Marcie butted in, before Jack put his foot in his mouth.

"I'm looking for a guy named Ralph. He's the town crazy around here," the officer told the kids, who listened intently.

"There are no crazy people around here," Ned joked. Marcie stifled a laugh.

The officer pointed a reprimanding finger at Ned.

"I told you to sit on it," the officer admonished.

"Um, we haven't seen anyone around here, officer," Jack replied.

"This guy, Ralph, is he dangerous?" Brenda asked.

"Not particularly. But he can be pretty damn persistent. Some of the locals informed me that he had been seen coming up this way, spouting his gospel. He's a nuisance. Every time that loon starts to bother people, he ends up getting a week in jail and I have to spend a day in court," the officer said.

"Well, if he we see him, we'll let you know," Marcie responded, nodding her head, trying to get the officer to leave as quickly as possible.

The officer started to speak again, when his walkie-talkie began to beep. He pulled it from his belt and answered the call.

"This is Tierney over at Crystal Lake," he said into the speaker.

"Haul it back in, Tierney. Chief wants you back on the double," a man's voice came in through the static.

"Roger that. Ten-four. On my way. Over," the officer replied into the walkie-talkie.

The officer set his walkie-talkie into the holster and climbed back onto his bicycle.

"If you see Ralph, let me know. You kids keep your noses clean, understand? You'll be seeing me again if you don't. We ain't gonna stand for no weirdness around here, got it? Especially after all that's happened here," the officer said ominously staring around at the campgrounds.

"We will, Officer," Brenda replied.

The teens stood there watching as the officer revved up the cycle, sped towards the lake, made a U-turn, and cycled off down the dirt road, zooming around the bend and disappearing. The sound of the engine dissipated and everything went quiet again.

"Well then," Jack stated.

"What did he mean, all that's happened here," Marcie asked.

"You don't know? It's why the locals call it Camp Blood. Twenty years ago when it was open, a boy drowned and some counselors were murdered," Ned explained.

"You don't say?" Brenda chimed in, intrigued.

"Neddy is always coming up with strange facts," Marcie said.

"Only this one is true," Ned protested.

"Sure, sure," Jack joked, patting his friend on the back.

The teens laughed.

The prowler watched silently through the window of the generator shed. The knife was held tightly in their right hand.

All those teenagers having a good time. They never cared. Never. They only cared about themselves. Only sought to pleasure themselves. It was sick. The prowler utterly loathed the teenagers, abhorred all the careless and irresponsible activities they engaged in.

Tonight was going to be the end of it all.

The prowler was waiting.

Until the time was just right.

The prowler moved away from the window and looked towards the tool rack. Dozens of old, rusty tools were scattered hapzardly on the wall, held by a single rusty nail. Knives, saws, hatchets, axes, hammers, drills, and various other implements hung from the nails.

The prowler moved closer towards the tools, studying each one.

Each one deadly. The hammers were sturdy and the hatchets were razor sharp.

Friday the 13th would be a day this town would remember.

Late evening began to settle. The camp was nestled among the warm rays of the sun and the big tree branches that overhung the grounds.

Alice still couldn't stop thinking about the snake in her cabin. How did it get in? She didn't leave the door open. The door was flimsy; maybe the snake was able to nudge it open. But why her cabin? Maybe the scent of Brenda's perfume attracted it.

That had to be it.

Alice was supposed to be prepping the kitchen for dinner, but she was much too distracted. It was a shame that Annie never showed up. Maybe she stopped off at a motel to stay the night and was going to come in tomorrow. Hopefully, she was alright.

Alice looked around the kitchen, grabbing ingredients, checking to make sure they had the right stuff to cook with.

The guys wanted burgers for themselves, and Marcie was going to make an apple pie and Brenda was preparing a salad for herself. Alice planned to grab a bite of everything here and there, but she honestly wasn't hungry.

Alice took out a pack of hamburger meat and placed it on the counter-top to thaw. She then grabbed a stack of dirty pots of pans and placed them carefully in the sink. She turned the water on, filled up the sink, and lathered the water up with dish washing soap. Alice began to scrub one of the pans, and looked out the window absent-minded. Something caught her eye.

It was a person.

Or was it?

She couldn't tell. It was too far away.

Alice squinted to try and see the distant object.

It was a dark silhouette standing by one of the sheds. It just stood there motionless. And it was in the outline of a human.

Alice watched it for a moment, trying to figure out who it was.

It didn't look like any of the counselors. Maybe it wasn't a person. She didn't know what else it could be.

Alice glanced down at her work, vigorously scrubbing at a grease stain on a casserole dish. She then looked up out the window.

The figure was gone.

A cold chill ran across Alice's arm and she felt the hair on the back of her neck stand erect.

Alice shuddered. Get a hold of yourself, Alice scolded herself. Now you are seeing things. That incident with the snake has given you the heebie-jeebies and now you are seeing things everywhere.

Alice shook her head sheepishly.

She filled a pot with water, placed it on the stove, and turned the oven, boiling the water for the potatoes.

She sighed and walked to the pantry to grab the potatoes. She reached out and opened the door to the small, dark pantry and stopped dead in her tracks.

A dark figure stood in the pantry.

And this time, he was there. Alice wasn't seeing things. She blinked, but the figure still stood in front of her. It was a man in the pantry.

The man outstretched his arms and advanced towards Alice, reaching for her with gnarled, bony hands.

Alice began to scream. She let out a shriek and reeled backwards, as the man stepped into the light. He was tall and skinny, about in his sixties and seventies, wearing old, dirty work clothes and a brown fedora. His neck was long and skinny and his fingers were knotted and laced with arthritis. His eyes were wide, almost bugging out of his skull.

Alice watched in disbelief as the strange man she had never seen before stepped out of the pantry as Alice cowered against the counter.

"Who are you?" Alice cried in terror.

"I'm a Messenger of God," the man replied, as Alice looked on in bewilderment. "You're doomed. You are all doomed,"

"Look, just leave me alone. Leave all of us alone and go or I'll call the police," Alice threatened. Her hands scrambled across the countertop, groping for a weapon.

All of a sudden, the kitchen door banged open and Ned and Marcie rushed in, and seeing the man, both recoiled with shock.

"Alice, who is this?" Marcie cried, eyeing the strange man.

"I don't know!" Alice mouthed with fear.

"Hey, get out of here, man," Ned demanded, stepping closer to the man threateningly.

The man barely flinched.

He shifted his gaze around to all three teenagers.

"You are all doomed. Leave this place at once. Evil things happen here. You must go," the man warned. He never even blinked.

"No, how about you leave," Ned commanded.

"Yeah, just leave us alone," Marcie said.

The man stood there, watching them all for a few tense moments, and the man started slowly walking towards the front door. He left the cabin and Ned, Marcie, and Alice all moved towards the large picture window in the kitchen that looked out into the front of the cabin.

The man climbed off the porch and walked towards an old, rusty bicycle parked by a tree inconspicuously. He clambered onto it, and pedaled away.

A few awkward moments passed, and Alice let out a sigh of relief.

"I think we just met Ralph," Ned proclaimed.

"God, what's next?" Alice exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

First, Neddy pretends to drown. Then a snake nearly kills me in my cabin, and now some crazy old man shows up and tells them all to leave,' Alice thought.

"Maybe we should call the sheriff. He might come back," Marcie suggested.

"Nah, I think I scared him pretty well," Ned boasted with a grin.

"Yeah, right," Marcie scoffed jokingly.

"Can things get any weirder?" Alice wondered aloud.

"With Ned around, things are sure to get pretty interesting," Marcie replied, laughing.

What Alice didn't know, was, things weren't only going to get weird. But very horrifying as well.

Grease slathered hamburger patties sizzled on the stove, as Alice flipped them with a spatula. Marcie stood beside her and sliced apples into a bowl, while Brenda stood at the kitchen table, tossing a salad.

Brenda sauntered over to the stove and reached above to Alice to grab some pepper out of the spice cabinet. She wrinkled up her nose at the patty as the aroma reached her nostrils.

"How can you guys eat that stuff? It looks like dead animals," Brenda commented as Alice rolled her eyes.

"That's because that's what it is," Alice stated. "I guess the men aren't going to help us,"

She could hear the clacking of a ping pong ball. Bill and Jack had started a rousing game of Ping-Pong and Ned had gone out for a walk.

Alice walked over to the other side of the kitchen, and grabbed a small jar of seasoning. She walked up behind Marcie.

"Guess not," Marcie responded and popped a slice of apple into Alice's mouth as she walked by. Alice bit into the juicy skin of the slice, and chewed it.

She sprinkled the seasoning on the patty and kept flipping it. The kitchen door swung open and Jack strutted in, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck.

"Jack, dear, if you aren't going to help, I suggest you leave me alone. Don't expect me to play cook for you guys all summer," Marcie threatened.

"Oh no, the squaws are revolting," Jack teased.

Marcie made a face, as Alice couldn't help but grin at that sexist comment.

Alice began to stare up at the light bulb dangling above her head.

"Hey, Jack, can you handle the burger for me really quickly," Alice said, stepping away from the stove.

"Sure," Jack answered, grabbing the spatula.

"It's about time," Brenda chimed in with a laugh. Jack scoffed and flipped the patty as it sizzled.

Alice stood up on her tiptoes, fingering the bulb. It flickered a couple of times.

"Well, it's not the bulb," Alice muttered to herself.

"What's wrong with it?" Jack questioned.

"It just seemed a little gloomy in here. I think it might be the generator acting up. I'll be right back," Alice said and strolled from the kitchen. Bill, who sat on the couch, toying with a Ping-Pong paddle, stood up and approached her, placing the Ping Pong paddle on the table in front of him.

"Where you going?" Bill asked.

"I think something is wrong with the generator. If you want to come with me to the shed, you can," Alice said.

"Sure thing," Bill affirmed and followed Alice out the door.

Alice and Bill walked leisurely, but at a quick pace, towards the generator shed. The dark clouds now were directly above their heads, and thunder rumbled.

"Oh great, I hope this weather doesn't keep doing this," Alice commented, outstretching her palm and feeling for raindrops.

"It's supposed to rain a good bit the next few weeks," Bill replied.

There were a few more moments of uncomfortable silence and finally Bill spoke up with hesitation.

"Hey, um, how come you are leaving?" Bill asked.

Alice's breath caught in her throat. How did he know about that? Did Mr. Christy tell him? Surely not.

"H-how did you know about that?" Alice asked.

"She's going to kill me that I ratted her out, but Brenda told me," Bill responded.

"Thanks a lot, Brenda. I knew I could trust you," Alice remarked sarcastically, more to herself than to Bill.

"So, why are you leaving?" Bill asked.

"J-just some personal problems at home. It has nothing to do with you or the others," Alice said.

"Oh," Bill replied despondently.

"I might stay. It just depends," Alice assured as they approached the small, dilapidated shack.

"Well, I hope you stay," Bill said with a smile.

Alice began to beam.

"You're very nice," Alice complimented. Bill pulled open the rickety door to the shed and Alice and Bill ducked into the dour, dank interior of the shed. A naked bulb flickered wildly over their heads.

"Hey, this generator looks just like the one in my uncle's cabin in Maine," Bill commented, running his finger across the generator, resulting in a long black stain on his skin.

"Looks like it is still running" Alice said. Why did she say that? Of course, it was running. It was making that awful droning noise it always did when it was on.

"If I remember correctly, Steve told me how to fix this," Bill said, gently touching the generator again.

Bill kneeled down beside the generator and began to tinker with the machinery. He flipped a switch, and the light bulb in the shed ceased flickering, and shone steadfastly.

"Nice going," Alice praised. Bill dusted his hands off on his jeans and stood up.

"That ought to do it," Bill said, examining the generator again.

"Great, now let's head back before Jack burns the entire cabin down," Alice joked and Bill laughed too as they strolled out of the shed, banging the old, ramshackle door behind them.

What they didn't notice was the bare nail jutting out of the wall like a sore thumb among the other tools. A nail where a tool had once been.

One of the razor-sharp hatchets was missing from the wall.

PART 2 COMING SOON!