Chapter Two: Taste In Men
The sunlight was gaining on me and sunning my back a hot pink. Trust me to not put any sunscreen on today of all days. Gnats and other floating insects bothered me constantly and clapping my hands together to squish the little buggers was probably the most exciting thing to happen to me.
That's what got me thinking about this Jason character. Maybe the hicks were bored and wanted to design a feature that would entertain those who visited this tiny place. After all so far it had been a diner, a motorway route and trees to stare at. I took my bottled water out and took yet another sip of the refreshing liquid; if I wasn't careful I would need to go to the bathroom… But there wasn't one for miles.
I finally gave into my urge; I couldn't hold it in any longer. I stepped off the main road and squatted near a tree to do my business. I hated being a girl when it came to this sort of thing, it would be so much easier to be a bloke, to just take a piss standing up and make less of a mess around me. I sighed and tapped my fingers against the harsh tree bark, noting how it had been cut back. As I looked around I realised this was another dirt track, and once finished I wanted to know where this would lead me.
But I pondered the possibilities of actually getting to the right place, of being able to avoid the 'infamous' killer that so far, I hadn't seen any trace of. At least with Big Foot someone was smart enough to make huge footprint boots and go stomping around for people to give chase, yet with Jason the killer… There was nothing.
Perhaps this guy was smarter than first thought… Maybe he laid traps and waited in the dark, after all that old lady did say it was far more dangerous to be out at night. Still I shook it off and-
"OH! Jesus Christ Paige!!" I yelled as I felt my own piss dribble on my leg. I grunted with annoyance and grabbed my facecloth from out of my bag, drying myself in the most undignified position. I was fuming at myself, and God knows I would never tell this part of the story to anyone. Pulling my pants back up and throwing my facecloth into a plastic bag, I grumbled on at myself whilst I looked up for that telltale sign of civilisation.
That's when my grumbling stopped, because there it was. A wooden sign all beaten and moss covered, with the words "Welcome To Camp Crystal Lake" with some of the letters covered. I had found Camp Crystal Lake, AND taken a wicked slash on a tree by its' entrance. Well at least there was one sign to prove it was real that wouldn't embarrass me in front of thousands of strangers when I gave my speech on the Camp's mythical monster. So I walked back outwards towards the lane and got out my trusty camera. I took a picture of the motorway in both directions, jotted the time and miles walked from the town in my journal and walked back down into the shade of the Camp's sign. My camera snapped a few more pictures, one with the moss over it, and then another with the moss moved away by my hands. One shot had my thumb over the lens and I cursed. I couldn't use that at all. I tried a few more and got the right angle. I would have to practise my action shots if I did find Jason, after all, I don't think he'd be the type to strike a pose for my picture, or take his mask off and smile with me like on a night out with friends.
Still as I got through the lane, I smiled at the simple beauty of the lake, and snapped some more photos. The lake itself was gorgeous, and although I couldn't put my camera in the water, I could still use this as part of my presentation. I jotted down the approximate size of the lake, and from that tried to distinguish its' depth. I read somewhere on a police report that whilst the boats tried to fish for the kid's body, the chief had regrettably told Pamela that the lake was full of caves.
I thought that a new theory might be possible. Jason Voorhees never died; instead the kid washed up in one of these caves, and lived off what he could. Somewhere along the line this kid ate or drank something that was good for him, full of nutrients and whatnot, and his body grew over the years until he became this strong guy that everyone was scared of. They mentioned that the killer was tall, built and constantly going, never stopping to rest.
But I think Jason did rest, I think he knew how to conserve this energy to lunge at his opponents or victims, and attack them before they got the chance to attack him first. Well I wouldn't stay out for long, not where he could see me and plot. I would capture this man in photographic glory before he could capture me in his bloody web of death.
I was curious as to why he always had that mask on. Surely if he was as disturbing as the people say, then he wouldn't need a human shaped mask to inflict fear. I started to wonder if there was more to the mask than in the stories, and started my way into the cabins, finding one that would keep me under the radar.
Eventually I found a cabin that had nothing. It was still new though, but there were no lights, no bedding, nothing that would make it difficult to hide my existence. For example, if I needed to move a beer can from the floor every time I wanted to go in or out of a room, then notably this 'killer' would notice if I moved it even a tad to the right or left. But this cabin was as bare as the day of construction, with the nails all perfectly in line in the wood, the bed frame just that without a mattress and most importantly the windows were like postage stamps.
I loved it, and had it been a house for sale, I would've bought it there and then. However this was a mere cabin for rent and so I earned my squatters rights to live here, avoiding the world and it's mystery, and in turn the cabin offered me solitude with the perfect amount of everything for my survival and my camera's perfect shots.
Lovable Authors Note: Hmm... Where to go from here? Tell ya what... I'll add in an awesome graphically stunning slash up scene? Of course I shall!