Chapter 3 Midnight Dance
Eventually I made it back to camp. Eventually, so did Tripp. He led the counselors and the police back to the bodies. I remained at camp, nobody ever found out I had met up with the killer beforehand. I felt scared. Like Jason was going to come back for me. I knew I would have nightmares tonight. I could've died today.
I called my mother to set my mind at ease.
"Hey, sweetheart. How are you?"
"I'm fine," I stammered, "How's the decorating?"
"Boring," she sighed, "But I'll finish, promise. So, you meet any cute boys yet? Anyone you want to bring home?"
I laughed, "No mum. I don't really have a thing for the Hollister boy type."
"You're so picky!" My mother laughed, "Well, you'll find a guy for you pretty soon. There's someone for everyone."
"Yeah, I know," I sighed, "Mother, why didn't we move somewhere else? Like…. Springwood of something."
"Because Springwood isn't anywhere near a beautiful place like this."
"That's the point," I muttered under my breath.
"What? Didn't catch that." she asked.
"Doesn't matter," I said quickly and hung up.
--
"We are gathered here today to celebrate the departure of Patricia Monroe and Richard Lane…."
It was a windy day today. And cold. There was no burial here. Just a boring funeral everyone was forced to attend.
No one believed Tripp's story about the Pissed off Goalie killer. No one ever will. Except me, and the dead couple.
Whispers of Jason hit my ears, no matter how skeptic people were. Rumors circling around a ghost, or a copycat. The people who viciously hated me said I was in HIS league. Including Tripp, who encouraged that particular rumor. Even though I considered him a total Wanker and a Grade A Pain in the Butt, it still hurt.
I finally cut my hair for the occasion. I did it in the privacy of my cabin with kitchen shears and a mirror. It was shorter, not much, and spikier with more layers. The picture on the magazine called it 'Scene Hair," I called it a total mess. The girl looked cute and mysterious, I looked gothic, minus black hair.
I was dressed in a simple black dress, black Capri stockings, and black converse all stars, the only make-up I had was light ashy eye shadow.
During the middle of the service, I saw him at the edge of the forest. Watching us.
Hunting us.
It was unnerving.
--
"Emo," Tripp told me during lunch.
"Wanker," I replied.
"Goth"
"Twat"
"Vampire"
"Shit head"
"Psycho"
"Fucker"
"Bitch"
"Man-whore."
Tripp smiled, "I've got to hand it to you sweetie. You come out fighting, don't you?"
"Damn straight," I said through gritted teeth.
Tripp smirked," I guess you think I'm lying don't you? That Jason isn't real?"I sneered at him, "No, I believe you. I saw him after all."
He arched his eyebrows, and I KNEW he practiced that move in the mirror, "Really?"
"Really," I smiled, "He isn't THAT scary."
"Funny. Jason's known for slaughtering stupid bitches like you."
"Well, I'm still alive aren't I?"
Tripp glared smugly at me, and I knew he had caught my lie. About the scariness bit. Jason was fucking scary as shit.
"Well, me and a couple of my MATES," he mocked my accent, "Are heading over to the Voorhees cabin. Wanna join us? We need a brave heart."
I should've said no. I KNEW I should have said no. but my cocky attitude got the better of me and I said, "Sure," before I could stop myself. And to my utter horror, I added, "Just make sure none of your big boys come crying to me for their Mommy's."
"Alright," Tripp said, "We'll be looking forward to it."
I stuck my tongue out at his retreating back.
I heard a chuckle come out from behind me, but I turned and all I met was an empty window.
--
I dressed for stealth that night.
Because you KNOW, the first one to die in the woods is the person that wears bright clothing.
They were so visible, you could go blind staring at them. If you wore black, you increased your chances of escaping.
I was in a black long sleeve, a black sweater with my hood pulled up, black pants, and my black Docs, low tops.
They laughed when I showed up, but I ignored them, grabbing a flashlight but not bothering to turn it on.
"Ready Monster Girl?" said Dean's familiar voice. He was the only preps in a sea of skater boys, Tripp's crew, but he didn't want to pass up a chance to scare the Monster Girl.
"Ready when you are love," I smiled.
There was seven of us, including me.
Tripp hurriedly said their names: Claude, Nate, Matt, and Shy. They nodded in approval of me. I shrugged my shoulders silently wishing I brought a bat for protection. At least I had the flashlight. Maybe I could blind 'em.
We began our search.
--
It wasn't long before we found what we were looking for. We dimmed our lights just in case the behemoth was home.
"Ow!" uttered someone in the darkness.
"What?" we all whispered.
"Stubbed my toe. It's nothing."
"Shit, keep it down."
"You hear that?"
"Fuck it. Shut up!"
"I heard something."
"Shut the hell up or else I'll shove my flashlight where the sun don't shine," I snarled at them.
We reached the abandon cabin in silence.
--
"Casa La Voorhees!" Tripp sing-songed triumphantly.
"Don't celebrate yet," I warned, "He could come back."
"Oh yeah?" one of the boys said snidely, "Well don't you worry about it girlie. We'll protect you."
"It's not me I'm worried about," I sneered, "I can protect myself."
"Oh really?" Tripp laughed, "What did you call your last move? 'Running away in idiot terror?'"
His friends cackled and I said coolly, "No," and I grinned, "I call it 'Kicking an asshole into a tree.' Don't you remember that one?"
His friends hooted with laughter.
--
"What do we do if the fucker comes home anyway?" Dean asked.
Tripp smiled, "It wouldn't be hard to elude him. Zombie doesn't have enough brainpower to read Sam I Am."
"Does he have enough brainpower to disembowel people?" I asked, "Cause he seems pretty good at that. You shouldn't underestimate him."
"Are we a serial killer expert now?" Tripp asked.
"No, it's just common sense. Haven't you ever seen a horror movie? Hey even have a list: Rules to Surviving a Horror Movie."
"Such as…" Tripp challenged.
I flopped onto the dusty couch, "Oh, Don't go to a place with a history of violence, don't hang out at the serial killer's home, don't have sex, don't go out at night, if someone dies you should leave…." I droned, "We're all going to die most likely."
"You have a cheery personality," Tripp mocked, "Hey, who brought the bong? I need a break from reality,"
"Don't do drugs. That's another rule."
Someone unzipped a backpack and brought out a joint and lighter, "You want the first puff Monster Girl?"
"No way. You're not lighting up in here crack-head," I scolded, "What if Wayne Deadski catches us with it? We're as good as gone."
Dean chuckled, "As if the freak could figure out what it is anyway."
"I think he'll notice it when his house smells like an ass. Then he'll be pissed. You light it, and I'm gone."
Tripp picked up the lighter and flicked it on, "So can you get your little miss undead ass out of here now?"
I snarled and turned to flounce away, the couch picking up dust. It made me sick. Next time I'm kicking down Jason's door with cleaning supplies and scrubbing this place till it squeaks, even if Jason manages to wedge a knife into my skull.
That's when I tripped and fell on my face. The others laughed. "What the hell?" I shined my light on what I fell over.
I screamed.
--
"It's a fucking arm!" I shrieked, shining the light on the floor.
"Holy shit!" someone gasped.
"Oh fuck!"
"An arm! A goddamn arm!"
I jumped up and ran to the door. No way in hell I was sticking around.
"NO! that's the clos-" someone warned me, but it was too late.
Bodies. There was dead bodies behind this door. Body parts and heads and naked girls and half-dressed boys and they rotted with open eyes and scared faces. And the smell was HORRENDOUS!
I let out a wordless shriek and dashed towards the real door, hearing the boys follow after me. Now that we shined out lights, we saw what the other boy stubbed his toe on.
Dead. Dead. Dead.
All dead.
We were so fucked.
--
"Run! Just keep running!" I instructed at the half-shocked boys.
We continued toward the forest. Tripp and Dean hot on my trail. They couldn't keep up. I was smaller and skinnier, and a natural outdoorsy girl. I was used to this. They weren't.
I heard a voice in the distance.
"Shit! Where's Claude?! Claude! Where are you!?"
"That's Nate," Tripp informed me.
"Tell the fucker to keep it down! He's going to get us killed!" I snarled.
"I can't even see him! He's too far away!"
"Then let's go get him," I shined me light into the forest, to the source of Nate's shouting.
"Claude! Claude! Claude, is that….? CLAUDE!"
Silence.
It made Tripp nervous, "Nate! You shit, is that you?"
Nothing.
"Look, Dean pointed at the floor.
A couple of feet away, there was a white LP shirt on the forest ground.
Those are always the first to be left behind.
"Nate," Tripp stammered.
I backed away.
"He's watching. We got to get out of here."
"Fuck you!" Tripp snarled, "I'm not leaving till I find Nate and Claude. And Matt and Shy. Where ARE those ass-holes?"
I punched Tripp and grabbed the cloth of on his shoulders.
"Listen to me you Pathetic waste of a human. Nate is DEAD. And if we don't move, we'll meet him in Hell. Soon. Most likely, the others are alive, because Jason. Is. HERE."
I let him fall to the ground and gave Dean a look. One or the other.
He followed.
And we left Tripp in the darkness.
--
Where's the path?" I stammered, scared shitless.
We should've been back by now. We should've been back by now. We should've been back by now. We should've been-
There was a crunch of leaves.
"Shit who's there?" Dean asked.
"NO!" I gasped too late. Something whizzed in the air and impaled Dean's shoulder. He cried out and his blood rained on me. I cried out and saw Dean was basically nailed to a tree. He let out a wrenching sound and began to scream in pain.
I rushed over to his side, eyeing the huge machete, and Dean's gushing blood. He was here. He was going to kill us. We were going to be stuffed in his closet to rot with the rest of them.
I looked out for him in a second, and I went back to Dean. He was stuck and looking very sick.
I grabbed the hilt, "This is going to hurt," I said. He whimpered feebly.
"I'll count to three, okay?" he nodded, and I tightened my grip.
"THREE!" I shouted and wrenched the machete out of his flesh.
He cursed so fluently it would have made a sailor blush.
"What happened to one and two, bitch?" he snarled.
"Not enough time you baby. C'mon, we've gotta run."
But we didn't have enough time to do that. Because Jason was before me. His right arm outstretched. I looked at the weapon in my hands.
He wanted his machete back.
I shook my head.
He looked angry and took a step forward.
I took a leap of faith and chucked the knife as far as I could throw it, grabbed Dean's hand (much to his protest) and ran again. I was doing so much running I would be physically fit by the end of the summer.
If I lived to see the rest of the summer.