Chapter 7:

Whitney blinked her eyes open as the first rays of light penetrated the transparency of the curtains. She had not moved during the night, she had fallen asleep facing Jason. She opened her eyes and he wasn't there. Why? She had fallen asleep with an image in her mind of waking up beside him, why wasn't he there? Would he speak to her if he was? She wished. He hadn't spoken in weeks. She wasn't sure however if she was hurt by this. His silence seemed insignificant compared to the power of his presence.

The sunlight. It had been so, so long. Whitney moved across the bed. The sheets where he had once rested were cold. He left a while ago. Whitney walked across the freezing floor boards to the window. She looked out at the sky, as the sun crept up above the tree tops, bringing light to everything it touched. It had been so long since she witnessed a sunrise, or seen the sunlight at all. She put her hand against the cold of the window, and took a deep breath. She starred out the window as though in a trance. It was like the world on the other side of a dream. The whole world looked... different.

Despite washing herself last night, she barely noticed the layer of dirt still covering her arms. Her eyes just would not adjust to the sunlight. Everything was different in the sunlight. It was blinding.

She had to get out, away from the sun. Whitney moved, slightly disoriented, from the bedroom, and down the stairs. She found the trap door, open and waiting for her. Only when the pale distorted glimmer of the underground lamps were her guiding light could Whitney finally take a deep breath, and calm down. Underground, everything was familiar. She was blinded by the outside world, it was frightening during the day. The sun was no longer a friend. She began running through the tunnels, until she found him.

It was the strangest thing in the world. He was in the grinder room. The mess Whitney had made last night at the machine still covered the floor. He didn't turn around, he was standing with his back turned to her, doing something at the counter. She wanted to see. She moved closer. She would have called out to him, had she not believed he was truly busy with something. What was it that Jason did during the day? Whitney then questioned why he would sleep during the night, if he spent the entire day in the dark. Would it not make more sense to adopt the sleeping habits of a vampire? She knew why... his past, it was not consistent with... Whitney nearly jumped out of her skin when Jason turned around. He had heard her clumsy footsteps, the shuffle of her feet against the bloody dirt. Had she seen a look of relief in his eyes when he realized it was her? Could he have been that distracted to not realize she was there in the first place? She could hardly see his eyes at all through that mask he always wore.

"Jason, I..." her words became lodged in her throat, as though solid matter, disabling her from speaking, and breathing. After what seemed like an eternity, Whitney's exhale was rugged. She peered behind him, she saw what he was doing. He was making the human dish he always made. For now she would accept his mashed victims, but she had immediately begun making plans to plant herself a garden in the clearing, where those idiots went camping. But then., she thought.. he was making her breakfast. Her other now-dead boyfriend had never done that for her... huh...

"I'm hungry." she said. She had him cornered. He couldn't throw her away and rush out like he had done before, unless he wanted to push her into the doorway and run over her. She wanted to smile but couldn't. The intent was there but, something else was happening. She was so nervous but, it wasn't her head leading her to walk to him, it was another part of her, the beating part. She could feel the blood, still wet from the previous night, beneath her feet. He didn't move. She stood before him, slowly removed the bowl from his hands and placed it on the table. If those bells rang she'd massacre the whole bloody town...

Whitney embraced Jason, slowly and gently, again not sure if he would throw her away. She waited, but that didn't happen. He stood with her, and it was a very, very long time before he put an arm around her.

-- -- -- --

"Something isn't write about that Crystal Lake camp these days". Tucker, an old sun burned truck driver with a base ball cap and a torn plaid flannel sweater, stormed half wasted into the gas station just a mile or two out of the woods. Old Mrs. Shevalier, the cashier, nodded, dusting her hands off on her yellow apron.

"You know, ever since them teenagers went missing a few months back, locals ain't gone missing much any more. Its just them campers that ya never see again."

Tucker slammed a $20 onto the glass above the bingo tickets to pay off the gas bill. "Bunch a' us up at County Huntin' lodge is gonna take a peek in and see whats causin' the sudden hush in depopyalation. Care ta join us?"

"Yer off yer nut Tucker... yer all gonna get yerselves killed."

"We got guns" Tucker grinned, gave her a wink, and stormed out of the gas station. Shevalier shook her head...

"If ya don't get yerself killed drivin' under that J.D. first..." she said to herself, pocketing the $20.