Chapter 8
Silence. It lay over the world like a heavy blanket, punctuated only by the quiet sounds of frogs and crickets, and the occasional gust of wind. It draped itself around Deborah's shoulders, weighing them down as surely as Tommy's discarded shirt and coat she carried in her arms.
She was alone.
Alone, wrapped in a whirlwind of emotions with no foreseeable end.
She stared dully at the surface of the lake, watching as ripples broke the stillness and sent tiny waves lapping against the dirt at the shoreline. That moment back there, that had been what she wanted... right? To know that the person she was growing to like felt the same way as she did. Yet, in the silent emptiness left in Tommy's receding wake, came the unbidden whispers of endless worries.
Was it real? Did he actually mean it? Or was it just an act to pity the "poor nerdy girl" who probably wouldn't last the night? The thoughts left tingling dread creeping down her arms and clinging to her heart like a ball of black smoke, slowly eating away at her confidence. Again, the fear that she wouldn't be able to survive to see her family again, or even to hold Tommy to the vague promise he'd made resurfaced in her mind.
It would be so easy to just remain where she was, standing by the lake and waiting for Tommy to return. Something in the heavy silence felt like it was begging her to stay, to keep herself locked in one place for the rest of time. Simply gathering enough energy to walk felt like an impossible task, even without her still throbbing ankle. Yet she knew deep down she couldn't stay. The shoreline was far too open and vulnerable; Jason must still be prowling around and he'd see her in no time if he walked close. Staying where she was wasn't even an option.
Tommy had said for her to get out of sight where Jason couldn't find her, but she knew she couldn't do that either. If she allowed herself to hide and Tommy wound up dead, she'd never forgive herself. And more than that even, hiding while he fought seemed cowardly somehow. Even if she couldn't do much, she knew she'd rather be trying to help him stop Jason than waiting in some tent or under a bunk for Jason to find her after he finished with Tommy.
And there was only one way over to the island now.
With the wound on her leg and the unhygienic nature of the lake, not to mention Tommy's cast-off clothing in her arms, she'd never be able to swim over safely but that didn't mean she couldn't get to the island at all. Eric, Vanessa and Tiffany had figured out how to get one of the boats back together, and she knew where the other gas cans were, after all. It wouldn't take too much effort to do the same and get a boat for herself to use.
It was the only plan she had at the moment, anyway.
Reluctantly, Deborah took a deep breath and turned away from the water, forcing herself to walk. Each step felt like what she imagined attempting to wade through hip-deep mud to feel like-slow and ponderous and taking more effort than she expected. Still, after several steps it seemed to be a little easier, even if she did have to stop at regular intervals to let her ankle rest. Above her, the sky seemed to be growing ever darker, heavy with the threat of oncoming rain. It shut out most of the moonlight, giving her slightly better cover in the open expanses along the road. With labored steps, she made slow but steady progress towards the covered wooden bridge and the Blair's Cove Campground beyond, and it gave her time to think.
It had been such a long night, even if she couldn't quite figure out what time it was anymore. After midnight, certainly, but Deborah had no clue how many hours had passed since the campfire. All sense of time had stopped the moment that knife left the lake. She blinked back tears at the memory-they'd been so happy together before that. Nobody could have imagined that Kenny's story was so terrifyingly real back then.
Maybe if he hadn't told the story, maybe if AJ hadn't asked about ghost stories or Vanessa hadn't set up that tasteless prank. Maybe then everyone would still be together and happy. She glanced towards the lake as she turned onto the bridge. Of course, then she wouldn't have met Tommy. She'd still be blushing and hiding whenever Chad walked into the room, all expensive clothes and fashionable hair and brilliantly white smile. Slowly she shook her head-that naivete wasn't something she wanted back.
Still, it just wasn't fair that her friends had to die like that. Buggzy... she'd never actually found his body. He died drawing Jason away from her, and all she'd done was scream. A thought crossed her mind though-Tommy had left the barn to get something earlier, and when he'd met up with her and Adam at the car, he'd been carrying a baseball bat. And then there was the knife he gave her, the one she'd used to stab Jason in the arm only a short while ago. Hadn't Buggzy had a knife with him, as well as his bat?
I guess someone found you after all, Buggzy, she thought. In a way, he'd managed to save her life more than once tonight. Poor Adam and Kenny too; she hadn't even been able to mourn them properly, and now wasn't the time or place to do so. Even with the walls and roof of the bridge, she felt exposed and vulnerable. And horrible as it seemed, she found she couldn't even muster up enough tears to cry anymore, like her eyes were wells that had run dry.
The end of the bridge drew near, and she turned her steps towards the cabins to the north. The gas canisters were up there after all, and she'd need one if she was going to get one of the boats working. The road was sandy and a little slippery underneath the soles of her shoes, not helped by the slight hill that the cabins were built on. The slight wrenching of her ankle from each time her feet slid a little and the extra weight she had to put on it to climb up the hill made the wounds on her leg burn and throb again. Just a few more feet, she told herself, just a few more feet and you can rest. In front of her loomed the first of the line of cabins, she could take a break by there.
As she drew close, however, her footsteps faltered. Something was very wrong with one of the windows on the side. It wasn't just open, it was shattered completely, leaving broken crossbars and great jagged pieces of glass hanging from the window frame. Pieces of glass that, as she drew closer, she saw were streaked with red. She froze, staring at the window for a moment before her eye was drawn downwards to the space in front of it.
There, contorted on the ground, lay the body of Eric Lachappa.
Deborah didn't scream this time, but she clutched Tommy's jacket closer, her fingers clamped around the soft sherpa collar for comfort. Hesitantly she stepped forward, curious despite herself about what had happened while she was away.
His twisted position and the many deep cuts across Eric's body seemed to indicate he'd been thrown through the window from inside, but something else caught her eye as strange. His hair and shoulders were dripping wet, as if someone had held his head underwater while he struggled. She was no detective, however, and speculating on what happened was best left to the police. Providing they ever got to the camp, that is.
Deciding she'd seen enough, Deborah backed away. If Jason had killed Eric, he must have come over here at some point after they'd left, and that made her worry about the boats. It was pointless running off to get the gas if he'd sank the boats after all, so it would be better if she checked. It also conveniently got her away from staring at Eric's corpse out of morbid curiosity.
The path down to the dock was twisty and surrounded by trees, which combined with the lack of sunlight made it very hard to see where she was going. Deborah unhooked the flashlight from her belt and turned it on, holding it out before her to light her path. As she walked, she moved the light a little from side to side without even meaning to, illuminating the trees on either side of the trail.
Which meant when the first flash of color caught the light, she couldn't be sure what she saw, until she deliberately swung her flashlight beam towards it. Deborah immediately regretted it, as she muffled the frightened cry she made by burying her face in the armload of clothing she was carrying.
On one of the trees by the side of the trail, pierced through by a short, sharp branch, hung the body of Tiffany Cox.
Deborah's breath caught in her throat. First Eric, and now Tiffany too! And on her way to the boat as well! The heavy metallic scent of blood washed over her as she reeled away, gagging. Tears stung her eyes as she hobbled faster towards the boat-Tiffany had been so scared when they'd last talked, and now exactly the thing she'd been afraid of had happened. But much as she would have liked to, there was no time to stop to grieve-Jason had surely been here, and that meant he'd likely come across the boat, and Vanessa as well.
Sure enough, as Deborah drew near enough to the dock to see around the side of the small wooden storage nearby, there was a boat just off the dock drifting listlessly on the water. The boats themselves should have been stored properly, out of the way where they couldn't be damaged or stolen. This boat, however, seemed to be in working order-the outboard motor was properly set, and it didn't appear to be taking on water. Still, there was no sign of Vanessa nearby, and Deborah stared out at the water for any glimpse of her blue tracksuit drifting nearby.
Still nothing, but with how murky the water seemed tonight, that was little comfort. After what she'd just seen, Vanessa's chances of surviving seemed all but non-existant. Deborah stepped out onto the dock, trying to be as silent as possible as she gauged the distance to the boat. Depth perception honestly had never been her strongest skill, not with her eyes as weak as they were, but the boat wasn't too far away. Farther than she could reach for sure, and she didn't really want to try swimming to it, but if she could find something to reach with, she might be able to get the boat to drift over to the dock again.
She glanced around the area, looking for something suitable to use. There wasn't anything around that she could see at first, until she noticed the small wooded area she'd just crossed through. Thankfully, with all the trees nearby, there were several good sized branches littering the area, so Deborah set down Tommy's shirt and jacket and went to fetch a nearby stick to use as a pole. Then, she crouched on the edge of the dock and reached as far as she could.
The stick just barely reached, far enough to tug at the side of the boat with a knot jutting from the branch. For a moment or two, the boat remained where it was, bobbing slightly on the water as she tugged at it before reluctantly drifting back to the dock. It bumped up against the end, sluggishly, and Deborah carefully maneuvered it around so that she could get in, placing Tommy's clothes on one of the seats in front of her. Then, she tugged at the starting cord for the engine.
The engine stuttered, coughed and stalled. She tried again, with the same results. Once more she pulled the starter cord and finally the engine started, purring softly behind her. With a glance over her shoulder just to make sure there was no sign of Jason prowling along after her, she pulled away from the dock and out onto the open water of the lake.
After encountering the remains of the last of her friends by the dock (save for Jenny of course, and heaven knows where she was in this mess), Deborah couldn't help feeling a bit paranoid. Each tiny jostle of the boat felt like Jason trying to capsize it, each time the water splashed against the sides turned into hands reaching out of the water after her. It wasn't a very long ride to the small dock on the island, but her nerves were so on edge, she couldn't help noticing every single second that passed. Even the gentle purr of the engine was deafening.
Finally the boat bumped gently into the side of the dock and she turned off the motor. Getting out of the boat with her injured leg was a bit more of a challenge than she'd planned for, with the boat throwing her off balance if she tried to stand, but she managed to scoop up Tommy's clothes and clamber up onto the dock. Relief washed over her as she moved towards the shore and away from the anxiety of riding in the boat. Even if she had no idea what was on the island ahead, at least she could have a chance to respond. The boat, simply put, was a death trap.
A small, overgrown trail lead steeply away from the dock towards the center of the island, and Deborah hobbled along it. Scraggly trees lined the sides, and patches of thick undergrowth crowded the trail, catching at her clothes as she walked. She'd never noticed just how many hills there were in the area until she had to try walking up them when she could barely walk. Thankfully, the hill itself was small, and the trail wasn't very long. A few feet from the dock, the trail rounded a corner and lead to a small clearing of dirt and rock, and tucked away by the mouth of the trail was a small building.
It seemed to be cobbled together from scrap, mostly. Sections of metal or wood, bits of scavenged siding, a half-hearted attempt at a window in the front and a large section of the roof covered with a tarp that draped down near the shabby doorway. The building had most certainly seen better days-it looked more abandoned than anything, with some parts even having fallen off nearby, littering the ground with sections of wood or bits of corrugated metal that had rusted off. It wasn't out of the realm of possibility that Kenny had come across the small shack at some point, leading to the island being ruled off-limits. Indeed, the shack itself looked almost like it could have been the product of some local kids making some kind of fort, which any other time would likely have been Deborah's guess at its origin.
Now, however, she had a different guess. Tommy's mention of Jason possibly having some kind of house around the lake came back into her mind, along with the thought that maybe, just maybe, there'd be something helpful inside. The dark clouds hung heavy overhead and the distant rumble of thunder broke the silence around her. If nothing else, the shack would provide some shelter from any rain that decided to fall.
She walked the short distance to the shack. The wooden door hung open on hinges that were all but decayed, and she peered around the doorway before entering. A small puddle of water lay just inside the door, with a wet trail of footprints and a trail of droplets leading further in. As she entered, as quietly as she could, she spotted the source-Tommy Jarvis himself, crouched in the center of the floor with his back towards her as he surveyed the room, looking for all the world like a tiger about to pounce. The silence of the world around her felt far too heavy to break with talking, so instead she took a few cautious steps over before reaching out her hand to touch him lightly on the shoulder.
Immediately, Tommy shot to his feet, spinning around as he did so and drawing back his fist to strike. His punch narrowly missed her head, most likely only because at the last second he realized just who had approached him. Deborah clung tightly to the armload of clothing she carried as she stepped back, shocked at the wild look she'd seen in his steely eyes. Evidently Tommy was shocked at himself as well as his hand dropped back to his side, his breathing ragged and his eyebrows lifting slightly in surprise before they snapped down close over his eyes.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he hissed fiercely. "I told you to find someplace to hide!"
"I-" The expression on his face made her words falter. Anger? Fear? She couldn't tell, and it took all her courage to speak when he was glaring that way. "I- I couldn't let you do this alone! It's way too dangerous! What if you get hurt? What if- what if something awful-"
Abruptly, Tommy grabbed her arm and yanked it towards himself, pulling her off-balance with the amount of force he put into tugging on it. With her arm pulled away like that, Deborah lost hold of the bundle of clothes she was carrying, and they fell to the floor of the cabin in a heap. Tommy simply walked briskly around them, unfazed as he pulled her along behind him towards the door. "How did you get over here?" he asked, sparing barely a glance in her direction.
"I used one of the motorboats," Deborah answered, wincing as she hobbled to keep up with his pace. His fingers dug into her arm painfully. The ground outside the cabin and down along the trail was far too rocky for her to navigate easily at the pace he was setting, and she stumbled with nearly every step. "Tommy, the others... they didn't-"
As the path reached the dock, it widened and flattened out, letting Deborah catch back up. Tommy had taken only a few steps onto the wooden boards before he froze and swore under his breath. The boat she'd ridden over was half-grounded in the shallows and listing to one side, with water seeping into the hull. One thing was certain: she hadn't left it that way, and if Tommy hadn't known she'd taken a boat over... A chill ran down her back that had nothing at all to do with the faint breeze drifting over the lake.
"Back, back," he urged, turning and pushing her ahead of him up the trail. Her good foot caught on a rock, tossing her weight onto her other side and bringing tears to her eyes as she bit back a shout of pain. Her stumble brought a soft groan of frustration from Tommy, and before she knew it Tommy had spun her around, bent down, wrapped his arms around her waist, and tossed her over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. The suddenness of the movement and the impact of his shoulder into her stomach took her breath away, but she didn't struggle as he stood and walked back to the small shack as quickly as he could.
Around them as they trekked back along the trail, the world seemed to have gone eerily silent again. The frogs and crickets had ceased their chirping, and the only sound left was the crunch of Tommy's boots on the dirt, and the faint peals of thunder in the distance. Soon they reached the cabin, and Deborah again felt her world spin as Tommy deposited her onto something just a few steps inside the door. A quick glance showed her resting place to be a shabby looking toilet, tucked into a small alcove of the room. Her face wrinkled with revulsion and she started to stand, but Tommy pushed her shoulders down, forcing her back to a seated position.
"Stay. Put." Tommy said, jabbing his finger downwards in front of her face for emphasis on each word. "This is between me and Jason, and I don't want you getting hurt too." His eyes looked less angry now but no less intense, leading Deborah to realize his actions before hadn't been anger at all. If anything, he was terrified-terrified for her safety, and likely for himself and the danger he was about to put himself into as well. Yet if he had any second thoughts about his plan, he didn't show them.
Deborah opened her mouth to speak, but Tommy held up a finger to silence her. Then, he yanked a ragged curtain across her view, shielding her from view. "Stay out of sight," he warned, and she heard him walk away from her hiding place.
Tommy had been able to examine the room for several minutes before Deborah had shown up, so he knew exactly what he was looking for. An old firewood axe was stuck in a nearby wall, likely left there by Jason years before. It took a few strong tugs before it came free from the wall and Tommy nearly lost his balance in the process. The metal head was growing rusty, and the blade was likely not very sharp from all the time spent lodged in a wall, but it was at least some kind of weapon. It would have to do.
Again he walked around the pile of clothes Deborah had dropped on his way to the door. There was no sense putting the shirt and jacket back on; the bulk would only hinder his movements, and besides, if by some miracle he lived through his plan, he might want them back. It wasn't that cold out on the lake anyway, and he'd probably be moving around enough to stay warm in a few minutes. Still, he shivered a bit as he entered the clearing outside the shack.
It was now or never-his last chance to turn back. But of course, turning back wasn't an option really, not if he wanted the nightmares to stop. And one way or another, he vowed they'd stop tonight.
"Jason!" he shouted, as loud as his hoarse, half-strangled voice could get. "I'm waitin' for ya! Come and get me!" He gripped the axe handle tighter to keep his suddenly sweaty palms from losing their grip. "C'mon, Maggot Head! I'm waitin'!" He looked turned from side to side as he called, looking around for signs of movement. As he inhaled again, about to start another round of taunts, something caught his eye, and he turned to look.
Rising up from the water's edge, and stalking ever closer up the trail was the cadaverous form of Jason Voorhees.
Tommy locked his eyes on his adversary and widened his stance, his hands gripping the axe in anticipation. He'd asked for a fight, and there was no backing out now.
