When Tina and Eddie didn't show up for dinner, Matt went into a frenzy, checking every room.
They weren't anywhere in the house.
After two more hours had passed and night fell over the farmhouse, he got even more concerned and went out to the creek near Ethel's farm, and they weren't there either.
Pam and Matt stood outside the front door no, scanning the yard for any sign of Tina and Eddie running towards the house.
"I just don't understand it," Matt said.
If they weren't in their rooms or out in the woods, where the hell were they? It was about time to have to enforce some stricter rules.
Come tomorrow, it was no more Mr. Nice Guy, Matt thought.
Little did they know, for some of them, tomorrow would never come.
"Pam, let's get this show on the road!" Reggie called from the passenger seat of Pam's blue pick-up truck.
She had promised to take Reggie to see his brother at a nearby trailer park, and he was getting more impatient by the minute. George leaned against the hood of the truck and gave him a dirty look.
"Wait a minute, Reggie!" she ordered.
"Now, Reggie…" George said. Reggie rolled his eyes, feeling a lecture coming on. "You better be on your best behavior with Pam. She's doing us a great favor,"
Reggie slumped in the seat.
"Yeah, if she ever gets here," Reggie whined.
George ignored his impatient remarks.
"And don't you get into any trouble with Demon," George said.
"Alright, alright…" Reggie moaned. "Yo, Pam, come on!"
"I'm coming!" Pam shouted back at him.
There was no use. He wouldn't shut up unless she drove him to see his brother.
She turned to Matt, trying to ease his worries.
"I'm sure Tina and Eddie will show up when they get hungry," Pam said reassuringly. "So stop worrying,"
Matt chuckled and shoved his hands in his pockets, his eyes still looking everywhere for his missing patients.
"I'm not worried anymore, I'm just pissed," he said. "They missed dinner, Tina didn't finish laundry…what am I doing here?"
"Stop it," Pam chided him.
As Pam started to walk towards the truck, she glanced over a large oak tree near the front porch and saw Tommy leaning against it.
Matt noticed him, and leaned closer to Pam, whispering.
"Why don't you take Tommy with you? It'll probably do him good to get him out of here for a while,"
"Yeah, that's a good idea," Pam replied.
"Hey, Tommy!" Matt called in a kind voice. "Pam's taking Reggie to see his brother tonight. Why don't you ride along with them?"
"Yeah, great idea, now let's go!" Reggie chimed in, as he was met with another stern look from George.
"Well, go see what you can do," Matt said.
Pam took a deep breath.
This may be her chance to prove herself to Matt, and to herself, she thought. Maybe she could finally crack him and get him to open up.
Tommy still hadn't responded to Matt's question.
"Hey, Tommy," she said politely and began to approach him.
He didn't respond, and kept his back turned.
"Tommy?" she said, and gingerly touched him.
Tommy reluctantly turned around to face Pam, awkwardly glancing around and not making eye contact.
"Come on, it'll be fun," she said, and smiled at him.
After a few nervous seconds of shifting his weight uncomfortably, Tommy nodded.
"Good," Pam said.
Tommy slowly shuffled over to the truck where George held the door as he slid into the passenger seat beside Reggie who sat in the middle.
George and Matt watched as Pam climbed into the driver's seat and the blue pick-up disappeared down the long, winding road, passed the barn and then hit the main road where Pam sped up to the speed limit.
As they drove, Pam was trying to focus on Tommy, trying to find the right words to say to him but nothing would come out.
She had never had this happen..
Why did he instill so much fear in her? He was a sixteen year old boy, she thought. It shouldn't be this hard to communicate with him, but the whole ride, she was biting her tongue, wanting to say something but not saying anything.
Tommy stayed silent, staring out the window and watching the never-ending reel of moving trees.
Pam decided it was just best to shut up and enjoy the ride for now.
Maybe he just needed to settle in. Once she worked with a patient who did nothing but sleep for days. Once they were accustomed to the environment and the social atmosphere, little by little they would open up, start smiling, and socializing with other kids again.
Pushing him too hard this early into his treatment may not be effective.
She scanned the road, looking for Tina and Eddie to come popping out of the woods somewhere, or having sex on the shoulder for the world to see.
Pam hoped that they were alright. Had Ethel meant what she said during her diatribe?
Pam thought back to exactly what she had said.
"I'm gonna blow yer fuckin' brains out!"
Had she really meant that?
What if they were lying dead in the woods from shotgun blasts? Pam wondered.
She knew Ethel was crazy, but not that crazy.
Not crazy enough to kill.
Or maybe she was.
Just like Pamela Voorhees.
Back at the house before Tina and Eddie went missing, Pam had ducked into Matt's office and read Tommy's file more in depth.
The name Jason Voorhees had intrigued her, and she had remembered reading about the whole story. She wanted to know more.
If she knew more about Tommy's past, she could figure out how to reach him.
She read that Pamela Voorhees, bereaved from the grief of losing her son in a drowning accident, went on a mad killing spree back in 1979, leaving a sole survivor.
The remote summer camp where she worked as a cook and where her son, Jason, had drowned became the perfect place for a massacre that lasted for some twenty years.
The survivor's name was Alice.
Pamela slaughtered all of Alice's fellow counselors that summer night at Camp Crystal Lake, posing all their bodies for Alice to find.
Alice had finally managed to gain the upperhand on the mad killer, and decapitated her with her own machete.
Dear God, the trauma that poor girl had been through, Pam thought.
Her mind had actually become so disengaged with reality that she made up this story about being snatched out of a canoe the next morning by none other than Jason Voorhees, the boy who had drowned in the lake.
She had sworn that it was Jason, that she saw the rotting figure in the flesh in all of its grotesque-ness. Rotting from all those years spent at the bottom of Crystal Lake.
But of course, Pam knew that such a thing wasn't possible.
There is no way Jason could have survived.
It was probably just a hallucination that she had in her sleep when she was lying in the canoe.
Pam knew all about sleep. She did several sleep studies to help pay for her textbooks in college.
People can imagine and believe they saw all kinds of things.
There is even a phenomenon known as 'sleep paralysis' where a person can be sleeping but totally aware of their surroundings. During this aware period, they may see things in their bedroom such as apparitions or demons or shadowy figures.
The brain was very complicated, and she knew that usually there is always a scientific explanation for most things.
Plus, Alice's brain had experienced so much stress that it was understandable that it probably had stopped working correctly in order to aid her survival.
Pam had seen scans of people's brains when they are under stress, and the emotional side of your brain completely flares up.
The point being, you can't always trust your senses.
Maybe when the police had grabbed her from the canoe, she thought they were Jason, pulling her down into the depths.
What really piqued her interest was that just a few months after Alice's nightmare at Crystal Lake, the police found her ransacked, blood-splattered empty apartment but no sign of Alice.
And then, more murders happened.
Picture it: A small counselor training center on the shore of Crystal Lake and a young group of college coeds.
Evil struck again as more bodies began to fall. Was it Jason, back from the dead to avenge his mother? How could it be his mother? She was long since dead.
This time, the survivor of the murders swore that it was Jason. She swore that she had seen him fully unmasked and that he was a barely human creature living out in the woods in a shack and eating animals to survive.
A few days later? Another group of kids is attacked. The survivor said the same thing, that it was a hideously deformed man in a hockey mask that had been after her and had killed all of her friends.
Then, disaster struck again, and the same hockey-masked maniac ended up meeting his match with Tommy.
Pam had been shocked at reading the dark history of Crystal Lake. She was almost resentful at Matt for not warning her, for taking her out in the middle of nowhere so close to a place where many murders had happened. If she would have known all about the history of Camp Blood as they called it, she never would have accepted the job offer and she'd be back, curled up by the fire in her apartment in the city and drinking tea.
She wondered how much of the story was true. Had it been Jason? Or someone else?
The police said the body was Jason Voorhees, but there was still room for doubt. There certainly would have been no way to identify him.
Small towns can pass around stories until the story is a totally different version of the truth, kind of like "The Telephone Game". If you pass on even a single phrase to someone, it can get distorted the more and more times that it's passed on.
Eventually, you end up with a completely different phrase.
Maybe there was a Jason. And maybe his mother did seek her revenge.
But there was no way for a young boy like Jason to survive out in the wilderness for that long, was there?
Maybe it was someone else.
That meant that whoever had killed all those kids at Crystal Lake was still out there, watching, and waiting…
Like another Ted Bundy.
She shivered all over.
Don't go freaking yourself out, she told herself. No need to go scaring herself into a frenzy.
Tina and Eddie were probably at the police station being held for trespassing. They'd be brought up in the morning, as usual.
There was nothing to worry about.
As the dark blue pickup-truck took a left at a flickering neon sign that read "24 HR TRAILER PARK", thunder rumbled overhead in the distance.
The truck pulled to a stop just outside a maroon van parked near the entrance.
Pam shut off the truck and climbed out, as Reggie shoved past her and ran towards the van.
Tommy slid out in the same direction and
stepped out, leaning against the truck, his head hung somberly.
Pam noticed him withdrawing again, and she nudged him.
"Come on, come meet some new people, Tommy," she encouraged him.
Tommy shook his head.
"I'll just wait here," he said softly.
"Come on.." Pam said.
"No, it's fine. I'm okay," he replied.
Pam resolved to just let him be, and walked towards the van, telling herself that he had to make the decision to engage with life again on his own.
Reggie rapped on the back doors of the van.
"Yo, Demon!" Reggie shouted.
From inside the van, a young man's voice called out.
"Is that the Big Bad Wolf rappin' at my door?" the voice said.
"Yeah, it's me, bro, open up!"
"Is that you, Reckless?"
"Open up the door!"
The van doors swung wide open to reveal an interior straight out of an 80s disco bar.
Posters of Michael Jackson and ZZ Top were posted on the walls of the big, converted living space Demon had renovated in the van.
Shag carpet lined the floor and a lava lamp glowed on a table in the corner.
A foxy, young girl in her early twenties was smoking a joint and lounging on a couch.
Pam's eyes grew wide as she saw the bong and smelled the skunky aroma of marijuana. She now understood why George was hesitant to let Reggie visit.
Demon was a tall, skinny man in his early twenties with big, styled, dark curls. He looked the part of a musician, Pam decided, as she saw his leather jacket and matching skin-tight leather pants.
"Oh my God…" Demon said, seeing his younger brother. "Get yo' ass in here, boy!"
They hugged and Demon playfully rubbed his head.
"Good to see ya, dude," Demon said. "Damn, you look good!"
"I know, I know.." Reggie said, grinning from ear-to-ear.
It was really sweet to Pam. They must not have been able to see each other very often, she thought, seeing the way Reggie's face was lit up with joy.
It seemed like Reggie really looked up to him.
"Hey, you had any dinner?" Demon asked.
He reached for a take-out tray sitting on the coffee table.
"Here, have an enchilada,"
Reggie took the takeout tray in his hands and was about to dig in, when he noticed the silver rows of jewelry across Demon's knuckles.
"Wow man, where'd you get those bad rings?" Reggie asked, admiring his bling.
"If you've been around the world as long as your older brother has, you get things," Demon said.
Then, Reggie's eyes directed towards the girl lying back on the comfortable-looking couch.
"Freakin A…where'd you get that?" Reggie asked, stunned by her beauty.
Her jet-black hair was styled up high and big, fitting for an 80s rock band. She looked like had just done a show, and was probably one of his background singers, Pam thought. She wore a shiny blue top and leather pants, and her makeup was dramatic but tasteful. Her skin was like smooth caramel and her eyes were emerald green.
"Hey, calm down, dude, say hello to Anita. She's my girlfriend,"
Reggie couldn't take his eyes off of her.
She took a drag of the joint and smiled at him.
"Hello, beautiful," he said with boyish charm.
"Hey, little brotha, what's happening?" she said.
"I want all of y'all to meet somebody," Reggie declared. "Pam, come here!"
He motioned for Pam to come inside the van and Pam poked her head in nervously.
"Hi," she said, trying not to crinkle her nose at the thick smoke that clouded the interior of the van.
"This is Pam. This is my girlfriend," Reggie said proudly.
Demon surveyed Pam's features and looked on in admiration.
"Well, hello, Pam…"
Back at the truck, Tommy was staring at the flickering lamp post that provided a small halo of dim light in the darkened parking area.
Socializing required far too much effort, and Tommy hardly had any energy.
His dreams had kept him up again.
They wouldn't stop coming.
Bits of memories were coming back piece-by-piece, parts of his life that were lost due to his dissociation and his black-outs. He remembered hiding up in his bedroom, huddled with Trish, watching fearfully as Jason hacked at his bedroom door with an ax.
He remembered being up in his bathroom, shaving his head bare, trying to resemble a photo he had seen of Jason as a child in an attempt to confuse him.
Then, he had called Jason's name as Jason was strangling the life out of Trish on the living room floor.
Jason had turned to look at him, and was suddenly caught in some kind of trance. That's when Trish picked up the machete and swung at him.
But it missed. Knocking off his hockey mask.
What was underneath had made Trish start to cry with sheer horror.
He was a true monster. Not like in one of Tommy's favorite movies. A real one.
Hideously deformed.
A bulbous, yellow, leathery head with piercing eyes that were ravenous for blood, a terrifying snaggletoothed sneer attached to a massive body that smelled of death and filth.
He remembered the way the blood had profusely oozed out the gaping wound in Jason's skull, and how he had fallen like a pine tree and lay dead on their living room floor.
But he came alive again, twitching on the floor in a death spasm.
That's the last thing Tommy remembered.
The police had said he had gone into a savage rampage, hacking Jason repeatedly with the machete.
Tommy didn't remember a thing.
It was all a blur.
Just a tortured, fractured and hazy memory when he was awake, but in his dreams, they came back vivid and surreal as ever.
And the worst part of it all, was that he knew the dream had been real. It really happened.
Jason Voorhees actually had been alive and standing in front of him.
When would he finally be rid of his past? When would he be able to okay with what had happened? It had been two years.
Why couldn't he just get over it? he thought. What was wrong with him?
It was as if Jason's darkness had somehow gotten into him and seeped into his bones.
Maybe it was the curse of Crystal Lake. Maybe it was just that town. That goddamn town. Maybe something was in the water supply, and it made people crazy and turned them into serial killers.
First Jason's mother loses her mind, and her son Jason turns out to be just as deranged.
The only problem was, the curse had followed him home from Crystal Lake and ruined his life back in the city with his older sister and his father.
It had to be a curse.
And the curse was Jason.
Tommy looked up into the neon blue glow of the trailer park sign, and he almost became transfixed on it.
As he tried to shut out terrible memories and voices, he stared into the light.
He stared past the light into oblivion.
Feeling nothing.
His mind racing.
His stomach wrenching.
Suddenly, another light hit him in the face.
FLASH.
He heard the raucous and blaringly loud revving of an engine, and Tommy held out his hands in defense of the bright light that was flying towards him.
The battered Harley motorcycle came to a lurching stop inches away from Tommy's waist.
He looked up to see Junior who had a dopey grin on his face. He guffawed with laughter.
"I really got ya, didn't I! I really scared ya huh?"
Tommy didn't say a word. His lips tightened. His jaw locked. His fists clenched.
But he remained calm by the skin of his teeth.
"What, are you dumb or something?" Junior mocked Tommy's silence. Slobber dribbled down his chin as he stepped closer to Tommy.
Then, Junior glanced over at the blue pick-up truck and his laughter stopped. His grin morphed into a nasty sneer.
"You're one of them crazies from the loony bin!" Junior said angrily.
His face twisted into a hateful grimace. His lips curled with rage.
"Oh my mama's gonna chop you up into itty bitty pieces, my friend," Junior threatened, poking Tommy hard in the shoulder.
Tommy stood like a stone and glared at him, trying to breathe in and out.
The breathing wasn't working.
"You hearin' me!?" Junior shouted.
He pushed Tommy this time. Hard.
Tommy didn't blink.
"I said you hearin' me?!"
Still no answer.
Without warning, Junior reared back and took a wild swing at Tommy's head.
"You…fuckin' lunatic!" he bellowed but Tommy
was too fast. He ducked and rose to his feet, delivering a solid left hook to Junior's jaw.
Then, several more body blows.
Junior doubled over in pain, and tried to get a hit in, but Tommy dodged faster than lightning and kneed him hard in the midriff.
Tommy tried to stop himself, and backed away, his head in his hands, losing control fast.
But Junior came at him. Again.
His grimy hands went for Tommy's throat and squeezed: Tommy instantly landed a counter-move, twisting both of his arms and dashing around behind him, delivering jabs to his ribs. Junior cried out in pain.
Tommy kicked at his calves, sending him onto his back.
Junior suddenly lurched upwards, grabbing onto Tommy's shirt and pulling himself up. He glared up at Tommy furiously, snot and blood cascading from his nose and mouth.
He tried to reach for Tommy's throat, but he was too weak. Tommy hit him again in the belly and he keeled over.
Just as Junior went down a second time, Pam came sprinting from the van, seeing what was happening.
Tommy grabbed Junior by the collar and reared back at his fist, letting out a battle cry.
Like a shot had rung out, Tommy suddenly froze as he heard Pam call his name frantically.
"Tommy, no!"
Just like Trish had begged him to stop.
It was happening to him all over again.
Except this time, he was the monster.
Tommy couldn't believe what he had done. He stood back as the bloodied and dazed Junior fell onto his stomach, moaning with pain.
He backed away in disgust and horror as all of a sudden, everything was spinning. His heart thumped in his ears and he tried to get a gasp of air but he couldn't.
The only urge in his body to run.
Pam watched in shock as Tommy suddenly ran across the road and disappeared into the woods.
"Reggie, we have to go!" Pam yelled back at the van.
With that, Reggie hugged Demon and hurried towards the truck with Pam.
"Take care, bro, alright!" Demon called after him.
"I will!" Reggie said.
"Stay cool, baby," Anita said.
She took a puff of her joint, and waved as Pam and Reggie climbed into the pick-up and sped down the road back towards the Pinehurst Center.
Tommy was on the run.
The woods were quiet and dark. Night was slowly enveloping the backwoods town. A full moon hung in the sky, its hoary glow slowly being obscured by dark, voluminous storm clouds.
The woods were not empty.
Someone was out there.
It was an evil presence, a hateful presence, but the residents were peacefully in their homes, unaware and blissfully ignorant.
Ethel was also ignorant, but far from blissful.
She stood anxiously at the open kitchen window, looking out at the long dark country road leading past her trailer.
Junior wasn't home and it was getting late.
Ethel felt like she had been losing her mind.
All of her things were disappearing.
First, it was her gardening shears.
Then, her meat cleaver vanished from the kitchen.
The only logical explanation was that Raymond had to have taken them, since she hadn't seen or heard from him since yesterday.
She knew she shouldn't have trusted him, but she needed some work done around her farm and he was doing it for no money.
Just a warm, hot meal was all he had wanted, and that had made her think he was honest.
And now, she was going to have to go into town and buy new supplies that she couldn't afford.
"Where is that dumb fuck?" Ethel said to herself as she listened for the sound of Junior's motorcycle pulling in, but heard nothing.
He probably had gotten lost, or had gotten taken in by Sheriff Tucker for driving like a moron on the highway.
He could be so ungrateful. The man couldn't even be home in time for dinner; at least her ex husband had managed to do as much. Junior couldn't even be grateful for all that she did for him.
She did his laundry, and that was a lot considering he was an absolute slob and made a complete mess of himself during his day.
She cooked meals for him. She stayed out in the hot sun for hours tending her garden so they could have food to put in his monstrous belly.
And she didn't see how it paid off for her. Sometimes, she even daydreamed of leaving him one day, but how would he take care of himself? He could barely get dressed.
She would sometimes fantasize about dropping him off at the nuthouse and catching a bus to Las Vegas.
There, she could be free. If her body was in better shape, she'd consider going and working at a strip club or a bar. It sure beat the hell out of whatever she had going on. Maybe she could get a job at a casino as a waitress or a dealer. She knew how to deal all kinds of card games, from blackjack, to poker.
Maybe that could be her second peak in life. Living out the rest of her days in a place like Vegas, smoking cigarettes by the box, drinking good bourbon and gambling in one of those fancy casinos that lined the boulevards.
But it looked to her like she'd spend the rest of her life caring for Junior and living in this dead town with nothing to her name.
If only she had gotten out a long time ago, she wouldn't be in this mess. This mess that was her life.
Maybe she could go to Reno, and wear sequins and drink scotch on a balcony somewhere.
Or maybe somewhere out in the Midwest. Somewhere with better kinds of people, and not mentally unwell sex-crazed teenagers and cops who don't do a damn thing about them. A town where the mayor doesn't think of the great idea to take a bunch of crazies and let them
wander around willy-nilly. A town where poor people could get a chance.
There was no chance in Pinehurst.
Sometimes, she thought she might lose her mind, just like the Voorhees woman did a few years ago.
Maybe if she had the opportunity she'd just lose it and take an ax to all those "loonies", as she called them.
She could at the very least relate to Mrs. Voorhees, having to care for her disabled son, but Ethel had a feeling if Junior had somehow drowned in a lake, she wouldn't be that broken up about it.
She definitely didn't think she would go to the lengths that the Voorhees woman had gone to. She loved Junior, some of the time, but she didn't love him that much.
Ethel wished she hadn't gotten knocked up at eighteen. It left her with a man-child of a son that had no future ahead of him.
All he ever did was ride around on his motorcycle, eat, and shit.
If she could have told her younger self some advice, it would be to never have kids.
Back then, she had been completely against the idea of abortion, but now, after living with Junior for all these years, she was starting to understand the idea.
If she only could have had that pregnancy ended back in her twenties, then she could have gone on with her life as she was. Junior had completely changed her trajectory.
I ain't never making that mistake again, she thought. Never would she ever have another kid. They were expensive, needy and ungrateful.
She had been slaving over another serving of her vegetable stew for hours, and Junior wasn't even
home to eat.
The only good thing it had brought her was a check from the government and it barely covered her expenses.
It wasn't enough to cover groceries. That's why she had been forced to start gardening just to survive. It was the only thing she knew how to do in order to make money and it had come in handy, but it was a lot of daily work and Junior didn't help her one bit.
How could he? Anything he did, he messed up. When he'd try to water her plants for the day, he would always overwater them or underwater them and eventually kill them.
It was like living with a toddler for more than twenty years. It had really started to take a toll on her mind.
It was no wonder she had taken out all of her anger at those loonies at the nuthouse.
She simply couldn't believe that this was where she had ended up. High school had been so carefree, so fun. Everything after that had been downhill and she was surprised she was alive after everything that had happened.
She could have been easily killed by her ex husband.
Life really was a bitch, she thought.
Her ex husband's genes must have been bad. Real bad. There was no way Ethel believed that Junior's mental disability came from her side of the family.
It was all his fault. He just had to go out and have the next best thing and not care about his responsibilities.
Sometimes she just wished a tornado would blow through and whisk her entire trailer away. Junior would end up blown away somewhere in a field God knows where and she could finally start over.
She stirred the large pot of soup that sat on the stove, and sighed.
The quietness of the woods nearby were suddenly broken by the revving of an engine growing louder and louder.
As if on cue, Ethel heard Junior screaming maniacally, driving his motorcycle like a bat out of hell through the gate onto her property.
"Maaa!!" he bellowed. He let out another animalistic cry, raving and yelling like a lunatic.
He sped past the kitchen window, speeding around the trailer, through the backyard and around the other side, mud flying, his tires spinning rapidly.
Blood was cascading out of his nostrils and his mouth.
"He hurt me, Maaa!" Junior shouted.
"I'm making your dinner, Junior!" Ethel screamed angrily over the sound of the blazing motorcycle engine.
Junior didn't hear a thing.
In a rage, he did a wheelie, and then looped around a tree, careening around the trailer several more times.
"They hurt me, Ma! Them fucking loonies hurt me!" he shouted. "Kill em, Ma! Chop em up and kill em'!"
"Come in here, get off that fuckin' bike and eat your stew!" Ethel yelled back at him.
As Junior sped past the large tree in the front yard, the blade of Ethel's meat cleaver flashed out from
behind it.
Junior's eyes got wide as he saw the blade of the cleaver held by the man's hand jutting out from
behind the tree, but he didn't have any time to stop the bike.
The sharpened cleaver sliced straight through Junior's neck.
The motorcycle launched forward and crashed into the picket fence.
Junior's head hit the ground.
His body made a second thud.
Now, the woods were silent again as the motorcycle's engine died, coming to an abrupt halt.
Ethel continued peeling and slicing tomatoes into the stew, shaking her head.
There was a creak outside the kitchen window, as someone climbed onto the porch.
"About time, ya fuckwad," Ethel said. "I knew you couldn't pass up on my stew,"
The footsteps outside the kitchen window got closer.
"You hearin' me, Junior?"
There was just silence now.
And then, without warning, the kitchen window imploded inwards, sending shards of glass flying.
The blade of her own meat cleaver came smashing through the window and she felt the cold steel tear into her as it split her forehead clean down the middle.
Her eyes opened wide at the unbelievable pain. Her hand squeezed the tomato in the throes of agony, smashing it into mush. She fell, face down into the hot pot of stew, but didn't feel it.
Ethel was long gone by the time the evil was disappearing back into the trees.
Surely, Tommy couldn't have gotten very far, Pam thought.
She steered the pick-up truck down the country road, as she stared up through the windshield at the lightning that flashed in the distance and the dark, oppressive storm clouds that were gathering and obscuring the full moon.
What if he got caught out in the storm? she thought, starting to panic on the inside. Matt was really going to tear her a new one. She could hear him now.
"How could you have let Tommy out of your sight?" he'd probably say. Then again, it was his idea for Tommy to go along. She didn't think it seemed like a good idea at the time, but Matt usually didn't
like it when she tried to go against what he said.
Reggie was staring out the passenger window as they both looked for any sign of Tommy.
Maybe he was on his way back to the center, she thought. That's what she had to hope for so she didn't start freaking out.
As she pulled into Pinehurst Center, she drove past the barn, looking for Tommy everywhere.
She reached the main house, and got out.
Robin, Jake and Violet, all wearing their pajamas, were coming out of the house, as Pam was pulling up, and she met them coming up the walkway to the front porch.
"M-M-Matt's gone," Jake stuttered. "George, too,"
Reggie and Pam both looked at them with concern.
"Are you sure?" Pam asked.
"I l-looked everywhere," Jake said.
"Tina and Eddie haven't come back either," Robin said.
"W-where are they?" Jake asked.
Pam could tell Jake was getting more anxious, and she didn't want him to have an attack.
"Look, it's okay. Calm down, Jake," she reassured him. "Let's try and take this slowly. Where did Matt say he was going?"
"He didn't say," Violet chimed in.
"Yes he did," Robin corrected her. "He said he was going to go look for Tina and Eddie,"
"Well…where's Tommy?" Jake implored. "I thought he was with you,"
"And where's Gramps?" Reggie asked, his eyes wide with worry and confusion.
"I don't know, Reggie. Look, all of you go inside and I will go find everyone. Jake, I'm putting you in charge."
Jake nodded in understanding.
Pam gave Reggie a firm look.
"And you, little Reckless, I want you asleep before the time I get back," she said.
"No problem," Reggie said.
Pam got back into the pick-up truck and drove away, leaving the four of them, Robin, Violet, Reggie and Jake, staring after her, wondering what had happened to everyone.
First Tina and Eddie, now Matt and George.
This Friday the 13th, there would be more that would have to pay the ultimate price.
They all had to pay.
The trailer park was only lit by the single, flickering neon light and a few streetlamps.
An outhouse made of sheet metal nearby was illuminated by one of them.
A few abandoned cars sat in the lot. The wind was picking up, whipping the tops of the pine trees that surrounded the park.
Thunder rumbled in the sky.
Evil was afoot.
The maroon van bounced back and forth, moving to the rhythm of the two lovers inside.
Anita straddled Demon on the floor of the van, as he pumped hard into her.
80s' funk blared from the stereo. As they finished, Anita climbed off, gasping for air and moaning.
"Oh baby, you are always so ripe after a show," she said giggling.
"You know it, baby," he said, pulling up his pants.
"Here, you wanna hit this?" she asked, handing him the burnt-out joint lying in the ashtray.
"Yeah," he replied, taking the joint. She lit it for him, and then got dressed.
"You know I miss Reggie already," Demon said, puffing on the joint.
"He's a cutie pie," Anita said, lying back on the shag couch and bathing in the aftermath of sex.
All of a sudden, Demon clutched his stomach in pain.
He moaned, doubling over.
"Hey, you okay?" Anita said.
Demon shook his head in response.
His bowels were churning inside him.
"Them damn enchiladas," he remarked, moaning again as he held his stomach in discomfort.
Demon threw open the van door and started running for the outhouse as Anita leaned outside.
"You gonna be alright?" she called after him.
Demon didn't respond for the fear that it all might start coming out right there in the parking lot. He had to be quick and quiet.
He threw open the outhouse door, scrambled inside, dropped his pants, sat and finally felt the huge relief as it washed over him.
Everything in his body was returning to normal and he sighed. The discomfort was almost immediately gone.
As he looked at the graffiti on the inside of the outhouse, he saw one that piqued his interest.
It said "Jason Voorhees was alive".
Jason Voorhees? he thought. That kid who drowned over forty years ago?
No way he was alive. He knew that was some stupid legend the old people in this hick town made up to scare the younger generations about being out in the woods at night. It was just like the way that his folks had tried to scare him about drugs and sex. And now, he was living a more satisfying life than any of them.
Demon had been the perfect name for him ironically. It was his stage name for his band too.
It made perfect sense with the way his parents tried to push their views about religion on him.
They said he was living a sinful life, but he didn't care. He didn't know what he believed, except that life should be about having a good time.
He embraced being a demon to them. That seemed to be what they thought of him.
Every time he was with his parents or his grandfather, they would always try and tell him to grow up and get a real career in passive-aggressive ways.
Not fully saying it out, but instead subtly talk about a new job opening at some office firm that he knew he would have despised.
Who the hell wanted to sit at a desk for eight hours a day?
Not me, he thought.
Demon was living the good life while his parents sat around in fear of the world.
What was so wrong about doing what he liked to do and making money doing it? They always nitpicked and nagged about every little thing. If it wasn't the fact that he lived in a van, it was the fact that he smoked weed or that he didn't go to church or that he didn't have a "real job".
At least it wasn't boring. At least he didn't have to drag himself to work every morning, dreading every second.
At least he got to do what he was passionate about.
How could he trust them if all of their warnings against drugs, alcohol and sex turned out to be lies? They had him convinced that he'd become an alcoholic but he only drank on the weekends. They had him convinced that weed would ruin his life, but it had made his life better.
Weed had helped him write his own songs.
It was the only thing that helped him truly express himself.
He thought about Reggie and hoped that he would also be able to live his life without fear, but he wasn't Reggie the Reckless for nothing.
He wished he had a chance to see him more often, but he couldn't stand being around his parents and being lectured constantly. That's why he moved out to a hick town called Pinehurst in the first place.
It had a few great bars that hosted live music, luckily for him.
With Anita as his background singer, he was hoping to start selling records.
That would show his parents that he could become successful.
First, he had to get out of Pinehurst.
Maybe somewhere like Nashville would pay musicians what they are worth and have a lot more venues.
That, however, might actually require a real job to be able to live there. The only reason he could live in Pinehurst was that the property was so cheap. Renting the trailer park cost a decent price, and even apartments were cheaper than bigger cities.
Then, he could finally feel like he had done something with his life. He would be on his own, paying bills, and playing gigs on the weekends to make ends meet.
Nashville probably paid way more, considering the town was typically full of tourists.
Now, he was only making about 200 or 300 dollars a night, but in Nashville, he could probably make up to quadruple digits.
That would show his parents. But then again, they still probably wouldn't respect him.
They were all hard-headed and stubborn.
Well guess what? He thought. I'm stubborn too.
And he would be damned if he let them or anyone control his life.
He was in charge of his destiny.
Little did Demon know, someone else was about to quickly alter that destiny.
As Demon started to wipe and pull up his pants, the outhouse suddenly began to shake.
"Who's there?" he called. There was no answer. It continued to rattle.
"Stop it!"
He heard familiar giggling.
"Oh, you're gonna get it bitch!" Demon said playfully.
"Oh, lighten up Demon, you'll feel a lot better after you shit," she teased.
"I'll feel a lot better when I'm out of here. This shitbox is gross," Demon said, grimacing at the horrible smell that hit his nostrils.
"Well, you betta' watch out for those snakes that's gonna crawl up that crapper and bite yo ass," Anita said, laughing.
She started singing softly.
"Ooh baby…hey baby…ooh baby…"
Demon recognized it as one of his original songs and started singing back.
"Ooh baby…hey baby…ooh baby…hey baby…"
Anita repeated another verse.
"Ooh baby….hey baby…ooh bab-"
There was suddenly silence. Footsteps. A gasp.
Demon stood to his feet, looking puzzled.
"Anita? Baby, what's up?"
The outhouse started to shake again. This time, it was incredibly more forceful and violent, like it was being thrown around by a hurricane.
"HEY!" Demon shouted.
The shaking stopped.
"I told ya this isn't funny, now you're gonna get it bitch," Demon said.
He zipped up his pants, and pushed on the outhouse door.
It barely opened. Something was blocking it.
He looked down.
Anita was close to dead, lying across the front of the outhouse door, her throat gaping open. She was barely alive, blood gushing out of the gash that ran all the way across her neck. She struggled to breathe, but couldn't get any air.
Demon was racked with unimaginable horror.
"Anita!" he cried, stumbling back in shock and falling back against the outhouse wall.
WHAM.
A long, rusted metal spike launched through the tin walls of the outhouse, narrowly missing him.
Demon cried out in disbelief and terror.
"Oh my G-God!" he screamed, and threw himself against the opposite wall.
The killer was inhumanly fast. He rammed the spike through the opposite wall, piercing Demon's leather pants and plunging into the meaty part of his thigh. Blood sprayed out.
He screamed again, clutching his hand to the wound.
The spike was pulled out as fast as it was rammed in.
Demon was trapped like a caged animal. He climbed on top of the toilet, pressing himself against the back wall.
Bright red vermilion oozed out from the puncture wound in his thigh.
He tried to listen for footsteps to see which way the maniac was moving, but he couldn't stop his own panicked utterances. Tears were now streaming from his eyes.
He knew he was about to die.
The worst part was his own stupefaction as to who could be doing this to him.
Why? he thought. God, why?
Unfortunately for him, Demon had no more time to ask himself any more questions.
The metal bar was suddenly thrust through the back wall, spiking Demon straight through the heart.
He let out an anguished animalistic cry, throwing his head up to the sky and then staring down in disbelief at the makeshift metal spear that had harpooned him through his chest.
As Demon's body slowly stopped quivering, and as Anita's blood drained away, the full moon came out from behind the clouds and shone down on the man in the hockey mask.