Cool night air rushes against her face and body as the woman hurries down the steps of the old cabin, out into the wind storm night. Searching. Seeking out her missing companion.
Alone. All alone.
Something is surely wrong here.
Her sneakers crunch against the gravel, as Chris walks toward the large, old barn. She calls out to her missing boyfriend, only to be answered by the howling wind.
The young woman is nervous about the situation, yet she feels very determined to find someone, anyone.
How can seven people mysteriously vanish in one evening?
Almost to the barn now. Maybe, where everyone is hiding, continuing this ludicrous game.
Something drops down from above, directly in front of her. It doesn't take long for the screams to come.
The body is suspended by the feet from an overhead branch of a tree.
The gore stained corpse of a male biker.
Feet pounding the cold ground, she dashes back to the safety of the cabin, slamming and locking the door behind her.
Danger feels as if it is surrounding her at every turn, and it is.
A killer stalks the grounds of Higgins Haven. An unseen killer.
The woman begins to secure the cabin, locking doors and windows.
Her terror is unmistakable, yet she manages to keep herself together, trying to figure out her next move, and if it will be her last.
A picture window explodes, sending a shower of glass and wood into the cozy living room.
Her boyfriend's body is sprawled on the floor.
To her horror, she sees the blood as she rushes over to his limp form.
In seconds, a nightmare surfaces, as the sound of heavy booted feet reach her ears.
She looks up, wide eyed.
A hulking form is making its way into the house through the shards of glass.
A pale goalie mask covers the face of the wearer, as the giant man glares at the woman cowering over the bloody form beneath her.
A blood curdling scream now. Music to Jason's ears.
Immediately, she gets to her feet, running for the spiral staircase.
The maniac inside now, just making his way through the broken picture window, his boots crunching on shards of glass.
The nightmare approaches the base of the stairs, a gleaming ax gripped in a large, dirty hand, looking up at his prey. He looks as if he has stepped right out of a horror magazine, to Chris.
She glares down at her pursuer, watching as he begins making his way up after her.
A sturdy bookcase standing beside her.
It might not kill the monster, but it's possible it could slow him down.
The woman pulls with all her might on the heavy shelf towards the railing.
A rain of heavy, old volumes plummet on top of Jason's head, stunning him to his knees.
She runs into the upstairs hallway, stopping at the open door of the single bathroom, her mind in overdrive.
Chris pulls the door shut, and tip toes down to the opposite end of the hall, where a closet awaits.
He stands up, hefting the big ax as Jason makes his way up the spiral staircase.
Murder was the only thing on his demented mind.
He wants to take the woman home to mother, who would make such a special prize in front of the altar created in his shack.
But first, he had to catch her, dispatch her and bring the remains back home.
Couldn't be that hard.
Of course she had gotten away from Jason before, but this time he feels quite certain that the prize will be his.
All of the others, he had taken by surprise. Jason really wants to instill deep fear in this woman, right until her last gasp of air.
She was trapped upstairs. He would find her.
Jason enters the hallway as a sudden scream interrupts the silence.
Inside of the closet, she kneels over the remains of her best friend, a knife crudely pierced through her throat.
The doorknob rattles as she shrinks to the back of the small closet in absolute terror.
He was out there, trying to get inside to kill her.
She can't allow that to happen whatsoever.
The bloody knife protruding from her dead friend grabs the woman's attention. She hesitantly pulls it free, preparing herself for the inevitable.
It was now or never.
A gaping hole now allowed access to the inside lock of the hall closet door. Jason reaches his hand inside, his fingers groping for the lock.
Sudden intense pain paralyzes his hand, as the knife penetrates the killer's flesh, causing Jason to drop his ax.
The sound of a grunt like moan fills the small hallway, as she pushes the door open, coming out slashing the knife at Jason left and right…. like a madwoman.
The big killer backs away from her, to avoid further injury. He grips his injured hand, not expecting this surprise attack from the prey.
After backing Jason down the hallway, past a spare bedroom, she stabs him deep in the knee, giving her time to get away into the spare bedroom.
She attacks the jammed door urgently, intent on escape.
More screams, diving into the bedroom, as the blade flung at her by Jason embeds itself into the door frame beside the woman's head.
The window will not open.
She reaches for a chair, pulling it over the bed in front of the window.
He is starting to get to his feet.
The chair explodes through the glass, her sneakers kicking out loose shards as she climbs out swiftly, hanging from the sill by both of her hands.
The woman prepares to drop herself to the ground below from the second story.
Something pulls at the hood of her olive jacket, as Chris realizes that Jason has her in his firm grip.
She beats and pounds at his arm, to no avail, as the man tries to haul her back inside, although she resists him as much as she can, twisting and kicking in his grip.
Her jacket begins to tear.
He watches as she plummets to the ground outside, looking down at her, as if she were a steak on a plate.
Almost had her. Almost.
The woman hits the cold dirt, her torn jacket exposing her blue designer sweater. A close one, no doubt. Not over yet. This night of horror was only just beginning.
She scrambles up on her knees, staring up above her as the nightmare ducks his immense head back inside of the cabin window.
The ruined jacket is discarded and she makes her way around the house to the front, peering in through a side door window.
The killer retreats back down to the main floor of the cabin, littered with many scattered dusty volumes.
He grows agitated.
This is taking longer than it should to kill this last vacationer.
He has literally saved the best for last, but now he was beginning to regret it.
Mother was waiting and blood needed to be spilled one final time tonight.
He was coming down after her, Chris can see as she watches through the window pane. Surprise the bastard.
She steps down away from the door, climbing up onto the main porch through the horizontal slats.
A big firewood pile sits beside the door. She takes a thick, heavy log and waits, as the wind rips at her clothes and hair.
It's not long before the door opens as the woman flattens herself against the wall.
He steps out into the blustery night, a lumbering giant on a silent mission of death.
He does not see the woman standing out of view, behind him.
She attacks.
The log strikes the back of Jason's bald skull, violently, knocking him through the structure of the porch railing.
Dazed.
Vision spinning.
He sees the prey jump off the porch beside him, tries grabbing at her.
Jason is really going to enjoy maiming her.
Now in the safety of the van, she desperately searches through the pockets of her jeans for her keys.
Gotta hurry, please!
She locates them, starts the ignition, reversing the van so she can drive the opposite way.
He appears in her headlights, standing in the middle of the drive like a human roadblock.
A sneer forms on the pretty mouth as her foot presses down on the pedal.
This psycho was tough to take down. She had pretty much thought the blow to the head from the log would have killed him.
No such luck.
The big custom painted van speeds up suddenly, nearly running Jason over as he dives out of the way to safety.
It was over.
The prey was escaping, to Jason's disappointment.
He stands up again, watching the departing vehicle approach the flimsy bridge of the dried up streambed.
It comes to an abrupt halt.
The killer limps with urgency in its direction.
She cranks the engine, but it refuses to turn over. This can't be happening. She looks behind her out of the rear windows.
The hockey mask is getting closer. Oh NO!
She flips the switch to the reserve tank after she realizes she is out of gas.
The engine turns over, but a wooden plank of the flimsy bridge gives under the weight of the Dodge Ram.
A rear wheel sinks through, leaving the woman stranded.
He attacks, reaching through the open driver side window, clamping large hands around her throat.
Now he has her.
Strangle the life from the precious pale throat.
Then carry her home to mother.
She pounds at the hand gripping her neck. She can smell him, a foul odor of someone who resides in the forest among wild animals.
She refuses to let the night end this way.
A slender arm reaches blindly for the window crank.
Glass fills her driver side window, trapping the killer's hands, freeing the woman, momentarily.
Out the passenger side door, jumping off the bridge, sneakers pounding.
The sound of glass shattering, reaching her ears.
The juggernaut was nothing, if not relentless. The pursuit continues.
A sneaker steps into a hole in the ground obscured by leaves. She hits the ground, her face scraping against a heavy rock.
Momentarily stunned and a bit exhausted, she slowly gets back to her feet, looking behind her as she does, seeing certain destruction.
He makes his way after her, noticing her sprawled along the leaves and dirt. She continues to elude the man, turning this into a true tournament of death.
She runs through the darkness, back toward the barn, the van obviously out of the question now.
The killer limps behind about fifty feet back. He sees her as she disappears around the front of the barn, knowing that she will enter, possibly to hide.
Surely, it will end here. This is it.
Inside, hands grab a flimsy rusted shovel to bar the door. Frantically, she looks around her, for a weapon. Nothing in plain sight, and not much time. Something heavy hits the outside of the barn doors. The woman quickly vanishes from sight.
The shovel is removed from the slats of the door holding it in place. He pulls one door back, stepping into the big barn. His eyes scan. Hiding prey. She cannot hide forever.
Hands force a 2x4 into the slats, effectively barring himself and his intended victim inside. The hunt resumes.
Above him, perched on a high, sturdy beam, she observes Jason, her eyes following the frustrated madman below, in search of her.
She knows that eventually, she will be discovered.
Besides, she was ready to end this fight.
To somehow kill him. Maybe she could catch him off guard again.
Barn equipment and other junk is thrown around and destroyed as he tries locating the hiding woman.
He stops, still glancing around in a circle, as the form above him begins to relinquish its grip on the beam.
A subtle noise above him, unmistakable, like a gasp or escape of air.
He looks up, but not in time.
A blue form, suddenly comes crashing down on top of the murderer, both of them sprawling in the hay.
She is uninjured, her drop broken by Jason, somewhat stunned.
Demented eyes fix on her as he sits up, her screams almost bringing a grin under Jason's mask.
He was enjoying this toying around with her. But his satisfaction would not be met until her severed head was sitting before "mother."
She bolts up from the ground, loose hay all over her.
Racing for the doors.
To escape from certain death.
Her strength is diminishing.
The 2 x 4, too tough for her to remove from the door slats.
Oh God.
Eyes dart behind her. She sees him looking around through the hay for a weapon.
He produces a large rusty blade, now on his feet, moving in on her.
She doesn't give up on the doors yet.
The next time she turns back around, her eyes catch sight of the mammoth nearly upon her with the blade, slashing through the air towards her skull.
She ducks under the machete, dodging just in the nick of time.
Jason struggles to free his weapon that has become deeply embedded in the ancient wood.
By this time, the prey is halfway up the ladder to the hayloft.
A bale of hay is positioned over the trapdoor of the ladder.
Her breathing rapid, sweaty hands brushing her sides as she knows she only has seconds before he is up here with her.
Think!
She grabs a shovel behind her, concealing herself behind a stack of hay bales.
While waiting, she notices the rope hanging not far away.
An idea forms in her mind.
Fingers gripping the handle of the shovel in anticipation, keeping low, imagining that she is invisible.
A crash.
The bale of hay knocked over the side, landing somewhere below.
He's up here now.
Eyes watch him in the dark as the giant looms, scanning the loft for her. He savors the thought of piercing his blade right into the prey, once he catches her.
His back is to the concealed woman. She rises.
He wonders if maybe the woman jumped out the loft window and escaped. Not likely. Has to be here still, only hiding, keeping the game of cat and mouse going.
The shovel turns out to be a wise idea, as it effectively knocks the killer out cold.
She hurries from her hiding spot, coiling the rope around the neck of the monster. To finish him off.
Her white teeth grit together in revulsion, as she is forced to handle the killer's grotesque head, securing the hangman's noose.
She feels as if she is losing her mind, or as if this is some kind of bad dream.
The eyes behind the hockey mask flutter open, the wearer feeling hands pushing at him, rolling his limp body over with intense effort. It was her!
He was not fully aware of what was happening.
Not until he noticed the rope securing his bulky neck. By then, the killer was plummeting down the front of the barn. There was a snapping sound, and consciousness is lost. Swaying back and forth in the wind, like a giant ragdoll.
Relief flows through her, as she observes the limp, hanging corpse. No more, would he be on her tail, trying to off her.
The silence seems unnerving to her. It seems almost too good to be true that the nightmare is finished.
Back downstairs, an iron pulley hits the underside of the 2x4.
The woman's strength is pretty much gone at this point. With no more reason to run and fight for her life, the exhaustion seems to suddenly set into her.
Now that the man is dead, she can rest.
He hangs there, by his neck, like a grotesque pinata. Pretending. The woman before him. She will receive the shock of her life.
Too good to be true. Still alive? But how? She hung him herself!
The new goalie mask comes off as the noose is removed by a big hand.
Him!? The fiend from her past.
The one who had attacked her.
The one who now seems to be grinning at her pretty face, maniacally.
She steps back, not believing the scene unfolding before her. The shock of it all too much to handle.
She finds herself cornered as the masked horror retrieves his fallen machete.
This was it. At least she would not have to run any longer.
The screams begin to take over. Blood curdling, as the towering man stands over his victim, weapon poised. Finally. The prize belongs to Jason now.
Waiting for the blade to lay open her flesh. It never makes contact.
Movement behind the masked man who has slain everyone, except for the bald man who now attempts to go toe to toe with the maniac a second time… and surely the last.
Her life is miraculously spared, inadvertently saved by the biker, serving as bait for the killer.
The man's screams fill her ears as she is forced to view the grisly murder scene unfold right before her.
Crimson flows in a morbid fashion as the machete lays open flesh and severs limbs.
The man's form seems to vanish. Only a messy human stew appears to take the place of what had once been a man, as Jason continues to chop and cut mindlessly.
Fate has seemed to step in, allowing the woman a chance to save herself, yet again tonight.
The ax resting on the ground nearby, seems to gleam in the dim barn.
This is her chance.
The nightmare has its back to her, his attention still on what used to be the biker.
On her feet now, ax held aloft, she moves closer.
The man appears finished with the dead biker, briefly forgetting about her.
Her blade penetrates the front of the skull, puncturing through the mask.
Unfortunately, it is not enough. Immense arms reach out for her, ax still embedded in face.
Vision blurring, dimming, almost as if a sleepiness is setting in. The blade in the head seems to have triggered something. The giant can move no longer.
It topples over in front of the woman, as the ground trembles under the ogre's great mass.
Her legs feel rooted into the spot she now stands as the giant looks up at her, eyes unseeing as she glares down at his unmoving form.
The mammoth head, limp, as the woman taps it with one of her sneakers.
After a moment too long, she manages to unglue herself and escape the stables.
It's clearly obvious she will not be the same after tonight.
Light. Intense. Feels as if she has been running nonstop due to the aches her body suffers from.
Screaming again, but brief as she remembers, her hair spilling about her as she darts her head frantically around her.
He is nowhere in sight. Eyes dart toward the old barn.
His body rests there. Would she have to check to make sure? The hanging had not done the job, as the blade had.
The man was dead.
But why was she having a tough time believing it?
A face in one of the windows. Familiar….
Not Rick, surely not Shelly.
Ohhh….. Ohhhhhh no…..
Not him… yes, it… it is him.
The face, as grotesque as ever, decorated with dark crimson.
It grins at the woman sitting in the canoe.
Hands blindly reach for the paddle, escape being the only thing on her half gone mind.
She knows that he is coming down for her. Will the nightmare ever end?
A thick floating tree log prevents escape as the boat becomes stuck on it.
The woman does what she needs to do, tries….. Too heavy to move on her own.
A crashing behind her.
He stands there, menacingly, clenching hands in great anticipation.
Panic has already set in full swing as the woman tries and tries with all her strength.
She prepares to jump out of the boat and…..
He is gone.
Like he was never there. A figment of her imagination?
It was understandable, after the night she had experienced.
She sighs, still confused, but relieved that the threat is no more.
Her head turns, coming face to face with the hockey mask, right beside the boat!
She finds that she cannot scream.
Again and again, she attempts to scream, while nothing comes out.
Her vision, growing dimmer, as she realizes that she is now underwater, the light fading as monstrous hands grip a delicate neck.
Confusion, fear, trauma, hysteria. This is all she knows upon waking up. Chris barely even realizes that she is in the back of a squad car, but she is, however, aware of something else as she begins laughing hysterically..
She is alive…. The only survivor of this weekend massacre.
The final girl.