Chapter Twelve

They had settled Ted on his single bed, not bothering to undress him as he specifically wanted to just go to sleep. They didn't want to argue with a drunken Teddy so they did just that. On the other side of the room Ginny had noticed that Mark wasn't in his bed so that meant he was still at the lodge beside the lake. The others were probably still there too. Once Paul had secured Ted with a bucket, for him to be sick in if the moment ever occurred, and Ginny had placed a glass of cold water on his bedside table, they both said their 'goodnights', whether Ted heard them or not, and left the cabin hand-in-hand.

At this time, with the crescent moon shining brightly in the clear, starry night, the air was crisp, fresh from the rain, as though it was the middle of autumn, Ginny tightened her arm around Paul's, craving for any warmth that he could give.

Paul looked down at Ginny, a smile growing on his cool, deep-red lips, "You cold, honey?"

Honey? What are we, thirty-something-year-olds? Ginny asked herself, smiling back as Paul waited for his answer, both carefully stepping down the small hill toward the lodge. They could see that all of the lights downstairs were still on.

"Damn straight I am. So hug me close so I can steal some of your warmth." Ginny decreed, laughing as Paul squeezed her as much as he could against him.

"I know something else that could keep you warm. It involves a nice, double bed with thick quilts, us underneath them, completely naked back up that a way!" He pointed to their cabin that was slowly disappearing into the distance, earning himself a hard punch to his upper left arm, letting out a laugh that made Ginny feel safe, loved.

The three-inch heels to her 'Ginerva' boots (by Gucci) seemed to echo into the night as they clicked up the small, wooden steps onto the porch, both of them not even noticing the muddy footprints belonging to Jeff who'd made them an hour or so ago.

Ginny gazed through one of the windows that looked into the den; nothing seemed to be out of place, the fire was still burning brightly and it was surprisingly quiet. A little too quiet for a bunch of twenty-something's, Ginny thought to herself as she followed Paul inside, suddenly feeling the warmth from the crackling fire when she stepped in.

"What the hell are the lights still doing on?" Paul asked as he made his way through the living room and then disappeared into the kitchen, his pounding footsteps Ginny's only way of knowing of his presence.

"Paul, they wouldn't have left the place like this." She said, following shortly behind him until she stopped at the foot of the stairs, her hands rubbing the tops of her arms, trying to get rid of the sudden chill she had felt as they came in through the door. "Think something's wrong?" She called out into the darkness of the other room, Paul switching on the light a second later, not answering though as he was too transfixed on the bag of dope that was laying on the table.

"I'll check upstairs," Ginny decided, more to herself than to Paul who was wondering what to do with it when he heard a sudden cry of his name. It was Ginny's, sounding like it was coming from the room directly above him. Which, if he can remember, was one of the bedrooms.

When he found her, she was in one of the darkened bedrooms with the light from the moon looming in through one of the windows that faced it. Ginny was standing a foot away from the double bed, having turned over the duvet to reveal a huge patch of blood, its dark crimson colour standing out amongst the white of the sheets.

"What is this, a fucking joke?" Paul was obviously not pleased about it, his hands firmly on his hips.

Ginny shook her head, not believing for one second that they could be capable of this, "They wouldn't do anything like this."

Paul switched on the torch he'd picked up on his way up the stairs, shining it around the room to check if there was anything else out of the ordinary. Fortunately there wasn't.

"Come on, Ginny." Paul replied, leaving the room en route back downstairs.

"Wait for me," Ginny called, following him out quickly onto the landing, not once looking back. As they stepped back down the stairs slowly, they both noticed that the living room's light was now out, shrouding it in a veil of darkness. Paul noticed that as he leant over the banister he could just see the light coming from the kitchen.

"Kitchen light's still on." He informed, "Must…must be the main fuse again."

"Paul, what's going on here?"

"Nothing." He said just a little too quickly but with enough emphasis to keep Ginny calm. To say in one word that everything was okay, that this was just one major practical joke and they'll all be laughing about it when the morning comes.

As they reached the bottom, Paul split off one way, heading into the other room across from the living room, while Ginny turned into the living room, still feeling the heat from the burning fire whilst taking a peek out of the window. She couldn't see anybody outside. The cabins were dark, the trees were still and there seemed to be no wind in the air. Everything just looked so quiet and motionless, it was actually starting to scare her. (CH CH CH AH AH AH)

"Where is everybody?"

Paul had ventured further into the other room by then, seeming to be another living room filled with two large sofas, cream in colour, several bookcases scattered around the place, and large, rectangle windows that stood vertically around the room, with long, criss-cross patterned curtains draped over them. With her heels tapping along the wooden floor, Ginny made her way into the room, a slight chill in the air, a feeling one got when they felt like they were being watched or an unknown presence had entered the room without you knowing it.

Hugging herself to keep herself warm something caught the corner of her eye as she stared at Paul, who was trying to get the table lamp to work. It was almost shaped like a person; arms, legs, hands, but its head was covered by something purely white. Turning slightly to see if she was just seeing things, she quickly found out that she wasn't.

It was clear to her that it was a man; seeming to be clearly over six feet, with big arms like tree trunks and legs, likewise. She couldn't see who it was because the white that was covering his head was, in fact, a pillowcase. Nevertheless, what scared Ginny the most was that he was gripping the spear that Ted had used in his and Paul's prank to scare them last night and was now slowly advancing on Paul, who had no idea that he was in the room.

"Paul, there someone in this fucking room!" Ginny warned, just in time to be exact as Paul turned to avoid the intruder's stab to his stomach, the spear goring the wall instead.

Thus the grappling commenced, Paul recalling his athletic skills as a quarterback to wrestle whoever was trying to take him down. However it was clear to him, and Ginny, that this guy was taller, broader and a lot stronger than Paul but he wasn't going to go down so easily.

In the meantime, Ginny was backing away slowly, not having a clue what she should do. She knew that she had to help him somehow, but they was nothing in the room that could hurt the brute, let alone take him down. All she could do was step back slowly and watch as the two men brawled with each other; Paul swinging with his rights and his lefts before he was abruptly flipped over onto this back.

The other guy was straddling Paul now, rump on his chest, as his large hands wrapped themselves around Paul's neck and automatically started to squeeze, cutting off Paul's necessity to breathe. After a few, painstakingly long moments, everything seemed to stop. All was now quiet in the room except for Ginny's heavy breathing and heart pounding hard against her chest.

"Paul?" No answer. "Paul!" Ginny called a little louder but screamed, her hands over her mouth, as the hulking figure stood up, towering over her even though he was a few feet away.

She revolved abruptly on the balls of her feet, immediately running for the door behind her and slamming it shut. She found herself in the downstairs toilet, it with its light still on. She bolted it locked, holding onto the doorknob so if he tried to open it, she could at least try to stop him from doing so.

She knew she wouldn't have a chance, not against someone like himself. Very tall and seemingly very strong. She needed a plan of escape when she suddenly thought of Paul. Was he dead? Still alive in that room with that psycho? She couldn't think. For now she needed to get to a phone. A working phone, which happened to be in Paul's office on the other side of the camp, right next to their cabin to be exact. She needed to call for help.

With her hand still gripping the doorknob tight Ginny looked around and immediately saw her escape route. The only window in the room was partly open, and she could easily escape through it if she could just reach it without alerting Paul's attacker to her presence. She thought instantly that it was now or never so she inched away from the door, staring at it whilst looking back at the window, just to make sure he wasn't standing out there waiting for her. Just as she was about to reach out and pull the window up, a large arm smashed through it in an attempt to grab Ginny. It didn't, missing her by just mere inches as she screamed, turning back around to unbolt the door, running out through the darkness and in the direction of the light.

Closing and locking the door behind her, she found herself in the kitchen this time, brightly lit and a window on the other side of it. Stepping back away from the door, having the slightest dread that any second now he was going to be pounding on it, Ginny noticed the assortment of kitchen knives hanging on their rack above the cooker and immediately grabbed for one. She was already trying to clamber up onto the sink in order to open the window when she heard the doorknob turning both sides rather frantically, the guy on the opposite side testing it to see whether it was locked or not. He'd got his answer.

But it could be Paul, she told herself, climbing down from the sink as slowly and as quietly as possible, so as not to alert him of her presence if it happened to be Paul's attacker.

Leaning her side against the wall beside the door, knife tightly in both hands, Ginny waited for something to tell her that it was Paul behind that door and not the other. There was silence. If it had been Paul, he would've said something to notify her that it was actually him. The handle turned slowly to the right, and then the left, then it revolved frantically from side-to-side, notifying Ginny that it wasn't Paul on the other side of that door.

Then something was rammed through the door, making a nice enough hole in the middle of it. It was a pitchfork! The attacker had grabbed himself a pitchfork and was now pursuing her with it. Ginny screamed out again, mindlessly dropping the knife as she turned on the spot and instinctively ran for the only other door in the room. Wanting just to get the hell out of there.

Pulling the door open Ginny shrieked and jumped back, narrowly escaping getting squashed by Sandra's naked corpse as it landed on the tiled floor with a hard thud. Ginny automatically raised a hand over her mouth, trying to keep the feeling of vomiting at bay, her eyes widened as they stared at the gaping hole in Sandra's back, her blood literally covering her entire body.

Oh my God! Her mind's voice exclaimed as Ginny mechanically returned to the sink, climbing up it and pushing her way through the small window, slipping out and landing hard on her ass, the wet mud squelching beneath her.

"Ah!" She let out in a short gasp, using all of her adrenaline to push herself onto her feet, running up the small hill and seeing the most wonderful sight…the red paint of her car.