… "I can't believe that loser" I said, limping into the cabin with Peyton's help "Just because I sacked him first"
"I think it's more than the sack" Peyton said, as we walked to my bed "I saw the look on his face when you pushed him away. He doesn't take rejection well…But I need you to lie down momentarily"
I did as he said, grimacing as I climbed on top.
"Looks like you were hurt" he said, bending down to take a look at me.
"I'm fine…really" I said, sitting up in bed as he proceeded to examine a particularly nasty gash on my leg "It's just a flesh wound"
"You took a nasty fall" Peyton said, giving me a look "At least let me patch that up for you"
I nodded and he went in search of a first aid kit in the room.
"I can honestly say that I didn't expect such a crappy start to the week" I said, as he started pawing through his bag. I heard a chuckle as he rummaged through his things.
"You would think that they'd already put first aid kits here" he mumbled before finding what he was looking for. He then sauntered over to me, first aid kit in hand.
"Looks like I can't go swimming at all" I stated as he took out some polysporin to clean the gash up.
"It's definitely a big gash" he said, using gauze to staunch the small stream of blood trickling out of the wound "But you were lucky. He could have given you a concussion"
"Yeah it could definitely be worse" I replied as he applied the polysporin with a cotton swab "I'm glad I picked you to come along too"
He stopped swabbing the wound to give me a look.
"Why did you choose both of us?" he questioned, closing the tube of polysporin and putting it back in the case.
"I couldn't choose between the two of you" I replied sheepishly as he took a giant bandage out of the kit "But if I knew then what I knew now, I would have picked just you"
He smiled, taking the bandage out of its protective cover.
"I'll need you to stand up for this" he said, helping me off the bed "It'll be easier to put on"
With that, he bent down and proceeded to wrap the gash expertly. I couldn't help but notice how close his face was to my chest as he wrapped the bandage around the wound. I started feeling a little bit dizzy.
"There" he said, pinning the bandage so it would stay "Good as new"
"Great" I said, still feeling a little dizzy "I think I need to lie down"
I slowly climbed back onto the bed, looking up at him.
"I'm going to check and make sure nothing is broken" he said, gazing at me sympathetically "You might have to rest a little bit as it is"
"Thanks for helping me" I said shyly as he bent down to examine my legs.
"No problem" he said, using his hands to feel for any abnormalities "It looks like your legs are okay."
He then checked my arms and shoulders by touch, as softly and gently as possible. I then noticed how the look in his eyes changed. He stood up quickly, almost embarrassed.
"What's wrong?" I asked him, frowning "Am I okay?"
"Yeah" he said quickly, backing away "I'm just going to go see what I can do about getting you something to eat. You stay here and I'll go grab something"
He left the cabin abruptly, causing me to stare after him in wonder.
"What the hell came over him?" I mused, wondering what was going on with him.
Shrugging, I looked around the room, deciding I couldn't lie down just yet. My eyes fell onto the nightstand next to me. I opened the top drawer and found an old notebook with what looked like newspaper clippings.
"Hmmm, what are these?" I wondered aloud, grabbing the book and settling back into bed to examine the clippings.
I opened the book and selected a very large clipping. I muffled a gasp as I read the headline.
"Camp Crystal Lake Killer Still At Large" I read, shivering as I let my eyes roam over the clipping, fighting not to shiver as I saw an artist's depiction of Jason Voorhees from a would-be victim's point of view.
I grabbed another article, letting the other one fall onto the pile.
"Jason Voorhees responsible for a rash of murders on SS. Lazarus" I read, shivering again as I saw another artist's depiction of the killer. "My god, this is weird stuff. He keeps coming back"
"Who keeps coming back?" a familiar male voice said, approaching the bed.
"That was quick" I said, quickly closing the book "What's on the menu?"
"They were making hot dogs" Peyton said, setting the tray down on the nightstand "But they were burned to a crisp so I made some sandwiches"
"I'm impressed" I said, semi-sarcastically "What does it take to keep a guy like you around?"
"It was nothing" he said, blushing as he sat on the foot of the bed "I made enough for the both of us"
"Was Tom acting like an ass?" I said, making more room for him as his eyes fell on the old book.
"No more than usual" was his reply "Where did you find that?"
"In the nightstand" I said, wondering if I should have shown him or not. I opted for the latter. "There are old newspaper clippings here"
He picked up the book and took out the first article I looked at.
"Whoa" he exclaimed, frowning as he read the article "These are all about the Crystal Lake Killer. Why would someone leave that book here?"
"I don't know" I said, shivering again as I reached for a sandwich "What if Jason didn't die? What if he's still alive?"
"I don't want to know" he said softly, putting the clipping back in the book "We should keep this away from everyone else, especially Tom."
"Agreed" I said, taking a bite out of the bologna and cheese sandwich "Cheryl will be hysterical if she knew where we were"
He grabbed a sandwich and we ate in silence momentarily.
"It looks like we're in for a storm tonight" Peyton said seriously, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before stretching out "The driver left 30 minutes ago"
"We're all alone out here, then?" I surmised, giving him a weird look "I find this really fishy"
"Well fear not" Peyton said, sitting next to me "You won't have to worry about Tom tonight."
"I suppose" I said, looking away momentarily "But I still find it odd that our driver left us here alone"
"Maybe it's for the best"…
… A figure stood near the cabin where the man and woman were talking. He knew they were talking about him.
Breathing hard through his 1970's style goalie mask, Jason Voorhees pulled away from the window, his hand reaching for the machete he kept with him at all times.
'Man and woman in same bedroom bad' he thought, cocking his head before turning to go back into the woods 'People on old camp ground bad'
As he walked through the woods to his shack, his mother's voice filtered into his subconscious.
"Jason" the familiar warm voice said "Kill them…kill them all…they murdered me…kill them, Jason"
'Yes mommy' he thought, walking deeper into the woods 'I kill them good for you'…
