Sunday, November 1st
The Present
The sun, a glowing sphere of blazing red, citrus yellow, and eye-popping orange, shone brightly down atop Camp Crystal Lake, turning the dark, murky waters a shimmering pink outlined with vibrant gold. The trees surrounding the shore, swaying gently in the morning breeze, were saturated with dew, their few remaining leaves gently parachuting to the damp forest floor.
It was Sunday.
Act II had officially begun.
All was calm; even the chirping birds seemed to sing out beautiful notes, forming unmatched harmonies that were carried along by the wind.
Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, especially not to the two college students fast asleep within the cabin farthest from the water, nestled securely within the woods, shielded by towering spruces and pines.
The arrival of morning had woken Miranda Cortez almost immediately.
As sunbeams burst through the dust-covered windowpane, the vivacious young woman's mocha-almond eyes had fluttered open, allowing her to fully appreciate the beauty of her surroundings.
The cabin itself left a lot to be desired (Nicole had not promised anything luxurious), yet the tranquility of the forest was the perfect setting for a night of steaming passion.
No, the cabin did indeed repulse her, for she was usually surrounded flawless butlers, spiraling marble staircases, deep maroon velvet curtains, and immaculate facilities; Nicole had said nothing about there only being a dingy outhouse a quarter of a mile deeper into the woods.
Nonetheless, she had survived a night atop a torn mattress with a shredded blanket that did anything but protect her from the cold.
Quite proud of herself, she removed the blanket, brushed away the frayed strands that had stuck onto her bare legs, and readjusted her lace bra, quietly removing some spongy padding from a nearby nightstand.
Shoving the padding down into her bra, she made her way over to what could have been a child's rocking chair at some point in time, and slipped her arms into a bath robe that she placed over the back of the chair.
Smoothing out the creases in the robe, Miranda then turned her attention to her hair, picking up a comb from the nightstand and attempting to comb out the tangles that haunted her each morning.
Grunting in frustration, she threw the comb down, and moved towards the grimy window, peering out at the stretch of fallen leaves and misshaped woodchips that formed a path leading from the cabin to the main campgrounds.
Brushing away a few wisps of her dark coffee hair, Miranda smiled at the gorgeous, peaceful scene before she turned her attention to the young man still lying atop the shared bed.
He was tall and tan, though not visibly for his entire slim body, with the exception of his dark face, was wrapped up in the tattered blanket. The teenager's hair, a dirty-blond in color, continuously fell into his closed eyes as he snored the morning away.
Deciding not to wake the young man with whom she had spent the night, Miranda merely smiled, and began to undress, away from the window, at the foot of the creaking bed.
Covering her bare form with the negligee, she searched a chestnut wardrobe thrust against the far wall for a decent outfit: a pair of tight athletic pants, an equally tight, sleeveless gray T-shirt, and worn running shoes would do just fine.
Time for her morning jog.
A few laps around the lake would be perfect, especially after those handfuls of grease-laden potato chips she had devoured the previous night at the party.
After all, Miranda Cortez was expected to keep a trim physique.
xxx
The searing waves of immense heat seemed to follow Miranda as she sprinted around the water's edge, casting shafts of blinding light upon her perspiring face.
Beads of sweat dripped down from the strands of loose hair that were not held up in a disheveled bun, and her entire form trembled as her legs seemed to harden into blocks of immovable marble.
Why couldn't she jog any farther?
She knew eating those damn chips was a bad idea.
Huffing and wheezing, Miranda scanned her surroundings for a bench or a lone tree trunk.
Camp Crystal Lake was no community park, however.
After recent torrential rain storms the past week, the campgrounds were littered with soggy, decaying debris, mostly logs and disconnected tree branches. Piles of dripping leaves formed walls around the lake's surface, creating a makeshift barrier as silvery fish flopped about the dull, gray water.
Miranda bit her lip in aggravation as she realized that there was no place to sit down and rest.
Thus, she had no choice but to keep going, unless she wanted to return to the cabin, already dripping with sweat; another one or two laps would have to suffice for the morning.
Suddenly sensing a movement from out of the corner of her eye, she snapped to attention, her expression frenzied.
Miranda hastily looked over her shoulder, her brow furrowed with worry; why did she have the feeling that she was being watched?
Unfortunately for the young, naive woman, the dark form peering up at her could not be easily spotted, especially when Miranda had her attention focused on whatever was behind her, and not at whatever was staring fixedly at her from beneath the surface of the lake.
As the sun shone through the bare branches of the skeletal trees, Miranda shook such gruesome thoughts from out of her head, and continued around a wide loop.
The figure cornered Miranda the second she made her final turn.
It all happened so quickly; at first, all she could see was a tidal wave of water cascading from out of the lake, followed by an inaudible screech emitted from a dripping shadow that had appeared out of nowhere.
Miranda was more taken aback in surprise than in terror; the terror would come momentarily.
The form, its distorted face barely visible in the blistering sunlight, lunged out at Miranda, successfully grabbing her left ankle.
Before she could manage to react, Miranda let out a sharp yelp as her attacker forced her down atop the ground, sending vibrantly-colored leaves flying.
The sheer strength of the mute creature was impossible to comprehend; within seconds, Miranda felt herself being dragged off of the jogging trail.
"Get off of me, fucker!" she snapped, her face now a sickening off-purple. Flailing her arms and her one free leg wildly, she began to claw at the damp, dew-covered ground, upturning clumps of dripping grass and breaking one of her manicured nails.
The pain of her shredded finger barely compared to the agony she was experiencing from the form's razor-sharp claws digging into her ankle.
"Ugh!" she moaned, her chin striking a ragged rock that was protruding from the soggy earth.
Crimson liquid spattered from the corners of her mouth, and she realized in sheer, mind-numbing horror that she was choking on her own blood.
Without warning, a new sensation came over the whimpering young woman.
Miranda's eyes began to readjust to the scorching light just as she felt her legs become submerged in icy, bone-chilling water.
She was being pulled down into the lake.
"You fucker!" she wailed, her pitiful screams barely perceptible over her mad thrashes and flails.
The battle was a short one, however, and throughout the entire ordeal, Miranda did not manage to obtain a decent look at her ambusher's deformed features.
As her strength began to speedily evaporate, her tone changed into more of a plea: "Oh my God, Kevin, please! Do something...!"
And yet nothing could be done, for the figure had already managed to drag her down into the water far enough so that only her head and upper torso were visible.
Uttering a final string of profanities, Miranda felt the hands press down upon her skull before she could even hope to swim to the shore; with a monstrous plop, Miranda's head disappeared beneath the murky water with such finality that even she, in her feeble, teenaged mind, knew that she was dead.
And indeed she was.
Jason had expected some resistance, a few kicks, maybe a handful of punches, but to have his latest victim put up no fight at all?
Pathetic.
Disgraceful.
Scandalous.
That drowned Barbie doll did not deserve to be killed by his glorious hand.
Perhaps the girl's boyfriend would make things more interesting.
xxx
The morning wore on lazily.
Hour turned to hour turned to hour.
By the time Kevin Dixon awoke from his deep slumber, the pulsating sun hung partway across the baby-blue sky.
Groaning tiredly, the slim young man turned over onto his side, but the sunbeams bursting through the cabin window were persistent, shining down upon his face and forcing him up out of bed.
Wearing nothing but a sleeveless muscle shirt and a pair of checkered boxers, he stumbled over to the nightstand in order to retrieve his cell phone.
Flipping open the palm-sized device, Kevin squinted his eyes in order to check the time; it was nearly ten o'clock.
Grunting, he replaced the cell phone back down atop the nightstand, and proceeded to move toward the grime-covered window.
Outside, the world was quiet, the swirling morning mist transforming into heavy slabs of gray fog that hung over the once-placid lake like Death itself.
Nature seemed to hush, as if the reemergence of Crystal Lake's most infamous resident spelled certain doom for those who foolishly decided to trespass upon the blood-soaked campgrounds.
Leaves drifted down from the gnarled trees, spiraling about the air like weathervanes caught in a sudden wind storm.
It did take like for the morning breeze to pick up, propelling pebbles and twigs upward in minute tornados.
Frowning, Nathan turned away from the cold, dreary scene before him; he had thought it would be a gorgeous day.
Damn meteorologists.
Shrugging his shoulders, he suddenly contemplated getting back into bed...
No.
Miranda would return from her jog soon, and they both needed to head back into town.
Maybe a shower would wake him up.
xxx
Throwing open the cabin door after slipping a jacket over his broad frame, Kevin, his large, sockless feet shoved into a pair of mud-covered work boots, hurried out into the silent, mist-enshrouded forest, shivering uncontrollably.
Why had it gotten so cold?
Making sure that he had brought along a change of clothes for after his shower, he continued down the makeshift path, dodging logs and fallen branches at every turn.
The trail was slick with rain (it must have poured last night after the party had ended), and the autumn leaves were soggy and dripping.
Uttering a dozen or so curses, Kevin succeeded in avoiding many of the natural obstacles by heading deeper and deeper into the surrounding woods.
Where were the shower-stalls that Miranda had been talking about earlier? They certainly couldn't be very far from the dilapidated cabin.
Brushing past a line of knobby trees, Kevin, nearly losing his left boot to a protruding root, emerged in a slight clearing. A few hundred yards in front of him, covered in a tangle of writhing vines, stood a row of stalls, their fronts covered by torn yellow tarps.
Kevin, ignoring the numbing sensation that was taking control of his exposed legs, pressed onward, fighting back the vines that threatened to encroach upon his chosen stall.
Pushing away the tarp, Kevin emerged within a cubicle that was barely wide enough to fit his ample frame comfortably. Stepping up upon a low pedestal complete with a hopefully-functioning drain, he began to examine the rusted shower head.
Undressing within the confines of the stall, he carelessly flung his new pair of clothes over the stall's side wall, every so often craning his neck upward to make sure that nothing had taken his ripped jeans or his T-shirt.
After a few minutes of fiddling with the ancient nozzles, thin strands of icy water escaped from overhead, spraying down upon Kevin as he remembered that he left his bar of soap back within the cabin.
Grunting, he leaned back against the wall of the shower stall, allowing the water to wash away the layer of grime that had accumulated on him after he had slept atop such an unsanitary mattress.
Minutes began to fly by like vehicles on an interstate highway.
Moving away from the rough, crumbling wall, Kevin twisted one of the nozzles to the side, and the flow of water slowed, eventually disappearing entirely.
Reaching for the pale blue towel that he had brought along, Kevin dried his muscular body, and partially leaned out through the open tarp, grabbing his jeans and matching shirt.
Slipping the new clothes on, he shoved his feet back into the work boots, and exited the stall, reenergized yet still worried; why hadn't Miranda returned from her jog? Or at least, why hadn't she come looking for him?
Maybe she was back at the cabin by now, waiting to take a shower herself.
Kevin, mumbling curses beneath his breath (he needed to get back into town sometime that morning), began the long trek back towards the shared lodge.
Exiting the never-ending stretch of forest, Kevin once again emerged atop the marked trail, following its looping turns and sudden drops until the dim lights of the cabin were clearly visible in the distance.
Quickening his pace, he moved past fallen logs and piles of decaying leaves, and eventually he found himself standing directly in front of the wooden oak door.
Turning the knob forcefully, Kevin felt the mediocre warmth of the cabin wash over him as he entered the one-room wilderness hut.
To his horror, he realized that the cabin was completely deserted, except for a worn teddy bear that Miranda had shoved in with her belongings when they were packing for the romantic weekend.
Breathing heavily, Kevin eyed the cabin for any traces of his vanished girlfriend before hurrying back outside into the woods, just as a light drizzle erupted overhead.
As the pounding rain became steadier and steadier, Kevin jogged away from the cabin, his jacket already slick with water.
Rushing past lines of identical trees, their bare branches swaying in the wind, Kevin felt the thicket around him grow denser and denser until he spotted the lake water shimmering in the near distance.
Quickening his pace, he emerged from the underbrush, his arms scratched and bleeding from the thorns of tall, tangled plants within the forest.
"Miranda?" he called, his voice high-pitched from worry and lack of water. "Miranda, babe, where are you?"
The only response, however, was the ear-splitting shrill of some far-away bird.
Groaning in fear, a new thought suddenly sprung into Kevin's mind; what if she had taken his car and had driven back into town without him?
This idea melted away the second he felt the bronze car keys within his jeans pocket.
Christ.
Where could she be?
Hurrying down the slight incline that led to the rain-spattered shore, he felt his feet finally rest upon even ground; the jogging path.
If Miranda was still in the camp vicinity, she would be here.
The trail was deserted, and all that Kevin managed to notice were handfuls of upturned earth, closer to the water's edge.
Fear blossomed within his chest, and his head began to spin. Swaying unsteadily, he searched feverishly for something to lean against.
The nearest tree he could spot was already taken, however.
The form, a mere shadow beneath the twisting skeletal branches, was slumped up against the rotting wood, its face obscured with darkness.
Kevin squinted his eyes for a better view.
"Miranda?" he asked, unsure. "Is that you...?"
The figure moved away from the tree, and Kevin could tell that it was much too tall and wide-shouldered to be any of the girls he had ever slept with.
Growing concerned, Kevin began to back away, his dirty-blond hair falling into his eyes and obscuring his vision.
The figure moved with such speed, such sheer power, that at first, Kevin was taken aback in amazement, barely able to move.
The shadow was no longer a shadow as it stepped into the blazing sunlight of morning.
Jason Voorhees stood over six feet tall, his unmasked face even more grotesque and misshapen within the proper light, his long, burned legs carrying him over three feet per step.
Kevin felt his insides freeze as the dark figure approached.
"Jesus..." he breathed, his heart pounding frantically as if it were about to pop in an explosion of blood, muscle, and tissue.
Surprisingly, it did not take long for Kevin to realize that his life was in jeopardy; within seconds, he had picked up a fallen branch and was swinging it about threateningly.
Jason approached nonetheless, his charred lungs making his constant breaths sound like deathly wheezing.
Kevin, gritting his teeth, sweat dripping down from his brow, rushed forward, and slashed the branch through the air.
Jason felt the sharp sting of the attack before he was able to understand what was happening.
The branch struck him across the left side of his face, snapping in two as it did so. Warm blood cascaded from the wound, spraying downward onto his shredded clothes.
Jason, screeching wildly, somehow fought back the agony, and lunged for Kevin, his slender, burned fingers wrapping around the frenzied teenager's throat.
Resisting the urge to scream in terror and give in to his attacker, Kevin, cursing profusely, stumbled backwards and brought up his left leg, striking Jason's neck with his knee.
Grunting, Jason fell away, blood continuing to pour from his torn cheek.
Breathing heavily, Kevin sidestepped the moaning form, his head spinning, tears streaming from his bloodshot eyes.
He had nearly been killed...
Moving away from Jason's trembling body, Kevin suddenly broke out into a mad dash, in the direction of the camp's front gates.
All he had to do was get to his car; Miranda would be there, hiding, waiting for him, and the two of them would hop inside, and they'd drive away. Once Miranda located her cell phone, they would call the police, and they'd flee before the mute psychopath behind them could catch up.
Out of the corner of his eye, Kevin caught a flash of metallic blue.
His Honda Civic.
Thank God he had parked it relatively near the camp, just outside of the gates.
He would make it...he would make it...
A few hundred feet; that was all it was, a couple more long leaps across the soggy ground.
Kevin, afraid that he would not locate Miranda's shivering form somewhere in the vicinity of his vehicle, did not happen to notice the lumbering shadow that was encroaching upon him.
Hurrying through the open gates, he ran up to the cobalt Honda, frantically jamming the 'car-open' button with his index finger.
A high-pitched click resounded up and down the desolate path as Kevin reached out his tanned arm to grab the silver door handle.
He could not see Miranda anywhere.
Little did he know, of course, that her waxy body was pinned beneath the surface of the murky lake, wrapped in strands of greenish-brown seaweed, her eyes forever open, staring out at the slippery, silvery fish that darted past her blank, expressionless face every so often.
Momentarily pushing the dead young woman out of his thoughts, Kevin focused on getting inside the car.
Throwing open the door, he leapt atop the driver's seat, and stealthily locked himself within the vehicle's confines.
Breathing heavily, he was just about to reach for the ignition when his heart froze in his muscular chest.
Christ.
The car keys!
He had just had them a moment before...
A series of taps coming from outside of the Honda made Kevin snap to attention, beads of sweat trickling down from his drenched brow.
The rapidity of the taps suddenly increased, and Kevin realized that a large shadow had somehow appeared directly on the other side of his window.
Looking up, he saw a very familiar, wheezing form holding something glittery and silver in its hand.
Kevin felt his jaw drop before he heard the window before him shatter inwards, the shadow reaching in through the new opening and clawing around for the teenager's throat.
It did not take Jason Voorhees long to find what he wanted.
A frightfully brief scuffle took place, ending only when a distinct snap echoed from within the Honda.
Kevin slumped forward, his bleeding head striking the steering wheel with a loud thud.
Jason moved away from the eradicated window, turning his attention to the world before him.
Time to make a fresh start.
All was silent at Camp Crystal Lake for the remainder of the morning and into the afternoon.
Of course, Jason was already off in search of a new hunting ground.