Kyuubi123, Inkoholic4U, Porrie13, Keskron, dawn444, Raditz, The Unmarked Trail, Kagome Monia and Akuma Neko, SayMyGoodbye, Ajestice , CivilBlood13, Dance Elle Dance, and my dear anon reviewers, thank you kindly.
Ajestice, that is such high praise i still haven't stopped blushing.
this is the second-last planned chapter. in the unlikely event that inspiration strikes me i will add to this story before releasing the final chapter. but i have loose ends to tie.
i think im deliberately stalling. i know its been an unreasonably long time between updates but i will be very sad when this story ends, and the end is coming. not any time soon, seeing how long it took me to finish this chapter, but expect it. and dont expect any more afterwards.
The Doors – Riders On The Storm
The four of them looked like they were caught in some post-punk depression.
Each of them wore a unique expression somewhere between ambivalence and loathing. Their clothes and carriage reflected this, drawing a sharp and slightly ironic contrast to the jubilant light poking holes through the canopy of freshly-grown leaves over-head.
Amy punched her boyfriend on the shoulder, registering complaint with the park regulations. "Twelve o'clock quiet time? Is this place run by fun Nazis or what?" She exhaled violently and crushed her cheap cigarette on a tree. Jordan, Amy's meek lover, took the playful abuse lightly, like he did with everything. He was blind to Amy's faults. He was blind to everyone's faults.
The most destructive of the motley crew took it upon himself to antagonize the second most destructive. "If they were fun Nazis there wouldn't be a curfew. Silly girl, how did you get out of my kitchen?" His name was Xavier and despite his abrasive nature and very high opinion of himself, he complemented the two other personalities.
"Shit on my feet, Xavier." Amy's scowl grew heavier and she lit a new cigarette. They walked for a while longer down the path and things started getting familiar. Jordan produced a map of the campground which Amy promptly snatched from him. "Look at all the places we're not allowed to go! It's half the fucking lake!"
Xavier jumped down from the tree he had been climbing, his opinion at the ready. "Who cares? If it's off-limits, you know what that means? No people there."
Jordan smiled and it brightened his whole face. "But us."
"There's no curfew there, either." The fourth member of the group had said nothing until this point, and it was only after these word left his mouth that he thought of how stupid and unnecessary his social contribution had been. Luckily and sadly, no one payed him any mind. The only reason Zach agreed to go on this trip was because Xavier wanted someone to torment while the couple was coupling. No, that wasn't the whole truth. Xavier agreed on his brother's behalf, like he always did. When he was in Xavier's company, Zach was very much the Teller to his Penn.
When they were kids they used to have real fun together. Then Xavier had turned fourteen and grown up much quicker than he should have, causing Zach to develop a bit of fear towards the prospect of maturing. He didn't want to grow up wrong and sometimes he felt like growing up at all was too much of a risk so he trapped himself in the mentality of the sad and lonely child that he was.
It was decided that they would forgo the traditional campsite and move to the other end of the lake, where it lacked the guidelines they resented so much. Their boisterous voices carried over the majority of the lake as they deposited their belongings in a heap at their campsite. They cursed liberally at the sky when it began to rain on them for only a moment before they forgot about it entirely. Soon after the cheap vodka had been opened and ingested the group split.
Xavier hauled his brother up and prodded him down the path. Much as he would love to stay and watch the movements of Amy's pert ass from the shadows, the rumours shrouding the forest were all too much temptation for one deviant, and his passive companion.
Amy and Jordan stumbled down the hill into the wilds, becoming more light-hearted when they knew they were alone. The only thing they could hear above the rain was each others breathing. When they came to a fallen tree Jordan gave his girlfriend a boost and she hauled him up after her. They walked along the shore for a few long moments loosely holding hands when they decided this was as good a place as any to spend some quality time together.
Half spoken questions to gauge their comfort and pleasure; this was the only time they really communicated. Everything else was small talk in comparison. Amy had a hard time expressing herself because she thought it made her weak, and because Jordan cared for her so much he would always open his emotional gates first, so Amy wouldn't feel so exposed. She appreciated that, though she never said so.
If the noise they were making couldn't lead Jason straight to them, the trail of dark clothing would do just as well. He approached from the left, rather than directly above them, rage rushing through his blood at the filthy sounds they were making, defiling his home like they had nothing else in the world to do. They heard nothing but their intertwining moans and the increasingly less rhythmic squelch of mud beneath them. Amy realized the presence of the massive figure too late. Jason thrust his machete down through the both of them, feeling his fury and disgust dissipate with each bloody gurgle.
He stomped past the bleeding corpses to slosh his machete clean in the lake. After holstering the blade, he carried the corpses up the hill and unceremoniously piled them in their tent and fell silent once again.
Jason had two more vermin to hunt.
Something wasn't right about the forest. Zach didn't feel welcome. The fear felt as if he had swallowed sulphuric acid. But he blamed it on his older brother (partially who the blame belonged to) and followed him further while it burned through his guts. He didn't know where they were going but Xavier seemed to have a purpose; he was practically bounding off the trees to get wherever he was going. Zach didn't want to ask but he did anyway. "Where are you going?" You, he said, as if he wasn't there himself. "The camp?"
"Nah, fuck the camp. You know how many stupid teenagers had that same idea tonight? It'll be crawling with 'em. Places like that always are." At least there was some comfort hidden in his brother's sentiment; Zach wanted very much to avoid running into any other human beings this evening, as he was barely breathing in his own skin. So they took a sharp right turn down the path. Weathered, arrow-shaped signs nailed to the trees they passed had destinations written on them and the trails leading to those places soon came and went as the brothers trekked on through the increasingly wild condition of the surrounding foliage. Finally they passed through the remains of a shredded fence gate with little concern and were faced with an old white house. At least the house was a colour that must have been white in a previous century. The rain began to sputter like an old engine and soon puttered out entirely.
Xavier was all too excited to hunt for treasure is the dilapidated building. He raced ahead and called from the doorway, "Come on, little bro! Where's your sense of adventure?"
"It's not in there!" Despite the avid protest, Xavier went inside and Zach lost his nerve. He followed his brother, every step felt heavier than the last. He felt impossibly rotten about this, but he didn't have the words or the intent to explain this to Xavier.
Zach meandered into the living room and, feeling ill, lay down on the couch. Dust puffed up like a sigh around him. It would be dark soon. He didn't know where his brother was, but they weren't alone long enough for Xavier to spark a cigarette.
It was that time again when the pantry began running dry that Charlotte hopped in her truck and raced the ugly clouds to town. They were ominous but inactive for the time being so she stepped into high gear, not wanting to drive home through the woods in the sodden dark. The forecast was rain all week and without supplies there was no other choice but to try and beat the rain.
On her way to buy groceries she passed (unconsciously slowing) a sports supply store. She parked.
A lengthy, heated internal monologue steamed up the truck for more than a few minutes. It was absurd to think that anyone living in town had gotten close enough to Jason to see that he wore a goalie mask, let alone done that and lived. So she was fairly confident that buying one was inconspicuous enough, she could always say it was for a niece or nephew if asked. Though she didn't think it would come to that, she still practised her answers.
No questions were asked. No uncomfortable expression. The cashier smiled pleasantly, Charlotte tried to mirror that innocent minded look. She felt like a teenager buying alcohol with a fake ID.
The weather, being in a constant state of identity crisis, had looked to be lightening up. Some of the clouds had made way for the odd ray of sunlight, but that was all over very quickly. The rain started unmercifully, progressed to biblical within minutes and stayed that way.
Charlotte was a little worried because there were more than a few dirt roads she had to drive on to get back home. Slugging through miles of mud in the dark didn't hold a position of honour in the grand list of things she wanted to do.
A buoyant old woman noticed Charlotte's cheek-chewing silence and approached her. "Would you like something warm to drink? This rain isn't going to let up for at least an hour."
"That's so sweet of you, thank you. My name's Charlotte."
"Carol. Come upstairs. Make yourself comfortable and I'll put the kettle on." Charlotte followed her up the very vocal staircase through a cozy sitting room and into the kitchen. All the appliances were ancient but obviously in perfect working order. She sat in one of the yellow Naugahyde chairs. "Is Linden tea alright?"
"Yes, fine, thank you."
"How long have you lived here?" Charlotte wasn't surprised by the question. Living in this town was the main topic of conversation for those who lived in the town.
"Coming up on seven years now."
Carol gave her a smile reserved for children. "That's not very long. What do you make of it?"
"I love it," she said with a solemn smile, cradling the cup of tea. "I used to live in New York city and every year I spent there feels like a week in comparison. Everything's so slow and easy here."
They spoke of small matters until Charlotte could contain herself no longer. "Have you heard of-" However she lost her nerve, but stopped herself too late.
"Curiosity did kill the cat, you know," Carol rebuked lightly. She had been questioned in this way more times than she could count.
Charlotte looked at her hands somewhat sheepishly. "Still... What... is he?" Suddenly the question seemed vile.
Her companion shrugged sadly, as if weighed down by possible answers. "There's no way to know for sure. Jason... some of the stories are fifty years old, and compared even to three or four years ago he hasn't changed. I don't believe in ghosts, but I'm not sure if I should change my mind." She smiled at Charlotte, who couldn't be comforted by the kindness. "You're young and you've only heard stories. I've lived here eighty-four years. I've been witness to every shift in this town since Camp Crystal Lake opened. I'm not sure I would be able to explain... Well, you wouldn't want to hear ancient gossip like that anyway."
"I do," Charlotte insisted.
She paused and studied her. "Have you ever seen him?" she asked with gentle concern.
"No," she answered far too quickly, amending her suspicious answer by blurting out in the same hurry, "At least I don't think so. Sometimes I can see a figure on the other side of the lake, but they're too far away to make out." This was not a lie. At least, not entirely. Charlotte knew that Jason occasionally watched her from a distance, but she didn't understand why. She knew also beyond a reasonable doubt that he enjoyed her company, so why he spent nearly equal amounts of time both close by and far away yet always aware of her mystified her senses. It was maddening, sometimes, trying to understand him.
"What were they doing?"
"Just standing there. When I looked again they were gone." This was not a lie either. "He just lives in the forest, doesn't he? He's never come into town?"
"No. Not for a long time. But he always goes home. I don't think he would know how to survive anywhere else."
"He has to eat something." A wave of guilt crashed over her head when she remembered the brand new hockey mask sitting in her car. She felt intensely nasty for talking about Jason in such a disingenuous way.
Carol remained oblivious to the raging uncertainty sitting across the table from her. "He doesn't show up for any potlucks but I'm sure he manages to feed himself. Plenty lives in the woods," Charlotte knew. "My guess is that he hunts. And hunts well. He was a very good marksman in camp, I hear, in archery. But he's been dead all these years, who knows if he could have lost the skill?"
He's not dead, she thought with surreal clarity. I've felt his heartbeat.
Soon after the sun came out from behind the clouds just long enough to sink behind the trees. It would be dark soon. She thanked Carol for the tea and hospitality and drove away.
It was thoroughly night-time when she pulled into her long driveway. The moment she pulled the keys out of the ignition, out of nowhere an animal slammed down on the hood of her truck. Charlotte screamed and the young man, not an a animal after all, screamed too. "Help – please – get me out of here, please!"
In some state of lucid shock she exited the truck to speak with him. But she found she could say nothing, her voice was nowhere to be found. Aimlessly, she stumbled in the direction of her house, staring at the boy.
"WAIT! You gotta help me, don't leave – that big motherfucker's killed my brother- cut him right the fuck in half! - my friends too probably – gonna kill me..." He stopped to cough, doubling over for a moment. "You know who I'm talking about – I'm talking about Jason fucking Voorhees is out there, and he's gonna kill us both."
Charlotte knew immediately that no matter how hard her conscience pleaded she couldn't interfere. Even if she could prevent this murder they should have known better. Jason hadn't killed her for trespassing. She had reasoned as well as begged for her life and it worked. She had been respectful and above all she knew better than to be skulking around the most notorious area in Crystal Lake doing no less than exactly what everyone was warned not to do. It wasn't just folklore in this town, if you went camping you got a map detailing the areas of the township where you were not supposed to go ever. And if you owned property by the lake you damn well knew where you were not welcome. All this being said, even if Jason wasn't standing directly in her line of sight wielding his blood drenched machete, Charlotte would still not have had a mind to interfere.
"Come on! Your car is still warm, please!"
"There's nothing I can do," she said hopelessly, as if she were the one about to die. The boy was so desperately frightened that he wasn't aware Charlotte was staring right past him.
"Why?" he all but yelled in her face before he finally understood. Charlotte put a hand over her mouth to stifle a whimper as he turned and swore at what he saw. "Shit, please! Oh fuck don't kill me!" As Jason approached slow and methodical, the boy did something abhorrent. In his conniption fit, he thrust Charlotte into the line of fire, as if to give himself a second chance. But he was making a very unwelcome sacrifice. "Don't kill me!" he begged again as he sprinted and stumbled and ultimately made no progress toward escape. As if Jason would let him.
Time slowed to a frame by frame rate for Charlotte, unwillingly volunteered for the position of bait. She watched the scene around her in rapt funeral amazement as she hurtled toward Jason. Of course he wouldn't hurt her, but Charlotte was still dumbstruck at the reflex reactions of the boy who not one minute ago was begging her for help. He was ready to throw anyone under the bus to save his still-doomed self, even temporarily. Almost as soon as she was steadied by a pair of obscenely strong hands she was being set aside; Jason held her a moment too long. The message in his only visible eye clearly meant don't look.
She didn't, and the next second Jason disappeared past her shoulder and she still didn't look.
Jason couldn't remember a time where he had ever wanted to end a life so badly, but then, he was in a rage and wasn't in the mood for thinking. Three long strides brought him close enough to use his machete; he left a deep gash across the boy's hip and he crumbled. Hearing the boy's final curses and weak bargains made Charlotte whimper, and even though it put an ache somewhere around his navel, Jason felt justified entirely as he haphazardly chopped the dying boy to pieces.
The merciless hacking behind her was deafening. She fell to her knees, cradling her head and sobbing uncontrollably. When Jason came to his senses all he listened for were Charlotte's cries; he dropped his machete into the sodden dirt and almost flew to her side. He felt certain it was not the first time she had cried like this.
What bothered him the most was that there existed people who felt nothing towards his Lotte. So much nothing, in fact, they could throw her into the path of danger without a second thought. He couldn't fathom it. How could anyone not love her? She should be protected from danger, not used to bait it.
After a long while Jason let go of her and stood up. Charlotte looked up at him with tear-stained cheeks glistening. "W-will you come back?" Her first concern.
Go inside. Leave your door unlocked. Given the circumstances he thought it would be wise to remind her.
Charlotte didn't waste her remaining energy with questions so she only nodded. After an excruciating moment, Jason forced his feet to move in the opposite direction. He wanted nothing more than to hold her until she smiled again, and to forget about the bodies and their abandoned campsite. But he overcame this urge by reminding himself the sooner he dealt with the leavings, the more uninterrupted time he would have with her. This was the only bargain he was able to make with himself.
New spring grass is always so unsure of itself. It holds onto its wintry yellow as if it has spent so much time blanketed by quiet snow that it is afraid that the warmth the sun provides will be snatched away as soon as given. It refuses to hold on to hope. But by May it has forgotten the cold, embraced the sun again, and regained its jewel green. It's an unfortunate place for a funeral pyre, but it was the only option.
He piled the bodies into their tent, soaked them in stolen kerosene and set them all ablaze. The hybrid smoke of flesh and synthetics was cloying.
He sniffed his clothes and knew they reeked of death and smoke. So he walked carefully down to the edge of the lake and splashed water over his face and arms. When he was satisfied he took four huge steps back in the direction of land, and aligned his path back to Lotte's cabin.
Her door was unlocked still, he was relieved to find. A dark red stain was soaked into the carpet. Charlotte noticed Jason tense up and told him in an even tone, "I spilled some wine." She was buried under heaps of blankets next to a roaring fire for reasons Jason could not understand. He put a hand on her forehead.
Jason's hand was cool on her frying skin. The fire was dying down. She couldn't care less how much she sweat. No shower was long enough. Instead she sniffed back her remaining emotion and allowed herself to take solace. He smelled clean, like lake water.
Charlotte felt like a mess. She wanted to cry, but instead she asked Jason something that had been on her mind recently. "Do you ever wonder why it is we can smell the seasons changing?" He had no response, but she wasn't looking for one. Then she remembered.
"I have something for you in my truck," she told him hesitantly. "Is..."
There's nothing outside.
She nodded and hoisted herself up and outside. Her eyes were fixed on the truck, terrified that she might see a bloodstain or a body part. Luckily she reached the truck without seeing anything unpleasant. Jason had followed her outside. When she turned back to face him holding the clean new mask for him he was speechless.
Charlotte shrugged awkwardly and explained, "Well you can't walk around with just a pillow case on your head." Carefully he took the mask in both his hands. "Wait." She blurted out before he put it on. She had to do something first because she knew she would not get this chance again.
Through the fabric of the pillow case she gently touched his cheek, expecting and finding gnarled tissue beneath. Jason didn't react much but she trod very carefully, regardless. It wasn't exactly the equivalent of revealing what he took so much care to hide, but it was something weighted heavy with meaning. Charlotte didn't know what to make of the experience and it was over before she could. Her hand withdrew without intention, but it was for the best; she could tell Jason was getting antsy.
Then she threw her arms around his neck and Jason warmly returned the hug, lifting her clean off the ground.
remember kids, every time you read without reviewing an angel gets a yeast infection
xoxo