Chapter 6

Deborah's hands were full with fuse and flare gun and the trap, though crude, held fast against her clumsy efforts to open it. The pain in her right leg clouded her mind and sapped her strength, making it hard to do anything at all, even if her hands weren't already occupied. Fortunately for her, however, Tommy responded quickly. He dropped the wrench he'd been carrying by her side, before crouching down to force the trap open. Abruptly the pressure stopped, and Deborah staggered back away from the trap before doubling over in agony.

The trap closed with a loud snap as Tommy let go of it, and through a haze of pain, she saw him stand and run around behind her. He's going to leave me because I'm too much trouble, right? Deborah realized, the faint thought sneaking through her foggy mind and bobbing to the surface like a corpse. Truthfully, he'd never promised he'd help her get anything done, and at this point she'd been more of a burden than a help where Jason was concerned. She couldn't really blame him for leaving, but she'd give anything for him to stay at the moment.

The world felt grey and hazy, even more with the heavy fog and menacing clouds overhead, and the only thing that seemed real was the burning throb of her leg. Still, a sense of self preservation took over and she forced herself to stand, intending to hobble to the nearby house. This proved to be a mistake, for putting more than the slightest bit of weight on her leg shot flares of agony up her leg and drove her off balance. Just as she started to fall, an arm wrapped around her back and kept her upright.

Deborah was in enough pain that it wasn't until she found herself clumsily hoisted off the ground bridal-style, that she realized who was helping her. Tommy grunted with exertion as he tried to re-settle her in his arms, before staggering towards the now-open door of the cabin nearby. In that moment, the amount of pain she was dealing with overrode the fear of embarrassing herself, and Deborah flung her arm around Tommy's neck and clung to him, sobbing. She'd worry about being embarrassed later, right now there was only searing agony and the warm reassurance that she wasn't alone yet.

Her ride through the cabin stopped very suddenly as Tommy deposited her hurriedly on one of the bunks, before running into the attached bathroom and coming back with the first-aid kit. He set it on the bed next to her before sitting down himself at her feet, tugging off her damp shoe, then pushing the torn leg of her jeans up to expose the bleeding, arching wounds on her leg. From her prone position, Deborah couldn't see her injuries herself, but Tommy's wince said volumes. She watched him pull rolls of gauze and bandages from the box, along with the green and white bottle of antiseptic spray as well, but before he did anything, he leaned over to pull the pillow out from under her head and toss it on her chest.

"Bite down on this, you're gonna need it. This is gonna hurt like hell," he said grimly. Honestly Deborah couldn't see how it could feel much worse than it already did, but she did as she was told, biting down on the pillow and wrapping her arms around it to hold it close to her face for good measure. And worse it definitely was. Despite bracing herself as best she could, the first touch of the antiseptic-treated gauze to her leg was a million times more excruciating than she expected, and she nearly screamed again. Tears slid down her face behind her glasses and soaked the pillow, and she clenched her teeth so hard they creaked as Tommy wrapped the gauze around her leg, over and over as tightly as he could. Then came the cloth bandage, around and around before he taped it down.

Surprisingly the constant pressure from the bandage seemed to deaden the worst of the pain, and Deborah slowly released the pillow and sat up. Tommy's brow was furrowed as he put the kit back together, but she didn't think he was really angry at her. Perhaps, that tiny voice in her her mind wondered, he might be more worried than he wants to admit.

When Tommy spoke again, his words only gave more truth to her thoughts. "I told you to let me handle any traps," he said with a stubborn frown.

"I didn't even see it!" Deborah insisted, her voice wavery from crying and exhaustion. Tommy sighed softly and stood up, taking the first-aid kit with him. She watched him walk down the length of the room to the bathroom, but as she watched the world seemed to grow less real with each step. A faint sound like the static of a television tuned to an empty station began to grow in her ears, becoming a nearly overwhelming roar by the time Tommy was back. Even with her glasses on and her vision no longer being blurred by tears, Tommy looked hazy and unfocused to her eyes.

"Are you okay, Deborah?" Tommy asked when he got close, his voice low and worried. He bent down to look at her, then sat down nearby on the bed and gently turned her face towards him. "I said, are you okay?"

To Deborah's ears, Tommy's voice seemed to be coming from a very long distance away, muffled by the static she kept hearing. When he moved her head, the world seemed to spin and her head felt like it was floating away. "I- I don't feel good," she murmured. "You're really quiet."

Tommy made a soft, worried sound in his throat that she definitely couldn't hear over the crackling in her ears as he squinted at her face and frowned. "You should lay back down, it sounds like you're going into shock." Deborah gave a few sleepy looking blinks before she nodded and turned back to look towards her feet. Then, before Tommy could get up, she laid back down with her head coming to rest on his lap.

The sudden intrusion into his personal space made Tommy flinch and nearly stand up, but one glance at Deborah's closed eyes and pained frown made him change his mind. With a large sigh, he leaned back a little and forced himself to relax. As if that was the sign she was subconsciously waiting for, Deborah also visibly relaxed, gingerly stretching her legs out across the bed and resting her feet on a rumpled mound of blankets. If it wasn't for her pinched expression and the soft periodic whimpers she kept making, he might have thought she looked peaceful.

Of course, with Deborah's head on his lap, Tommy couldn't exactly go anywhere or even make sure the house was secure, but he couldn't bring himself to move her. Instead, to pass the time as well as satisfy that nagging desire to make sure he was safe, he leaned down the bed to pick up the flare gun that Deborah had dropped during her ordeal. He twisted it over in his hands, examining the shape, evaluating the craftsmanship, and double checking that the bright orange pistol-shaped gun was properly loaded and ready for use- exactly the same thing he'd done when he picked it up at the cabin north of the lodge. Then he set it down closer to himself, in easy reach for a quick shot, just in case someone came poking around in search of the source of the screaming.

There really didn't seem to be much to do while he waited; he couldn't even spread the map out on his lap to memorize it. Thankfully, it was only a few minutes before Deborah started to stir again. Slowly her eyes blinked open, still a bit unfocused but less staring and glassy than they'd been before.

"Feel any better?" Tommy asked. She nodded slowly.

"Yeah," she said slowly, the single word seeming like a great effort to get out. "I should have recognized psychological shock sooner, but I don't think I've ever experienced it before... my professors will be disappointed in me." Despite the weariness in her voice, there was little hesitation in her choice of words, which was somehow comforting to him. Clearly, Deborah was more lucid than she outwardly seemed. The mention of her professors raised a few questions, but at the moment none of those questions were really important.

"How's your leg?" he asked, choosing to stick to questions that were more immediately useful. Deborah shrugged, her shoulders bumping against his leg as she did so.

"Still hurts a lot, but it's not like we can do much more for it."

Tommy's lips tightened a little as he glanced at her bandaged leg again. "You should try to keep your weight off it as much as possible. I did my best but-" he sighed, "-that needs a doctor."

Deborah blinked up at him, tilting her head to one side as if to get a better view of his face so far above hers. "You seem to know an awful lot about all this. Do you often find yourself needing medical attention or is it just a hobby?"

The corner of Tommy's mouth twitched into something almost resembling a smile but it didn't reach his eyes. "Wasn't exactly my choice, really. Some of it was just learning from watching other people, and some of it was necessity. And some reading when I had time; at least I've got a good enough memory for that."

A far-off expression crept into Tommy's eyes as she watched. "Well, thank you. Again. For helping, that is. You could have just left me, but you didn't, and- well it means a lot." Those darn butterflies were creeping back into her stomach, despite the lingering buzz in her ears and the pounding pain in her right leg. And honestly, she couldn't deny that there was something about him worrying over her like this that was kind of attractive.

Perhaps she was staring a bit because the distant look came out of Tommy's eyes as she spoke and he shifted his gaze to look down at her, but as she finished speaking his expression seemed to close off again. A clinging silence followed, and for a moment it looked like Tommy was about to say something, when another sound broke the silence instead.

Footsteps.

Immediately, Tommy's hand shot out for the flare gun beside him. His head flicked from one side to the other as he readied the makeshift weapon, trying to watch both doors into the room. Resistance was mostly futile at the moment anyway- if Jason caught them, flare gun or not, there was no way they could get out easily. Deborah was too injured to run and if Tommy had to carry her it would take too much time to pick her up and escape, not to mention how much slower he'd run with her weight added to his own. At this point all they could do was a fruitless show of defiance.

The door to the large main room opened all of a sudden and Tommy swung his aim towards it, nearly knocking Deborah off his lap in the sound of the door slamming into the table behind it was accompanied by the clatter of a table fan falling to the ground and a somewhat high-pitched yelp, followed by a recognizably shaken voice stammering "Don't shoot! Don't shoot! I'm friendly!" Tommy lowered the flare gun but didn't put it away, and Deborah craned her head to look at the door behind her.

Standing there in the doorway with his hands up in the air over his head, shaking like a leaf with his glasses slowly drifting down his chubby nose, stood Eric Lachappa. Deborah sighed with relief at the sight, though she thought she'd recognized his voice, and reached up to pull Tommy's hands down. "It's okay, he's a counselor, and totally harmless."

"Yes, yes! I work at this camp! I'm supposed to be here!" Eric said hurriedly, lowering his hands and nodding furiously. He fixed his eyes on Tommy. "So what's your excuse?"

Deborah could already see Tommy's eyes starting to roll at yet again having to explain himself, so she jumped in before he could speak. "Eric, don't be rude! This is Tommy Jarvis, he lives in the area. I used the CB radio to call for help earlier and well-" she held up her hand in a sort of shrug, "-he's help."

Eric crossed his arms over his chest. "You didn't call for the sheriff? Or the hospital?"

An exasperated huff left Deborah's mouth before it crossed her mind that now she was the one being rude. "I couldn't remember which channel it was! I tried several, but only one got any results! And the power's out in Evergreen now so it's moot anyway, unless you want to try fixing it somehow." Her voice had gotten sharp and frustrated as she spoke, though some of it was admittedly from the still throbbing pain in her leg. Nobody seemed to want to trust Tommy, even when he said he was there to help them.

Eric for sure seemed to have no desire to trust Tommy. He stood in the doorway and looked him over with an almost completely flat expression on his face, save for the way his lips and eyebrows looked slightly pinched. Jenny's observation from earlier that day crept into Deborah's mind- that Eric most likely had a crush on her- and at this point it would explain a whole lot. Certainly if it were true, her lying with her head on Tommy's lap might also be part of the cause of Eric's strange expression.

A palpable tension seemed to settle over the room, with Tommy and Eric matching each other nearly stare for stare. Tommy was the first to look away, choosing instead to turn his head the other direction and reach for the abandoned fuse that Deborah had left lying on the bed with the flare gun. Fuse in hand, Tommy held it up as he returned to looking at Eric. "The phone's broken and we need to go fix it. I'm making sure Deborah gets there safely."

Eric's gaze shifted from Tommy to the thick bandage on Deborah's leg and the blood-soaked leg of her jeans. "Safe, huh? Doing a real good job there, aren't 'cha?"

"That was all my fault, I wasn't paying attention!" Deborah said, pushing herself up onto her elbows and twisting her torso to look at her coworker better, despite how it made her head swim to do so. "Tommy told me to be careful and I wasn't, so don't blame him!"

"Deborah, I can handle this myself-" Tommy began, bending over to better look her in the eyes, but Deborah shook her head.

"- Just stop, both of you! We don't have time for swaggering and suspicion right now! The sooner we get away from here a-and Jason, the better!" She turned her gaze to Eric. "Eric, what brought you over to this cabin? And have you seen Tiffany or Vanessa?"

Without taking his eyes off them, Eric walked over towards the two on the bed. "They're checking the other cabins. We were going to see if we could get one of the boats operational."

Tommy's eyebrows furrowed. "Operational? The boats don't work?"

Eric shook his head. "We were going to set them up on Monday. None of the boats have fuel right now, and Adam removed all the propellers so that nobody could steal them over the weekend. We've found the propellers, but we're still looking to find out where Kenny stashed the gas." He looked at Deborah. "You were over here this week, do you remember where it's at?"

Deborah shook her head. "Sorry, Eric. I can't remember much of anything clearly at the moment. I can barely remember the last few hours, let alone a few days ago."

"It's okay, I'm just gonna go look through the cabin. Maybe it's in here somewhere." A taut smile spread across Eric's broad face as he moved toward the door again. He very clearly didn't look at Tommy at all as he did so.

"I'll help look," Tommy said, standing up now that Deborah wasn't lying across his lap. "We can cover more ground if there's two of us." As he reached the doorway, he paused to glance back at her. "You should lay back down and let your leg rest a little. We shouldn't be long." If Tommy noticed the glare Eric shot him from the other room, he didn't show it. With a small sigh and an internal hope that the two of them would at least be civil to each other, Deborah laid back down on the bed to wait.

The cabin was one of the larger ones, like the one the CB Radio was kept in or the one north of the Higgins lodge where Tommy and Deborah had hidden. It had a similar design as well, so even though Tommy had never been in this particular cabin, it was at least slightly familiar. Sensing the tension in the air from being in the same room as Eric, Tommy made his way over to the room the back door opened onto. Like the previous cabin, the walls were lined with bunks and footlockers and a wardrobe or two. Nothing out of the ordinary, really. Still, he walked down the length of the room, checking as thoroughly as he could. Along by the back wall of the room, in the small corner nook between the door outside and the door to the center hall, Tommy spotted at table. It was an easily overlooked spot, and at first glance seemed to be nothing noteworthy at all, until he spotted a flash of red underneath it. When he bent down to look, he saw a tidy row of four gas canisters sitting side by side underneath.

Tommy opened the door to the large main room where Eric was searching. "I think I found what you were looking for. How many cans do you need?" Eric straightened up hurriedly, then hurried over to where Tommy was at, quickening his pace to almost a jog.

"Just one, probably," he said, following Tommy to the table hiding the gas. As Tommy rested one hand on the table and bent down, intending to grab one of the cans, Eric frowned. Quickly, he ducked down himself and dragged one of the heavy cans out to where he could pick it up properly before Tommy could do anything more.

"I can carry that-" Tommy said, but cut himself off as Eric proudly hoisted the bright red gas can off the ground.

"I got it," he said with a smug (but shaky) smile. Tommy's eyes flicked silently from Eric's straining arms, to the rapidly growing flush on his face, and then to the door leading into the hallway. He wasn't sure who exactly Eric was trying to impress, but it wasn't Tommy's fault if his pride bought him a brand-new, five-pound-gas-can-related injury. Instead, Tommy walked back to the room he'd left Deborah in and returned over to the bed she'd laid back down on.

"C'mon, we should get moving. Your friend found the gas he was looking for." Reluctantly Deborah opened her eyes again, then sat up slowly.

"I can't exactly walk very well on this leg of mine," she said, lifting it off the small blanket mound it was resting on. In response, Tommy sat down on the bed beside her.

"Alright, I think I can carry you, but don't go squirming around too much, okay?"Deborah nodded and picked up the fuse and flare gun from where Tommy had left them, before scooting around to sit behind him and wrap her arms around his neck. Once he was sure she was settled, Tommy leaned forward and placed his hands under her legs to shift her weight onto his back, then stood. For a moment it seemed like both of them were about to pitch forward onto the floor, or possibly one of the bunks nearby, before Tommy regained his sense of balance. It wasn't exactly the most comfortable position for either of them, honestly, and Tommy had to remind her once or twice not to cling quite so tightly to his neck (not to mention both of them having to deal with the chilly looks from Eric once they met back up) but it was their best option at the moment.

Eric lead the way out of the cabin and down along the main road towards the boat. They made slow progress however, with both Eric and Tommy struggling a bit with their individual burdens. As they reached the last cabin before the road turned off towards the bridge, Eric changed his path and stopped outside, setting the can down before knocking on the door. They waited there in silence just long enough for Tommy to start getting antsy, glancing around as if expecting to get jumped. Then, the three were greeted with the sound of the barricade being lifted and the door opened to reveal Vanessa's serious face.

"I found the gas," Eric announced, picking up the can and pushing through into the cabin. With an uncertain glance towards Vanessa who was still standing by the door, Tommy followed close behind. His shoulders didn't relax under Deborah's arms until the door was closed again and the barricade lowered. Soon after, the interior door opened to admit Tiffany into the main room, who immediately froze upon entering to gawk at the stranger in their midst

"Eric found some gas-" Vanessa started to say, but Tiffany's eyes had strayed from Tommy to Deborah perched on his back and the clearly visible blood on her torn jeans.

"Ohmygawd, Deborah!" She walked quickly over to them and briskly flapped her hand at Tommy, indicating that he should set Deborah down. Tommy's eyes flicked from Tiffany to Vanessa standing across the room with her arms crossed, and for a moment he resembled nothing less than a deer in the headlights of an oncoming semi truck. Neither young woman seemed willing to take "no" for an answer, however, so Tommy reluctantly bent down to let Deborah climb off his back and collapse on a nearby couch.

"What the hell happened to you?" Vanessa asked, coming over to fuss over Deborah along with Tiffany, now that Tommy had moved out of the way.

"Well, I kinda stepped in a bear trap," Deborah admitted sheepishly. Both girls made appropriately horrified noises, and Vanessa knelt down to examine the bandaging on Deborah's leg. "It was all my fault, really. I wasn't looking carefully but Tommy patched me up and it really doesn't hurt so bad now-"

"Wait, Tommy?" Tiffany said, interrupting Deborah's rambling. "Him?" She pointed over her shoulder in Tommy's general direction, but didn't turn to look. Tommy's eyebrows tightened and his eyes narrowed, but she paid no attention. "He wrapped your ankle? Not bad!" She finally glanced over her shoulder at Tommy, who was still frowning at her. "Not sure how you managed to attract a random guy to the camp this late at night but at least he's handy, right?" She leaned in close and loudly whispered, "And cute too!"

Deborah's cheeks reddened as Tiffany broke into giggles. "I used the radio to call for help, okay? I know he's not the police or anything, but we're headed to Stillwater to get the phone working."

"Do you even think the Sheriff will be on call this late at night?" Vanessa asked, sitting on the couch next to Deborah. "I mean, you should definitely call the cops, but I dunno how long it'll take for them to get here. Or if they'll even believe you that some freaky dead guy's trying to murder everybody."

"Well, at the very least we can try, right?" Deborah said. "I'd like to think that at least somebody's on call?"

"I'd like to believe that I'll pinch myself and wake up at home in bed, but I don't think that's very likely," Tiffany retorted. She turned around again to glance at Tommy. "Hey, blondie? Go kick rocks for a sec, wouldja? I need to talk to Debbie here." Her eyes lowered and a wicked smile crossed her face. "Girl stuff, y'know." Dismissively she waved her hand at him and snapped her gum. Tommy's frown only deepened but after a moment or two of thought he stalked off into the other room and closed the door behind him. Eric wisely picked up his gas can before scurrying out of the room as well with a mumbled excuse about fueling up the boat.

"Tiffany-" Deborah began, warningly.

"-Seriously, not bad, Debs," Tiffany said, cutting her off. "Not sure what I think about all the grumpy old man glares, but hey, he's cute!" The devious smile was back, and she gently elbowed Deborah in the side. "So whatever happened to Chad? Or did that yacht sail when you got a good look at-"

"What the heck, Tiffany?" Deborah snapped, raising her voice and drowning her out with sheer volume and ferocity. "This is not the time for this at all! Buggzy is dead, okay? And Kenny, and Adam and... and who knows what happened to Jenny or AJ or Chad." Tears pricked at her eyes, and Deborah yanked her glasses off in frustration. "And all you want to do is talk about whether or not I've got a crush on some guy I barely know? What is wrong with you?"

It was hard to see without her glasses, but when Deborah looked over at Tiffany again, she was almost certain she saw tears starting to run down her friend's face. The sound of sniffling told her she was right. "I'm scared, okay?" Tiffany said finally, her voice shaking. "I'm really, really f-ing scared right now. I know we're not getting out of this, and I just- I want everything to go back to normal!" She clenched her hands into fists to keep them from shaking. "I wanna pinch myself and find out this is all a bad dream, or a prank somebody's pulling... or just... god, just anything else!"

"I'm scared too," Vanessa admitted softly, leaning in to wrap her arm around Tiffany's shoulders. "But we're gonna get out of this. We're gonna get that boat running, and we're getting away from this camp and I'm never ever going to a lake again!" Tiffany smiled weakly, and Deborah leaned in herself to join the group hug.

When the girls finally let go and dried their eyes, Tiffany was the first to speak. "Thanks, guys. I- thanks." Vanessa squeezed her shoulder lightly as she stood, and Deborah nodded with a small smile. The door to the other room opened a small crack, and Tiffany waved Tommy over, like a queen granting a reprieve to an exiled subject.

"I think we need to get going," Deborah said with an apologetic glance. Tiffany leaned in for a quick, fierce hug before Tommy could pick Deborah up.

"Seriously though, you should snap him up while you can, Debs. You never know what might happen," she whispered in Deborah's ear, before letting go. The bright blush returned to Deborah's cheeks as Tiffany stood and stayed long after she'd climbed back onto Tommy's back.

"Good luck with the boat!" Deborah said as she and Tommy headed out the door, waving as best she could with the fuse still clutched in her fist. Then, she and Tommy started down the path over the bridge towards Stillwater.

"I don't think they've got much of a chance," Tommy said at last, once they were over halfway across the bridge. His voice was soft and grim, and Deborah suspected that intensely focused frown was back on his face.

"What do you mean?" she asked, keeping her voice low so that it wouldn't echo around the wooden roof of the covered bridge.

Tommy's shoulders heaved as he took a deep breath. "Jason knows the lake better than anyone. He drowned there once. He's been down there for about a year now, too. Boats are a really bad idea around Jason."

Deborah lowered her head to rest her chin against his shoulder. "You say that like you know from experience." The only response from Tommy was his shoulders raising and lowering in a shrug, and the silence hovered around them as they made their way across the lighted road to the field beyond. Wordlessly, Deborah directed Tommy towards the long cabin where the telephone was located, and pointed him towards the box with the fuses. They came to a stop beside the box, but Tommy didn't set her down or attempt to examine it. Instead, he tapped her arm then pointed to the ground in front of the box.

"There's a snare," he said softly. "Like the one you stepped in earlier." Deborah peered over his shoulder, trying to see what he was pointing at. At first all she saw was a pile of dead leaves, but little by little she noticed the outline of the gaping maw of a leghold trap. A shudder ran down her back at the sight.

"That wasn't there earlier," she whispered. "Can you do anything about it?"

Silently Tommy pulled the closed knife out of his pocket and held it up. "I think I can trip it safely with this, but I'll need both hands." Instead of letting her go, however, he put the knife back in his pocket and walked around the end of the house to the side door, staying carefully away from the trap. "I take it you know where the phone's at, right? Do you think you can make it to the phone and wait until I tell you to call?"

"Well, I don't know how fast I'll be, but I do know where the phone is," Deborah said hesitantly. Tommy nodded, carrying her into the house and setting her down in the small kitchen area inside. It took a second for Deborah's brain to register that he was asking for the fuse when he held out his hand. Hurriedly she placed it in his hand. "Lock the door after me, okay? I'll let you know when it's fixed." Without waiting for a response, Tommy was off out the door, thankfully closing it behind him.

The wounds in Deborah's leg still ached as she hobbled over to the door and pulled the barricade down, but if she was careful she could still manage to walk. Slowly she made her way into the side room where the telephone was located. There was a single, solitary rocking chair near the phone that she'd never paid much attention to before, but now she sank into it gratefully to await the phone's repair.

Outside, Tommy made his way back to the phone box and the trap nearby. If he was very careful, the trap wouldn't pose a problem but he needed to remove it before he could safely approach the box. He flicked open his knife and bent down. One wrong move could mean an injury as bad as Deborah's if not worse. If he could just reach that hinge, though...

Snap. The trap released and Tommy yanked his hand back just in time as the wooden jaws clacked together, their metal teeth devoid of prey. With the one thing keeping him from repairing the fusebox gone, Tommy gingerly opened the metal door to peer inside. By now, the heat Deborah and Buggzy had discovered was gone as was the smoke, and Tommy could clearly see the remains of the previous fuse still partially plugged into its slot. He pulled the end of his flannel sleeve up over his hand and carefully pried out the remains of the previous fuse, then slotted the replacement into the empty space.

Nothing happened.

The rest of the box itself wasn't too badly damaged and it should be operational, but the light in the corner remained an angry red. Tommy ran a hand through his tousled, tawny hair, raising his eyes up as if expecting an answer from the heavens. Instead, his eyes fell upon the connecting wires leading up into the eaves of the cabin. These cables were supposed to be connected to the fuse box outside, but now they dangled uselessly above it. Tommy stood to examine them, expecting to see frayed wires and torn rubber casings.

For once, luck was with them. The wires, instead of being cut or torn, had simply been pulled out of the box- and not by extreme force either. They seemed to have been made to be easily disconnected, and therefore easily re-connected as well. Tommy traced each wire down from the roof and plugged them back into the box one by one.

Once the last wire was back in place, the light on the front of the box began to glow a soft, steady blue. Tommy snapped the front of the fuse box shut and stood up. "It's fixed, hurry up!" he called through the window. Through the slats he could see Deborah standing up from the nearby rocking chair, then picking up the phone and dialing. A slight breath of relief ran though his body. If they could get this call off, then maybe there was at least some hope for survival tonight.

The windows along the back of the house all had the windows tightly shuttered, with no easy way for him to get inside through them. Instead, he began jogging along the side of the building, over to one of the unshuttered windows in the main room of the house. For a moment, his steps faltered and as he regained his balance a realization dawned on him.

The world had gone deathly silent.

A cold fear gripped his heart, and Tommy lengthened his stride. The closest window was all the way around the edge of the building, and he hurried to get to it. His fingers fumbled with the edge of the window pane in his hurry, but he soon had the window open. "Deb! Hurry up, we don't have much time!" Something moved outside a window in the corner of his eye, and Tommy dove for one of the pokers by the fireplace. It was flimsy and probably not much use, but it was something at least. He felt better with something in his hand.

Slowly he shifted to look through the windows for any sign of Jason, testing the weight of the poker in his hand. That's when the outside door exploded, hurling huge chunks of wood halfway across the floor. By the time Tommy had turned towards the door, shifting to a defensive stance in the process, Jason had already closed the gap and stood looming over top of him. There was nowhere to run, his back was up almost flat against the fireplace. He was cornered.

Tommy swung his arm back, intending to at least try to hit Jason with the poker, but before his arm even came close, Jason's huge hand clamped around his throat. Almost immediately, the grip around his neck was so great he could barely breathe. Jason was just too strong, even with a hand that was decomposing and could barely be called human at this point. No matter how hard he fought, only a trickle of air was reaching his lungs. Desperately he clawed at the hand trapping his throat, even as his vision spun and his feet left the floor and Jason raised him into the air.

Red faced and beginning to panic, Tommy fought harder against the hand holding him, but he was losing ground. Each second he had less air, and for every second of air lost his sight grew dimmer, greyer.

In those few seconds before he lost consciousness, Tommy Jarvis realized he was going to die.