Chapter 7

As soon as Tommy told her the box was fixed, Deborah had the phone to her ear, dialing 911 as fast as she could. Luckily, dispatch picked up the call almost immediately. "Oh, thank God," she said, almost babbling into the phone. "We're at Camp Forest Green, up at the old Higgins lodge. Please send help! It's Jason Voorhees! He's back-"

"What kind of a prank do you think you're trying to pull?" The voice on the other end snapped, cutting her off in the middle of her frantic speech.

"Wha-? This is not a prank, we need your help!" By this time, Deborah was nearly hysterical, certain that at any second the door would burst open beside her, or the phone would die on her again. "We need the police and an ambulance! He's killing my friends! Please help us!" From the other room she heard Tommy calling for her to hurry, and nervously she bounced on her good foot, waiting for a response.

"Higgins Haven you said?" The dispatcher sounded weary, but resigned. "You realize you can get fined if this isn't a real emergency-"

"Yes! Yes! Thank you! Camp Forest Green! Hurry!" It felt like ages before she was allowed to hang up, but as soon as the receiver was back on the hook, she turned to hobble to the other room and meet up with Tommy.

As she swung open the door to the main room, the sight that greeted her made her freeze in terror. The front door was in shattered pieces across the room, and Jason was holding Tommy off the ground by his throat near the fireplace. She could see Tommy's eyes starting to roll back into his head, and each attempt to get free seemed feebler than the last. The flare gun that she'd been holding onto so tightly was too risky to use in a situation like this; Tommy would almost certainly get caught in the crossfire. Instead, Deborah dropped the gun and grabbed a saucepan off the small stove by the door, and charged across the room, the adrenaline in her veins masking the pain in her leg.

"LET GO OF HIM, YOU MONSTER!" she shrieked and swung the saucepan with all her might right at the back of his head. The metal bottom of the pan hit with a satisfying klunk, and Jason flinched, turning his head away from Tommy. As he turned, his grip loosened and Tommy sagged into a limp heap on the floor in front of the fireplace.

Deborah's breath caught in her throat. Was she too late? She couldn't tell, couldn't get around Jason to check, and she certainly wasn't going to let her guard down for a second until he was gone. Slowly she backed away, realizing that she was likely his next target. With her injured leg she couldn't run very well, and she was absolutely no match for him in a physical fight. Yet, deep down, she knew she had to draw him away from Tommy, just in case he was still alive.

Keeping her eyes on Jason the whole time, she backed to the door she'd come in from and fumbled for the flare gun she'd dropped in place of the pan. Just as her hand closed around the handle, she saw Jason start to move again, slowly as if waking from a dream. His head turned towards her, then the rest of his body seemed to straighten out to follow before he began walking directly towards the door in front of her. Deborah spun and staggered towards the door at the end of the long building. With all her might she threw up the barricade and yanked the door open. As soon as she was outside, Deborah turned around to pull the door closed behind her, the sight of Jason drawing nearer with each step sending shivers of fear down her spine. Still, she had to draw him away from Tommy.

Much as she didn't really want to return to the campfire where everything had started, it was closer than any houses and held the possibility of something, anything for Deborah to use to protect herself. Any other time, the short walk from the main Stillwater house down to the bonfire by the edge of the lake would be the simplest thing, but with her injured leg it felt like it could be as far away as the moon. For once she was grateful for the small paved parking area between herself and the firepit.

Deborah was barely halfway to her destination when she heard the telltale sound of a machete against wood. The door wasn't barricaded anymore, but Jason seemed determined to destroy it anyway. Still, that bought her enough time to hobble off the pavement and pick her way across the uneven ground towards the campfire. There had to be something here that she could use, her life depended on it. A handful of rocks, a smoldering stick, maybe even one of the folding chairs left abandoned by the fire. Near one of the chairs she noticed something catching the light, and instinctively Deborah grabbed for it. Her hand closed around something made of chilly metal, and as she picked it up to look at it, she realized it was a forgotten lighter. Most likely Adam's- he'd been down helping start the campfire earlier and well, while she couldn't be sure, Deborah had a sneaking suspicion that Adam smoked. She stuffed the lighter in her pocket, it might come in handy at some point.

Before she could look further, a rough hand grabbed her shoulder with a force that made her bones creak and spun her around with a sudden shove. The movement was so abrupt that it threw her off balance and forced her to put more weight on her crippled leg than she expected. A sharp cry of pain was cut short as Jason's corpse-like hands clamped around her shoulders right at the base of her neck, his thumbs pressing hard against her windpipe. As Deborah struggled to breathe, her focus clouded by a haze of pain stemming from her throat and leg, the hand that was still in her pocket closed around the pocket knife Tommy had given her. He'd warned her earlier that she might have to use it and lothe as she was to actually stab someone, some primal instinct seemed to override her reluctance.

Her hands seemed to move without conscious thought, and the next thing she knew Jason had let go of her neck to reel away, the bright red pocket knife buried up to the hilt in his arm. Deborah staggered back herself, stopping just long enough to grab a fallen branch from the ground. Then, while Jason's attention was focused on pulling out the knife from his arm, she lurched forward, swinging the stick with all her might at his head. Her intention had been to merely daze him long enough to get further away, but her stick caught on a strap of the deteriorating hockey mask and as her arms naturally followed through with the swing, the stick dragged the mask with it.

The stick flew out of her hand, taking the mask with it as Deborah backed away in horror. Jason's body was already cadaverous, almost skeletal, but she wasn't prepared for his face. It was clearly misshapen even before it began to decompose, but now it was far, far worse. The cartilage of his nose had rotted away, leaving a triangular hole, and his ears were withered away on the sides of his head. His skin, or what was left of it, was blackened, shriveled and torn, pushed away in spots to reveal hints of the skull beneath. One eye stared at her, rheumy and jaundiced, while the other socket was empty, showing twisted decaying tissue in the faint light. It was all Deborah could do not to scream in sheer terror.

For a few moments, the two stood staring at each other across the embers of the dying fire, each waiting for the other to move. Then, as quick as she was able, Deborah dove for the flare gun she'd dropped when Jason had grabbed her earlier, scooping it off the ground and staggering away just in time to hear the sound of a machete slicing through the air behind her. She turned her steps towards the trail leading towards Evergreen camp, another surge of adrenaline pushing her on past the blaze of pain in her leg. The tiniest hint of a plan began to glimmer in her mind, and Deborah pressed on towards the hill and the back of a nearby cabin.

Just as she approached the corner of the cabin, she spun and aimed her flare gun directly at Jason's head and hoped for the best. Her eyesight had been weak nearly all her life, and as a result her aim had always left much to be desired. Every gym class had been an exercise in missing baskets or failing to hit anyone when playing dodgeball, and that wasn't even taking into account the fact that she'd never shot a gun in her life. So she squeezed her eyes shut and pulled the trigger, and was greeted with the loud crackly hiss of the flare hitting Jason squarely in his shriveled face.

There was no time for celebration, however. Deborah changed directions while Jason was blinded by the flare and limped away as fast as she could across the back of the cabin and around the corner. As she did so, she fumbled in her pocket for the illegal firecrackers she'd found earlier and Adam's lighter. Carefully she lit the fuse as she reached the corner of the cabin, then turned and flung the string as far up the Evergreen trail as she could, before ducking around the corner and hiding behind a scraggly bush. The hissing flare was soon replaced by the pop and snap of the fireworks beginning to burst, and Deborah strained to see where Jason had gone. She thought she saw him walk up the trail after the fireworks, but she soon lost sight of him.

Deborah waited a minute or two before moving again, barely daring to breathe while she hid. It certainly seemed like Jason had given up, and she was deeply worried about Tommy. She took the risk and retraced her steps, hobbling back to the cabin she'd just left as fast as she could. Glancing over her shoulder in case Jason might pop up behind her again, Deborah limped along the road and back inside the house. She picked her way through the debris from the door and over to where Tommy still lay. Carefully, so as not to put more strain on her ankle, she knelt down and timidly reached out a hand to touch him. Still warm. Not wanting to risk hurting his neck more if he was still alive, she reached instead for his wrist and felt for a pulse. Her own heart seemed to flutter for a second or two when she couldn't find one, but finally she felt a steady flicker of life under her fingers.

The position he was in looked uncomfortable, all twisted up, half-on and half-off the stone base of the fireplace, but she didn't want to move him from fear of hurting him further. Instead she reached a hand up and brushed the hair off his forehead so she could rest her hand on it, waiting for him to wake up on his own. Almost as if that was the sign he was waiting for, Tommy's breaths deepened and his arms moved just a little.

With her own heart beating faster, Deborah leaned in, watching as his mouth moved a little and his eyelids fluttered soon after. Then his face twisted into a grimace, and his eyes slowly opened. At first he squinted hazily at the ceiling before his eyes fixed onto her. "Deb-orah?" he asked, his voice scratchy and barely audible. With a small gasp of relief she smiled, removing her hand from his head to lean in better.

"I'm here! I was scared you were dead!" Her voice was choked and breathless as tears of relief began to well in her eyes.

"Th-ought I was t-oo," he rasped, still almost too quiet to hear. "Whe-re's-"

"-Jason?" she finished, anticipating what he would ask. "I don't know. He chased me for a bit, but I tricked him into going away. At least, he didn't come back so I guess something else must have caught his attention." Tommy's face got all pinched up, and he started struggling to stand. Before she could fuss that he was probably going to hurt himself even worse if he moved, Tommy was halfway into a seated position.

"Can't st-ay here-" he gasped. As he pushed himself up he wobbled, eyes dancing and unfocused and he gulped for more air, wincing as the muscles in his throat and jaw moved. "He's toy-ing with-us, he'-ll come ba-ck-" His shoulders sagged for a moment. "He w-ants me. He's c-oming ba-ck." With a sigh, Deborah leaned in and placed her hands on his arm and back, supporting him as best she could.

"Can you even see?" she asked. Tommy shook his head to the side for a second before he winced, sucking in a sharp breath through his nose before looking straight ahead again. Instead, he raised his hand up a little, wobbling it a little from side to side, an unspoken "so-so." Deborah sighed again, heavier, before sliding his arm that was closest to her around her shoulders and putting her strength into helping him stand.

"That's what I thought," she grumbled softly. "I'll be your eyes, c'mon. There's another cabin nearby, we can hide out there." With a final effort on her part, she pulled Tommy to his feet, holding his arm across her shoulders and wrapping her own arm around his back. Then, slowly, they began to walk out of the house.

Each step felt agonizingly slow, and Deborah tried to keep Tommy informed of things around them. Such as, "We're going through the door now, careful," or "There's a step up here." She'd never noticed how uneven the ground was by Stillwater Camp until she had to guide someone who could barely see across the area.

It was only a few dozen yards away, but by the time they reached the remains of the night's campfire, Deborah was growing weary. Tommy was walking on his own, certainly, but he was still leaning on her as well. Honestly he was getting heavy, and her ankle sparked hot fire up her leg with each step. Carefully she guided him around the smouldering embers of the campfire, pausing when she reached the spot where she'd been sitting before this nightmare started. She hadn't noticed earlier, but Rob's body next to her chair was gone. On her chair, however, sat the abandoned bag of marshmallows, a slightly melted bar of chocolate and the ever-missing water bottle she kept misplacing.

Trying as hard as she could not to jostle Tommy, Deborah leaned over to pick up the water bottle, clipping it on on the top of her pants along with her walkie-talkie. Then, she picked up the bag and chocolate bar, before continuing their slow hobble towards the nearby cabin. Tommy looked over at her with a questioning look on his face, but didn't speak. All their energy was being put into getting someplace safe for the moment. Then, and only then, they could rest.

Neither of them spoke until after they'd reached the cabin. Deborah let go of Tommy long enough to barricade the door behind her when they entered the front room, then draped his arm over her shoulder again to lead him into the back room. There, she led him over to one of the two plush couches on either side of a low coffee table and held onto his arm while he sank appreciatively onto the soft cushions. Deborah dropped the bag of marshmallows and the chocolate bar on the table before hobbling to the back door and barricading it as well. Then, she walked back and sank onto the other couch with a soft whimper of relief. Even without weight on it, her leg still throbbed like fire, and she couldn't help wondering how much damage she was doing by walking on it so much.

On the couch across from her, Deborah could hear Tommy's breath becoming more even and less ragged, before it seemed to catch in his throat and release in great, harsh-sounding coughs. She unclipped the water bottle from her belt and placed it on the table, pushing it towards Tommy a little to get his attention. "Here," she said softly. "It's just water, and I didn't really drink much out of it earlier so it's mostly full. I hope you don't mind my germs-" Tommy grabbed the water bottle from the table and took a few swallows before she even finished her sentence. Wearily he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, but the coughs seemed to have stopped, and his breathing seemed smoother.

"Thanks," he said at last, his voice less scratchy than it had been before. He opened his eyes and caught her gaze for a moment or two, before Deborah blinked and averted her eyes to the bag of marshmallows on the table. Whatever frightening look had been in his eyes back in the lodge an hour or so ago, it wasn't there now, and the hint of vulnerability she'd found in them now brought those butterflies back into her chest. Tiffany had teased her about having a crush on Tommy and Deborah had denied it, but now the creeping realization that Tiffany had been right began to whisper in her ear.

She had to find another topic of conversation or she'd lose the ability to talk, just like she always had around Chad.

"Um, I don't mean to pry, but you've got some kind of history with Jason, right?" On second thought, the topic of conversation she picked was most definitely the wrong one, but once Deborah started speaking she couldn't stop the flood of words pouring out of her mouth. "I mean, you mentioned that he was after you and you said you've encountered him before and... " She floundered, suddenly at a loss for words and feeling very sheepish indeed.

Tommy didn't meet her eyes again, instead taking another sip of water. Then, he spoke. "How much do you know about Jason?" he asked.

Deborah frowned. "Not much, really. Only what Kenny told us at the campfire circle tonight- Um, that he drowned as a kid and his mom killed a bunch of people at the camp, only he wasn't dead? And then he killed a lot of people and was allegedly killed by some kid and... gosh I don't remember, he lives in the lake?" She shook her head. "It's all a blur really, and after everything that happened I don't remember it all."

"Yeah, that's about right," Tommy said with a small nod. Deborah raised an eyebrow, one corner of her mouth twisted up into a skeptical frown.

"Really? I didn't really believe all the stuff about Jason drowning as a kid, then not drowning and growing up in the woods, or how many people he supposedly killed or that he lived in the lake or whatever." She glanced over her shoulder towards the front room. "Or well, I didn't, but after tonight I guess I can't doubt it anymore. But... you want me to believe that some 10-year-old kid killed him?"

From across the coffee table, Tommy fixed an intense gaze on her, that dangerous look creeping back in behind his eyes. "Why not? They say it's amazing what a person can do when they're scared and full of adrenaline. People can lift cars or fight bears... or even kill a man two times your size and weight." A light began to glimmer inside Deborah's head, illuminating a puzzle she hadn't even realized she'd been staring at this whole time. With her eyes wide and mouth beginning to gape, she stared back at Tommy in surprise. "And for the record, the kid was 11 years old," he finished simply, his voice soft.

"It was you," Deborah whispered. "You're the kid in the story." With a sigh Tommy closed his eyes and nodded.

"That was a really long time ago. I was just a scared kid and I just wanted to keep my sister safe. I still don't know how I did it, but I can't forget it either." His voice seemed squeezed, which after being throttled into unconsciousness earlier didn't seem too out of the ordinary. Still, something about the haunted look in his eyes gave Deborah pause. It was as if he really didn't want to remember the events or even talk about them, but at the same time couldn't stop himself from talking about them anyway. She couldn't help noticing the way his hands shook for a second or two, before he clasped one hand onto the other to keep it still.

Tommy's breathing seemed labored, his cheeks pale, his eyes lowered and nearly shut, but still he spoke. "They said I was disturbed, overwhelmed with grief. Nobody even told me Jason had killed my mother for at least a day. They sent my sister to live with my dad while I-" His words trailed off as his breaths got deeper and more uneven. A pinched look crossed his face as he squeezed his eyes shut, his now separated hands resting in his lap in fists so tight that his nails dug harsh marks in his palms.

For the last two years at college, Deborah had majored in Psychology, but even without spending hours each week studying up on the human brain, she could have told that Tommy wasn't in a good place right now. She knew she wasn't qualified to be a therapist, at least not yet, but she couldn't help feeling like she had to do something. Clearly the memories Tommy was reliving were hellish, and this was neither the time nor place to work through them. Not to mention it was honestly quite unnerving to watch, especially as she was beginning to realize just how much she had become emotionally invested in his safety.

Deborah leaned forward, reaching her arm out and plunging her hand into the bag of marshmallows, making as many loud, crinkly noises as she could manage. There was little she could do to pull Tommy's attention away from his thoughts, but perhaps this would work as a distraction. To her surprise, the noise worked like a charm- Tommy's shoulders snapped up and he raised his head, eyes wide open and confused as if he'd stopped himself from dozing off. But only for a moment, however, before he winced with the pain of straining his bruising neck muscles.

"What-"

"Marshmallows?" Deborah asked, taking a couple out and nudging the bag towards Tommy. "There's some chocolate too, if you want some of that. It's just leftover s'mores materials from the campfire tonight, but I figured we might need some short-term energy."

"Oh." Tommy's reply was short, and his eyes darted from her to the bag of marshmallows and back again. Then he leaned forward to take one of the fluffy white marshmallows out of the bag. "Thanks." He popped it in his mouth and chewed slowly, and while his breaths were still deep they began to lose the jaggedness they'd had before. Finally he swallowed and sighed heavily.

"So yes, the kid that killed Jason all those years ago was me. And he should have stayed dead- would have stayed dead, if I hadn't f-d up." Tommy shook his head slowly, careful not to aggravate the sore muscles in his neck more than he had to. "I wanted to be sure that Jason was really gone, so about a year or so ago I decided I had to see for myself. And-well, I dug him up." Deborah frowned at him, her face a mask of confusion as she tried to figure out his motives for doing such a ridiculous thing. "Look, I was intending to cremate him, okay? But there was a storm and he got struck by lightning and the next thing I knew he was crawling up out of the grave like something out of a bad movie. I tried to put him back in the lake, but I guess I f-d that up too."

The memory was clearly getting Tommy agitated again, but something in his tale had caught Deborah's attention. With a soft laugh, she murmured half to herself, "'I beheld the wretch – the miserable monster whom I had created.' You're a real Modern Prometheus, Tommy Jarvis."

Tommy froze, his hand buried once again in the bag of marshmallows. "Huh?"

Deborah ducked her head, a faint flush coming up over her cheeks, and she ran her fingers over her bangs to cover up her embarrassment at being heard. "Um...I was referring to Frankenstein. "The Modern Prometheus" is the subtitle of the novel. You've never read it?"

"I think I saw the movie on TV once or twice?" Tommy said, sitting back with another marshmallow in his hand. "But I didn't have access to a lot of books for a while."

At this point, Deborah had moved from playing with her hair to fiddling with her glasses as a way of trying to hid the blush spreading over her face. "Oh. I took a Gothic Literature class last semester and we had to read it for class. I just meant- I was just meaning that your story sounded a bit like Victor Frankenstein's. The 'brought a monster to life who ruins his life, then devotes his life to finding and killing it,' part that is." A nagging voice in the back of her head sprouted up, reminding her that this wasn't just a story, it was a man's actual life, and the blush got deeper still. "I- I wasn't trying to offend you or anything! I didn't-"

"It's fine," Tommy reassured her, a tiny smile starting to creep back onto his face as he watched her flounder. "My life can't get much wierder, so comparing it to a book isn't going to hurt my feelings." Deborah chuckled softly, lowering her eyes to her hands resting clasped in her lap. That uncomfortable silence seemed to have crept into the room again, and she was still mentally kicking herself for even bringing the topic up. In an attempt to cover up her sudden attack of nerves, she leaned forward without really looking, hoping to secure a marshmallow or two as a means of hiding her silence by eating.

Instead of finding the crinkled plastic of the bag, however, Deborah's hand found something else- Tommy's hand. It seemed her companion had thought the same thing as her at nearly the same time, and when Deborah raised her eyes to look at him, she found his own staring back at her. Several moments passed with neither willing to move or draw their hands back from the table between them. Deborah still bore the blush from her earlier embarrassment, but to her mild surprise the faintest pink hue began to cross Tommy's cheeks as well as he stared at her, though his eyebrows knit together in confusion. A tingling sensation ran through Deborah's hand and up her arm as they sat there in their silent tableau. Rationally she told herself that it was just her circulation or maybe her muscles getting tired, but the butterflies had started again in her chest and she couldn't help noticing how the warmth from Tommy's hand was a really nice warmth.

Tommy was the first to move, retracting his hand and a few marshmallows which he quickly turned his attention to as a means of covering up the sudden awkward turn their conversation had taken. Likewise, Deborah grabbed a few from the bag and turned her head towards the front of the house as she ate. Another time her thoughts might have been focused more on the possible spark she had just felt, but more pressing issues crept to the front of her mind. Namely the fact that it had been a fairly long time since Jason had left and that was starting to worry her.

"So what now, Tommy Victor Jarvis?" she asked, turning back to look at Tommy. He paused with a mouthful of marshmallow to meet her eyes with confusion etched on his face, both from the name and the unclear question. "What do we do about Jason? I mean, the police can't really do anything, right? So what's to stop him from following us if we just leave? Or moving to other buildings in the area like people's homes?" Tommy swallowed with a grimace, took another sip of water and sighed.

"Well, I've got some ideas. He's not completely without weaknesses, you know."

Deborah tilted her head to one side. "So what, we shoot him in the head with the shotgun you misplaced? Stake to the heart? Bury him back in the dirt where he came from? Tie him to a tree and wait for daylight?"

"He's not a vampire," Tommy retorted, wrinkling up the side of his mouth in disgust. "I guess he could qualify for a zombie but that's not it either." He sighed. "Look, from all the research I've done over the last several years, my guess is that Jason has two real weaknesses- " he held up his hand, raising a finger as he said each item, "-his mother, and the lake. His mother's not an option, and he probably knows the lake itself better than anyone, but maybe if I can put him back in the lake, he'll actually stay there this time."

"So you've got a plan on how to actually do it?" Deborah asked, rocking from side to side a little as she thought. Tommy shrugged.

"Maybe. A little." He paused for a moment and thought, then took the map out of his pocket and unfolded it across the table, pushing the remains of the bag of marshmallows and the untouched chocolate bar to the side.

"Jason's got to have some kind of home around the lake, from before he was killed. There might be something we can use against him. Maybe it's even in the immediate area. "

Deborah leaned over to look at the map too, but shook her head at Tommy's words. "I doubt it, we were all over this area this week- if anyone had found a building that wasn't on the map, we'd know about it."

Tommy rubbed a hand across the back of his head for a moment or two before reaching out to stab his finger onto the page. "What about this island? What's on there?"

"Nothing as far as I know," Deborah said. "But it's off limits. Nobody's allowed over there because it's not safe- there is a dock on the island, but there's a lot of trees and stuff too. Kenny decided it was off limits because it would be too hard to see anyone on the island from shore, and too risky if there was an emergency."

A thoughtful look crossed Tommy's face as he stared at the island. "Well, even if there's nothing there, it's as good a place as any," he murmured. Then, he folded up the map, took one last drink from Deborah's water bottle (after Deborah declined a drink when he offered it to her) and stood up. "We've spent too much time here."

Deborah herself stood up, noting with relief that her ankle didn't hurt nearly as badly as it had when she sat down. "Where are you going?" Tommy was already moving towards the front room, and she did her best to keep up, leaving the remains of their snack behind. Without answering, Tommy pushed open one of the front windows and climbed through, waiting on the other side until Deborah did the same, wincing a little bit as she put just a touch too much weight on her leg for a second. Once she was on the other side, however, Tommy began to move again, walking towards the campfire at the edge of the lake. He stopped by the cold embers of the fire, staring at the small island visible only a short ways off shore.

"There. That's where I need to go." He turned to look at Deborah. "You don't need to come, I can do this on my own."

She froze, a whisper of fear creeping up her spine. "You're nuts. What if something happens-"

"I've got to stop Jason. I'm the only one who can," Tommy said, and the light from her flashlight threw sharp shadows across his face, accenting the intensity of his gaze.

She pursed her lips together and shook her head slowly. "You know how I called you Victor Frankenstein earlier? Well, I was wrong. You're not Dr. Frankenstein, you're Captain Ahab, and you're going to get yourself killed chasing off like this!"

"I've got to do this! Jason's just going to keep killing people if I don't and nobody believes me anyway, and besides it's my fault that this all started in the first place!" There was a frantic quality to Tommy's voice now, and the scratchiness from before crept back into it. "Look, I don't know what's gonna happen, and maybe I won't come back, but I'm taking Jason down even if-"

"Don't!" Deborah cried out, surprising even herself with how panicked she sounded. She knew exactly what Tommy was about to say, but she didn't want to hear it, as if not saying it somehow made everything better. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air above them. ...Even if it kills me. Tommy stared at her, seemingly frozen, the dangerous intensity still lingering behind his eyes like a coal fire. Deborah swallowed hard, Tiffany's words from before lingering in her thoughts. "...You should snap him up while you can, Debs. You never know what might happen." So, before Tommy could turn away or do something stupid, she summoned up her courage and spoke.

"I-" Her words faltered for a second, but she steeled her nerves and pushed through. "-I hope you don't think I'm presumptuous, b-but, well, we might not live through this and if I don't say anything I'll never forgive myself..." The butterflies in her chest seemed to be trying to force their way up her throat to choke her and her cheeks had gone a rather obvious shade of vermilion. She'd never actually admitted her feelings to anyone before and even now, when the threat of death loomed around every corner, the fear of rejection felt a thousand times worse. Then the thought of Tommy dying alone on that island on a fool's errand and herself living with the guilt of never speaking up loomed over her, and she found herself stumbling over her words in her haste to get them all out before it was too late.

"I think you're really cool, Tommy Jarvis, and you're smart and kind and brave and your hair looks really nice...and I'm really glad you were the one who answered my call tonight..." Deborah clasped her trembling hands together and squeezed her eyes shut before she continued, "...a-and if we actually get out of this alive, I'd really like to get to know you better..."

A light touch on her chin made her eyes open, and she stared up at Tommy. Sometime after she closed her eyes, he'd gotten so much nearer to her, and his proximity set her heart beating fast against her ribs. Slowly, cautiously, he bent down, lowering his face towards hers, pausing for a moment when he got near. When she didn't pull back, he made his move, softly pressing his lips to hers. The kiss itself was brief, almost hesitant, but Deborah clung to each short second like a raft in an endless sea. The touch of his lips sent a jolt of electricity coursing through her body, and the rapid pounding of her heart roared in her ears. Even the warmth of his hand holding onto her shoulder was a moment she did her best to mentally file away so that she would never forget it. By the time Tommy straightened up and she dared to open her eyes, Deborah was still standing there dumbfounded, caught in a daze of possibility.

"Was that what you were trying to say?" Tommy asked at last, his hand still resting on her shoulder. Deborah nodded several times, opening and closing her mouth a few times before finally managing a soft "...wow," through her shuddery giggles. She'd expected him to reject her outright or maybe make a vain promise to see her again sometime, not to actually kiss her. Not that Deborah was going to complain about it, though; she just didn't exactly know where to go from here. Her fairly conservative family had never let her date during high school, so one kiss in and she was already in unfamiliar waters.

"You're pretty cool yourself, you know," he said softly. "I'd like to get to know you better too." Maybe it was that earnest intensity that she'd liked so much from the moment he first spoke, but Deborah couldn't help believe that he meant it. Still, behind it there was a sadness in his eyes as he pulled away, and a hollowness to his words as if he didn't expect to make it back. Deborah's breath caught in her throat.

"I'm gonna hold you that, Tommy Jarvis," she said. "So you'd better come back, you hear me?" A faint, wry smile crossed Tommy's lips and he gave a small nod. Then, without another word he began to take off first his jacket, then the flannel shirt underneath. Deborah's eyes widened.

"You're not going to swim over there, are you?" she asked, appalled. "There's been a corpse in that water for, what, a year? That water's got to be full of nasty bacteria!"

"It's the only way over there," said Tommy, handing his discarded shirt and coat to her. "Hold onto this for me, okay? They'll just weigh me down." Clumsily Deborah wrapped her arms around the bundle of cloth, realizing all of a sudden that he was fully expecting her to stay put.

"But-"

"This is something I have to do by myself." Tommy turned to walk towards the water, and as he walked his foot kicked something. At first it seemed like a rock, until he actually looked at it. There, on the ground where it had been left earlier that night, was Jason's hockey mask. Silently, Tommy picked it up and unclipped one side of his suspenders, sliding the strap through the straps of the mask and fixing the clasp back onto the top of his jeans. It was a longshot, but there was a chance the mask might be useful for a distraction. He paused at the edge of the water and looked over his shoulder at Deborah, standing by the firepit behind him.

"Stay out of sight, don't let Jason find you," he said. "The cops shouldn't be too long getting here." With that, he turned and walked into the water until it was deep enough to swim. Finally, he took a huge breath and dove under the surface of the lake, leaving only ripples behind.