Chapter 9

Thunder boomed through the moonless night as Jason reached the end of the trail. The ground beneath Tommy's feet shook with each slow, deliberate footstep his adversary made. Despite the numerous times he'd stood in Jason's presence, or cowered from the hallucinatory representations his mind had cooked up, there were two things that hadn't changed from the very first encounter-the overwhelming, oppressive feeling of hatred rolling off the gigantic form in front of him, and Tommy's own stifling fear.

But he couldn't let Jason think him afraid. Not out of pride so much as self-preservation; if Jason knew the way Tommy's chest felt paralyzed with fear or the way his palms were sweating so much he could barely hold onto his axe, Jason would have the advantage. That was something Tommy couldn't afford to lose. He couldn't afford being afraid. Frightened people made mistakes, and any mistake could mean not just failure, but death.

"Yeah, that's it. C'mon, maggot head! C'mon!" he taunted, backing away a little to draw Jason closer. For a moment, Tommy took his eyes off Jason to glance at the nearby shack. If nothing else, he needed to draw Jason away from the little building to give Deborah a chance of surviving. With each passing moment, Jason drew nearer to Tommy, and further from the shack.

The trees across the clearing loomed closer, and Tommy forced himself to stop before he reached them. He needed someplace to retreat to if things went badly. And still Jason walked closer. It was all Tommy could do to not just turn tail and flee.

Jason seemed to be in no hurry to reach Tommy, despite the festering hatred that certainly burned in his heart towards the one who had killed him all those years ago. His steps were slow and deliberate with the air of someone completely unafraid of the possibility of failure. He's toying with me, Tommy realized. With each second, the anticipation of Jason's actions grew, compacting layers upon layers of fear into Tommy's heart. It was so intense even Tommy's breathing seemed choked by the oppressive atmosphere.

The machete in Jason's hand glittered as he swung it up into the air, slicing downwards towards Tommy's head. Just in time, Tommy raised the axe in his hands, keeping his grip on the handle wide as he shielded himself from the blow. A shockwave rippled through the wood and down his hands as the machete struck the handle with a skull-shattering blow, and Tommy flinched for a moment from the impact. Then he pushed up and away on the machete with all his strength, knocking Jason just the slightest bit off-balance, before dodging in the opposite direction.

Jason righted himself after having his hand and machete forced away, and slowly turned to face Tommy. Again the machete flashed, aiming for his head, and again Tommy blocked and deflected, dodging to the side again. His suspicion that Jason was just toying with him was almost confirmed; if Jason truly wanted to murder him, it would have happened right now. Instead, he was letting Tommy attempt to fight back, knowing full well that there was little Tommy could actually do to him this time.

Once more the cycle repeated-strike, block, deflect, dodge-with Tommy's steps nearly taking them in a full circle. This time, however, after he dodged, Tommy shifted the axe in his hands and swung it at Jason. The blade sliced across Jason's abdomen, cutting through the rotting fabric of his shirt and the festering tissue beyond. Tommy staggered back from the force of his swing as the axe came free, his eyes never leaving Jason's rotted face.

Slowly, almost thoughtfully, Jason lowered his head to look at the damage with his one rheumy eye. Then, just as slowly, his head came back up to stare straight at Tommy. Clearly, the axe had done basically nothing except make Jason angrier.

Jason raised his machete again, and Tommy instinctively raised the axe handle to block, but this time the swing came slicing in sideways. With only moments to spare, Tommy changed position and stopped the attack, but blocking so many heavy strikes with the rough axe handle was making his hands sting and his arms shake. The axe handle was looking battered as well. Tommy wasn't sure how many more blows it or he could take before shattering.

The answer was swift in coming, as Jason brought his machete up and struck downward at Tommy's head once more. With a grunt of exertion, Tommy brought up the axe to block again with all his might.

The axe handle splintered in half in his hands, and the force of the blow knocked him to the ground. Just like that, his one line of defense was gone. Overhead Jason loomed, silent, menacing, waiting to see what Tommy would do next. Tommy crawled backwards away from him, still clutching the shattered pieces of the axe in his hands, but he knew he couldn't move fast enough to escape another blow. He needed a distraction.

Gritting his teeth, Tommy threw first the solid wood half of the axe right at Jason's face, then the side with the rusted blade, before standing as quickly as he could and sprinting for the trees on the edge of the island. Jason's free arm rose to protect his face from the projectiles, giving Tommy the tiny bit of time he needed to reach the sparse tree cover.

Seconds after Tommy dove behind a particularly large tree, something impacted on the bark nearby, showering him with a spray of splinters. Instinctively he ducked his head, and in the process saw a thin knife drop to the ground beside him. His breath caught in his throat. He'd never seen Jason rely on projectiles before, but then again, his encounters with Jason in the past had been brief. And wasn't there a report of one of the police officers during the last incident being killed by some kind of dart? He couldn't remember, the last year had been a blur for the most part.

He leaned back against the tree, slowly craning his neck around the side to catch a glimpse of Jason's position. The tree was too big to see around well, so he leaned further, squinting through the darkness towards where he'd last seen Jason. Something whirred past his ear, sending a small breeze across his face, and he pulled back instinctively. Seconds later came the soft thunk and singing vibration of a knife stabbing deep into a tree nearby. Had the knife been just a few inches closer... Tommy's heart pounded in his chest. He had to keep moving, or Jason would either finally hit him, or give up and just chase him down.

Tommy's pushed off the tree, his legs shaking a little beneath him. It had been a long night full of stress, and the constant adrenaline and late hour were beginning to wear on him. But he didn't have time to rest. The next tree was only a few feet away. He shot out from his hiding place, sprinting as fast as he could to reach the next hiding spot. Moments after he swung behind the trunk of the large tree, another knife implanted itself in the bark just inches from where he hid. He pushed off again, running to the next tree as fast as he could.

Each time he darted into the open, he heard the whirr of a knife, each missing him by the tiniest of margins. But Jason had to be running low by now, right? There was one last big tree before the rocks became too overwhelming for plant growth, and the last knife had been the closest one yet. There was no doubt in Tommy's mind that Jason was getting frustrated, but there was always the chance that there were no more weapons for Jason to throw. Tommy took a deep breath and ran.

His legs were shaky as he charged across the gap, and he nearly lost his balance as his foot stepped on a root he didn't see at first. It was just the opening Jason needed. As Tommy twisted his body to flatten his back against the tree trunk, a flare of white-hot pain shot up his left arm. With a shout of pain, he clapped his other hand over the spot, sliding behind the tree in a vain attempt to put a tiny bit of distance between Jason and himself. Only when his back was pressed up against the tree as firmly as he could, did Tommy slowly remove his hand.

The bright red blood coating his palm and the sudden spike of pain made him wince, drawing in a hissing breath through his teeth. Still, he was lucky-the cut wasn't as deep as he'd feared, but the pain and bleeding were a problem. He might be able to fight through the pain itself, but at the rate he was bleeding, he'd end up light-headed and dizzy before long. He needed to stop the bleeding.

Gritting his teeth against the pain, Tommy released his wounded arm and fumbled for the knife tucked away in the pocket of his jeans. He flicked it open one-handed, then set about cutting off the sleeve of his grey-blue shirt at the spot where Jason had hit him. Moving his arm enough to pull the sleeve off over his hand made him gasp as the cut strained with his movement, but he managed to wiggle the fabric free. Then, hoping that Jason was more devoted to toying with him as opposed to outright killing him, Tommy clumsily set about wrapping the cut off sleeve around his bicep over the cut, holding the fabric in place by clamping it against his side with his arm and tying a knot in the ends with his free hand and his teeth.

The pain still bloomed through his arm, and a red dot was spreading across the remains of his sleeve, but it would hopefully keep him from bleeding out. At least until his job was finished, anyway. Tommy held the closed pocket knife in his hand as he stole a glance around the tree. It couldn't be his imagination that Jason was closer now than he was before. He probably got tired of waiting for Tommy to move again. Tommy gripped the knife tighter-he had a job to do, and there was nobody else who could do it for him. He just needed to be brave about it.

With steel in his eyes, he stepped out from behind the tree.

From her position in the tiny stall that had once been Jason's bathroom, Deborah could see none of this. Her view was entirely the shabby, threadbare cloth that Tommy had pulled in front of her. She'd heard him shouting a minute ago, but now it had grown uncomfortably quiet. Her frown deepened as she stared at a small hole in the blue fabric covering the door. Tommy was so stubborn. Truthfully, she couldn't see what use she'd be in a fight, what with her wounded ankle and abysmal grades in gym class. Still, he could have at least let her try instead of relying on his suicidal overconfidence, right?

Either way, she wasn't going to sit any longer on this disgusting toilet seat, waiting to hear the sounds of Tommy dying outside her door. If this was-as she suspected-some abode of Jason's, then maybe Tommy was right earlier. Maybe there was something here that could be used against him somehow. She just needed to look around, and she couldn't do that from where she now sat.

As quietly as possible, she lifted up the edge of the curtain and slipped out, careful not to pull it aside and alert Tommy to her plans on the chance he was still watching the house. Then, she began to look around for clues.

The front room didn't give much help. What little furniture was there was broken or weather-worn to the point it wasn't usable, and there seemed to be little else of interest really. Old rusted buckets, some rusting or broken tools, a dull machete long since forgotten. At the end of the room, however, was an open doorway into another room, and she cautiously entered, switching on her flashlight to see better.

There were no windows in the room, and as she swept the flashlight across the room, it made the contents of the room cast eerie twisted shadows on the wall. Along the right-hand wall, near the back, was a crude set of shelves, nearly empty and barely standing. But the sight that caught her eyes and made her reel backwards in horror was the sight in the center of the room. On a small, low table, dotted with the melted remains of long-since extinguished candles, sat a head. It was decayed and shrivelled nearly beyond recognition, but there was no doubt that it had once belonged to a person. Despite having clearly sat there for years, however, it surprisingly still bore at least some of the rotting skin and patchy hair that had belonged to its original owner. Around the table were three corpses, all withered and decayed and skeletal, left like offerings to some forgotten god.

A realization flooded Deborah's mind as she stared slack-jawed at the sight. The legend at least had said how much Jason had adored his mother, and she'd just found the reality of it. He'd even placed bodies he had killed near the shine with her head. If she'd been looking for a weakness, it was here.

For a moment she considered the head, but the thought of touching it made her stomach roll. Instead, her eyes fell on the table in front of the head. There sat what looked to have been a grey sweater, before the moths and years had nibbled away at it. She couldn't even tell if it was safe to move without it falling apart in her hands. However, while she was thinking, she heard a loud cry of pain from outside-Tommy's voice. Before she could talk herself out of it, Deborah grabbed the musty garment, tugging it on over her head. The choking scent of undisturbed dust and mildew and mold caught in her throat and gagged her, but Deborah refused to budge. This might just save Tommy's life.

With one last glance around the room, Deborah turned on her heels and walked as quickly to the front door as she could. As she passed a pile of old wooden boards by the door, she switched the flashlight to her left hand, then grabbed a plank with her right. The flashlight she raised up to head height, hoping to obscure her face with the light as she marched towards Jason's huge figure across the clearing.

Her steps faltered for a moment when she drew close. Jason stood facing away from her, his arms wrapped tightly around Tommy's chest like a vice. Though Tommy was almost looking in her direction, he was clearly more preoccupied with his current predicament than anything else. His eyes were half shut, his jaw clenched with pain, as she watched him wriggle and raise his arm. Suddenly Jason let go, staggering away and staring at the bright red knife sticking out of his chest. Tommy hit the ground hard with a loud gasp of pain near the machete Jason had dropped to pick him up.

Before Jason could switch his attention from pulling the pocket knife from his chest back to killing his nemesis, Deborah spoke up. "That's enough, Jason!" she called, putting as much force and maternal command as she could into her voice. Jason paused, the extracted knife still in his hand. "Jason, look at me. Mother is talking to you." Slowly his head turned towards her, the rest of his body following shortly afterwards. His hand opened, the forgotten knife falling to the dirt at his feet. "You've done a good job, Jason. Mother has a reward for you." He blinked, tilting his head to one side as he listened. Deborah poured all the sweetness she could muster into her words as she coaxed, "Come closer, that's a good boy. Mother is proud of you."

Traces of confusion crossed Jason's corpse-like face, but a few moments later he took a step towards her. "That's my boy, come on, just a little closer..." His steps were slow and hesitant, but the more she spoke, the closer he came until he stood so close that all she could smell was the reek of decaying flesh rolling off him.

"Good boy, that's my Jason," she cooed, slowly raising her hand with the plank of wood still gripped in it. Keeping Jason's gaze locked on her own, she raised her hand over her head and brought the board down with all her strength on Jason's head. The shock and sudden force drove him off balance and collapsing onto his knees before her. Quickly, Deborah dove aside with a shout of "Now, Tommy!"

The whole time Jason had been moving closer, Deborah had been watching Tommy behind his back. His movements were slow and labored, but as soon as Jason had turned away, Tommy had grabbed the machete and struggled to his feet. As Jason had walked towards her, Tommy had been inching forward as well, the machete held in both quivering hands. Now, as Jason fell to the ground, Tommy leapt forward, his eyes wild. He swung the machete up over his shoulder and struck Jason on the side of his head with a strangled, "Die!" The machete stuck for a moment, and Tommy yanked it out, staggering back a step before striking again and again with the blade, shouting with each hit, the screams of his sister from all those years ago echoing in his ear with each blow. Finally, he drew back the blade and stabbed straight for Jason's heart as a peal of thunder rumbled overhead.

The machete stuck fast against tissue and bone as Jason fell flat onto the ground and lay still, yanking the hilt from Tommy's blood-smeared grasp.

Time seemed to congeal around them. For several long moments Tommy just stood there, staring at Jason's limp body without really seeing it, his breaths coming in painful, shuddering gasps. Little by little, his shoulders began to droop until he finally lowered his head with a shaky sigh. Deborah's gaze drifted over to him, and a pang of concern struck her heart. Everything about Tommy's posture and the vacant look on his eyes made him look so very utterly alone. Tentatively she stepped forward and placed her hand on his shoulder.

Instantly Tommy startled, jerking his shoulder away from her touch as he twisted to look at her, his eyes wide and staring like a frightened deer. Then he bent nearly double, gasping in pain and wrapping his arms around his chest.

"Tommy, are you okay?" she asked. She started to raise her hands to touch him, but stopped as she thought of the way he'd flinched away just moments before. "It's over. We-we won." Her fingers ached to touch him, if only to alleviate some of the pain he was feeling, but instead she simply clasped her hands together in front of her chest. "Jason's dead, Tommy. It's all over."

Tommy shook his head, his eyes dull. "It's not over. I've gotta put him back in the lake, or he'll just come back again." Slowly he unwrapped his arms from around his chest and took a few staggering steps towards Jason's body. He crouched down and took hold of one of Jason's feet before standing up and taking a step backward, intending to drag the body with him. As he began to pull, however, Deborah watched Tommy's body stiffen as he gasped in pain again. The foot he'd been pulling on slid out of his hands.

Tommy hunched over again, wrapping his right arm across his chest to place his hand on his ribs. "I need your help." The words were soft enough she barely heard them.

"What?"

"I can't do it on my own, I need your help," Tommy said, his voice stronger this time. Deborah shook her head, even though he wasn't looking at her.

"What makes you think I can help? I could never budge someone that big even if my ankle wasn't hurt!" She stared at Jason's body. He had to be 200 pounds for sure, even with all the decay. "You're certain he has to go in back in the lake?"

Tommy turned to look at her, his eyes less dead than they'd seemed before, but his gaze no less intense. "Positive. It's the only way to be sure he won't come back."

"He came back after you put him in the lake once before, right?"

Their eyes locked, and Tommy was the first to look away. "Look, I don't know how he came back. Something must have woke him up. Probably building another camp on the lake." His words couldn't have been more pointed if they were carved out of knives. Deborah frowned at him, but couldn't get up the energy to argue that of course she had nothing at all to do with the camp starting up. And besides, from the way Tommy was holding his side and the glassy look to his eyes, she rightly guessed that his reasoning was blurred from pain.

Instead, she hobbled over beside him, clipping her flashlight to her jeans as she walked, then bent to take hold of Jason's other foot. It was all she could do to not drop it immediately when she felt how skin-crawlingly slimy the ragged fabric of Jason's pants felt, not to mention the revulsion of his decaying flesh. She gritted her teeth and glanced over at Tommy, who likewise had grabbed an ankle. Together they managed to move the heavy body nearly a foot before the pain in Deborah's ankle got too bad, and the strain on Tommy's arms and chest made him double over with a strangled cry. He clutched his left arm to his chest, his hand on his ribs while he pressed his right over top to stifle the pain from his wound.

For the first time, Deborah noticed Tommy's missing sleeve, and the red stain on the cloth tied around his bicep. Her ankle momentarily forgotten, she took a few steps closer and reached out a hand to hover above his arms. "Tommy, you're..." She bit her lip, swallowing the very obvious statement that nearly escaped her mouth. "You need to get that looked at," she said instead.

Tommy leaned back away from her hands, almost without thinking. "We have to get this done first."

"How?" Deborah asked, despair creeping into her voice. "Neither of us is strong enough to move him right now, not in the state we're in! And besides, even if we could move him, how do we get him out into the lake? The boat's wrecked!" She waved her hand towards the dock for emphasis. "We won't be able to get off this island ourselves, let alone putting a, what, 200-pound corpse in the lake somehow! And even if the police do come, it's not like anybody's going to think to look out on the island for us..."

As she said the last few words, she turned to look out at the lake and her words trailed off into nothing. Something was moving on the surface of the lake, but the lack of sleep was starting to drag on her and she wasn't sure she could trust her eyes. Sluggishly she blinked, trying to get her eyes to focus correctly, but all the crying she'd done earlier had left her eyelids feeling gummy and strange and made her vision blurry even with her glasses. But, it looked almost like... almost like a boat.

She took her flashlight off the waistband of her jeans and swung the light out towards the lake. After a moment or two she began to flick it off and on a few times, trying to blink out an S.O.S., but in her exhausted state the signal ended up somewhat garbled. The shape on the water kept moving closer, and before long she was certain that what she saw was indeed a boat. She took a few steps towards the dock, but paused, not wanting to leave Tommy behind nor turn her back on Jason's body. Instead she held her flashlight up as long as her arm could stand it, hoping it was visible from the lake.

A few moments after she was forced to lower her arm, the soft rippling water sound of a boat pulling alongside the dock reached her ears. "Is there someone up there?" a man's voice called from the dock, and Tommy moved to look, as if coming out of a dream. A man stood on the docks by the boat, peering up the hill towards them.

"Ye-" Deborah said, softer than she wanted. Swallowing, she tried again. "Yes! Yes, up here! Please help!" Even though her arm was tired from holding up the flashlight, she raised it to wave for his attention.

The man unclipped a flashlight from his belt as he walked towards the trail up. "Just stay put," he called. He flicked the light on as he approached, lighting up his broad, friendly-looking face as he drew close. "You the kids that called for the Sheriff?"

Desperately, Deborah nodded. "Yes, thank you for coming, Officer-" She paused to let him fill in his name.

The man shook his head with a soft chuckle. "Deputy Bennett. I'm afraid you've just got me tonight; Sheriff figured it was a prank call since you-know-who was mentioned." He smiled wryly.

Deborah's face fell. "A prank?!" she asked incredulously, on the verge of tears, but before she could say more, Tommy pushed his way forward.

"It's not a prank!" he snapped, bright spots of color springing to his cheeks. "Do you think I did this to myself?" He gestured to the makeshift bandage on his arm. "What about her leg?" he asked, pointing at the bloody hem of Deborah's jeans. "What about the bodies all over the camp, huh? Is that a f-ing prank?" His mouth twisted up into a grimace. "None of you have ever trusted me. You don't believe Jason did all this? Well he's right over there," he pointed behind himself with his uninjured arm, "and if we don't hurry you're going to have a lot more evidence that this isn't some prank." There was a challenge in Tommy's eyes as he stared at the deputy.

The deputy didn't argue, however, simply raised his eyebrows with a shrug and walked in the direction Tommy had pointed. As he drew close, the man's face contorted for a moment or two at the heavy sickening odor of the corpse, as well as the sight of Jason's decaying body. Before he could ask how something so obviously dead could have been walking around murdering people, Tommy walked over beside him, his left arm still wrapped around his chest. With a clear glance at the deputy, Tommy bent down and raised up one of Jason's legs.

"Rigor mortis hasn't even set in yet. Tell me again how this is just a prank." Tommy's tone was deadly serious. Deputy Bennett raised his hands in surrender.

"Look, kid, I'm new around here. All I said was the sheriff thought it was a prank, and honestly I'm starting to believe he was wrong." He shook his head. "I don't know how he," the deputy pointed towards Jason, keeping his hands in the air, "managed to be walking around like that, but I can't exactly deny what I see with my own eyes."

Tommy let out a breath he'd been holding and closed his eyes for a second in relief. "He can't stay here. Jason has to go back into the lake where he belongs or he'll never rest." He shot a momentary glance at the lake on the other side of the trees. "I've got a plan, though. I know how to put him back there, but I need some help. You brought a boat, right?"

The deputy nodded. "I didn't find anyone in the camp when I looked around, but I saw some lights and heard some noises from this island so I decided to take a look. Took a little fixing but there were some boats by the docks and the parts were nearby."

"The boat we have is ruined, we can't use it," Deborah spoke up.

"We can't ride in it, but Jason could," Tommy said. "The boats aren't big enough for him and us too, but if we can plug the holes in the other boat, we could drag it out into the lake and let it sink." He looked over at Deborah. "I saw some rags in the shack over there earlier, do you think you can get them? The deputy and I will move Jason to the boat."

Honestly, Deborah wasn't looking forward to having to walk more, but she squeezed her eyes tight and nodded. Tommy nodded back, a tiny hint of a smile gracing his lips for a moment. Then he turned to the Deputy. "Do you think you can help me move him?"

"I'll do my best," Deputy Bennett said, bending down to grab one of Jason's feet and grimacing at the feeling. Together, however, they managed to drag Jason out of the clearing and down the path to the docks, with only minimal stops to catch their breath, or for Tommy to double over to hold his ribs in pain.

The rags Tommy had sent Deborah to find were just inside the doorway. Quickly, she took off the filthy sweater she had on and collected Tommy's discarded clothes, before picking up the rags and carrying the filthy scraps of cloth down the trail as well. Tommy, Deputy Bennett and Jason's body were all down at the dock by the time she got there, and Tommy took a few rags from her hand as she passed him. "Start plugging the holes, we just need it to get out to the middle of the lake." The deputy grabbed one or two as well, and with all three working at once, the boat was soon whole enough for their purposes. Then, Tommy directed the deputy and Deborah both to help him lift Jason off the ground and onto the boat, which they did with more than a little struggle.

Finally, Tommy looked over at the deputy. "We've got to make sure he stays in the lake. Jason's got enough chain around his neck to work with, but I don't have a lock." He met Deputy Bennett's eyes, then glanced pointedly at the deputy's handcuffs, before locking his gaze back onto his face in a silent request.

The deputy frowned, but unhooked the handcuffs. "The sheriff's going to kill me," he murmured, handing them over. Tommy took them with a solemn nod, then set about wrapping the chain around one of the seats of the boat and handcuffing the end solidly to the rest of the chain. With a large sigh, he turned to face them.

"Okay, let's get this over with," he said softly.

Tommy helped Deborah climb into the other boat, then let the deputy get in and start the outboard engine. Meanwhile, he slid the boat with Jason chained to it off the shore and into the water, pushing it to the end of the dock before climbing into the boat next to Deborah and the pile of clothes he'd discarded. Then, they slowly sailed away from the island dragging Jason's boat behind them.

About halfway across the lake, Tommy indicated they should stop, and steered Jason's boat alongside. Then he reached in and pulled the rags out of their holes, watching as the boat quickly filled with water and began to sink. Even though his mouth felt dry from the long night, Tommy leaned over and spat after Jason's body as it sank below the surface of the lake.

"Yeah, f- you too, Jason," he muttered darkly. "Go back to hell where you belong." As the last glimpse of the boat sank out of sight through the dark water, whatever adrenaline keeping Tommy going seemed to drain right out of him. His shoulders sagged and it was all he could do not to topple into the water after Jason.

Against all odds, he was still alive, and Jason was at rest in the lake. They had won.