Jessica waltzed into a small breakfast nook in the remote downtown area just a few miles away from her destination. She had contemplated hiking out the rest of the way to Camp Crystal Lake, but a stop was certainly necessary first. On the same note, she wasn't all that familiar with the territory, and while she was certain she could find her way, asking a few of the locals was a smart move.
A pair of bells clanked as she pushed open a white, wooden door, prompting a string of middle-aged people sitting at the breakfast bar to glance in her direction. Several spun on around on the backless stools they sat on.
"Hi." Jessica gave a polite wave and smiled wide, making her stand out even more.
"How are ya?" A fifty-something, robust woman greeted from behind the counter. She smiled and filled a man's coffee cup before adjusting her glasses. "Find a seat, honey. Anywhere."
"Oh, um, I was just wondering if someone could possibly point me in the right direction of Camp Crystal Lake." She smiled again, and the regulars exchanged glances before a heavy-set man with a baseball hat looked at the woman serving coffee. "What is it? Five miles?"
"About that," the woman responded. She looked at him and then back to Jessica. "Camp Crystal Lake, huh?"
Jessica nodded, letting her smile fade. "Is... there a problem with that place?"
There was a silence that fell over the group, before the same man stood up with a hefty laugh and a smile. "I heard Steve Christy is reopening that place. I'm sure it'll be a success."
She half-smiled at him as he threw a few dollars down on the counter.
"You know how to get there?" Jessica asked.
"Sure," he replied.
She nodded and looked around the old, local joint.
"I can take you out there if you want," he offered, noting her oversized backpack. "It's your call."
Jessica shrugged, and then nodded as she wiped sweat from her forehead. Five miles is a long walk, she thought.
"Yeah," she said with a nod, "That would be great... if you don't mind."
"I'm heading in that direction," he told her, "But I'm on the clock, so I have to take the truck left at the fork in the road. If I drop you off there the walk to Crystal Lake isn't any more than a half-mile."
Jessica grinned, "I can manage that."
"It's a deal then." He smiled and handed the server a five dollar bill, "Get the kid a drink. She's dying over here."
She thanked him, and downed a glass of orange juice before the two of them headed out into the street.
"Going to Camp Blood, ain't ya?" An old man with a withered bucket hat approached them as they stepped outside onto the sidewalk.
"God damn it Ralph!" he bellowed.
Jessica gave the two men an awkward look. "What?"
"You'll never come back again," Ralph continued. He reached for a rusted, old bike that sat against a street sign.
"Oh, shut up Ralph." The local shook his head and looked at Jessica.
"It's got a death curse." The old man wouldn't let it go. He stared at Jessica, seeming to be pleased with himself for passing on the information. A moment later, he turned his back on them, hopped on his bike and road off in the opposite direction.
Jessica looked back at the man, who motioned to an oversized, red dump truck.
"On the clock," he said again, "Think you can get up there in the passenger seat?"
She nodded and hoisted herself up into the big rig before he joined her behind the wheel.
The driveway silent for the first few minutes, and Jessica sighed as she let her arm dangle out the window.
"I tell you he's causing problems enough for your boss with all that talk," the man said, "Ralph, that damn nuisance."
Jessica shrugged and smirked.
"Did he tell you anything?"
"Who?" she asked.
"Your boss... Steve."
"Ah, I'll be cooking for a bunch of kids and staff," she gushed.
"I mean about what happened."
Jessica shook her head, "No."
"Quit," he told her, "Quit, now."
"Quit?" she laughed, "Why would I want to quit?"
"Camp Crystal Lake is jinxed!" he said with authority.
Jessica continued her light flutter of laughter, "Not you too!" she said, "You sound like your crazy friend back there, Ralph."
"Well, maybe..." he shook his head, "Did Steve Christy tell you about the two kids murdered? A boy drowning... bunch of fires... nobody knows who did any of them."
She was about to cut him off, but he continued.
"He'll wind up crazy and broke... he's been up there a year fixing up that place! He must have dropped twenty-five thousand dollars. And for what?" He shook his head and glanced over at her, "Quit."
Jessica smiled again and shook her head. "I can't."
"Dumb kids... know-it-alls... heads full of rocks."
"At least I'm not afraid of ghosts," she told him, laughing again as she did.
The man smiled at her but he held a small amount of sympathy in his eyes.
The rest of the drive was quiet, though no more than two or three minutes. Near an old graveyard, he slowed the big truck down to a halt and bid Jessica a farewell.
"Take care of yourself," he told her, and then pointed, "The Lake is just down that road. It won't take you long."
"Thanks," she shouted as she hopped out of the vehicle.
The man smiled, honked his horn once and was on his way.
Jessica grinned to herself, finding the old, scary stories a little bit humorous and exciting. On the same note, she was happy to have had the small town hospitality experience from the middle-aged trucker. She glanced over her shoulder, seeing the truck barrel out of sight and began powerwalking toward Camp Crystal Lake.