“Damnit to hell George!” Mayor Quincy yelled at his assistant for no particular reason.

“What’s wrong boss?” 30-year-old George Steinbaugh replied as he struggled to keep their Cadillac Escalade on the road.

The two had been driving for nearly a half hour on what was normally a 15-minute drive to the mayor’s estate in Crystal Hill. Now that the rain seemed to finally stop, a dense fog settled in the area. It was just past sunset, and the visibility on the already dark roads of Crystal Lake was practically at zero percent.

“Goldwater is going to ruin me, just ruin me,” the Mayor responded, not really noticing the beads of sweat appearing on George’s forehead, or the fact that they were driving far too long now.

“Don’t worry about it Joe, our men in blue will pick him up in no time,” George replied as he got a bad feeling in his stomach that they were lost.

“Ha, yeah right, those idiots couldn’t find their head if it wasn’t attached to their shoulders,” Quincy replied.

“Give them a chance, it’s only been a day since they posted the APB on him,” George said, pushing his glasses back up his nose.

“You know what I should do?” Quincy asked. “I should find Goldwater myself. Do you have any idea what that would do for my public approval rate? By God it’s an election year, George, and I have to get re-elected.”

“I think it would do wonders for you sir,” George replied, trying to hide the sarcasm in his voice.

“Fuck, George, I was in the Navy for 10 god damn years,” Quincy informed him. “I’m sure I could handle some punk young college kid.”

“You have a good point there, Joe, but there’s only one problem. You’ve been out of the Navy for 20 years now, and don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re not exactly in tip-top shape anymore,” George answered, hoping he wouldn’t sound ignorant.

“You little shit, I’ve never heard anything so ignorant in my life. I’m the fucking Mayor of this town. You better treat me with the respect I deserve, or I will beat the respect out of you, you son of a bitch!” Quincy fired back furiously as he reached over and slapped the back of George’s head, sending his glasses flying in the air.

Out of instinct, George reached for his glasses, but in the instant, the Cadillac veered off of the road and smashed directly into a huge oak tree. The airbags were released and the Quincy’s head bounced off of the cushioned bag like a rubber ball.

George’s airbag failed and he went flying through the shattered windshield out into the wet leafy ground of the Crystal Lake wilderness. The two then lay motionless for a moment. The only sound was the dwindling engine, barely running, and the sound of crickets, just emerging for the night.

“God damnit George, your fired!” Quincy screamed as he pushed the airbag out of his face. George only responded with a sob, as if he was fighting back tears.

Mayor Quincy got out of the Escalade to see what damage was done to his precious SUV. “George, get up and get this thing back on the road!” he yelled, not even checking to see if George was alright.

“I think I broke my arm,” George moaned, clutching his arm.

“Oh, horseshit!” Quincy yelled again. “Get up and check the engine and for Christ’s sake don’t cry, you pussy!”

This time George couldn’t help but open the floodgates, and tears began to roll down his cheeks as he sobbed miserably. He held his limp arm at his side and managed to get up.

There wasn’t much damage done to the SUV. The front bumper was dented in and there were scratches on the hood and sides, but George figured that it wouldn’t take much to get the SUV back on the road.

“Now get this shit fixed. I’m going to take a whiz, and it better be running by the time I get back,” Quincy ordered as he walked off down the nearest trail.

George didn’t reply. He just gave him the finger and limped back over to the SUV up so he could pop the hood.


Mayor Quincy walked though the quickly darkening woods of Crystal Lake, with leaves crunching under his feet as he walked. A bystander wouldn’t have been able to notice through his stern face and proud walk, but Joe Quincy was scared shitless.

It wasn’t the car wreck that got him stirred up. Hell, he had been through his fair share of them through the years. It was the fact that they were lost in Crystal Lake that really bothered him, and the fact that there was a mass murderer on the loose. That terrified him.

He found a wide maple tree that looked promising enough to be blessed with his piss, so he took a careful look around for any possible threats before unzipping and draining his lizard. He could still hear the engine of the SUV not too far away. It was faint, but he could still hear it. As his urine trickled off in a stream, he looked down, careful not to get a drop on his expensive alligator shoes. However, when he looked, he also saw an old boot on the other side of the tree.

“What in the hell?!” was all Mayor Quincy could spit out as a meaty hand shot out from the left side of the tree, and another hand holding a bloody machete shot out from the other. Before he could say another word, the hand grabbed his shirt and with great strength, jerked his entire body against the tree as the tip of the machete went through one ear and out the other.


“There, you lousy bastard, I hope you’re happy,” George said as he happily looked down at the engine running smoothly.

George had stopped crying, but the enormous pain in his arm still shot through his entire body. As he hunched under the hood finishing his tune up, he wondered how the hell he was going to find his way back to the road, let alone be able to drive, as he heard footsteps approach.

“I’m almost done Joe,” George said, hearing the footsteps and assuming a rude comment would soon follow.

It didn’t.

“Joe?” George asked, turning his head briefly.

There was nobody there.

However, when he turned back around, a shiny metal object caught his eye. Then he saw the hockey mask. Screaming, he struck his head on the hood trying to escape and then scampered backward about 10 yards.

George’s eyes widened as he realized who it was he was about to come face-to-face with. Jason didn’t move. He just stared at him, machete in hand. Every instinct told George to run, but he couldn’t move his legs. He was frozen with fear.

Jason advanced toward him, and George couldn’t help but piss his pants as he shriveled to the ground. Jason grabbed him by his broken arm and turned him around. George screamed in agony from the pain as Jason slowly lowered his head toward the spinning fan belt of the SUV. Then, with a sick shrieking sound, the belt ripped his face to shreds.

The fan belt kept spinning until it finally broke, and George just slumped down, trying to clutch what was left of his bloody face. A second later, Jason plunged the machete deep into his stomach. George fell to his knees as his life (and his blood) slowly drained away.

Proceed To Chapter 14
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