“How’s it coming, Carrie?” Slax asked as he entered her cabin.

Carrie had spent more time than she planned on trying to fix the group’s one functioning camera. The batteries were just about dry, and she was checking the cable connections and the lens to make sure they were functional.

“Well I think the batteries are finally dry, but only one camera works, and the lens is out of focus,” Carrie informed him.

“Let me have a go at it,” Slax answered, taking the camera from her.

Carrie just sighed and collapsed back onto her bed as Slax toyed with the camera trying to get it working. She closed her eyes and tried to envision going home triumphant with their finished project, but all she could see was disaster. They had hit one problem after another, and she couldn’t understand why. The bad weather coming out, the van getting stuck in the ditch, the power loss—it just seemed like everything was wrong there that day. That, mixed with the horrible nightmares, and she was starting to believe her gut feeling that maybe they shouldn’t be there.

Just then, Carrie heard a pop and she sprang back up. “What was that?” she chirped.

“Nothing, it’s okay,” Slax stated. “I just had to pop the lens back into place and adjust the manual focus. We should be ready to go.”

“Really?” Carrie smiled, hugging him. “Thanks Slax, I owe you one.”

“No problem,” Slax added. “Now let’s go find the others, film this shit, and get out of here.”

With that, Carrie and Slax hurried out the door back down toward the lake, where they found Patty, still reading her Danielle Steel novel and munching on some Cheetos.

“Hey Patty,” Carrie grinned. “The camera’s working and we’re ready to go. Where is everyone?”

Before Patty could respond, Slax looked at the orange cheese dust that had collected on her hands and laughed. “I want my Cheesy Poofs!” He chuckled out the side of his mouth, doing his best Eric Cartman impression.

Patty didn’t hear him. Instead, she rushed back to her feet, wiped her hands, and got ready. “Well, Louie and Jamal had a big fight, and Jamal hurt his feelings, so he ran off into the woods,” Patty responded.

“That ain’t all he hurt,” Slax added, making a punching motion with his fist. “Pow! He fucked him up hard!”

“Oh great,” Carrie glumly replied. “We need everybody here to shoot this. And what about Jay and Melody? Didn’t they come back yet?”

“No, but if they are where I think they are, they’re going to be kind of busy for a while,” Slax laughed.

Carrie didn’t respond. She just let out a depressing sigh and walked down to the edge of the dock and sat down.

“Aww, see what you did, you meanie,” Patty said, punching Slax on the arm and joining Carrie down at the dock. Slax just set the camera down, lit up another Marlboro, and stared up at the clouds.

“Carrie, hunney, it will be okay,” Patty said, trying to make her feel better.

“We’re never gonna get this thing filmed,” Carrie sobbed. “And nobody is taking this seriously. If the cops knew we were here, they would lock us up for sure. But that’s the risk you take for an exclusive story…I thought this would be an A-plus project for sure.”

“It still will,” Patty replied, hugging her. “Look, the others will get back here soon, we’ll film, and then we’ll leave. Just watch, you’ll see. Everything will be fine. I promise. There’s nothing to fear but fear itself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Carrie answered, matter-of-factly.


Meanwhile, back in town at the police station, Chief Jim Warren sat sullenly behind his desk. He had his entire crew out combing the area for the past two days, and still nothing had come up. People were dying in his town again, and the one suspect they had managed to slip through their fingers and escape. Plus, the mayor made it abundantly clear that his balls were on the line over this, and talk of the Jason Voorhees legend had once again reared its ugly head.

Fuck that, Warren thought to himself. Jason Voorhees is just a legend. Every now and then, some crazy ass kid like Rob Goldwater comes along trying to gain notoriety by proving the legend is true, and more people end up dying. Then, as soon as the townspeople hear about it, the shit hits the fan. They immediately seem to think its Jason Voorhees responsible, and there is no convincing them otherwise.

Not this time, Warren thought, sitting back in his chair and sipping some cold, black coffee. The economy was finally starting to come around in this town again, and people were coming back. There was no way Rob Goldwater or anyone else was going to ruin that again. He’d worked so hard for 7 years to make this town safe, and that’s the way he was going to keep it.

Sighing, he noticed the two other officers in the station passed out at their desks from working 18 hours straight. Normally, he would have their ass for sleeping on the job, but given the situation, he decided to cut them some slack. Sleep didn’t sound too bad actually, he thought, as he leaned back in his chair.

Just then, a radio transmission came through, nearly knocking him out of his chair. “Dispatch, this is squad 22. Officer Zimmerman to Chief Warren,” Officer Eric Zimmerman buzzed in. Startled, Chief Warren answered it. “This is Chief Warren, go ahead 22.”

“Chief, we got an abandoned vehicle out here on Cunningham Road,” Zimmerman replied, in his deep voice, similar to that of actor James Earl Jones.

“Any description or plates?” Warren asked.

“It’s one of ours, chief,” Zimmerman answered. “It’s squad 23.”

“Christ,” Warren said, holding the receiver against his lip without transmitting. “Any sign of them?”

“No, no sign of anyone,” Zimmerman responded. “Strickland and I were just heading back in, and we spotted it in the ditch near the Jefferson place.”

“Damnit!” Warren yelled, not transmitting it to them. He thought for a minute, and then realized who he had assigned to squad 23. It was those two clowns, Morton and Rodriguez. “I put them out there to stay out of trouble, and damnit anyhow!” He yelled. The other two officers heard him and stirred out of their catnap.

“How do you want us to proceed, sir?” Zimmerman asked.

“Uhh, go on up to the Jefferson place and see if Jack has seen them,” Warren ordered. “I’ll meet you there in a half hour.”

“10-4 chief, squad 22 out,” Zimmerman concluded as Warren set his receiver down on the desk.

What the hell is going on here? Warren thought as he stood up and put his hat on. I’ll bet you that scum Rob Goldwater is involved in that somehow, and I am going to be there to get that son of a bitch.

“Come on guys, let’s go!” Warren ordered as the other two officers stumbled to get to their feet. “We’re not letting Goldwater escape again. Not this time.”

So Chief Warren flew out the door with a bang, while the other two officers staggered right behind him, leaving the station unattended.

However, just as soon as they left the station, another man entered. It was ex-officer Dwayne Lewis, who was fired only two days earlier by Mayor Quincy. He knew exactly what was going on, and it sure as hell was not Rob Goldwater.

Lewis made his way back to Chief Warren’s desk, and pushed a bunch of paperwork onto the floor. He then sat down in his seat and grabbed the phone. It was an old, black telephone with a rotary dial on it. Laughing, Lewis said, “not this time” mimicking Chief Warren as he dialed the number.

“Get me the FBI,” Lewis said as the operator answered on the other end.

Proceed To Chapter 19
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