~~~
'Bill! Steve! Jack! Marcie! Ned! Brenda!', Alice yelled.
In her mind, she was overly anxious.
She poured herself a mug of coffee in the small kitchen.
Little, minor, chores of management of Camp Crystal Lake.
Steve didn't talk much about the lurid stories of horror of the old past. Steve smiled, and acted as if he was the only Manager who lived for the future, not the past. Steve didn't smoke. He was anti-drugs. No sex as well. Not that was the problem. Just juvenile stuff from 1967. Kissing, and pictures of romance that was at the New York State Fairs. Steve had met Alice in the hot, June summer of 1972. Alice was free. But she wasn't too free. She wasn't a hippie; she wasn't in a commune in San Francisco. Or in Los Angeles, California. She got a degree in Camp Management in 1974; she was a teenager who studied a lot. Summers were hot, and by August of 1974, President Richard Nixon resigned in a 15-minute TV address to the American people in their homes; Nixon smiled, looked awkward, and blabbered on for a long time. And talked to his wife, the First Lady, Mrs. Pat Nixon. And the inglorious wave at the Airport. And the 'I am not a crook' statement riled America. By 1975, Alice was nervous. She had had enough of the degrading of political leanings towards the abyss. Alice waited once more, to see whether Steve meant to manage the campgrounds. For several years, the darkness of Crystal Lake was ignored, as if it was too hard for campers to survive; Crystal Lake wasn't on the radar. Alice heard Steve's pleas to the New York Recreation and Camping Authority to say the camp was fit to go. But no one answered his telephone calls. Not for $25,000. Too small amount to care. And Steve knew the horrible secret: that Camp Crystal Lake was a lemon.
~~~
~~~
Alice ran outside.
She saw the body of Annie in a green colored Jeep.
She screamed.
In the deep, wet, woods, she saw the body of Steve.
She ran towards the other door.
She yelled as she bumped into the body of Bill.
Alice was lost for words.
Before she could lose control, she backed away...and fled to the kitchen.
The yellow curtains dragged away from the small windows.
She grabbed a baseball bat.
The body of Brenda smashed through the window.
'Brenda!'.
Seconds passed.
The time read: 8:59 PM.
One minute to 9:00 PM.
And midnight was three hours' away.
~~~
The bright light of the second green Jeep appeared.
Alice opened the door.
A middle-aged woman appeared.
The specter was gone; the killer appeared.
'Who are you?', Alice asked.
The woman smiled falsely at Alice, as if her blue colored eyes shifted into the ether.
Her blue colored sweater was dirty; grubby; tainted by the acrid smell of old leather.
Or worse.
Her eyes gazed into the cold bitterness of the vicious storm.
Then she focused on Alice.
'Why, I am Mrs. Pamela Sue Voorhees'.'
'They're all dead', Alice screamed.
'I'm not afraid, dear', the 49-year-old woman smirked.
Alice didn't like that smirk.
'But they'll kill you too'.
Mrs. Pamela Sue Voorhees gasped...and saw the bodies.
'Why, so young; so innocent. What kind of monster could do this to teenagers, and campers. I told Steve not to re-open Camp Crystal Lake. It has too many bad memories. I was the camp cook in 1957 when my son drowned. His name was Jason; he wasn't a very good swimmer; he should've been watched. Of course, Barry and Claudette were making love as he drowned in the old barn'. Alice listened, as horror dawned on her.
Mrs. Pamela Sue Voorhees was the killer.
The killer grabbed the hunting knife.
And attacked Alice with it.
~~~
In the darkness, the full moon's glow seared into the gloom.
~~~
The larder was full of old pots and pans.
Alice hit a black colored pan across the insane woman's head.
Blood gushed from the wound.
Alice ran again towards the cabins.
~~~
Ten minutes' later
~~~
Mrs. Pamela Sue Voorhees awoke.
She moved fast.
She opened the door.
She grabbed the axe...and smashed it into cabin 4.
Her tomb-like teeth gnashed like a rat chomping downward for its meal.
And she smiled at her prey.
~~~
Alice ran towards the old lake.
The lunar moon created a sense of eerie madness.
Mrs. Pamela Sue Voorhees hit her in the cold sand.
She banged Alice into it, producing a lot of blood on the forehead.
The killer said: 'Kill her, Mommy! Don't let her get away; don't let her live! I won't Jason; I won't!'. After one last, final, battle on the wet sand, Alice saw a discarded machete that was owned by Steve Christy's father back in 1951. In a matter of seconds, she brought it downward...and the killer screamed into the abyss of death.
~~~
