CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

TRANSFORMATION

Phil was still feeling the adrenaline from his latest killing as he ran into the alley a block away from the sheriff's office. Unfortunately he'd had to rush so he couldn't sit for a moment and marvel at his work. But now that wouldn't be a problem. Now he would be powerful and no one would be able to stop him.

He stuck his hand in the ripped innerlining of his trenchcoat and grabbed the bag that held the mask. Immediately he felt the familiar charge that ran up his arm. The feeling of pleasure rushed through his body and straight into his groin. He immediately released in his pants. He took the bag out of his coat, held it up, and looked at it. Even in the bag the mask was beautiful.

My friend, you've worked hard for this moment. The voice said. Now take the gift the Ancient Ones have seen fit to bestow upon you.

Phil ripped open the bag and took the mask out. Carefully, he slipped the leather straps behind his head and pulled the mask down over his face. He had barely enough time to think about how good it felt before the pain started.

He stumbled back against the alley wall as the initial spams hit him. Every nerve in his body was on fire. He could feel his bones growing and becoming stronger. He heard his seams of his clothes ripping as his body gained bulk. He tried to scream but all he could get out was a grunt because he couldn't open his mouth due to the fact that the mask had bonded to his face.

Then as the pain started to subside he saw movement with his pain blurred vision in front of him. Then after a few moments the pain completely subsided and he was amazed to see the transparent image of a man standing in front of him.

For a moment he thought the pain had driven him insane. The vision in front of him was of a balding, gray haired, older looking man with a mustache. The man was wearing a white button down shirt with red suspenders and black slacks. He was also wearing an odd looking string-like black tie around his neck. The vision reminded him of Jopedo from the story of Pinochio. But this being was a far cry from the friendly, loving, puppet master from the story. He could sense the pure evil of this being, as well as see the cold, calculating, look in his eyes.

“Well, my friend,” The vision said, its voice unnervingly familiar, “now we finally are able to meet face to face.”

Then Phil realized that the voice coming from the vision was the same one that had been in his head. He tried to speak, to ask what had happened, but he found he could barely move his lips. What came out of his mouth was nothing but indecipherable gibberish.

“Oh, yes, it'll be such torture for me not to have the pleasure of having listen to your endless drivel. And, unfortunately, given our new situation, I am unable to read your thoughts anymore. So I guess we'll just have to come to some kind of understanding.” The vision said, his smile less than comforting.

Then Phil felt the familiar pain in his head.

“Oh, yes, I also forgot to tell you I still retain the ability to hurt you.” The vision said.

Then the pain increased. It felt like someone was taking a molten spike and ramming it into his brain. Finally, the pain became so intense that Phil dropped to his knees and silently begged the vision for release.

“Oh, I see you realize who's boss around here.” The vision said, amused.

Then the pain stopped. Phil fell forward and landed on the concrete. He let out the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding.

“Yes, you've become strong, my friend.” The vision said. “Stronger than you think. Do you realize that if I'd done that to you before you put on the mask that your head would've exploded?”

Phil had no doubt about what the vision had just said. Slowly, he managed to get back on his feet. Now he waited for what his new “master” had in store for him.

“Now it's time for us to get started with our special work. The Ancient Ones have offered me my life back in exchange for a number of human lives. You, my friend, will be my tool. For you I offer the pleasure of the kill and a bounty of blood. All I ask is your obedience and loyalty. Do I have them?”

Phil nodded his head. He had little choice.

“Good.” the vision said, smiling at him again. “Then we have our understanding. In the spirit of our understanding it is only fair that you know who you're dealing with.” then with a theatrical flourish he bowed before Phil and said, “May I introduce myself. I am Lewis Vendredi. But you can call me Uncle Lewis.”

Ryan watched Rashid with amazement. Even with everything that was going on Rashid was ever the diligent researcher. He was sitting calmly studying the Necronomicon like the events of the past half hour hadn't taken place.

Micki, on the other hand, was sitting on the edge of the table looking at Deputy Marlin's body and shaking her head. “We should've realized there was something odd about Phil.” She said. “Because of that this poor man lost his life.”

“Stop beating yourself over the head.” Ryan told her. “If anything I should be the one doing that. I'm the one who lives here. I should've questioned how Phil's been acting the last couple of days. Hell, he looked like shit earlier today. I should've been suspicious about how quick he recovered. But I was too occupied with all this shit about Jason, the book, and Lewis.”

“My friends,” Rashid said, looking up from the Necronomicon, “you both should not blame yourselves. It is a constant in this path of life we find ourselves in that the innocent get caught up in our actions and end up getting hurt or killed. That is the way it is in war, and believe me when I say that this is a war. It is a war to maintain that precious balance that keeps this realm of existence from falling into darkness.”

“But he wouldn't have had to die if we'd been more careful.” Micki told him.

“Yes, and next time we will definitely be more careful.” Rashid said. “That is why the higher ones put us here, to learn from our mistakes and to grow. Now if you will excuse me I will continue with my studies.” Then he picked up the book and started to read again.

“Well, have you found out anything new?” Ryan asked.

Rashid looked up again. “Actually, nothing that I didn't expect to find. I have confirmed that the ritual Lewis used was indeed one that bonded Jason's body to the life-force of one of the Ancient Ones. In confirming this it explains much about how this, so called, curse has proceeded. If you recall a young man several years ago supposedly killed Jason again, and Jason was actually buried.”

“Yeah, I remember that.” Ryan said. “The kid's name was Jarvis...Tommy Jarvis. I also recall that eight years later Jarvis tried to destroy Jason's body, but ended up bringing him back to life.”

“Yes, I recall from a statement he wrote after the incident that a bolt of lightening struck a metal bar that he'd rammed into Jason's chest.” Rashid added.

“I never could understand that.” Micki said. “It didn't sound logical.”

“In regard to the Ancient Ones our ideas of logic are meaningless.” Rashid told her. “But I have a theory in regard to this incident. When Jarvis 'killed' Jason the damage he inflicted on Jason's body was so much that the Ancient One that was bonded to him could not handle the damage and went to sleep until the lightening reenergized it and provided it with the energy to reanimate Jason's body again.”

“But the Jason I fought was a fully living being.” Ryan reminded him. “And, if I recall he was the same way when the FBI blew him up.”

“I also have a theory about this as well.” Rashid told him.”If you recall there was an incident two years before your encounter with Jason, Ryan, in which he stowed away on a ship that was carrying the graduating class of Crystal Lake High to Manhattan.”

“Yeah, if I recall Jason killed nearly everyone on board and ended up sinking the ship.” Ryan added. “The survivors escaped in a lifeboat. They managed to get to the harbor in Manhattan, but Jason somehow managed to follow them. He supposedly killed most of their party, but two of them escaped into the sewers.”

“Exactly.” Rashid said. “In the end Jason was caught in the toxic flood water that is known to periodically flow through the sewers and was supposedly destroyed. But I recall that one of the survivors reported that the moment after Jason's body melted away the body of a young boy floated to the surface of the water.”

“That's why people around here discounted the whole story, because Jason reappeared six months later.” Ryan told him.

“Yes, I understand that.” Rashid said. “Yet, through my sources, I did find out that emergency crews investigating the survivor's claims did indeed find a naked twelve year old boy in the sewer that was very much alive and suffering from chemical burns. It was also reported that the boy was suffering amnesia and could not be identified. Soon after his rescue, though, the boy was put in the custody of a renowned blood expert, Doctor Reinhold Wimmer. But, about a month later he somehow escaped from the hospital. Though there was a large scale search the boy was never found.”

“Are you trying to say that the boy was Jason?” Micki asked.

“Yes. I'm saying that when Jason's body was destroyed the Ancient One recreated it in it's original form. Then it simply rebuilt him from that foundation.”

“What you're describing sounds like some sort of virus or parasite.” Ryan said.

“Exactly, that is exactly what we're dealing with here.” Rashid agreed.

“It fits what I saw when I touched the book.” Micki said, sounding very uneasy. “They reminded me of a giant cancer. They literally devoured everything that wasn't them and recreated it in their image.”

“But that still doesn't explain the mask, and how it's able to possess people.” Ryan said.

“Actually, it does.” Micki said. “With Jason wearing that mask constantly I would think that thing inside him could easily contaminate the it.”

“Yes, exactly, and given this entity's capacity and it's obvious instinct for survival this seems most logical.” Rashid admitted.

“Then what would you suggest we do about this?” Micki asked.

“All I can suggest at this time is that we go with the original plan we devised and get possession of the mask and lock it up in the vault back at Curious Goods.” Rashid said.

“The problem is that more than likely Phil's already put the damned thing on and is getting ready for a killing spree.” Ryan pointed out.

“Then, my friend, our first priority is to find a way to convince the sheriff to release us. Then we do what we must to get the mask, that includes, I'm sorry to say, having to kill Mr. Raman.” Rashid told them.

Phil followed the image of “Uncle Lewis” down the alleyway toward their destination, which was the Army/Navy Store for what Lewis called “the tools of the trade.”

As he walked he clenched and unclenched his hands. As he did this he could feel the power flowing through his new bulky arms. He could hardly wait to try out his new hulking form.

As he walked by a steel garbage can and crushed it between his hands. It was as easy as if it was made of tin foil.

“Patience, my friend.” Lewis said, giving him an amused expression. “Soon you will be able to see what your new body can do.”

“What's going on down there?” They heard come from a short distance up the alley. Then they saw movement from a pile of cardboard boxes up ahead. An old man with a white beard, dirty baseball cap,and tan flannel shirt got up from among the boxes and came stumbling drunkenly out in front of them. “Hey, what you doing over there?” The old man said, scratching his scruffy beard and squinting at Phil.

Phil was surprised. Though Lewis was standing right near the old man it was obvious he couldn't see him. It made him wonder if he was the only one who could.

“My goodness,” the old man said, adjusting his ratty looking, ill-fitting, jeans, “is it Halloweenie again. I sometimes loose track of time.” He cackled to himself, showing a mouth with two rotten, black, teeth. “Or are you one of those fellas that dress up like Mickey Mouse and take pictures with all them there brats?” This seemed to amuse the old man. He cackled again.“My, my, how times have changed. I remember a time when folk around here were actually scared of Jason Voorhees. Now with all this touristie bullshit they've made him look like a real pussie...Yep, a real sissified bitch.”

Phil now recognized this old coot. He'd seen him several times at Smoky's. The main reason why he remembered him was because he used to yell crude suggestions at Guadalupe while she was dancing with those low life loggers. A couple of times he'd gotten her so mad that she'd doused him in his own beer.

But now this old coot was pointing his sharp tongue at him.

Now Phil realized that he'd not only inherited Jason's strength, but also his anger as well. And, this coot was getting him mad.

“Hey, buddy, ain't you got something to say? Or, say, are you one of them retards, like Jason was?”

Phil has finally had enough of this old fool.

Before the old coot could say another word, he stomped up to him and grabbed him by the throat. There was a sharp crunching sound as Phil's hand tightened around the old man's neck. Then the old man went limp.

This frustrated Phil. The kill had been too easy. Angrily, he ripped the old man's head off and threw it against the alley wall. The head splattered like a melon leaving bloody goo dribbling down the wall.

“Don't worry, my boy,” Lewis said, “there's more where he came from. Soon these streets will flow with blood. But first we need to get you ready.”

Then Lewis waved him on and they continued down the alley.

RETURN