CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

RELUCTANT ALLIES

Phil stumbled and nearly fell to the ground as he followed the transparent image of Lewis through the forest. The jerk reopened the wound in his shoulder and caused fresh black blood to drip down his arm. With his other, uninjured, arm he hugged his injured gut. Though his shirt was sticky with congealed blood he could still feel more wet bribble come from the still opened wound.

He'd actually been surprised that he managed to escape the crowd and get out of town in his present condition. All the way through town he half expected to hear sirens and see patrol cars converge on him. But this didn't happen. He could almost believe that it was the Ancient Ones who had a hand in this, but it was more likely that the sheriff's men were too busy cleaning up the mess he left for them to come after him The thought of the last possiblity gave him a momentary warm rush through his exhausted, pain ridden, body.

Phil could see that they were coming up to a road, and that there was a worn looking boarded up shack on the other side of it. On the roof of the shack was a sign that read: GLEASON'S BAIT AND TACKLE.

Gleason? Phil asked himself. Why does that name sound familiar? Though, in his present condition, the answer to this question really didn't matter much to him. What mattered was being able to rest soon before he collapsed.

“This will be a perfect place for you to regain your strength.” Lewis said, putting his hands transparent hands on his equally transparents hips.

Phil wouldn't have argued with him even if he could talk. The pain and fatigue had taken it's toll on him. He honestly doubted he would have been able to go much farther anyway.

“Yes, my friend, a little rest and you'll be as good as new.” Lewis told him. “Then we can pay our respects at Camp Crystal Lake.”

Phil was not as enthusiastic. During the battle on Main Street he lost his machete as well as his bowie knife. Now all he had left was two pockets full of tent spikes, which were not as exciting to him as an actual blade would be. Still he figured he might find something interesting on his way.

Stumbling across the street he made his way around to the back of the building. He had to tear his way through over grown, trickly, weeds before he finally found the boarded up back entrance.

He grabbed one of the boards on the door and was surprised that he actually had to exhert himself to rip it off. Even so, he soon had all the boards ripped off and was heading inside.

Once he got inside he saw that someone had cleared the place out. All that were left were web covered shelves and an empty counter with a beatup looking cash register on top of it.

Lewis came up behind him and looked around. “Not much of a place, but it'll do. You can rest here without being noticed. I doubt anyone gives this place a second look anymore.”

Phil went over to the counter and used it to steady himself he slowly lowered himself to the floor. Then, leaning against the counter, he relaxed his beatup body and slowly dozed off.

“I really think this is a mistake. Shouldn't you wait till we get more people?” Marshack asked as he followed Sheriff Landis down the hall toward the evidence room.

“I can't wait that long. We've got a mass murderer on the loose and these people may know something about it. That makes it worth the risk to me. Anyway, I'll have this with me.” Landis said, cocking his rifle. “I wouldn't like to be them if they tried.”

“I still don't like this.” Marshack told him, as he cocked his own rifle. “You said these people might've killed one of your deputies. Hell, you really have no idea what you'll be facing in there.”

“Yeah, and that's what I have to worry about.” Landis said. “You just have to stay outside this door with your pea shooter and wait for me to come out of there.”Then he handed Marshack the keychain from his belt. “Just don't get trigger happy on me.”

Marshack went over to the door and unlocked it.Then he cautiously opened it.

Landis kept his rifle aimed at the doorway, ready to fire if any of his “guests” tried to make a run for it. Then he slowly headed inside.

The first thing he noted upon entering was the body of Ed Marlin laying on the floor in a puddle of congealed blood. Then he caught sight of Steven Freeman and his associates. They were seated at a wooden table in the nearer corner of the room watching him with tense expressions on their faces.

“Ok, Steven, I think we need to have a little chat. I just had a seven foot tall freak in a hockey mask turn Main Street into a slaughter house. Surprisingly enough when I blew a hole in this guy's gut he got up and managed to get away.” He told them. “Now, interestingly enough, the first thing I thought of after this was all over was you and your cousin. Have you got any idea why that would be?” he asked, though he still had his rifle trained on them.

“Sheriff, it's imperitive I ask this,” Rashid said, with a concerned expression on his face, “can you estimate how many people were killed?”

“What do you know about this?” Landis asked, the barrel of his rifled now clearly aimed at Rashid.

“In the name of the Elder Ones, please answer my question.” Rashid said pointedly, ignoring Landis' threat.

“Ok, have it your way, I'd say he killed nearly fifty people, including two of my deputies, and injured several more.”

“Oh great ones, matters are worse than I anticipated.” Rashid said. “If your estimate is correct we may have very little time to act.”

“What are you talking about?” Landis asked, confused.

“Soon the mask will have enough power to resurrect Jason.” Rashid told him.

“Oh no, not that supernatural crap again.” Landis said, shaking his head.

“This is serious.” Rashid said. “The mask gains power with each murder.”

“Damnit, Sheriff, you've seen what's been going on, you just don't want to believe it.” Micki said. “You just said you shot the guy and he got up.”

“For all I know he might've been on pcp or was wearing a vest.” Landis said, though he didn't sound convinced.

“But you know it wasn't either of those.” Steven Freeman said.

“Ok, I know he couldn't have been wearing a vest because he bled.” Landis admitted.”But that doesn't prove anything.”

“What about the blood?” Freeman asked knowingly.

“What you mean?” Landis asked, surprised.

“Was there anything unusual about it?”

The thought of the blood made Landis nautious, but he did realize there was something very unusual about it. Something uneasingly familiar about it.

“Fine, it was black and thick. It reminded me of the blood Bob showed me the last time I saw him alive. It was the blood from the guy that killed those jocks and cheerleaders over at Camp Crystal Lake.”

“But, even then, that wasn't the first time you saw blood like that. Right, Lloyd?” Freeman pushed.

“Ok..ok, yeah, it was like that black shit that came out of Randy's neck when you cut his head off at the Voorhees house, right before that thing came out of him.” Landis looked pale. “But how?...”

“Because it was the same kind of blood.” Micki answered. “Damnit, Sheriff, stop playing dense and put two and two together. That guy you shot was Phil Raman and the mask he was wearing was the same hockey mask that has been involved in all the murders the past three years, Jason's mask.”

“But it couldn't be.” Landis said. “Both you, Steven, and I saw that mask go down with Jason.”

“Yeah, but Micki and I went up to the Voorhees house yesterday and we saw a deep hole where someone had dug where Jason was pulled down.” Freeman told him.

“But there's still no way the guy I shot was Phil Raman.” Landis said. “Raman is a short whimpy guy. This guy was at least seven foot tall and bulky.”

“I would not underestimate the power of that mask.” Rashid told him.

“Now you're all sounding like Bob.” Landis said. “He had this crackpot idea that the killer they found in the cave in Crystal Hill was a skinny geek mascot named Teddy Bateman. He even showed me these freaky looking Xrays. But it all was so unreal.”

“After what you witnessed at the Voorhees house how can you be so closed minded?” Freeman asked.

“Maybe because I wanted it to be over. I actually wanted these murders to be simple copy cat murders. I wanted them to be because I knew I couldn't deal with them if they weren't.” Landis shook has head. “What are we going to do about this?”

“First, I would suggest you lower your weapon and let us free, so we may assist you.” Rashid said.

Landis lowered his rifle. “Don't make me regret this.”

“You don't have to worry about that.” Freeman said.

“Good.” Rashid said. “Now that that is settled, I suggest that we go with our original plan and try to get the mask away from Mr. Raman and take it back to the vault at Curious Goods, where it will be locked away from human hands forever.”

“Easier said than done.” Micki said.

“Still we need to do something very quckly before our friend, Mr. Raman, is able to take more lives and thus provide the mask with anymore energy.”Rashid said.

“I really doubt he'll be doing any killing for a while.” Landis said. “He was really messed up when I last saw him. I would have had him then if it wasn't that he'd killed my second hand man and I was distracted.”

“I would not be so sure of that, my friend.” Rashid warned him. “There is no doubt in my mind that, like Jason, Mr. Raman has inherited the ability to regenerate his wounds. It is my belief that the stress of such an intense battle had simply slowed the process.”

“To put that in plain English, Rashid is saying that we don't have as much time as you think.” Freeman told him.

“Well that's just great.” Landis said in exasperation. “I've got a killing machine out there someplace and I don't even have a clue where he'll strike next.”

“Actually, we do know where his ultimate destination is going to be.” Freeman said. “He'll be heading to the one place the mask'll be compelling him to go, home. If I were you, Lloyd, I'd get your men together and head to Camp Crystal Lake.”

“The only problem is at this time I only have two deputies left and they're busy dealing with all the crap your buddy Raman left in his wake.”

“Then I suggest you deputize as many townspeople as you can, because it would be suicide to go after him alone.” Micki said.

“I'm quite aware of that.” Landis informed her. “I have a large number of state police coming. Once they get here I'll have more than enough people to handle the situation here in town and our friend in the hockey mask.”

“Haven't you been listening, Sheriff, by now Phil could be all healed and on his way to Camp Crystal Lake.” Micki told him. “We don't have time to wait for your reinforcements to arrive. We need to do something now.”

“Lloyd, I suggest you let us out of here and let us do what we can until you can get your people together.” Freeman said.

“And what are you three going to do other than get yourselves killed?” Landis asked.

“You would be very surprised, my friend, at what the three of us can accomplish.” Rashid said.

“The problem is I'm still not completely sure about the three of you.” Landis told them. “You said yourselves that your intention is to salvage the mask and take it with you.”

“Yes, and we told you the reason is so we can lock it away so it cannot possess anyone else. Please believe us when we say that we are on the same side as you. I have devoted my life to keeping the world safe from things like this mask.” Rashid told him.

“Well, you're not doing too good of a job from my perspective.” Landis told him.

“As I have told my young friends here, in war there is always casulaties, and what we are fighting here my friend is a battle in a much bigger war. Though I mourn the dead and injured, I must not let their plight interfere with what I must do for the greater good.”

“Ok, let's get out of here and start this ball running.” Landis said, heading for the door. Then when he saw that they'd gotten up and were following him, he held his hand up. “I'd better go out first and talk to my associate.” he told them. “He might get an itchy trigger finger if we came out together.”

The others acknowledged him and stayed back.

Landis pulled out his walkie talkie and turned it on. “Marshack, this is Sheriff Landis. Unlock the door. I'm on my way out. And, keep that trigger finger of your's on hold. Over.”

The first thing Phil did when he awoke was to feel his gut. Rubbing off the congealed blood he found that the hole had completely healed. He also rubbed off the dried blood on his shoulder and found that it had completely healed as well.

Getting up he stretched his now revitalized muscles and clenched and unclenched his fists testingly. Once again he felt the power flow through his body.

“Excellent.” he heard Lewis say from the other side of the room. “I see you're fully recovered, my boy.”

Phil demonstrated this by bringing his fist crashing down and smashing the counter into kindling. It was easy, almost like it had been made of paper. If he'd been able to he would have smiled.

Lewis smiled sadistically and nodded his approval. “Now we're ready to pay our young friends a visit.”

Still Phil didn't feel quite as ready as Lewis. He wished he had something better to kill with than tent spikes. He really wished he hadn't lost his machete back on Main Street.

Heading out the back door of the deserted shack, he followed the apparition of Lewis through the tall weeds towards the woods at the far end of the yard.

It was as he pushed his way through the wall of weeds that he caught sight of something sticking up out of a clump of weeds just ahead. The object looked to be some sort of a handle.

When he finally reached the object his heart warmed. The object was a weathered looking ax, which was stuck in an equally aged stump.

Phil pulled the ax free from it's resting place and inspected it. The blade, though covered in rust, looked usable.

Lifting the ax over his head, he brought it down on the stump. Splinters of wood shot into the air and a large chunk of the stump fell away. This'll do. He thought. This'll do very well.

He felt something carved into the handle. He turned the handle over and looked at it. On the handle was carved the name RED.

Now he remembered why he remembered the name Gleason. It was Big Red Gleason who commited the second series of murders after Jason was sent to hell. He also remembered that Big Red killed his own mother and father during his killing spree. The shack must've been Big Red's father's bait and tackle store. He was amused by the coincidence.

“Good.” Lewis said, looking back at him. “I see you found something useful. Let's not delay any longer our young friends are waiting.”

Hefting his new prize, Phil followed Lewis' lead. Now that he had something substancial to use he began to feel more excited about the upcoming slaughter.

“What the hell is this, the Twilight Zone?” Marshack said after Sheriff Landis and Steven Freeman explained the situation to him. “You actually expect me to believe that a hockey mask can cause people to commit murder?”

“If you saw what I've seen since taking this job, Marshack, nothing would surprise you.” Landis told him.

“Excuse me for not jumping on the supernatural band wagon, Sheriff, but in the fifteen years I've been on the force I've never once had to deal with undead people or curses. Marshack told him.

“Well, you're about to get your chance,” Landis told him, “because I want you to go with these people and keep things safe over at Camp Crystal Lake.”

“You can't do that.” Marshack said. “I'm not one of your deputies.”

“Oh, I can do exactly that.” Landis told him. “You were sent here to assist this office in this situation and now I've given you a job to do. You don't like it, then file a complaint once all this is over.”

“You can be sure I'll do just that.” He told Landis.

“Damnit, there are more important things to deal with here than your ego.” Micki spoke up, looking at Marshack with disgust.

“Please excuse me for being so bold, Officer Marshack,” Rashid interrupted. “But isn't it wise, given the state of affairs, that we have a uniformed officer acompany us. After all it is a fact that there is indeed a murderer roaming this town and how can you be sure he won't evenually head to Camp Crystal Lake?”

“And isn't that what you get paid to do?” Micki pointed out.

Marshack shook his head in frustration. “Fine.” he said, and looked over at Freeman and the others.“Well, what are we waiting for?” Then he stalked off down the hall and out through the front door.

“I'm not too sure about this.” Freeman said, looking over at Landis incredulously. From the looks on his two associates faces they concurred.

“Marshack may not believe any of this but you can be assured when it comes down to it he'll do his job.” Landis said.

“I hope you're right.” Freeman said.

“I'm with you on that.” Micki agreed.

“Either way, my friends,” Rashid told them.“we need him because if we are not swift in our response blood will indeed spill at Camp Crystal Lake this night.”

RETURN