CHAPTER THIRTY

PARTY FAVORS

Roy Turner, with the two state troopers to either side of him, made his way silently through the woods looking for any signs of the two missing members of Stephen Freeman's party. The troopers followed Turner's lead and scanned the woods ahead of them with practiced ease.

Turner had full confidence in his companions. He'd worked with them both before. The tall, sandy haired, trooper to his right, Dan Culligan, had been part of the cleanup crew that had worked with him and the other deputies packing up the remains of Kelly Boone and her friends after the Big Red massacre. The other, stalky, dark haired, trooper, Peter Bennerson, had been with the party he'd worked with to scour the woods for survivors after the Fantana Carnival incident.

Still, now they were dealing with Jason Voorhees himself. Turner had to admit that though his demeanor was cool and calm on the outside, he was jumping with excitement on the inside. It had been the idea of going after the famous Crystal Lake killer that had compelled him to join the Cunningham County Sheriff's Department in the first place after his tour in the Marines had ended. He'd heard about the massacre at the sheriff's office, now over three years ago, when Robert Campbell, supposedly possessed by Jason, slaughtered every sheriff's deputy on duty at the office. Still, that incident supposedly ended with a newly resurrected Jason being dragged down to Hell. Turner knew, being a hometown boy, that Jason would eventually come back and he figured he'd be damned if he wasn't going to be there when it happened. Thanks to the fact that Lloyd Landis had needed new deputies to replace the ones Campbell had killed, Turner had seen his chance.

Coming out of his revelry, Turner heard the barely perceptible sound of somebody speaking not too far away. He waved his companions in the general direction he heard the voice and they followed his lead without word.

Soon Turner found signs that he was on the right course. The first thing he noted subtle things like crushed brush and a few broken branches on some saplings. Then they came to an open path and he saw two sets of footprints in the mud. But then they came up to the body and Turner was sure they were in the right place.

“Holy fuck!” Bennerson said looking down at the remains of Shawn Carlyle.

“The fucker played with him a bit.” Culligan observed with disgust. “Look he dragged himself before the bastard gave him the chop.” He pointed and at the drag marks in the mud.

“Jason doesn't play with his prey.” Turner corrected him, looking down at the body intently. “He's very efficient and to the point with his kills. More than likely he threw his machete at a distance. Then it took him a few moments to walk over and pull the machete out for the final....” Then Turner heard a familiar sound. He lifted his hand and shushed his companions. It was the mumbling voice again, but this time it was really close. He scanned the woods around him and found what he was looking for. Squatting beside a tree about thirty feet away was the figure of a smallish dark haired woman. Her eyes were wild, but she didn't seem to even notice them. She simply squatted there rocking slightly and talking softly to herself.

Slipping his rifle strap across his chest and securing his Ak 47 against his back, Turner started walking toward the woman with his arms raised out to either side in an open handed gesture.“It's ok.” he said in a calm reassuring way. “It's ok. You're safe. We're here to get you outta here...”

The woman looked at him and started laughing. It wasn't a pleasant sound. It was the sound of insanity.

“Safe?” she said, looking at him like he was the crazy one. “I'm in no danger...You see, I don't believe in him so he can't hurt me. But you're in danger because you're stupid and think he's real.” Then she glared at Turner. “It's your fault. It's all your fault, you stupid hicks. He had to dream him up.!” Tears started running down her cheeks. “If it wasn't for you and your fucking legend Shawn and all the others would be alive...But you made them believe.You made him real to them. But I was smart...I was smart. I knew he wasn't real. I knew and I'm the only one that's still alive....”

Turner continued to approach her. Now that he was closer he recognized her. He'd seen her and her buddies around town. She was one the people who were doing the documentary on Jason.She was the one who had royally pissed off Betty Loomis and a few other people in town. Now look at you. He thought.

“Come on. Get up.” he said in his calm way. “We're going to take you out of here.”

The woman's eyes grew larger and wilder. Then she started laughing hysterically again. “I don't think so.” she said.

This caused a chill to run down Turner's back. A moment later he knew why. The woman wasn't looking at him. She was looking behind him.

Turner slipped his hand behind his back and grabbed his rifle. At the same time he spun around, just in time to see Jason, with a sharp snap of cracking bone, twist Peter Bennerson's head completely around.

To his left, Dan Culligan squeezed the trigger of his AK-47 and sent a barrage of bullets on Jason and Bennerson's dying body. The majority the the bullets ripped through Bennerson's body causing it to vibrate with each hit. A few bullets hit Jason's hockey mask and careened off. None of them seemed to make any impression on Jason, who simply threw Bennerson to the side like a discarded rag doll and took several rounds in the chest. Black blood dribbled from the bullet holes but stopped almost as soon as they began.

“Die, Motherfucker!!!” Culligan screamed as he continued his assault on the monstrous figure before him.

Almost casually, Jason pulled his rusty machete from it's resting place, slipped under his belt.

“No. Disengage. Run!!!” Turner ordered. But Culligan ignored him and continued shooting.

Jason lifted his machete over his head and flung it at his attacker. The blade of the machete hit Culligan expertly in the Adam's apple and broke through the back of his neck severing his spine from his head. Gagging and spitting up blood, Culligan stumbled backward. His arms flung to either side of him, his AK 47's trigger still pulled and the weapon firing.

Turner went stumbling back and slammed against the tree beside the woman as a string of bullets hit him across the chest. He silently thanked God that he'd had the forethought to wear his bullet proof vest today. Still the air was knocked from his lungs and pain shot through his chest and back. He had to fight to keep from losing consciousness. He slid down the trunk of the tree momentarily stunned.

As he regained his senses he saw that Jason had turned his head and was staring at him and the woman with his one good eye. Jason cocked his head, then turned his attention once again to the now fallen body of Dan Culligan. Turner had no doubt what was going through Jason's head.

Focusing his mind on what he had to do, like he'd been taught in the Marines, Turner slowing pulled himself up onto his feet. Pain shot through him again, but he forced his mind not to acknowledge it.

The woman laughed at him. “He's gonna get you because you're stupid and believe in him.”

Ignoring her prattle, Turner grabbed her around the waist and lifted her over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. The woman started kicking and pounding her fists into his already throbbing back. “No!” she screamed. “No. He doesn't want me. He wants you...He wants you because you believe in him. No...I won't let you make me believe in him....No. No!!!”

Turner stumbled more than trudged off the trail and into the thick of the woods. The woman's jostling threatened to knock him off balance. “Stop it!” Turner yelled back at her. “You're gonna get us killed, you stupid bitch!”

“He doesn't want me!” she screamed at him.

“I wouldn't count on it.” he said, as he purposely swung her to his left and slammed her against a nearby tree as he went by, hoping the impact might knock her out. The woman screamed in pain, but continued to kick and pound on his back.

Then she suddenly became uncomfortably still and screamed “No. Please.You don't want me!” Though Turner couldn't see behind him he knew what this meant, Jason was coming for them. He forced himself to quicken his pace.

He listened carefully and could hear the splash of Jason's boots in the mud behind him coming closer. He managed to take a quick look over his shoulder. He caught a momentary glimpse of, Jason, about twenty feet away, raising his machete over his head. Immediately Turner shifted direction to his right. He felt a slight breeze over his left shoulder and heard the cracking sound and warble of metal hitting wood. He knew exactly what he would see if he looked, Jason's machete a quarter buried in the trunk of the tree he'd just passed. But he didn't have the time, nor desire, to confirm this. He was too busy trying to get away.

Jason stomped over to the tree and ripped his machete from the trunk. Rage flowed over him like the rain had earlier. That policeman had been lucky. He should have been stuck like the other guy, but he moved at the last moment and got away.

Jason looked into the woods. He could still see the policeman carrying the woman through the trees. The dark part of him urged him to go after them and finish them off. But the other side simply wanted to go home to Camp Crystal Lake. He stood by the tree for a few moments more and watched his fleeing prey. He would let them go for now. He figured he'd get them later at Camp Crystal Lake. After all they all ended up at Camp Crystal Lake eventually.

Both Micki and Ryan let out sighs of relief when they and their entourage of deputies and highway patrolmen came out of the woods and into the clearing where the cars were parked behind the horseshoe of cabins that was Camp Crystal Lake. If they both could they would have dropped to their knees and thanked god.The reason for their reaction was because Sheriff Landis had been continuously on his walkie talkie the whole trip yelling at the people on the other end. Both Micki and Ryan had been sure all the way that the noise would have drawn Jason right to them, but they had been lucky.

“I don't want to hear any excuses, Jackson, we have a barbecue to prepare and I want it done before the guest of honor gets here, over.” Landis said into his walkie, annoyed.

Micki and Ryan looked at each other questioningly. This had been a regular thing between to two of them. They both had wondered what Landis was planning. They'd heard something about a backhoe and a barrel of gasoline, but Landis cryptically cloaked his orders in the metaphor of a party and party favors.

“Damned idgits. It's like they can't take a shit without me there to wipe their asses!” Then he sighed and looked over at Micki and Ryan. “So, no 'I told you so's, people? I 've been waiting for you two to say something. After all in the end you were right and I was wrong.”

“I think we're just happy to be alive, Sheriff.” Micki told him honestly.

“The night's still young, dear lady.” Landis said, smiling at her earnestly. “But I promise you we'll give that son of a bitch a party he won't soon forget.”

It was at that moment that they passed a blue tarp laying in the ground. Ryan knew that beneath this covering was the split remains of the wanna-be Jamaican, Jamal. Given the distressed look on Micki's face as they passed he was thankful Landis' men had been so courteous.

Then he noted another blue tarp covering the firepit ahead. From the smell of cooked meat and the curls of smoke that was still waifing from underneath it, Ryan could easily piece together the fate of their late protector, Officer Marshack.

Seeing that Micki was looking a bit green in the gills, Ryan dug through the pockets of his jeans and handed her a semi-clean looking handkerchief. Micki gratefully accepted his gift and, with a look of relief, covered her mouth and nose with it.

It was at that moment that Ryan noticed Sheriff Landis watching them. With a look of barely concealed amusement that the white haired man in the cowboy hat shook his head and mouthed the words “City folk.” Then Landis lifted his walkie talkie to his lips. “Ok, people, I want all spotters in position and ready. I expect to be notified if a squirrel takes a shit anywhere near this damned camp. Get to it, over and out !”

Once they passed the firepit they and their entourage headed up the trail between cabins six and seven. They came out into a chaos of law enforcement officers and others workers rushing around in front of the horseshoe of cabins. In front of cabin one the backhoe and it's controller were dutifully digging a deep pit in front of the building. As the machine dumped it's load of dirt deputies and highway patrolmen came in with shovels and buckets to scoop up the dirt and run it behind the cabin.

A woman, with boyish cut short blond hair, in a brown highway patrol uniform came rushing up to them. She stopped in front of Landis and gave him a quick salute. “The pit is nearly done, Sheriff, and the spotters are in position. I'm in constant communication with them.”

“Good work, Jackson.” Landis said, nodding his approval. “We need to be ready before our guest of honor arrives. I expect him to have a warm reception.” he looked toward the pit.

“Understood.” Jackson simply said, then rushed off back into the chaos.

Landis walked over to the deputy who had taken over carrying the still unconscious form of Morgana from Ryan. “Take her over to cabin seven and keep an eye on her.”

The deputy paused for a moment looking around at the activity around him, but finally nodded his head and headed for the open doorway of the dilapidated cabin to his right.

“Why don't you and the lady go with him.” Landis suggested to Ryan. “You've done enough for one night and with everything going on you two'll just get in the way.”

“Excuse me.” Micki said, clearly insensed by the statement.

“This is a job for trained law enforcement officers, not Scooby Doo and the mystery gang.”

“Why you...!” Micki started to say, but Ryan cut her off.

“The sheriff's right, Micki, let's let him do his job.” Ryan said, giving her a look as to say for her not to argue.

Micki gave Ryan and the sheriff a dagger stare but kept quiet and started toward the cabin.

“Thank you, Steven.” Landis told Ryan, giving him a knowing look.

Ryan nodded and turned to head toward the cabin.

“Sheriff!” Jackson said, running up the the sheriff again.

The urgency in the tone of the blond highway patrol officer's voice stopped Ryan in his tracks. He turned and watched the exchange.

“Sheriff, we've got activity outside the camp.” she told Landis.

“Where?” Landis inquired. “Give me details.”

“One of my men, Perkins, reported the sound of frantic motion in the brush near his position in the southern section behind the camp.”

“I need more than that,” Landis told her, “I still have men out there looking for survivors. It could be them.”

Landis lifted his walkie talkie to his lips again. “Perkins, this is Sheriff Landis, over.”

“Officer Perkins here, Sheriff, over.” came the reply in a whispery low voice.

“Can you see anything, Perkins.” Landis said. “I need to know what's going on out there, over.”

“Even with night vision I can only make out movement in the distance. But it is getting closer. I should be able to determine the source of the activity momentarily, over.” the voice from the walkie said.

A moment later the voice of Perkins was back, but this time he wasn't whispering. “Emergency...we got an emergency!” Perkins yelled. “We got an officer and a civilian in need of assistance.....Oh, my god!” Then a loud thump issued from the walkie, followed by a softer thump, the sound of crunching vegetation, and finally silence.

Landis lowered the walkie talkie and hooked it back on his belt. He looked over at Jackson. “Tell the crew I need a tarp over that pit. I need it nailed down. And, I need it covered with dirt, Jackson. Tell them I needed all this done two minutes ago. The guest of honor has arrived. Got it.”

Jackson didn't even take the time to answer, she simply took off running toward the pit screaming out orders at the workers as she went.

Landis looked over at Ryan and smiled. It wasn't a pleasant smile. “It's party time.”

RETURN