Title: What I Did On My Spring Vacation, By Dana Scully

Author: Valdron

Fandom: X-Files meets Twin Peaks on Friday the Thirteenth

Pairings:

Rating: R

Category: Crossover

Spoilers: Minor spoilers for X-Files and Twin Peaks; Series spoilers for Friday the 13th.

Status: Complete

Series: No

Date:

E-Mail: dvaldron@mts.net

Feedback: YES!!!

Archive: WWOMB, Vig’s Vale

Valdron’s Handy Dandy Disclaimer: The X-Files, Twin Peak, and Friday the 13th, the series, movies, concepts and characters, are the property, copyright and trademark of Paramount, Sean Cunningham, David Lynch and Mark Frost. No ownership or claim on said property, copyright or trademark is made or implied by the use in this work. This work constitutes a personal comment on the aforesaid properties pursuant to doctrines of fair use and fair comment. This work is non-commercial, not for sale or profit, and may not be sold or reproduced for commercial purposes. All other characters and situations which are not specifically owned by the above mentioned
are sole copyright of the author.

This story was originally published in Badlands, I-V, a mediazine edited by Anna Boudreau.

Thanks: Anna Boudreau

Notes: Canadian spellings and terms may be found throughout...

This story takes place between the events of "Friday the Thirteenth VIII, The New Blood," and "Friday the Thirteenth IX, Jason Goes to Hell."

Additional note following the story. It is placed there because it contains spoilers for the Story...

Beta’s Note/Warning: If you feel, for some inexplicable reason, you must take offense, PLEASE! I BEG YOU! DO NOT flame Valdron. His retaliatory strikes tend to leave bloody body parts strewn across the internet landscape... (Vigdis)

Warnings: Extensive laboratory testing by the FDA shows that 13% of white lab mice, upon being exposed to this story, begin speaking aramaic. Apart from that, it should be okay for a general audience.

Summary:

What I Did On My Spring Vacation, By Dana Scully
By Valdron

Agent Dana Scully of the FBI pulled into the Crystal Lake Inn. She got out of the car and glanced around. Crystal Lake was nowhere in sight. It was just a roadside truck stop. She walked into the office and flipped her badge.

"FBI Agent Dana Scully," she said, "I'm looking for a man named Mulder."

The office manager, an unshaven man on the wrong side of fifty, wearing a grimy undershirt barely looked up. He just kept reading his newspaper. Scully noted the headline, "Elvis is a Vampire!"

"He's in the coffee shop, talking to the other agent."

"Other agent?" she asked, but decided he wouldn't know. "Never mind,"

She headed to the coffee shop.

"You've come here to stop the killings," the old man said without looking up from his newspaper. It wasn't a question.

Scully stopped, confused.

"What killings?" she asked.

The man cackled and leered unpleasantly. "They haven't happened yet. But that don't matter. You won't be able to stop them, just the same."

She found Mulder sitting in the coffee shop in animated discussion with another man. She walked up. The man was dark haired and slender, almost handsome, but for a profile that was just a little too knifelike. There was a half eaten donut on the plate in front of him, and he was clearly savouring a steaming cup of coffee.

"Hello Mulder. Who's your friend?" Scully asked.

The man stood smiling easily and offered his hand. "Dale. Dale Cooper of the west coast office. You have to try the coffee, it's excellent."

"FBI?"

"Yes," Mulder finished. "I met Coop when I was seconded to the Drug Enforcement Agency out west, in the San Francisco office."

"We worked on the Matamoros killings together," Cooper explained. For some reason she noticed he was staring carefully at her clothes.

"I'm pleased to meet you."

"Coop is one of the best field analysts in the bureau, Scully. But more than that he shares my interest in... unusual cases," Mulder explained.

"I'm surprised the bureau didn't put the two of you together," Scully replied.

Mulder laughed. "That's the last thing they'd ever want to do. They like keeping us at opposite ends of the country."

"Mulder," Scully said. "Can you tell me what was so important that you called me in during my vacation?"

"It's Wednesday, Scully. Wednesday the eleventh in Crystal Lake," Mulder told her.

"So."

"You've read the files I had delivered to you?"

"Of course Mulder," she said. She hadn't particularly enjoyed it.

"I've been slowly investigating this case over a year, ever since the Friday the Thirteenth incident in New York City."

"Oh," Scully said, "you mean that 'killer zombie rampage' that the Weekly World News reported on."

"I didn't know you read the news," Mulder commented.

"It helps me to keep tabs on your thinking," she said.

"Then you know there's an indestructible undead serial mass murderer named Jason Voorhees that's been terrorizing the region for the last forty years."

"The records prove precisely otherwise," Scully said. "Half your file consisted of newspaper clippings for gods sake, documenting every murder or mysterious disappearance in the area over that time period."

"All connected to Jason Voorhees," Mulder said.

"Some connected to Voorhees directly or indirectly," she said, "but the majority were not Voorhees. The initial killings in 59, and then in 77 are attributable directly to Pamela Voorhees, his mother."

"Only the 1982 and 1983 killing sprees were attributed to Jason Voorhees by the local police and his body was found at the second mass murder site," she said.

"The body disappeared," Mulder pointed out, "and turned up at the next mass murder site, the Jarvis household in 1985."

"Are you suggesting that the body got up, walked away, hid for three years and then killed a bunch of people in 1985?" Scully asked, appalled.

"Do you have another explanation?"

"Yes," she said, "it's obvious. Also found at the site was a young man, Rob Saunders who was related to one of the earlier victims, Eve Saunders. Records showed he was clearly obsessed with the Voorhees killings, he visited the area with an arsenal for god's sakes. Saunders body was found in the basement with a machete!"

"What are you saying Scully?" Mulder asked. "Are you saying he was so unbalanced by the killing of his sister in 1983 that he travelled to the area afterwards, stole the body, concealed it for three years and then returned to the area with the body, to recapitulate a new series of crimes? Do you have any idea how ludicrous that sounds?"

"Ahem," Agent Cooper cleared his throat, "maybe you should just let that one go by, Fox."

Mulder turned to Cooper, a look of betrayal on his face.

"Then there are the 1990 killings," Scully said, "which are confirmed to Roy Burns, a disgruntled paramedic, similarly obsessed with Jason Voorhees."

"The 1992 killings," Scully continued implacably, "were thought to be done by Tommy Jarvis. A survivor of two previous sprees and a man with serious mental illnesses, also obsessed with Voorhees."

"And the 1993 killings?" Cooper asked.

"Tommy Jarvis again, most likely. He'd escaped in 1992, and probably came back in 1993."

"What about the 1995 spree?" Mulder asked.

Scully rolled her eyes. "Nothing happens in Crystal Lake at all. There's a boat lost at sea, and a handful of murders which are a slow night in New York. Everything else is unsubstantiated speculation."

"What about the hundred and eleven witnesses in the subway car, restaurant and streets witnesses who saw a giant zombie in a hockey mask."

"Five of them said it was a zombie, Mulder." Scully told him. "Only five, and all of them had criminal records for drug abuse. Hardly reliable witnesses, if you don't read the Weekly World News."

She turned to Agent Cooper. "I can't believe you're encouraging him."

Cooper, caught stuffing a donut in his mouth, coughed briefly and washed it down with a coffee.

"Well actually," he temporized, "I agree that a zombie serial killer is unlikely."

"Coop!" Mulder said, scandalized. "Back me up here!"

"But," he said quickly, "this area seems to be prone to copycat killings and the main suspect in the last two is still at large. I think there's an excellent chance that Tommy Jarvis may return to the area to continue the legend of Jason Voorhees."

"Based on...." she asked.

"Based on..." Cooper said caught.

"Based on..." Mulder prompted.

"A hunch?" Cooper offered.

Scully looked at the both of them for two long minutes.

"And have you requested backup for this impending massacre?" she asked finally.

"Uhhh," Cooper said.

"We've been denied," Mulder said, "insufficient justification."

"Right."

"But the Crystal Lake police force has offered their full cooperation."

Scully continued to stare at them.

"And so you decided to call me..." she said. "On my vacation."

"Mulder spoke very highly of your abilities," Cooper explained, "and your wardrobe."

There was a sudden movement under the table, as if Mulder was kicking Cooper in the leg. Wardrobe? Wondered Scully. What was that all about?

She sighed. "Well, I suppose it won't hurt to look around."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So where are we going?" Scully asked, it was the afternoon of Thursday, the twelfth. She was trying to dial out with her cell phone. She tapped the buttons.

"To scout the scenes of the crimes," Mulder told us. "Oh, and the phone doesn't work. We're outside the cell network. Any calls will have to be through regular lines."

"Crystal Lake," Cooper announced. "The original Camp Crystal Lake was burned down in 1989, but the area has another Youth Camp farther along and there are a number of cottages and residences along the shore."

"We thought it would be a good idea to look for signs of J..." Mulder caught himself, "Jarvis. He may be hiding out in the area."

"I can't imagine, given the reputation of the area, that the occupancy rate would be high."

"Actually," said Mulder, "it's not. There are a lot of abandoned properties and for sale signs in the region."

"A lot of places for Jarvis to hide," Scully said. "Are the local police checking."

"They were through here last month, checking all the registered properties," Cooper said, "they didn't find anything."

"Last month?" Scully asked.

"The Chief says they've been really busy lately," Mulder explained. "They'll check again real soon."

"I see," Scully said. "We don't even get a local guide."

"They've been really busy," Cooper said, "but they gave us a map." He pulled into a dirt road and drove a few hundred yards until the road petered out.

"We're here," Cooper announced cheerfully.

"Where are we?" Scully asked.

"We're near one of the murder sites, probably the most significant one," Cooper explained. He stepped out of the car, his trenchcoat swaying in the breeze.

"Smell that air," he exulted as he unfolded the map. "There's nothing like the country."

"Scully," Mulder said.

She turned to him.

"You have your gun?" he asked.

"Of course Mulder," she said.

"Let me see it."

Wordlessly she handed it over.

Mulder took it, examined it, and then tucked it into his briefcase. He took out a hand cannon.

"Not heavy enough," he told her, "use this."

The mass of dead iron was heavy in her hand.

"You expect to run into some elephants?" she asked. "Mulder, I can't carry this. It won't fit in my holster."

"Then put it in your purse," he said, as he handed over a small box of ammunition. "We're not sure if it's big enough, but we know that anything less may not even slow him down."

Mulder got out of the car, followed shortly after by Scully.

Coopers hawklike profile turned. "This way."

"Mulder," Scully complained as she got out of the car. "You should have told me. I didn't bring shoes for this."

"Coop had the map," Mulder said by way of apology, as he and Scully followed Cooper's confident stride.

A few minutes walking took them to a derelict cabin. Cooper circled it carefully, as Mulder and Scully stood in front of it.

Except for its size, it would be better described as a shack. It had clearly been put together haphazardly and inexpertly over time from salvaged pieces of board and scraps of tin. The whole structure was a mismatched mess that looked like it would collapse at any moment.

Whoever had built it had not maintained it over the years, and in several spots, boards had come loose or rotted or tin had blown away.

"What is this place?" Scully asked.

"This was Jason's home," Mulder explained. "It was discovered abandoned by police in 1991. Fourteen bodies were also found here, most of them had been killed elsewhere and brought here."

"All clear," Cooper joined them, "no sign of any recent visitation."

"I'm amazed it's still standing," said Scully. "Wouldn't it have been torn down by now... or become a tourist trap?"

"A trap of some sort," Mulder said dryly.

"The existence of the site was never released to the general public," Cooper explained. "Generally, the area isn't visited, and it's well hidden. It's hard to find unless you know where to look."

"All right," Scully said, "is there any evidence that Jarvis knew about this location?"

"No," Mulder said, "but it's a good place to start."

"Shall we," Cooper said brightly, drawing his gun and flashlight.

"You take point," Mulder said drawing his own weapon. "Scully follows, and I'll cover the rear. Scully, please draw."

"Is this necessary?" Scully asked. As they advanced into the cabin.

"This guy, whether he's Jason Voorhees or Tommy Jarvis, moves like a ghost, Scully," Mulder cautioned. "He's over six feet tall, and strong enough to rip the heart out of a human being, or behead three people with one stroke, but if he doesn't want you to, you won't hear him coming."

"Thirty five per cent of the victims were killed from behind. Another thirty or forty percent were killed by frontal assaults with various sharp instruments, no defensive wounds. Do you know what that means?"

"They didn't have time to defend themselves," Scully replied.

"They didn't see him coming. He just appeared out of nowhere in front of them and struck. He likes to hide under the bed and impale persons as they are laying down, or after or during sex. He comes out of the blue, and quite often, by the time you see him, it's too late."

"Our killer's, whoever or whatever he is, is a monster, Scully. He kills like a tiger, all stalk and ambush." Cooper said. "Maximum caution is
recommended."

Part of the roof had fallen in, inside the cabin. Scully found weeds growing inside, a few rusted cans and lanterns. In one corner there were the rusty springs of a mattress, covered with rotted fabric of torn blankets. She could imagine the squalor of whoever had lived here.

"This way," Cooper said beckoning towards a dark doorway. They proceeded into the next room, shining the flashlights. It was empty, save for a handful of very faint chalk outlines and a small broken down table in the centre.

"This is where the bodies were found," Cooper said unnecessarily. "Including one of the local sheriffs who'd disappeared mysteriously. This is your specialty, Fox. What do you make of it?"

"This was the original construction," Mulder said, shining his light around. "The other room came later, and wasn't as sturdy. The roof is still in place here. This was the important room for him."

"He kept the bodies here," Scully said. Her light tracing the faded outlines.

"Trophies," Mulder said, kneeling "prizes. More than that... the bodies were almost arranged... ordered."

"Around the table," he said suddenly. He reached out to run his finger along one side of the table. "Remnants of candle wax, some burning around the edges. Staining towards the centre. This was a temple, the table was an altar."

Mulder stood.

"Remind me..." he asked, "the mother was decapitated. Did her head ever turn up? Here or anywhere else? Or any severed human head?"

"There's a huge catalogue of body parts involved, but no, I don't think any of them were the mother's head."

Mulder nodded. "That has to be it then. He took it with him. Something profaned the temple, and he took his sacred object and left. We might find another temple somewhere out here."

"Assuming it was the head of his mother," Scully asked, "it might not have been Jason. It could have been taken by animals, or Burns, or Jarvis or even by some collector who found the place."

Mulder nodded, not discounting the possibility. "Coop?"

"It's been abandoned for a while. Even if there is... someone out there who knows about this place... its unlikely they'll use it as a base."

They listened to the wind howl through the boards of the cabin.

"It has to be Jason," Mulder said suddenly, with absolute certainty. "I can feel it."

"Mulder..." Scully said tiredly.

"No Scully," Mulder said hurriedly, "think about it. The modus operandi of each set of murders was identical. Victims were frequently impaled on sharp objects, the killer struck from under the bed in several of the episodes, bodies were moved, they were hung up like grisly decorations, they were tossed through windows..."

"Each episode of mass murder included precise recreations of previous mass murders. A pattern Scully! A pattern that forces the inevitable conclusion that there can be only a single killer."

"Mulder," Scully said, "the start of your so called pattern was Pamela Voorhees murders, and she was decapitated. How can you support your single killer hypothesis when the founder of the pattern died at the beginning?"

Cooper stifled a barked laugh.

"Well, Pamela set the pattern," Mulder said defensively, "and Jason just followed it."

"Well if Jason could follow Pamela's pattern," Scully pointed out logically, "then why couldn't Burns and Jarvis follow previous patterns."

"She has a point, Fox," Cooper said. "On the single killer theory, the candidate would be Pamela, not Jason."

Cooper looked thoughtful for a second, as if something was tugging at the edge of his mind. He shrugged, it would come later.

"Besides," Scully said, "I looked through those 'clippings' you sent me, again last night. Jason Voorhees drowned in 1957."

"Yes, but the survivor of the 1977 massacre claimed that Jason came out of the lake."

Scully sighed. "One, she claimed that a deformed twelve year old came out of the lake. Which means that in twenty years, he apparently didn't grow at all. But when Jason is identified in the next massacre, five year's later, he's an adult male. How do you explain that, Mulder?"

"Uhh..."

"I'm not even going to begin to discuss how the descriptions of this supposed consistent assailant differ with each massacre, he just keeps getting bigger."

"Obviously," Mulder said, "Jason was dormant for the initial period, and then grew quickly."

Scully rolled her eyes.

"He's a necrovore, Scully," Mulder said.

"What?"

"Necrovore," Cooper repeated, "latin, literally means eater of death."

"I know that," Scully said exasperated. To Mulder "what do you mean?"

"This thing, it's like a vampire. But instead of blood, it consumes the psychic energy of violent death. That's why it grows bigger and stronger after every episode. Pamela Voorhees was deeply into the occult, it's possible that the 1977 killings were the initiating spell that set the ball..."

"Mulder," Scully said, "listen to yourself. We don't need a psychic quasi-vampire. The facts support a perfectly rational explanation."

"What about the statements of the survivors?" Mulder asked.

"The testimonials of the survivors of all the massacres are awful. These people were severely traumatized, barely coherent, and were also obviously suppressing and conflating memories. Something terrible happened to them, certainly. But their memories are not trustworthy."

They walked in silence for a few moments.

"So do you think that aliens might be involved?" Scully asked.

Cooper stifled a laugh.

"No more than ghosts," Mulder snapped, directing a burning glance at Cooper.

"Not fair, Fox," Cooper said, as he lead them through the woods, consulting his map.

"Where to now Coop?"

They walked to the old site of Camp Crystal Lake. There was little to see. The old buildings had been burned down. There were only the remnants of walls and chimneys and abandoned cars.

"Nice place," Mulder said.

"Uh huh," Coop replied, poking around the ruins.

"No," Mulder said, "I mean it is a really nice place. Good site for a camp. In a sheltered cove, but excellent view of the lake, good beach. I can see why they set it here."

"Why do they call it Crystal Lake?" Scully asked. She was sitting on a barbecue, facing the water. Beneath them was the remnant of an old dock.

"Clear waters, obviously," Cooper said. His eyes were focused on the ground, searching.

Mulder walked over to sit beside Scully. "It's an alkaline lake," he said, "practically sterile. No algae, no insects or parasites, no leeches, not even mosquito's. Temperature of the waters is pretty warm, mainly due to configuration."

"The centre of the Lake is a mud bed, it's like those old english bogs. Anything in that mud is trapped, preserved practically forever."

"A poison lake?" Scully said. "That's not much of an attraction."

"Actually," Mulder said, "its practically drinkable. Only once in a while is it too acidic or alkaline for humans. The real effect is to make it non-viable for small aquatic life, algae, insects..."

"Take out the bottom of the food chain, not much for fishermen," Scully commented.

"That's not who came out here," Mulder replied, "if you've ever gone skinny dipping you'll know that a warm safe lake without pond scum or leeches is the next best thing to heaven we'll ever find on this earth."

"I prefer a bit of fishing, myself," Cooper said poking around. "Nothing like fresh air, hot sun, and the bite of a trout on the line."

"Come here!" Coop said abruptly, calling them running.

"What is it?" Mulder asked breathlessly.

"These bricks..."

"A tumbled chimney, so what?"

"No, they've been arranged." Cooper pointed out several bricks. "These aren't from the same chimney, they've been gathered here."

Mulder turned. "Full view of the Lake and Dock."

"There's another site, where something was buried and dug up, down that way." Cooper pointed towards the Lake. "I didn't want to say anything, it could have been an animal. Also, there is another area where bricks were piled that way." He pointed in the opposite direction.

"I'd guess that this forms a line to the drowning site, and the site where Pamela Voorhees was killed."

"You can barely see it now," Cooper said, "but the bricks were arranged in a rough human outline. They've been scattered, but not that well."

As Cooper pointed out the places where the bricks had lain, they began to see it.

"There's no head," said Scully.

"How recent is this?" Mulder asked.

In answer, Cooper turned over a brick. Dying grass showed under it.

"He's been here," Mulder said, and drew his gun. The wind rippled softly through their hair.

Cooper stood erect, turning around and around. He almost seemed to be sniffing the air.

"What's he doing?" Scully whispered, as they watched his hawklike profile. Cooper was almost in a trance.

"His job," Mulder replied.

"This way," Cooper said, breaking his trance. He began walking swiftly west as they followed. He reached the top of a hill overlooking the camp and stared at a tree. Cooper touched a branch, feeling a broken twig.

"Someone was here," he said, "recently... watching us."

Mulder turned a full circle, his gun at ready. "What else can you tell us
Coop?"

Scully, drew her own gun. Cooper was kneeling. "One person... probably big... yes, very big. They went this way."

"Draw your gun Coop," Mulder reminded him, as he took off. "Scully, cover him. I'll watch the back."

Cooper followed the trail. He stopped to examine some nettles. "Old clothes," he said, "coarse fabric."

"He stopped here for a second, and turned."

"He's carrying something in his left hand, held outwards, swinging as he walks, but not hard. You can see how it brushed the top of the grass just off his left side."

"Here, there's almost a footprint. He's very heavy, whoever he is."

"Mulder?" Scully protested.

"Coop is the best tracker the bureau ever had, Scully," he said, "he can give lessons to the indians. If he sees it, it's there."

"Actually," Cooper said, staring at the ground, "I was taught by the Cherokee."

"It's getting dark, Coop," Mulder said, concerned.

Scully looked at the light spilling through the trees. Indeed, the sun lay almost at the edge of the horizon. There was very little light left.

"He's very close," Cooper said urgently. He examined a spot where something very sharp had sliced through an inch thick sapling at waist height. "We're almost on top of him."

His hand tightened up on his gun, and he backed away towards the duo. Mulder turned away, holding the gun in the opposite direction. The forest had gone silent. Nervously they scanned the crowded saplings.

A piercing scream rang out. "The shore," Cooper said, "come on." There was another scream, even more shrill than the first.

"Faster," Cooper whispered, bounding between saplings, Mulder and Scully at his heels.

A large pale shape appeared through the bushes. Two figures struggling. The smaller was right in front of them, her front a thick bright ribbon of crimson.

Cooper leaped, giving his best kamikaze yell and burst into the clearing, his gun extended, prepared to take his first and possibly only shot.

The naked girl's eyes bulged wide and for a second no sound issued from the terrified "O" of her mouth. Then she let out a long piercing scream and threw her hands in the air, her red silk bra going flying. Behind her, her boyfriend threw his hands in the air and screamed out loud, as Scully and Mulder burst out behind Cooper, guns drawn.

~~~~~

"We heard screams," Mulder said apologetically.

"The water was really really cold," the girl, Natalie, explained. She was a pretty little redhead with full breasts, which she was trying to cover with her hands.

"Yeah," her boyfriend, Steve agreed. "We were going to go skinny dipping, but it was too cold, man." He paused. "We're counsellors at camp Springtime, just down the road."

"Would you mind not pointing the flashlight there?" she said crossly.

"Sorry," Mulder blushed and pointedly shone the light on the bushes.

"Would you mind putting away the guns, please?" Steve asked. "They make me feel insecure. And we'd like to get dressed."

"No," said Mulder, his gun out, but not pointing at them. Cooper, embarrassed pointed his gun in some other direction.

"Go ahead," Scully said, "put on your clothes. We apologize for scaring you."

"You guys..." Scully whispered under her breath. She promised herself that they would pay for this.

"What are you kids doing out here alone, this close to Friday the thirteenth?" Mulder asked. "Aren't you afraid of Jason Voorhees?"

"Who?" Natalie asked.

"Oh yeah," said Steve, "the guy with the hook, right? He's got a different
name where I come from."

"Where are you from?" Cooper asked. He began to scout the edges of the clearing, his gun at ready.

"Washington," Steve said.

"Nova Scotia," Natalie said. She was looking around. "Anyone seen my bra?"

"We're from all over," Steve said, "I don't think there's a local counsellor in the group this year."

"Besides," said Natalie, "we weren't alone. Ted and Rita came with us."

Mulder suddenly came alert. "Where are they?"

"Mulder," Cooper held up his hand, at the edge of the clearing, "blood!"

Mulder turned to Natalie.

"Would you consider yourself promiscuous?" he dead panned.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Would you mind putting that away?" Steve asked again about the guns. The group was walking back to the camp together. Natalie hadn't been able to find her bra.

"Yes," said Mulder. "I'd mind putting it away."

Natalie was walking especially close to Cooper. She was wearing his trenchcoat. "So you guys are really FBI agents, and you solve cases and everything. It must be exciting."

"It has its moments," said Cooper.

"I really want to thank you for coming to our rescue like that," she said, "I mean, it wasn't anything. But it could have been."

"Just doing my job, Ma'am," Cooper replied.

"Are you married?" she asked.

"I'm not," Mulder said.

Steve sulked.

"It's probably just animal blood," Scully said. "If it was blood at all."

"Coop?"

"It's blood. Can't tell from what."

"They probably heard the scream, saw three people with guns, and took off for help," Scully said. "That's what I'd do."

"Yeah," said Steve. "We'll probably see them at the camp."

"I sincerely hope so," said Cooper.

"Who's the head counsellor?" Mulder asked.

"Mikey Myers," Steve replied, "from Haddonfield."

"I'm surprised you didn't contact the camp before this," Scully said.

"Nobody had arrived the first time we were through, a week ago," Cooper explained.

"Our phone isn't working yet," Natalie said. "The installation isn't until next week. Practically all the servicemen couldn't get out until next week."

"How odd," Mulder said.

"I know," Natalie said, "it's almost like a conspiracy or something."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The camp was deserted and empty.

"It's kind of creepy," said Steve as they walked between the buildings.

"No sign of your friends," Mulder said.

"Considering the scare we probably threw into them," Scully said, "I'm not surprised."

"Do you think that Jason Voorhees guy," Steve began, to the sound of Scully's grinding teeth, "killed them all already."

"I think that's really unlikely..." Scully began, as Cooper bounded up to one of the buildings, and pulled a piece of paper from a cabin door.

"That's the main office," Steve said.

"Dear Steve and Natalie and Ted and Rita," he read, "we're gone to have a marshmallow roast. If you read this, come and join us. Just follow the shore and head for the music. If not... don't do anything we wouldn't do... or at least... don't do it to much. Lucy will be around somewhere. P.S. We'll want pictures."

He looked over to them. "It's signed, 'Mike.'"

"That's the head councillor," Steve supplied.

"We should go out and get them," Mulder said.

"We'll need to check the camp first," Cooper said. "Where's this Lucy?"

"It's going to be a couple of hours walk back to the car, in the dark," Scully said dourly. Her feet were killing her.

"We could get someone to drive you," Steve said.

"Oh no," Natalie said, "if there's real danger, I think it would be best for the Agents to spend the night. We can find some place for them."

"Agent Cooper," she simpered, "would you like me to help you check the camp."

There was a sudden clatter just around the corner. The group went quiet.

Cooper and Mulder glanced at each other. Scully pursed her lips in a 'here we go again' grimace, but pulled out her gun.

"Lucy," Natalie called.

No answer.

"Teddy, Rita..." she called, "it's okay, they're FBI agents. They just heard me scream and thought there was a problem... that's all. It's okay."

Nothing.

"Ted... Rita..."

Mulder pushed Natalie back, and sidled up to the building. When he was at the wall, he motioned for Cooper to join him. Cooper came in low, crouching behind Mulder.

Scully went wide, staying further back, but several feet out from the building. They exchanged tense glances, nodding.

Mulder jumped out, as Cooper hit the ground rolling behind him, their weapons ready. There was a blur of motion towards them, Mulder danced out of the way. Cooper cried out as it leaped towards and then past him.

Natalie screamed.

There was a moment of dead silence.

"It's a cat," Scully said, holding it in her arms. Cooper, on his back in the mud, his perfect hair just a little out of place, stared. "Oh," he said.

"I think we've had just about enough of this," Scully said, with something approaching anger. She dropped the cat, it scurried away. "It's getting late. If you want to check the camp, I suggest you do it. Mulder, if you want to get the counsellors, go. I want to get this over with. We can split up and do it quickly."

"Split up?" Mulder asked, something close to panic in his voice. "I don't think it's a good idea to go off alone."

"Fine," Scully said irritably. She turned to Steve.

"Steve," she asked. "Do you want to help me check the camp? We'll split it with Natalie and Cooper."

As they went off, Steve whispered behind her. "You know, I really like aggressive women."

Further down, where the cat had come from, a red bra fluttered from the tines of a rake.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rupert circled the campers in the darkness, his six foot bulk moving carefully so as not to break any twigs, cause any noise that might attract their attention.

The dark blue overalls were hot, their red stains still wet. His hands clenched inside the heavy work gloves, holding the machete loosely in his right hand. From a distance, he studied them, listened to the story and the music emanating from the campsite.

His mouth worked slowly, chewing gum, as he planned his attack. First the blond, Barb, he thought, and then the fat kid, Kelley, and then the bookish girl with glasses, Lee. And then... he thought, whoever's left.

He pulled the hockey mask over his face, and hefted the machete. The music was getting louder. It was time to go and show them the true spirit of Crystal Lake. Quietly, he began to move into position.

A twig snapped behind him. His eyes widened, he froze. He turned around very slowly.

His first thought was that he was looking into a dark mirror. His second thought was that somehow, Mike had found someone else to play the part, and had forgotten to tell him about it.

Rupert didn't have time for a third thought.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Mikey had them exactly where he wanted. He drew his words out, concluding the horrifying tale of Pamela Voorhees. He slowly and inconspicuously pumped the bass up on the boombox, letting it's subliminal thump work on them. He took a deep drag on his reefer.

"Her head was cut right off," he said deliciously. "And then two months later, the Counsellor who did it vanished without a trace."

He paused. They were hanging on his every word.

"They say," he intoned ponderously, "that Jason Voorhees watched his mother die, and vowed revenge."

"They say that Jason Voorhees returns every few years to kill everyone he finds."

"They say..." he swung his flashlight, "that he's here RIGHT NOW!!!"

"Hello?" Mulder said, striding into the flashlight beam, his pale trenchcoat shielding his face with his gun hand.

"AAAIIIEEE!!!!" erupted from the assembled campers as they fled screaming in all directions.

Only Mike remained behind, paralysed with fright as this stranger with the largest handgun he'd ever seen, walked up to him. Mike withdrew his joint into his mouth, holding it with his tongue, just in case the guy was a nark or something.

"Agent Mulder, FBI. Was it something I said?" Mulder asked, shining his flashlight in Mike's face.

Mike swallowed hard, and regretted it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"What are you saying," Mike asked, "are we in danger or not?"

"We have no evidence that there is anything wrong," Scully said. "We're just being cautious."

"Several people are already missing," Cooper pointed out.

"Ted and Rita are probably still running," Steve said. "And as for Rupert and Lucy... they're okay."

"Have you been talking to Scully," Mulder asked.

"She makes a lot of sense, Man," Steve said defensively.

"What's this about Rupert and Lucy?" Cooper asked.

"Well..." Mike looked embarrassed.

"Yeah, what about Rupert and Lucy?" Mulder asked.

"Well..."

"They're kind of noisy," Steve said. There was a muted chorus of amens. "Very noisy."

"It's worse than living next to an airport," the blond girl, Barb, said.

"Yeah, at least a seven forty seven doesn't scream out 'Oh Yeah Baby Harder, Harder, Harder,' when it's touching down," said Vaughn, a tall nerdish boy.

"So we all took a vote, and told them to take it out into the woods, so the rest of us could get some sleep," Barb concluded.

"You what?" Mulder said.

"The first few nights, weren't so bad. But night after night after night," Barb said. "Some of us aren't interested in hearing that sort of thing."

"Yeah," Larry laughed, "Barb is the official virgin."

"Well," Barb retorted hotly, blushing, "not the only one. But for some of us it's a choice."

"Oooh," Steve crowed, "she got you there, buddy.

"You sent them out into the woods?" Mulder asked, incredulous. "Haven't any of you ever heard of Jason Voorhees?"

"Sure," the fat kid, Kelley, said, "but he only comes out on Halloween."

"Can you call them?" Cooper asked.

"We told them to keep it out of earshot, they didn't tell us where they went."

~~~~~~~~~

Lucy uncorked the wine, and began to spread out the sleeping bag.

There was the sound of a twig snapping, she glanced over.

"About time Rupert," she said, "how'd it go?"

The figure in the mask just stood there.

"You're still wearing the outfit? I wish I could have been there to see their faces. I bet they just ran screaming."

"Aren't you going to take it off?"

There was the faintest shake of a head in negation.

She grinned. "Aaah. You're going to be Jason Voorhees tonight," she said, smiling seductively and undoing her shirt. She wasn't wearing a bra.

"So Jason," she flirted, coming toward him, "you like to do bad little girls. I've been a very bad girl, are you going to impale me on your big hard..."

Her voice trailed off suddenly as she realized it wasn't Rupert. She opened her mouth to scream.

There wasn't time, Jason took a quick step forward and with one convulsive movement shoved the machete through her heart. Several inches of the machete protruded out her back. For a few seconds she hung on the machete. Then with a single movement Jason threw her off the knife and disappeared into the night.

Slowly, the life faded from her eyes, as she lay alone among the trees.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Listen, listen," Mike tried to raise his voice over the clamour, "all you've given us is a lot of theory and speculation and ancient history. Now you want us to leave?"

There was a small chorus of agreement from the eight other assembled camp counsellors.

"Forget it," Mike said, "until you've got something definite, we're staying here. If something happens, then we'll leave."

"Regardless of the lack of substantiation of the matter," Scully said finally, "and I agree that it is unsubstantiated, the history here is certainly a cause for concern."

"Well thank you, finally," Mulder said.

"I think it would be an appropriate compromise for us to stay here for a few days, until the potential danger period is over, just to be on the safe side," Scully said.

"Guys?" Mike said, as he thought about it.

"Sure," said Steve.

"I'd feel safer," Natalie simpered.

One by one they all agreed.

"Excellent," Cooper said, jumping off his stool and rubbing his hands. "Break out the weapons, get a pot of coffee on, and we'll deputize you as honourary agents. We'll set up revolving patrols."

"You do have weapons?" Mulder asked.

"Well..." Mike said thoughtfully. "We have a flare gun, and maybe a couple of old shotguns. But after that it's knives and sticks."

"Not the best," Cooper said, "but better than nothing. Now, about these patrols..."

"Ahem." They all looked to Scully.

"You set up revolving patrols," Scully said. "I'm going to have a nice long shower and a good sleep."

"I'll show you where you can stay," Natalie said. "You'll like it."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

"You guys can park your stuff and rest up in here," Mike said to Cooper and Mulder. "We'll make sure that everyone stays in groups of two or three."

"Good," said Cooper. "In two hours, I'll go out with a group to inspect the camp. Agents Mulder and Scully will remain here with the rest of the people. Two hours after that, Agent Mulder will do the inspection."

"I'm concerned about those four missing teens," Mulder said, "did any of them have any history of premarital sex or drug abuse?"

Mike got an odd look on his face. "We all do."

He closed the door.

"What is it with you and these questions anyway?" Cooper asked.

"Doesn't anyone watch movies any more?" Mulder asked rhetorically. He looked at his watch.

"It is now officially, Friday," he told Cooper, "the thirteenth."

The two of them looked around the cozy little room. There was a bunk bed in the corner. Mulder looked at Cooper, half smiling.

"I'm on top," he said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Scully undressed quickly, and luxuriated in the shower. She took her gun with her into the bathroom, chiding herself for being infected with Mulder's paranoia.

After the shower, she wrapped a towel around herself, and proceeded out to the bedroom. She carried the gun, and placed it on the bureau as she dried her hair. The towel slipped and she tugged it back into place.

God, she was tired. Cooper and Mulder. Ghosts and Aliens. It was like being trapped between two eight year olds.

Scully sat on the bed, listening to the springs. The window was right behind her. She had this sudden feeling of being watched.

She turned and looked out the window. Nothing.

Mulder's paranoia was getting to her, she thought. It was unlikely in the extreme that a homicidal maniac would be waiting outside her window.

He'd be under the bed, she thought suddenly, hearing Mulder's voice.

'He likes to sneak up on people, appear out of nowhere. He likes to hide under the bed and stab them as they lay down. To hide in closets, burst into bathrooms, most of his victims never see him, never hear him....'

Ridiculous, she thought. He's watched too many bad movies.

Under the bed.

Like I'm a five year old girl, looking for the bogeyman, she thought. She rubbed her eyes in exhaustion. If she laid back now, she'd just keep thinking about it.

Mulder alone was just bearable. Cooper and Mulder together were insane. It was good that the FBI kept them apart.

All right. Just one look, and then go to sleep.

Scully got off the bed, stepped away from it a foot or so. 'So the monster can't get you' and got down on her hands and knees to look.

A Hockey mask stared back at her.

For a second, she and the mask stared at each other immobile. Her mind froze up at the utter insane impossibility of it. At the sight of a legion of childhood nightmares suddenly realized into concrete form.

Then it moved.

She backpedaled quickly, as a massive arm swung out from under the bed, reaching for her and barely missing. She backed up, climbing to her feet. In front of her, the mask flipped the bed over, as it rose to it's feet.

"Tommy Jarvis," she said automatically, "this is the FBI, you're under arrest. Please come quietly."

She reached frantically behind her, feeling for her gun in her clothes, unable to take her eyes off the thing. It was dressed in dirty ragged coveralls, grey dead flesh showed through tears in the fabric. It was huge, at least six and a half feet tall, and massively built. It held a long vicious spike in it's hand.

Her hand found the gun, she swung it out in front of her.

"Drop the weapon, Tommy," she ordered.

With unnerving grace from one so massive, he took a step forward.

"Last warning."

He took another step. She pulled the trigger.

The roar of the gun deafened her, the recoil left her arms numb to the elbow. It drove him two steps back, he swayed, as if about to fall. Then suddenly he raised the spike and moved forward.

The gun roared again, catapulting him backwards into the window. It shattered around him. She waited a few heartbeats for her ears to stop ringing, and then moved forward, to look out the window.

The square of light on the ground outside her window glistened with broken glass and nothing else.

She moved forward carefully, until she was poking her head out the window. Just underneath her window, two male figures were crouched in an almost fetal position, hands laced protectively over their heads.

"Oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh Jesus," a Steve's voice said, "please don't shoot us, we weren't peeping or anything.

Mulder and Cooper burst through the door, guns drawn.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"We didn't see anything!" Steve said. Larry was sobbing.

Cooper put down his cup of coffee and stared at them. "Now boys," he said, "you know that's not true."

Steve and Larry looked at each other.

"All right," Larry said, "we were peeping."

"Better," Cooper said, "now I want you to tell me everything."

"It was his idea!" Larry said.

"You fag!" Steve exclaimed.

"We were on patrol, sort of," Larry explained. "Looking around, keeping our eyes open, and we got to talking..."

"Steve was talking about what happened with the skinny dipping, and how the FBI people had seen them naked."

"We decided that it would be only fair... you know, to check out the FBI chick. So we hid outside her window... to see if she was going to take her clothes off."

"Did she ever!" Steve exclaimed suddenly. "We saw her boobs, everything. Oh man, she's built."

"Well..." Larry said, "not everything."

"Oh come on man," Steve protested. To Cooper he said, "I hope you don't tell her all this, I think she kind of digs me."

"Much as I'm flattered by your adolescent lust," Scully said from the doorway behind them, "we have more important things to worry about."

"Oh man!" Steve said, he practically leaped out of his chair. "Where'd you come from?"

"Like finding the killer," Mulder said coming in behind her. "There was no trace of him, just broken glass. He moves like a ninja from hell."

"I shot him twice from point blank range with that elephant gun. Not even bloodstains," Scully said, "he had to have been wearing kevlar."

"I told you before," Mulder said, "no Kevlar is that good."

"Oh Christ," Steve said, "there's a flipping maniac running around and you're talking shop! What are we going to do."

"It's time to get out of here," Mulder said, "let's gather the kids and pile out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Oh shit! Oh shit! Oh man, we're all going to die!" Larry was sobbing. The rest of the counsellors were a sombre group. Scully and Mulder stood with their weapons ready, alert and on guard.

"How bad is it?" Cooper asked, holding the flashlight for mike to see.

They were all gathered at the parking lot, just away from the camping area. Most of the cars and trucks sat there with their hoods open. Batteries had been torn out, distributors pulled, wires cut.

"Pretty bad," Mike said. "Everything is wrecked, none of these vehicles are moving."

"What about the Lincoln," Scully asked, "it looked like he couldn't get the hood open on that one."

"He went in through the grill," Mike explained, "there's a big puddle. That's radiator fluid, power steering fluid and motor oil. He stuck a tire iron in."

"Will it drive?" Scully asked, "we can at least get some of these kids out here."

"You'd get a mile, tops," Mike said, "before the motor seized. It's about fifteen miles to town."

"Could you use parts from these cars to get the van going?" Mulder asked.

"What do I look like, McGuyver?" Mike scoffed.

"Well," said Cooper, "It looks like we'll have to run for it. A good jogging speed, we can all be in town in two hours."

"Forget it," Larry said, "we aren't going running through the dark, waiting to get slaughtered one by one."

"Larry's right," the fat kid said, "we'd never make it. There's no way we could run fifteen miles in two hours, that's marathon level."

"Three hours," Cooper amended.

"No way," Mike said, "Larry's a dork, but he's right. We go out there on the road, he can just pick his spots and knock us off one at a time."

"We can protect you," Mulder said.

"Then protect us right here," Mike said, "where we can lock the doors and fortify ourselves."

"Mulder?" Scully asked, staring out at the darkness.

He shrugged. "Coop?"

"It's just a matter of getting through the night, Fox," Cooper said, "whatever it takes."

"All right," Mulder said, "we pick our spot, and we fortify it. If he comes in, we blow him to pieces."

"We're all going to die," Larry moaned.

"Oh shut up," Natalie snapped.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie screamed.

"What is it?" Cooper said, rushing to her side. Mulder and Scully were right behind.

"There's something at the door," she screeched, pointing and backing away.

"Get back," everyone Cooper said. The counsellors backed up against the wall.

"Stay away from the window," Mulder warned them.

"What's behind that door?" Cooper asked.

"Another door?" Mike said.

"What?"

"It's an emergency exit, required by the Fire Code. There's a metal screen door. It's always locked."

There was an almost subliminal scratching. They froze.

"Mike?" Mulder whispered. He waved with is gun.

"Me," Mike mouthed silently.

Mulder nodded, taking aim at the door. Cooper and Scully's weapons were trained there as well.

Mike walked towards the door, leaning as far away as he could, as he put his hand on the doorknob.

Mulder nodded. "Count of three," he whispered.

"One."

Mike nodded.

"Two."

His hand tightened on the knob.

"Three."

With a war whoop, he flung the door open and dived away. The cat bounced out. The group collectively let out it's breath.

"It's just the goddamned cat," Larry said, "I can't believe you guys are such knobs. I nearly had a heart attack."

Natalie grabbed the cat, picking it up in her arms. The counsellors started to babble with relief.

Mulder was looking wildly around the room. "He likes to surprise," he mumbled to himself. "Misdirection, ambush."

"What is it Mulder?" Scully asked.

"Someone had to put the cat there," he said quietly. The room went silent.

Rafters? Windows? He focused on a door directly opposite them.

"What's that?" he asked.

"Closet," Mike whispered. Mulder nodded. Mike's eyes widened and he shook his head. Mulder gestured angrily.

"Oh for Christ sake," Larry said, stepping forward, "you guys are such total knobs. What is it this time, Mr. FBI man, a squirrel?"

"Wait," Natalie said, following him.

"This is such bullshit man!" He flung the closet door open.

And stared straight up at a huge figure in a hockey mask. It's arm fell and a machete flashed. Larry was paralyzed for a second, time seemed to slow right down as the machete descended.

He could hear Mulder yelling at him to get out of the way, he could hear everyone screaming and yelling, a clatter of broken glass, and an annoying high pitched whine that he suddenly realized was himself screaming. And then Natalie pushed him out of the way.

A resounding boom followed, as Mulder fired. Jason jerked, but stood, the machete bouncing in his grasp. The counsellors were screaming. Scully fired, and then Cooper. They squeezed shot after shot.

"Stop!" Scully yelled. Shots continued to ring out. Teenagers screamed.

"Stop!"

"I'm out," Mulder said. He was reloading quickly.

"Shot your bolt again, Fox?" Cooper asked. "I saved a couple." He was reloading as well.

The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder. The body continued to stand, there were holes in it. Now they could see that the machete had been crudely attached to the hand by wiring a bent coathanger. The figure dangled in the closet.

"It's not Jason," Mulder said. He and Mike stepped closer. They could see how the body had been tied upright. It's feet barely touched the ground. He pulled the mask off and looked at Mike.

"Rupert?" he asked. Mike gulped and nodded.

"I guess that's it for Lucy," Mulder said.

"You don't know that for sure," Natalie said, her voice choked with emotion, as she climbed to her feet.

"She's right," Scully said, "we shouldn't give up on anyone."

"Where's Barb," the Kelley said suddenly. Someone screamed again.

Mulder and Scully whirled. "Look," someone said, pointing. A window was gone, curtains fluttered in the breeze and broken shards of glass clung to the frame. Barb, the blond girl had vanished.

"Damn!" Mulder swore.

"He can't have gone too far," Scully said, "I'll go after him."

"Scully!"

"We aren't giving up anyone Mulder," Scully said, she was reloading hastily, "you were right, now we have to deal with it."

"She's dead," Larry shrieked, "stay here."

"We don't know she's dead now," Scully said, "but she will be, if we don't do something about it."

"She's right, Fox," Cooper said, "but I should go. I can track better."

"Forget it," Scully said, heading for the door, "we don't have time to argue."

"You won't get very far," Natalie said, "you need someone that knows the area. I'm going with you."

"You're a brave girl," she said, "but this is dangerous."

"You need me," Natalie said. "Barb's my friend."

Scully paused at the door. Their eyes met.

"All right," Scully admitted, "but take a weapon." Natalie grabbed a fireplace poker.

"I'll go too, if I can take a shotgun," Steve said. Mike tossed it to him.

"Scully," Mulder called as they headed out the door, "are you sure you know what you're doing."

She didn't even look over her shoulder. "Secure the area, Mulder. We'll be back."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

They stepped out into the darkness. Scully looked right and left. There were a few lights from the other buildings, and some homemade floodlights which cast islands of visibility.

How could he move so quickly, she wondered, carrying a body? And which way would he go. Left, she thought, away from the lights, towards the long building.

"What's that?" she asked, pointing.

"Girl's dorm," Natalie replied.

Scully tried to remember their tour of the buildings. Girls dorm, L shaped building, lots of closets, small rooms, bathrooms. Lots of places to hide and kill Barb slowly.

"This way," she said, rushing. Even in the poor light, her eyes seemed to function with remarkable clarity. Her heart was pounding with adrenaline.

"I'm surprised you came with us," she whispered to Steve.

"I feel safer out here with a shotgun, than I do in there without one."

"Uh huh," she said. She noticed an overturned trash barrel near the girls dorm. Overturned by a heavy body kicking to escape? She thought so. She was searching the ground for blood spots, not seeing any.

Would he kill her inside the dorm? No. He'd want her to be isolated. He'd want her to know there was no hope whatsoever before he killed her. At least, that was what she hoped. Just so long as he hasn't killed her yet. Where?

They stopped at the end of the dorm. Scully looked around, trying to decide. She chewed her lip.

"Which way?" she wondered out loud.

The lights went out all over the camp. They heard distant screaming from the main house, she ignored it.

"Where's the power source?" she asked Natalie, shaking her shoulder. "Where would you have to do to take out all the lights."

"The generator shed," Natalie replied.

"Where?"

She pointed. A medium sized nondescript shed, about the size of a one car garage, not a hundred yards away.

"Then we've got him," Scully shouted. "He's got to be in there. Come on!" And she took off, Natalie following.

Steve hesitated. "Shouldn't we be going the other way?" he asked uncertainly. "Like... you know... to get reinforcements and things?"

They ignored him. "Oh shit," he whispered, following behind.

"Any other exits? Doors?" Scully demanded.

"No," Natalie said, "Just the main door and the big garage door. There are windows on the sides. The external power outlet is on the left."

"Then he's either inside, or on the left. Watch the door," she told Steve. "Don't get close to it."

There was nothing on the left. Fine, she thought, he's inside. Just go there and get him. Her knees were shaking. She squeezed her gun protectively and reached for the door handle. At least it opened outwards.

Jason appeared from the right side of the building, a terrible dark shadow swinging an axe. Scully dropped, the axe narrowly swinging past her and burying itself in the side of the building.

She raised her gun to fire, but he gripped her wrist instead. As the gun fell from her suddenly nerveless fingers, she found herself being lifted in the air, swung bodily by her arm around the side of the building.

Rough planks appeared in front of her. She threw her free arm over her face and opened her mouth to scream. She felt him letting go.

Glass shattered around her. As she tumbled into darkness she realized that she'd hit the window. Not all of it, the edge of the window sill caught her hip and she felt staggering pain.

Scully landed on something soft. It took her a moment to identify it as a female body. Barb? No it didn't seem to be blond.

Natalie and Steve were screaming outside, and she heard a shotgun blast. Where was her gun? She'd lost it. Her eyes were quickly adapting to the darkness, she could make out other bodies.

She needed a weapon. A rake, an axe, a stick, anything. There was a second shotgun blast, and then Steve's voice went silent. Only Natalie was screaming now. Scully's hands fixed on something metallic.

~~~~~~~~~~

Natalie wasn't screaming as loudly now, she still managed a shriek, but she was saving her breath. Jason stood just outside the range of her metal poker. She swung. He stepped back.

Natalie backed up a step as he advanced, and swung again. Again, he stepped just out of range. Encouraged, she rushed him, yelling.

He seized the end of the poker.

"Uh oh," she said in a small voice. His grip was like iron. In a minute she just knew he'd tear it out of her hands and shove it right down her throat. It had just been an awful day.

A shrill whistle pierced the air.

Natalie and Jason froze and looked towards the sound.

Scully stood just outside the power shed, hair dishevled, shoulders thrown back, legs spread, looking defiant. Scully was holding a chain saw.

At that moment, Natalie decided she was joining the FBI when she was old enough.

"Lets do it," Scully whispered hoarsely.

Jason let go the poker. Natalie grabbed it and scurried over until she was behind Scully.

~~~~~~~~~~~

"You are under arrest," Scully said, her throat was dry as parchment. At least Natalie had gotten away from him. "You have the right to remain silent..."

Jason started towards her, as implacable as a battleship bearing down on a sailboat.

Scully backpedalled quickly, pulling on the cord. He'd called her bluff. Now she could only hope that... The motor roared to life. She gave a howl of triumph and swung the vibrating saw.

Jason staggered backwards. She swung again, screaming, throwing her body into it. He retreated further, apparently frightened.

"Choke!" Natalie screamed at Jason from behind her.

The chainsaw roared as she swung. Jason raised his arm protectively, and it chewed a thin line into his flesh. It sputtered suddenly, and then
caught.

"Choke!" Natalie screamed at him. "And die!" Scully contributed. The saw sputtered again.

Jason grew still. Scully feinted.

"I said choke!" Natalie was screaming. The chain saw was audibly running down.

As Scully held it, it suddenly died. Scully stared at the faceless mask. Jason seemed to gather himself.

Scully screamed and rushed him, ramming the blade of the chainsaw straight into his solar plexus. Jason bent suddenly around it. Scully screamed again and pulled back, she stepped forward and slammed the engine of the saw against the side of his bent head, throwing all her weight into it.

Jason went down and the saw went flying. But even as he went down, he was getting up again. Scully backed away, panting hard. He was between them and the main house, and she'd lost her gun.

Decisively she turned and grabbed Natalie by the wrist. "Run!" she panted.

"You had to adjust the choke," Natalie gasped, "or it stalls out."

Scully cursed. They ran into the night.

With the hypersensitivity that she had noticed earlier, Scully saw the abandoned shotgun and diverted from her course to scoop it up as she ran.

It began to rain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The tall figure watched them vanish in the darkness. It stood there, indecisive for a second. And then, abruptly, as if a switch had been flicked, it turned and strode off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once the screaming had died down after the lights had gone out, a couple of counsellors, Freddy and Vaughn had gone into the basement to retrieve candles and lanterns. There was again a semblance of light in the basement.

Mike had gone down into the basement of the house, and retrieved a gas can, and an old pump action bug spray. He'd filled the canister of the bug sprayer with gasoline as they heard the sound of the shotgun.

"What's that?" one of the counsellors, Lee, asked. Except for Mike, they were all huddled together in a corner. They'd pulled a heavy desk onto it's side to act as a hopeless barrier. The fat kid, Kelley, had the shotgun, it was trained on the broken window. The thin young man, Lee, had the flare gun pointed at the door.

"They've found him," Cooper said. From his position, he overlooked the upper stairs and the windows. Mulder covered the rest of the windows and the doors. The basement door was open, but there was no way into the basement from outside.

"We need to go to them," Mulder said. Cooper looked up.

Another shotgun blast sounded.

"No Fox," Cooper said. "You can hear it's over by the other side of the camp. By the time we arrive, it won't make a difference."

"What are we supposed to do?" Mulder asked angrily.

"Wait."

Mulder scuffed angrily.

He stared at Mike. The head counsellor was using duct tape to fix a barbecue lighter to the end of the bug sprayer, as an ad hoc flamethrower.

"I thought you said you weren't McGuyver?" Mulder said to him.

Mike looked up. His mouth opened to reply.

"Don't shoot, don't shoot!" called a terrified voice from the broken window.

It began to rain outside.

A terrified whine broke from the group of counsellors and the shotgun went up.

"No," Mike leaped to his feet. "It's Steve, nobody shoot!"

Steve appeared in the window, trying to clamber through. A couple of the female counsellors rushed to help him. Mulder strode through and pulled him in bodily with one hand.

Steve rolled on the floor. Mulder crouched over him. "What happened?" he screamed, "Where are they?"

"They're dead," Steve gasped. "That woman FBI agent... he just grabbed her and swung her against the wall, squashed her like a bug... she didn't even get the chance to take a shot. I opened up with the shotgun, he didn't even flinch. This thing... he isn't human."

"We're all going to die! We're all going to die!" Larry started up again, crouching into almost a fetal ball.

"Shut him up!" Mulder snapped irritably.

"We've got to run for it," Steve was babbling. "Agent Cooper was right. Our only chance is to run and hope he doesn't catch us."

"I'm going out there," Mulder said. He shook Steve like a dog. "You're going to take me there."

"Leave him alone," Mike was screaming.

"We're all going to die, oh man?" Larry howled.

"I can't go back there," Steve blubbered. "Oh man, you don't know what it was like. I hit him with the shotgun twice... and he just stood there."

"We're going back," Mulder snarled. "If she's alive we have to help her."

"Oh man," Steve blubbered, "we can't. We gotta run. We need to escape. We're sitting ducks."

"I said leave him alone," Mike snarled. The counsellors were babbling.

"Fox," Cooper said quietly.

The room went silent, there was something in Cooper's voice that cut through everything.

Mulder looked up at Cooper. He released Steve, and tightened his grip on his gun. Mulder slowly climbed to his feet.

Cooper stood in the centre of the room, his face intense, his body absolutely still, yet almost vibrating. He seethed with leashed energy, waiting to be directed with the focused intensity of a laser beam. You could almost see his antenna twitching.

Mulder stared at Cooper for a second, and then glanced around, measuring the doors and windows.

"He's here, isn't he, Coop?" Mulder whispered, "You can feel him."

"Yes."

Glass exploded inward from the bay window, a figure fell into the room. Mike yelled, dancing away from it and Larry howled.

"No," Mulder shouted. A shotgun discharged, the body shuddered and rolled. "Barb!" the fat girl wailed. Mulder had a sudden impression.

Mulder was no longer paying attention. His eyes were scanning the walls, as if plotting the course of an invisible prowler, or a figure on the other side of the walls. The body was just a diversion, a
terror tactic, Mulder understood. He stepped to the door, raising his gun.

The door exploded inward, fragments of wood bursting, and Jason stepped through. Mulder felt like he was moving in slow motion. The dark figure advanced on him. Mulder hadn't expected Jason to be so huge, so massive. The facelessness of the mask gave him an aura of relentless
implacability. Mulder continued to lift his weapon, but it was so painfully slow.

BOOM. His gun went off. There was a metallic clang and the machete seemed to come apart in Jason's hand. Then Jason was on top of him. Mulder felt himself flying through the air, a flash of light burned across his eyes, and then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The kids were screaming their lungs out.

"Don't shoot," Cooper shouted, raising his gun. Mulder was standing in front of Jason. Helplessly Cooper watched Jason bringing the machete around to decapitate Mulder, heard the shot ring out, saw the Machete torn from Jason by the fire. It wasn't enough. Jason continued the swing, smashing Mulder across the room.

Someone fired the flare gun. "No," Cooper shouted. The flare leaped across the room, even as Mulder hit the wall and fell limp in a tangled heap. The flare buried itself in the wall behind Jason. He glanced at it incuriously, and then turned back to them.

"Now," he shouted. Steve and Larry were leaping through the ruined window. The movement attracted Jason, and he advanced towards the remaining counsellors.

Cooper sighted and fired. The blast rocked Jason, knocking him back a step or two. His head swayed, the mask turning implacably to focus blindly on Cooper. He fired again, striking Jason dead centre. Jason took a step toward him.

Cooper fired again and again, backing up to the wall as Jason advanced on him. Jason no longer even seemed to feel the shots. The handgun clicked. Empty.

Jason was on top of him. He felt a hand on him, lifting him against the wall. Cooper struggled helplessly in the grip, smashing ineffectually against the mask. The grip was like a vise, clamping down on him with bone crushing strength. Cooper noted that the kids had escaped. He grinned as Jason drew back his arm to rip Cooper's heart out. He'd won a small victory.

"I hate hockey," Mulder's voice came from behind them. Cooper felt relief flood him as Jason's implacable fist paused. Jason's head turned slightly. "I always connected it with figure skating, a sissy sport."

From the edges of his vision, Cooper saw Mulder slam a heavy piece of wood against Jason's back. Jason dropped Cooper and turned slowly to face Mulder.

"Baseball," said Mulder wildly, "that's the game."

He was holding what seemed to be a piece of table leg like a bat. He swung with all his might, slamming it against Jason's head. There was a sickening crack. Jason staggered and almost fell against the wall.

"How about a home run!" Mulder yelled and swung again, just as Jason lurched towards him. Again there was a sickening crack as Jason fell back against the basement door. Mulder screamed incoherently and swung again. Jason stepped back, now in the doorway, and caught the end of the table leg. He jerked it out of Mulder's grasp.

Cooper threw himself against the door, slamming it in Jason's face. He heard a heavy body tumbling down the basement stairs. He allowed himself a second to catch his breath.

"Here," Mulder called. He was already dragging the heavy overturned desk to the basement door. Cooper joined him, and together, they got it up against the door.

"That's one I owe you, Fox," Cooper gasped.

Mulder looked up, panting heavily, and almost smiled. "Think this will hold him?"

"About ten seconds," Cooper replied.

The fire caused by the flare gun was spreading with incredible speed.

"We should get out of here," Mulder gasped. His eyes searched the room for his weapon. He went to retrieve it. Cooper was already heading for the shattered doorway, reloading.

As Mulder left, he stepped on the crushed remains of the bug sprayer, sitting in a thin pool of gasoline. He didn't even notice it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was raining hard outside, lightning streaked across the sky.

"These are my last rounds," Cooper said raising his voice above the thunder, as they staggered out into the night. "I emptied everything into him, and it barely slowed him."

"Let's try shooting the head," Mulder said. "and nonvital areas, like knees, elbows, hands and feet. If we can't bring him down, maybe we can slow him."

Cooper rested, bending over, his hands on his knees. "You think that will work."

Mulder laughed. "Not a chance."

They watched the fire spread inside the building. "Maybe he'll burn up?"
Mulder suggested.

It was Cooper's turn to laugh bleakly. "Not a chance."

"Where are the kids?" Mulder asked.

"I think they all got out, they're probably running and hiding."

"Not all of us," Mike was standing behind them, along with the female counsellor, Kelley, with the shotgun.

"Where are the rest of you," Mulder asked.

"Steve and Larry are probably still running," Mike said.

"I hope they make it," Mulder said wryly. "It's still a long night."

"Lee and Vaughn and Freddy are at the water tower, we thought that would be the easiest place to defend... after this."

There was a soft whoomph inside the main house as the fire touched the gas and the gas can ignited.

"We waited here to see who... what... came out," Mike explained.

"What have we got?" Mulder said. "Two pistols, the shotgun and the flare gun."

"Flare gun's at the tower," Mike said. "Last line of defence."

"Scratch that then," Mulder said. There was a crashing inside.

"That'll be the basement door," Cooper noted.

"I'm surprised it took this long. Maybe he's slowing down," Mulder nodded. He finished reloading and handed three shells to Cooper. He kept three for himself. "I don't know if there'll be a chance to reload. But here."

"What's the plan?" Mike asked.

"He comes out the front door, and we hit him with everything we have. Then we run like hell."

There was crashing inside as Jason staggered around, trying to get his bearings. They stared at the burning building.

Cooper nodded. "Good plan. Fox?"

"Yeah Coop?"

"It was nice knowing you."

"Likewise."

"We need a tank," Mike said tiredly.

Mulder looked startled. "Coop," he said quickly, "if we get through the next few minutes, I have to try something. Keep him away from the kids, and keep him in the open."

"Hey," said Mike, "what about the fire door?"

Mulder and Cooper exchanged startled glances.

"Hey," said Mike, surprised. He was staring at a pipe sticking into his chest that had appeared out of nowhere. He reached up to touch it. Yes, it was a pipe, a metal pipe about two inches around. Something was dripping out of it. Blood.

"Hey," he said again. Mulder and Scully ( should be Cooper) were staring at him, their eyes round. They looked so concerned. They shouldn't be, he thought, it was just weird. Not bad.

Then he realized that the pipe wasn't sticking into him. It was sticking out of him. He suddenly felt very weak, but the pipe wouldn't let him fall. His feet left the ground.

Mike suddenly wanted very much to look behind him, even though he was suddenly very afraid. It was getting dark. He tried to twist, even though it was starting to hurt.

He looked behind himself. But he was dead before he saw anything.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jason flung Mike's body at them and raised the bloody pipe like a spear. A machete gleamed at his waist, as he wielded the pipe. Cooper wondered briefly where it had come from, and then thought of Rupert's body.

Mulder fired a shot at his upraised arm, but in the driving rain, he missed.

Cooper fired into his knee. Jason fell, but pulled himself back up, momentarily using the pipe for support.

Mulder tried a headshot. Jason staggered as a neat round hole opened in the forehead of the mask, but he continued to rise to his feet. Mulder shot him in the head again.

The shotgun blasted twice. Jason turned toward it.

"No!" Cooper screamed and fired two shots into each of his knees. As Jason fell, a third shot went into his head. Another into his shoulder. It had almost no effect, Jason began to rise.

Cooper's handgun clicked empty.

The shotgun boomed twice, as Cooper crossed to the girl. "Run," he told Kelley, "I'll keep him here."

Mulder's face appeared out of the driving rain. "Full magazine," he said, pressing his weapon on Cooper. He took Cooper's empty weapon.

"I need five minutes, Coop," Mulder shouted over the sound of thunder.

"I'll try, Fox," Cooper shouted back, not feeling confident. But Mulder was already retreating into the rain.

Jason was back on his feet, holding the pipe like a club now. He seemed to glance around. Part of his shoulder seemed to be smoking, even under the driving rain.

Cooper wanted to look to see if the last counsellor had indeed fled, or which direction she had gone, but he didn't dare take his eyes off Jason.

Lightning flared, starkly illuminating the monster as it surveyed it's hellish terrain.

"Jason," he screamed. Oddly, there was no response.

"Voorhees," he yelled, just before the thunder rolled. The massive head, the featureless mask, swung towards him.

Cooper fired a blast from the shotgun to get his attention, and then turned to run.

He didn't have to look back to know that Jason was following.

Cooper struggled through the driving rain, his feet sliding along the grass and mud, barely able to take a step, but nightmarishly certain his adversary was right behind him.

He turned and fired blindly behind him twice, and staggered forward. He thought one of his shots hit something.

Where were the kids? At the water tower. He ran in the opposite direction, his feet kicking at gravel stones, which told him that he was at least on the dirt road connecting the camp buildings.

Cooper slipped in the mud, the shotgun went flying. Desperately he thrashed onto his back trying to see Jason. Three bolts of lightning illuminated Jason like a strobe light as he crossed through the downpour towards him, covering a dozen feet in three even strokes.

Jason straddled Cooper and raised the pipe high, holding it between both hands, as to impale him. Desperately, Cooper shoved his handgun into Jason's crotch and fired.

The pipe drove three feet deep into the earth, Jason doubling up around it. Cooper twisted spastically just in time to avoid it, but it still tore a strip of skin off his back.

The pain spurred him. He kicked desperately, struggling out from under the heaving monster, and climbed to his feet. He staggered on.

Behind him, Jason rose. With a single wrench he pulled the pipe from the earth. He followed with smoldering intensity.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cooper fled through the pounding rain. He leaned against the side of a shed. Exhausted, he shook his head to clear his hair from his eyes and peered back the way he had come.

Nothing. Where had Jason gone? Cooper was suddenly afraid he'd gone after Mulder or the kids. He gasped, trying to clear his lungs to call Jason's name.

He hadn't responded to that, Cooper thought suddenly. Not immediately. Pieces began to slip together in his mind.

He straightened up.

Jason was right in front of him. Suddenly Cooper was flying, tumbling over and over in the air. He landed hard, skidding through the mud, but managing to hold onto his gun.

As he curled onto his side, something kicked him with appalling force and he was flying through the air again. Again, he landed heavily, rolling over and over until he finally lay stretched out on his back.

He was still holding his gun, he realized. His fingers tightened on it. Suddenly, an immense weight settled on his wrist, pinning it. Cooper thrashed and saw an enormous workboot, crushing his arm.

His eyes followed the boot, upwards and upwards, massive dark clad legs, heavy torso, until finally, the head looking down at him. It had no face, only a hockey mask. Jason reached down for him.

In that instant, Cooper experienced an epiphany, a moment of crystal clarity of consciousness. He knew, with utter certainty that he was going to die. He knew that he would not just die, but that he would be torn limb from limb, he understood that he was going to be made to suffer more terribly than any man could imagine. And he had a hallucination. It was an odd hallucination. He could have sworn that he heard a female voice say in absolutely normal tones, the word "scream."
Good idea, he thought, as the monster reached for his face. He drew a deep breath, closed his eyes and opened his mouth as wide as it could.

A long piercing scream tore the air.

It went on and on. It took Cooper a second to realize that it wasn't him. It took him another second to realize that he was still alive. He opened his eyes.

Jason stood motionless over him, still reaching for his face. Jason was staring off into the distance.

The scream petered out, but immediately started up again at full volume. Cooper dared to follow the direction of Jason's gaze.

Now he was sure he was hallucinating. There was a young woman, standing only a few feet away, screaming her lungs out. Cooper thought he recognized her: Natalie.

But she'd been killed. Steve had said so. Or had he. Natalie's long protracted scream finally wore itself out. Cooper was almost glad, it was an astonishingly annoying sound.

She took a deep breath and started over again, at full volume. She pulled her top open, exposing her breasts. Slowly, Jason straightened and stepped over Cooper's body towards her.

Cooper's whole arm was numb. Struggling, he reached over to grab the gun with his good hand, and to point it at Jason's back, as he closed in on Natalie. His arm felt like lead.

Just as he was about to pull the trigger, he heard the voice speak again.

"That's far enough," it said.

Jason stopped. There was the bright muzzle flash of a shotgun. Cooper fired again and again, matching each flash of the shotgun. Jason appeared to dance under the gunfire, and finally, blessedly, toppled and lay still.

"Agent Cooper?" Scully was standing over him, holding the shotgun. Scully? "Are you all right?"

He coughed, clearing rainwater from his nose and mouth.

"Yes, I think so." He accepted her proffered hand, and levered himself to his feet. "I thought you were dead."

"The night is young," Scully said, she glanced at Jason's body.

"Detective Cooper," Natalie came up to them, she blocked his view of Jason. Cooper tried to look around her shoulder. "Are you injured, are you okay?"

"What's the plan?" he asked. Was she Mulder's secret weapon? Did they have something going together?

"Keep shooting him until he falls down," she said, "and stays down."

"Oh," he said, disappointed, "we tried that."

Jason sat up.

Gallantly, Cooper stepped up to Jason and pressed his handgun to the forehead of the hockey mask.

Click.

Cooper was flying again, losing consciousness. He landed on his back, unable to move. He heard the shotgun booming and Natalie screaming. He staggered to his feet. He could feel Mulder's three shells in his pocket, but he'd lost his gun. He was almost sobbing.

He saw Jason catch Natalie's arm. Her scream ended suddenly, choking into whimpering sobbing.

The pieces that had been sliding around in his mind suddenly fell into place.

"Pamela Voorhees," Cooper shouted, against the driving rains. "I know."

Jason looked up from Natalie, pausing. She stifled her sobbing. Waiting.

"Jason drowned in 1957," Cooper said, approaching. "It's been you all the time, isn't that right, Pamela?"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jason's grip loosened. Natalie tore herself loose, her blouse ripping, and bolted away, into Scully's arms. Jason made an abortive move to recover her, but his attention was on Cooper.

Scully sheltered her, holding her weapon ready. She thought she had one shell left. The ammunition was back in one of the cabins. Where was Mulder?

"You couldn't ever let Jason go," Cooper was saying, "not even when he died. It didn't help that his body was never found, did it, laying there preserved under sterile lake mud."

Jason took a step towards him. For a second, they were briefly illuminated by a stab of lightning. Cooper glanced around at the watching teenagers and took a step backwards.

"When Pamela Voorhees was beheaded in a homicidal rage, her soul, her spirit couldn't accept oblivion, could it?"

Jason took another step.

"Her soul, her ka, fled to another shell. One that was waiting for her. One that had obsessed her. The dead drowned body of her son." Coop backed up another step.

Scully released Natalie and paced Jason, holding the shotgun at ready. Rain got in her eyes and soaked the small of her back. Where the hell was Mulder?

"How are you doing, Dale?" she shouted, trying to distract Jason from Cooper. He didn't waver from his steady advance on the FBI agent.

"All the subsequent killings," Cooper was saying, "the M.O.'s, the penetrating weapons, the sneak attacks, moving the bodies, hiding them, using them for grisly jack in the boxes. The whole sexual pathology... that was established by Pamela Voorhees, and it never varied. Not a bit."

Jason was almost on top of Cooper now, his deceptive strides had eaten the distance between them.

"It's you in there, isn't it Pamela." Cooper shouted desperately. "It's been you all along."

Jason paused for a second, there was a subliminal movement of his head, although in agreement or negation, Scully was unable to determine. Then he leaped.

Cooper couldn't back away. He was caught suddenly. Powerful hands seized him by the throat and lifted. Cooper felt his legs leave the ground as he was raised high into the air. He pulled at the hands choking him and kicked the body. But it was like kicking wood.

A flash of lightning illuminated them. Cooper hung kicking high in the air at the end of Jason's outstretched arms. A man hanging from a rigid animated gallows.

They were too close together for a shot, Scully ran towards them breathlessly, looking for an angle to shoot that wouldn't kill Cooper, hoping to find it before Cooper was dead.

"Leave him alone," Natalie screamed running up behind them, the heavy iron poker with it's jagged end flashed in her hand. With a vicious swipe, she slashed the heavy rod against the back of Jason's knees.

For a second, nothing happened. Then slowly Jason fell backwards, tumbling into the mud. Cooper rolled free, choking. Natalie pulled at his arm, trying to get him away.

Then impossibly, Jason got up. He loomed over Natalie and Cooper, the machete gleaming in his hand, and slowly raised it. Scully prepared to fire.

The hammer clicked. Nothing. Her heart stopped.

Suddenly, headlights silhouetted them, a car horn blared. Jason turned to face it. A car engine roared, as the car leaped forward. Cooper and Natalie scrambled out of the way behind Jason.

Jason didn't try to escape the car, he stepped forward, machete raised as if to cut it in half. It struck without slowing down, it's bone crunching impact tossed Jason onto the hood, rolling him up against the windshield. As the car rushed past, Jason slid off the shattered windshield, falling
motionless in the mud.

Scully stared at the car, it was the Lincoln, blinking her eyes to clear them. The Lincoln rolled another twenty feet before grinding to a stop, sliding in the mud.

She heard gears grinding, the car was thrown into reverse. It bogged down, slipping in the mud. Scully looked back at Jason. Impossibly, he was rising up again, now on his hands and knees. He was reaching for the machete.

The Lincoln roared again, it's engine coughing suddenly, bolting backwards. Again there was a bone crunching impact as the car struck Jason. Briefly, the scarred hockey mask was illuminated in the red glow of the brake lights, a vivid glimpse of hell. Then he was under the wheel.

The car lurched sickeningly as the wheel passed over Jason. It spun for a second, digging into the thrashing figure, there was a final crunch. Jason spasmed and went still on his back, trapped under the car, his arms outstretched. The machete lay a few inches from one hand.

The drivers door opened. Mulder stepped out. Illuminated for a second by the dome light of the car, he didn't look triumphant. He looked tired and exhausted.

The door slammed shut, and Mulder leaned against the car, in the rain. Scully approached.

The car engine coughed loudly all of a sudden. It began to knock heavily as the entire car shook. Then the motor seized and died.

Natalie and Cooper staggered up to the Lincoln.

"That's two I owe you, Fox," Cooper said. He was still breathing hard. His pristine hair now hung ragged over his eyes, he too looked haggard.

"Just do me one favour, Coop," Mulder asked.

"Sure Fox," Cooper said, he laid back on the hood. His body fitting into the depression left by Jason.

"Stop calling me Fox." Mulder said, with as much force as he could muster.

Scully approached the passenger side of the car. In the distant lights of the campground, she could see that the rear wheel was a few inches off the ground. The frame of the car was resting on Jason, between the front and rear wheels, pinning him like a bug.

"He's dead now," she said quietly. She kicked the machete away.

She knelt and slid the mask off, even her medical training could not prevent a slight gasp of shock. It was a corpse's face, deformed, leathery, long dead.

"Is it over?" Natalie asked. She had made her way around the front of the car, standing close to them. Scully looked up.

Natalie screamed. Scully looked down to see Jason's eyes opening, filling with evil intelligence. He reached for her. She pulled back, feeling rotting fingers just slipping past her skin.

Scully wound up flat on her ass, legs spread, staring in awe as Jason, impossibly alive, began to, just as impossibly, lift the car off his body. She raised her gun, pointing at the back of his head and pulled the trigger.

BOOM. It worked this time. The body spasmed and went limp.

Mulder and Cooper showed up around the front of the car.

"It's over now," Scully said.

~~~~~~~~~~~

EXCERPTS FROM THE AUTOPSY REPORT OF DANA SCULLY:

Subject is apparently an adult male in a state of retarded decomposition, height, six feet seven inches, weight, three hundred and seventy pounds.

I would note that as a preliminary step, tendons to all of the subjects major muscle groups have been cut. I note that this is somewhat unusual, but I feel it is justified by the bizarre nature of the case.

I also note that the subject has been tentatively identified as one Jason Voorhees. As records indicate that the only known Jason Voorhees in the area drowned in 1957 at the age of twelve, and subject is a full grown male, I must regard this identification as speculative and unwarranted.

Nevertheless, for want of a better name, I will accept the qualified designation until such time as we determine the true identity, if that is ever determined.

Subject displays numerous asymmetrical facial and limb abnormalities and deformations, apparently congenital in nature. Several of them appear to be consistent with those recorded for the original Jason Voorhees. The face is severely deformed, with a distorted, possibly crushed lower jaw... evidence of childhood abuse?

The left side of the skull slopes outwards, distorting the cheekbone and eye socket. Also of note, the left arm is two inches longer than the right, the right foot has only four toes, no sign of scarring, and several toes on the left foot are webbed. There are no other substantial deformities,
and otherwise the body is in good condition. I am unable to make a determination of age.

The body and head contained numerous wounds, stab wounds, punctures, slashes, burns and gunshot injuries. Some of which appear to be extremely old. They will be catalogued as follows....

.... body remains supple, and frankly, we have no evidence of decomposition proceeding normally or in any fashion. I am strongly reminded of the reports of a bodies recovered from bogs in England, almost perfectly preserved after centuries. We may be looking at something similar here....

....initial incision of the thoracic cavity, reveals several layers of epidermis, one under the other, like skin on an onion... or like rings on a tree. The layers were partially separable, and of varying toughness and coloration. The innermost layers most resembled human skin. This may explain the varying descriptions and sizes attributed to...Jason over the years. This suggests some bizarre form of biological evolution, inconsistent with humanity....

...examination of the body cavity is hampered by an incredible stench. All organs are in place, and recognizable, but do not appear to be functional. The lungs are partially flooded by a black viscous fluid. Not blood. I don't know what it is, but will be taking samples. Viscous substance also appears in the stomach and intestines, and in the circulatory system and heart....

Conclusion of the autopsy has been postponed pending detailed analysis of samples. Preliminary analysis reveals several chemical anomalies. The earlier recollection of the bog bodies has proven apt, there are several parallels. The tissues are consistent with the immersion of a body in sterile lake mud over a period of years and saturation with mineral salts...

...numerous anomalies appear, and it would almost seem that this body, somehow continued to live, or at least perpetuate itself on a cellular level in some fashion. Under the circumstances, however, I do not believe it is possible to characterize this being as ever having been either
psychologically or physically human...

...inquiries of authorities at Crystal Lake reveal some chemical correspondences between core samples of the Lake bed itself... I am also informed that in the 1950's some chemical dumping took place in the lake, which may have included low level radioactive wastes... This dumping
appears to have been buried in the lake mud, and no traces are found in the water...

Notwithstanding the bizarre, competing supernatural theories of Agent Mulder and Agent Cooper, (see attachments) I am inclined to think that what we have here is a biochemical atavism, the sources and consequences of which are discoverable and definable. I remain resolute in my faith in science.

I do concur with Agents Mulder and Cooper that the body which we disabled on Friday the thirteenth is responsible for several if not most of the past murder sprees, including the two attacks attributed to Tommy Jarvis. We jointly recommend that any warrants outstanding against Jarvis be withdrawn, and Mr. Jarvis allowed to live his life in peace... if indeed he lives at all.

Nevertheless, I am tempted to suspect that there is some psychosis inducing element in the water which has inspired homicidal outbursts...

Given the numerous anomalies, I recommend that a full fledged forensic and biochemical team to be assembled to properly investigate this specimen.

I would also recommend that the body be handled with extreme care at all times.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

DISPATCH FROM CRYSTAL LAKE POLICE DEPARTMENT

Please be on the lookout for a refrigerated van driven by Wyoming Jennings. Jennings was transporting the body of alleged mass murderer Jason Voorhees to Washington when he, his van, and of course, the body, vanished.

Current hypothesis is that he may have absconded with the body. We must also consider the possibility that persons unknown have stolen the body for unknown purposes (handwritten notation - hopefully to burn the damned thing!) and may have done injury to Mr. Jennings.

Authorities in Washington would like to recover the body for scientific purposes. Description of Wyoming Jennings and of the missing vehicle are as follows.

(handwritten notation - lets just hope we never see this again.)

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Skinner looked up at them, from the detailed reports.

"Are you sure this is what you want to submit as your report?" he asked.

"The facts of the matter are in order," Agent Mulder said, "there is exceptional eyewitness and documentary evidence in this case, to identify the killer in this case as Jason Voorhees, and to link him to the previous killings."

"A giant deformed undead quasi vampire serial mass murderer?" Skinner said.

Mulder shrugged.

"Or merely a corpse occupied by the psychopathic spirit of its equally dead mother?"

"That's Agent Cooper's theory," Mulder said. "We share a premise in that an entity commonly known as Jason Voorhees has been slaughtering people in the Crystal Lake area for a long time."

Agent Scully spoke. "Although Agent Mulder's and Cooper's ultimate conclusions are unorthodox, I believe the evidence supports either hypothesis. In any event, it is beyond a doubt that Crystal Lake has been the centre of a string of mass murders stretching across decades."

"Yes," Skinner agreed.

"Whether there is one killer, or a succession inspired by each other and using the same method of operation is a matter for argument. The deaths are real. I and Agent Mulder, and Agent Cooper for that matter, all concur that if nothing is done, these killings will continue in the future. Probably next year on or around Friday the thirteenth."

Skinner stared at the two of them.

"The matter will be handled appropriately," he said finally. "You can go now."

He began making notes on the file. No longer looking at them. Scully got up to leave. Mulder remained sitting.

"So what are we going to do?" Mulder asked.

"'We' Agent Mulder?" Skinner asked. "'We' aren't going to do anything. Your work on the case is noted, the matter will be dealt with through proper channels, it need not concern you."

"You're taking us off the case?" Mulder asked, aghast.

"Six people died as a result of your handling of the case," Skinner said.

"Seven people lived, only six died," Mulder retorted. "And only because you chose to deny my written request for manpower and resources."

Skinner looked up angrily.

"That's quite enough Agent Mulder, you're dismissed."

"He's going to kill again, if we don't stop him," Mulder said, standing.

"Thank you, Agent Mulder," Skinner said, "you may leave now."

Again, he began making notes. Mulder hung there for a second, seething with frustration. Scully was holding the door. He stalked through it.

A second later he was back.

"I know this might not be the proper time. But I really hope you'll consider my request to assign Agent Cooper to the X-Files."

"Cooper is needed where he is," Skinner said. "But your request is noted, and will be given due consideration. Is that all?"

Mulder closed the door as he departed.

Skinner continued to make his notes.

There was a sound, he looked up.

Cancer man exhaled, a plume of cigarette smoke streamed from his lips.

"Very well spoken," he said, "I liked that part about 'dealing with things through proper channels'"

"Oh," he said, "and I'd strongly recommend against ever assigning Agent Cooper to the X files. Keep those two well separate."

"That isn't your decision to make," Skinner said.

"Just thinking out loud." Cancer man smiled.

"You've read the reports," Skinner said, "you've listened to them."

"I have," Cancer man said.

"Well," Skinner asked.

"You have a problem. Somehow, I don't think conventional methods will work. I can imagine the people you would lose, just reading him his rights."

"What would you recommend?" Skinner asked.

Cancer man blew smoke rings. "I think that would be obvious. Set a trap. Send in a decoy for this thing to chase, have her lead him to a kill zone, and blow him to pieces. End of problem."

"I agree," Skinner said.

Cancer man shrugged.

"What are you waiting for?" Skinner said.

"If you want my help, you have to ask for it," Cancer man told him, he inhaled deeply. "No more free rides."

"I'm asking," Skinner said.

"That wasn't so hard was it?" Cancer man asked. "It'll be good to work together."

He stubbed his cigarette out in Skinner's ashtray. And walked through the door. He turned, just before he left.

"And for the record..." he said, "you'll owe me for this."

Skinner stared hard at him, conscious of dealing with devils to stop
devils.

"Yes," he said finally.

~~~~~~~
the end
~~~~~~~

Author’s End Note: I wrote the entire story in one 12 hour marathon.

Essentially, over the Christmas holiday, one year, my wife and I decided to watch all nine Friday the 13th movies back to back. Think of it as one of those insane couples things.

So, somewhere along the way, she said, 'this would be a good X file.' and my imagination caught fire.

Cooper is of course FBI Agent Dale Cooper, played by Kyle MacLachlan of Twin Peaks.

David Duchovny, actually had a recurring role, a transvestite DEA Agent who was always in drag. Thus the occasional comments by Dale Cooper about Scully's wardrobe.

Yes, it's Michael Myers of that Haddonfield. An in joke. What can I say. It's just a reference, nothing much turns on it. (Referring to the villain of the Halloween movies, of course.)

There are other little in jokes all over the place. It was a fun romp.

Den Valdron