Chapter Text
“Dammit Sheriff! You have to have found something!”
The young man pounded his fists onto the desk of the Crystal Lake County Sheriff, his blue eyes wild and his once coiffed blonde hair in disarray. Sweat beaded at his temples; Tommy Jarvis was sick and tired of the radio silence from the local police. His older sister, Trish, had been missing ever since she’d gone on a camping trip. Despite numerous searches, televised emotional pleas, and even an offered monetary reward for information, hide nor hair had been found of her. The authorities wouldn’t say anything on the matter either.
Sheriff Garris had to restrain the frustration in his tone, his mustache bristling as he spoke.
“...I’ve told you before, and it’s the last time I’m gonna say it before I charge you with obstruction of justice! We can’t comment on ongoing investigations! We’re doing everything we can to-”
Deputy Cologne stumbled through the front door of the station, struggling to close a box of donuts with one already held in his teeth. He was a droopy-eyed man whose chin led right into his neck.
“They were outta Boston creme…” he began, muffled, before realizing Tommy was present. “Oh. Sorry.”
Tommy scoffed, gesturing to the Deputy in disbelief.
“Yeah, looks like you’re searching really hard right now.”
He paced around the room, running his hands through his hair in agitation. Tommy laughed without humor.
“Not just my sister. Dozens of people are gone and you’re sittin’ here… eating fucking donuts.”
“Jarvis-” Sheriff Garris warned.
Tommy threw his arms out. “If you assholes can’t figure anything out, then call in someone else! The FBI or something! If people were just getting lost, someone would’ve found something by now!”
The thought persisted in his mind, though Tommy didn’t want to admit it, that his sister Trish was probably dead. There was no way she’d just run off, she loved their mother and him too much for that. If she had gotten lost, she would have passed of exposure. But they lived in god damn New Jersey. Wander in any direction long enough and you were bound to run into someone. No one had seen her. Foul play had to have been involved.
With so many other people gone, only one thing came to mind.
“...It’s a serial killer, isn’t it?” Tommy’s voice fell. “That’s why you don’t wanna admit it. Who’s out there-”
Sheriff Garris grabbed Tommy by the collar of his lined jean jacket, his tone a growl.
“Now you listen, and listen good . I can’t comment on investigations, but I don’t need your sorry ass whipping this community into a panic. I’m sorry about your sister, but we’ve got a process to follow. You could jeopardize this entire god damn thing. If I find you sniffing around, you’re gonna end up in the cage, pretty boy.”
Police bureaucracy was keeping Tommy from getting the answers he so desperately craved. It was a waste of time, and the longer he waited the lower his chances of ever getting closure.
Tommy was quiet until the Sheriff released him. He shoved past the Deputy back out to his truck, slamming his door as he dropped himself into the driver’s seat. Peeling out of the parking lot onto the road Tommy gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles strained white, fighting the constricting feeling in his throat. His sister had been so bright and bubbly, personable. To think some sicko out in the woods had done unspeakable things to her made his blood boil. He wanted payback. He needed payback.
That the perpetrator was living around the lake where the disappearances took place made the most sense to Tommy, so he decided to start a search of his own.
It took several days. Starting on one end of Crystal Lake and slowly pouring over to the other, all the inhabitable houses Tommy found had ‘for sale’ signs out front. Peeking into their windows didn’t show any signs of habitation. With every trip he made sure to keep his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary in the forest as well, though he hadn’t found anything… yet .
Finally, he’d parked his truck on the main road and followed a worn path on foot through the trees to a house that didn’t appear decrepit. It was an older home but appeared to be in good shape, the plants around it were maintained and the white paint wasn’t chipped nor cracked. A truck was parked out front, the red paint faded from age and some of the chrome trim rusted. Tommy was instantly suspicious; this was the only occupied house he’d found around the lake. If there was a killer, or something else fishy, why hadn’t these people been hit? Part of him wanted to be optimistic. Maybe being locals they’d have some insight.
Tommy stepped onto the porch, opening the screen to knock loudly on the front door.
“Hello?”
He waited for a while. There was no response.
Tommy glanced at the parked truck. They were home, weren’t they?
He knocked again.
“Hello! Is anybody home?”
He waited longer. There was still no response.
An ominous weight dropped into the pit of Tommy’s stomach. Something wasn’t right. Looking into the windows the house was furnished. He glanced over his shoulders before pulling out a pocket knife from his boot, jimmying the front door open to sneak inside.
He shut the door quietly behind him, stepping as light as he could manage while straining his hearing for any sign of the occupants returning. Tommy explored the first floor, then the second, and everything he saw told him it was just someone’s house. It was lived in; food in the kitchen, clean laundry in the dryer, the beds were made and there were soaps and shampoos in the bathrooms. But still the fact pricked at his brain; whoever lived here was surrounded by mysterious disappearances. How hadn’t they gone missing yet? Unless Tommy had just missed them being whisked away, it didn’t make sense.
Tommy walked to the back door behind the stairs to make sure it was closed and locked. It was. Well, this place would be a good starting point. He’d have to come back when the owners were home-
An audible creak sounded from under his boot. Tommy’s gaze migrated down to where he’d stepped. The section of floor was slightly different from the rest, and when he pressed on it with his foot it made the same noise again. He knelt down, tracing the floor with his fingers until he found an edge. Tommy followed around with his other hand, gripping with his fingertips to pull.
A hatch opened into the ground. The new floor was close enough that Tommy could hop inside it without hurting himself, but he had to duck to squeeze all the way in. The air was stale and musty; a crawlspace? No. As Tommy walked forward the space increased in width and height, turning into a subterranean tunnel . Sickly yellow bulbs caked in grime lit the way, old wooden beams cracking under the weight of the earth about Tommy’s head. The smell of soil was certainly present, but there was an undertone of something he couldn’t quite identify that made him feel gaggy in the back of his throat. It winded him, and made Tommy not want to breathe it in further.
What the fuck was this place? Why was it under this house?
This was the only lead he had. If this had something, anything to do with Trish or the other disappearances, Tommy had to know. He had to figure it out, so no one else would lose someone they cared about.
Tommy traveled on, senses alert as he grew increasingly wary of his dungeon-like surroundings. The first room he came into was large, work tables scattered about covered in tools and other hardware. A large stone wheel sat in the corner… a grindstone? He’d only seen such a thing in movies. His eyes trailed over the implements resting near it, when his gaze came to an axe. It was broken, the wooden handle snapped in two. Each end was sharply splintered. Unless it was cheaply made, that would have taken a hell of a lot of force to do. What made Tommy’s stomach drop, however, were the rust colored drops and smears adorning the metal head.
He felt his veins run cold. What the fuck was this place?
His feet carried him away, quick as his mind swam. Who lived here? What were they doing? Why? Why? Why?
As he walked out of the room and into a connecting tunnel, several branching paths opened to him. This place must have spread like a spider’s web all over the area. The thought of getting horribly lost was a real concern, but Tommy’s desperation to know more drove him on. He had to press forward, for Trish. Another area he found was blocked by a large piece of metal, and no matter how hard Tommy pulled it wouldn’t budge. He moved on.
The further Tommy walked, the more the air around him changed. It had gone from stale and musty to thick and rancid . Nothing Tommy Jarvis had ever smelled in his life was comparable to the putrid stench that made his eyes water and his gag reflex tickle. Sewage? Mold? None of them fit right. Every visceral reaction in his body was telling him to leave this place, to run and never look back.
But he had to know.
How long had he been traveling? It felt like ages until he came to the next room. The bulbs leading to it were much newer than the others, and the tunnel was cleaner cut. Was this… a more recent addition? The smell was so overwhelming Tommy had to cover his nose with his shirt, lest he lose his lunch; his stomach was churning.
Turning the corner revealed to Tommy that Hell was indeed a real place, and it was right in front of him.
A pit was carved out of the dirt, swimming with mud, meat, and bone. Tommy couldn’t tell where one person ended and another began, their entrails in various states of bloat and decomposition. Once colorful clothes were muddled with stains he couldn’t identify, when they weren’t ripped to shreds or completely absent. Maggots gleefully writhed through the slime, and the buzz of flies was almost deafening.
… Was Trish in there…? Somewhere…?
Tommy vomited inside his shirt. He needed to leave. Now.
Navigating was difficult when every tunnel looked the same, and he wasn’t sure what direction he’d come from in the first place. He eventually knew he was going in the right direction when the smell faded, and the bulbs marking the way changed back to their dirty, pallid yellow hue. He had to get out and tell the Sheriff, even if he had to drag the asshole to the house. Whomever lived there wasn’t human; how could they be, treating people like that? Butchering them and treating them like trash? Dozens of people had disappeared… were they all in there ?
The tunnels were opening wider, and Tommy could see the workshop-like room in the distance. From there it wasn’t much farther to the house-
A clatter in the distance made Tommy’s heart stop. He snapped his head to the source of the noise, and he could see sunlight filtering down to illuminate a ladder at one of the dead ends. A limp mass fell into the dirt with a loud thud, limbs haphazardly bent and twisted. Another one to add to the pile, he suspected. They really got away with this in broad daylight?
The imminent danger of Tommy’s situation settled in. He was currently stuck underground, and the person who had a pit full of dead bodies in said underground was coming home. He needed to hide or get out, and quickly. His legs carried him as fast and quiet as he could to the workshop, though the distant footsteps were becoming not so distant. There was no way he’d crawl to the hatch into the house in time. Acting fast, Tommy concealed himself under one of the farthest work tables, masked in the shadows.
Tommy strained his hearing and stifled his breathing as much as he could manage. The footsteps were close… and there were two sets of them?
His eyes darted to the movement in his periphery; a pair of black work boots came into view, moving to and fro. He heard the clatter of something metallic against one of the tables and noticed the dripping of some kind of liquid. Tommy could take a wild guess what it was.
The person sighed. It sounded… feminine?
Another pair of boots entered the scene, much heavier stepping than the first. They stood close to what Tommy thought was a woman. His suspicions were confirmed when she spoke.
“...Hm? Ah, I’m fine. Just annoyed.”
There was a moment of silence. The woman laughed lightly.
“Their timing is always terrible. They know just how to get on our nerves.”
Was she talking to the other person? Tommy hadn’t heard them. Another chuckle, and what sounded suspiciously like a kiss rang in his ears before the two mystery killers parted. The woman headed towards the house hatch while the silent one lumbered in the opposite direction, further into the tunnels.
“Don’t take too long,” the woman called, her voice getting farther away. “Then we can pick up where we-”
She cut herself off. Tommy couldn’t hear her footsteps.
“...Honey bear…” Her voice was low. “...Did you leave the hatch open…?”
Shit.
Shit!
Shit!!!
Tommy hadn’t closed it after hopping down. Well, he knew she was closest to the house, and the other one was in the tunnels not too far away. He was stuck between the two of them. But they didn’t know where he was, just that he’d been there.
They returned to the workshop, the clatter of metal sounding once again as Tommy saw the glint of something sharp dangle at each of their sides. They were knives- no, machetes coated in gore. Tommy’s hands began to tremble; had they used those on his sister? Hacked her to pieces then tossed her like garbage? He wanted his revenge, but the pocket knife in his boot could only do so much work.
Tommy didn’t hear them speak before parting again, headed in the same directions they had before. The familiar creak of the house hatch was exacerbated by the door slamming shut, determined footsteps thudding above. Getting out through the house was a no-go, but apparently there were other exits; that’s how they’d returned. If Tommy could find one and lose them in the woods, he could get back to his truck on the road and get the hell out of there.
He’d have to avoid the asshole in the tunnels. Tommy slid his way out from under the table, willing his footsteps to be silent as he trekked through the earth. The pocket knife now wielded in his hand acted as an anchor for his wits; he needed to keep them at hand in order to keep himself in one piece.
Every little noise Tommy made seemed so unbearably loud, from his own breathing to the insignificant clatter of pebbles and shift of dirt beneath his boots. Each shadow cast off the ill glow of the lights made his eyes dart to the movement , rightfully paranoid that someone or something was coming.
Glancing around each corner held the hope that he’d see the exit they’d exposed earlier unguarded, if Tommy backtracked the right way. Every nerve was a live wire, teetering on overstimulation out of sheer anxiety. He turned, spotting the dark but unmistakable outline of a ladder. Freedom. Tommy scrambled towards it, relief washing over him-
Only for an absolutely massive hand to grab the back of his jacket.
Tommy hollered in a panic, trying in earnest to tear himself from the article of clothing. “Let me go! Get off!”
His feet left the ground as he was hoisted into the air, his throat closing off as colossal fingers squeezed around it. Tommy managed to wriggle his way around, wheezing as he laid eyes on one of the people responsible for the atrocities he’d seen.
A hockey mask stared back at him, worn by a monster of a man. Tommy could see the blood spattered across his off-white, grimy visage. The eye holes were black, bottomless voids, and he could feel the malice and homicidal intent radiating out of them. The man was strong enough to physically lift him with one arm, his shoulders heaving as he breathed. His hot, humid breath washed over Tommy and he was momentarily stunned. How could such a person exist? Was all this real?
Footsteps were quickly approaching from behind the man’s back. Tommy had to act; he was so close to escaping, and if the other one arrived he knew he had no chance. With all of his strength Tommy stabbed down with his pocket knife, sinking the small blade right into the crook of the man’s neck. The thing let out a choked yell, gasping as he dropped Tommy and reached to clasp at the weapon jutting from his skin.
Tommy clattered for the ladder, climbing as quickly as his shaking arms and legs could allow him. As he tried to push the hatch open, sunlight filtering through, the other one, the woman, ran up to the man he’d stabbed.
“Jason!”
…Jason?
…Jason Voorhees?
He was supposed to be a ghost story, a tall tale based off of crimes committed years ago. He wasn’t real. Surely he wasn’t. But the woman, in a paintball mask, didn’t seem to think so. She was splattered with blood unknown, and now the Killer of Camp Bloods’.
Tommy struggled with the hatch, was it locked or just heavy? He rammed his shoulder into the old sheet metal, pleading. “C’mon… Come on! ”
Jason Voorhees yanked the pocket knife from his neck in a fury, a hot jet of blood erupting from the wound. The guy was like a bull moose, nothing slowed him down. The mystery woman, satisfied her partner in crime was okay, shrieked with rage as she ran towards Tommy. Damn, she was fast . Finally the old door gave way, and Tommy Jarvis clamored his way out onto the forest floor, then picked up into a run.
Despite now being above ground, Tommy was disoriented. He didn’t know where that hatch had spat him out in relation to where he needed to be; the road where his truck was parked. No identifying landmarks stood out. All Tommy could see in any direction were pine trees and the grungy forest floor. But he had to keep moving. Anything was better than becoming another statistic.
Speaking of that, Tommy could hear a set of hurried footsteps approaching from behind. Glancing over his shoulder his stomach dropped as he observed the woman in the paintball mask sprinting towards him at speeds that didn't seem real. She dodged through the trees and vaulted over obstacles, her dark gaze never leaving him. The holsters attached to her belt jostled all the while, holding a menagerie of objects that could easily end Tommy’s life.
He snapped his head back to the forefront. Tommy needed to focus. He needed to get out. The world needed to know what had happened there. He’d seen the depths of human depravity, was being chased so bad in comparison?
Yes, Tommy would find out when his treacherous feet caught on a gnarled tree root protruding from the dirt. He went tumbling forward, his view twisting and turning in dead leaves and sticks as he scrambled to right himself. He felt another hand on his jacket but wouldn’t be caught like that again. Tommy quickly pulled himself from the article of clothing, just in time to hear the thick jean material rip behind him. The gleam of metal shone in the woman’s hand. She’d tried to stab him in the back.
“Fuck!” Tommy cursed as he ran off again, unsure of where he was going. Luck was on his side however; the water of Crystal Lake sparkled in the distance under the summer sun. Emerging onto the shore he could spot the abandoned camp not much farther away, and from there he knew how to get to the road.
The woman was still on his tail, now screeching in fury. Her words were incoherent, the banshee-like screaming from her throat cutting through their surroundings. Tommy fled to the decrepit outer buildings of the old camp, dodging between them to try and break line of sight with his pursuer-
Running into and bouncing off of the barrel chest of the big fucker, Jason Voorhees.
How the hell had he gotten there so fast?
Thinking on his feet, now on the ground Tommy dragged himself into the rotting crawl space underneath the nearest building. Jason, the hockey mask wearing maniac, tried to grab him by the ankle but Tommy kicked him off with fervor. The huge motherfucker was too wide to fit in the same space and paced to and fro in agitation before disappearing again.
Tommy tried to quiet his breathing again, listening for the threat like a cornered rabbit. Heavy thudding footsteps were above him. The old dry rotted floorboards creaked and spattered his face with dust under the monster’s weight. They stopped, but Tommy knew there was no way he could have left. He would have heard it.
A floorboard near Tommy exploded into splinters, the gleam of the tip of a machete meeting the dirt under the cabin. The crazy bastard was stabbing the floor!
He didn’t know where Tommy was, at least not exactly. But he was getting closer, each hit getting angrier, more powerful. Tommy had to scuttle away on his hands and feet as Voorhees got nearer, yelping when one good stab barely grazed his shirt. Quick to action Tommy clamored out of the crawl space just as the behemoth ripped a whole plank up with his bare hands, only catching a glimpse of Tommy’s boots.
He ran down the path, focused on it and it alone. It led to the road. The road meant his truck. His truck meant escape. Escape meant survival. Survival meant truth. Truth about Trish, and all the countless others those two psychopaths had tossed down in those tunnels. They wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else, destroy any other families, ruin any other lives.
The treeline was in sight. Beyond it, Tommy could see the old, sun-bleached and cracked pavement of the unmaintained road. He smiled to himself, laughing without humor in a daze. His feet met asphalt and he picked up speed, dashing further down to his weathered blue truck. Though when he got to it he skidded to a halt.
All of the tires had been shredded beyond what he thought even possible, scraps of rubber hanging haggardly off of the rims, which were also bent and dented.
“W-What the fuck…” Tommy gasped in horror, the reality of his new situation crashing into him, his hope gone.
What also crashed into him from the bed of his truck was a flurry of red flannel brandishing a knife.
They tumbled to the ground, Tommy wrestling the woman as he struggled to keep her knifed hand inches from his throat. Though she made it difficult; her other gloved hand squeezed hard around his windpipe. Tommy wheezed, his eyes rolling as his feet struggled to find purchase on the street.
“ Fuck you!!! ” The woman shrieked, pushing harder with strength that Tommy couldn’t wrap his head around.
The restriction of air was making Tommy weak, his hands around the woman's wrist shaking with the effort of keeping away the knife. He thought he saw spots in his vision. He felt like his throat would snap, or her fingers would tear right through him.
No… no… no…!
With a herculean effort Tommy swung his legs between them and kicked her right in her stomach. The woman rasped and recoiled, the wind knocked out of her as she coughed and tried to catch it. Riding his rush of adrenaline Tommy hustled to his feet and punched her in the side of her head, knocking her down. She tumbled in the melee, her knife skittering across the pavement with a clatter. She struggled to get up but Tommy had the better position, his boot kicking her square in the chest to keep her down. The woman rolled slowly, her breathing hoarse as she tried to curl and protect herself.
“Yeah you like that?!” Tommy screamed, kicking her while she was down. “You fuckin’ freaks! The fuck did you do to my sister?!”
A wet cough spattered crimson through the holes in her paintball mask, but Tommy was more concerned with the key ring on her belt. He’d seen a truck parked at their house. He could take it, get to the police… but he’d have to go back into the woods.
“... Fuuuck man,” Tommy hissed as he snatched them and ran back down the path, leaving the woman on the road.
The rhythmic thud of his feet on dirt kept Tommy sane as the house came into view again, the red truck still parked. Tommy fiddled with the keys, cursing to himself as she missed the lock and dropped them with shaking hands. Snatching them back from the dust Tommy used the marked up old key to unlock the door. He barely had his entire body inside the cab before he was trying the ignition, his last hope for escape and to right the wrongs of such a terrible place.
Blessing his ears was the sound of the engine revving as the old truck came to life, Tommy’s foot on the pedal before he could even switch gears from park to drive. One boot had still been on the ground in case of calamity, but…!
Tommy felt himself smile and laugh with relief. He was getting out! Out!
The gas pedal met the floor as the tires kicked up dirt, pulling Tommy along for the ride as he drove away from the house.
Bootfalls quickly approached. A gargantuan hand grabbed at the driver door left dangling open, and the gleam of metal didn’t register before it was too late. Though Tommy was able to swerve the truck to the side, his leg still caught a mean slice from Jason’s machete.
A sharp, burning jolt of lightning pain shot through him, through his leg and right up his spine. Time seemed to slow down as Tommy stared right at the creature running alongside the truck, nothingness looking right back from those holes in the hockey mask. It was devoid of anything; compassion, pity, humanity. The machete rose again, slick with Tommy’s own blood dripping from the blade, and a part of him calmly chimed in.
Keep going. Step on the gas.
Ah, yes. He needed to drive away. Without a word Tommy aimed his eyes forward, focused on the road as he gripped the steering wheel and navigated down the old worn dirt. The thing chasing him was quick but it couldn’t keep up with the vehicle and quickly fell behind, shambling to a stop in his rearview mirror. It watched him go, its chest heaving and fists tight.
As Tommy drove a thumping, prickly feeling kept coming from his leg, and examining it again he realized that the front tires of the truck were kicking up rocks. They were hitting his slashed, bloody leg that was dangling limply out of the still open door. Oh. He should really pull that in. Tommy did so, finally shutting the door as he pulled out onto the paved section of road leading away from Crystal Lake.
Breathing felt harder as Tommy’s head began to swim. How much blood was he losing?
Keep going. Don’t stop.
Yes, he had to stay awake. Keep driving. He thought it odd that he didn’t feel his leg much, or he felt it
so
much that it had just kind of wrapped around into not noticing it.
He passed his truck on the road.
Tommy didn’t see the woman in red.
A flash of color emerged from the treeline on his left. On gut instinct Tommy swerved the truck again and felt the entire thing jolt as he was showered with broken glass-
Just slightly to his right, now embedded in the dashboard, was a hatchet.
The rear view mirror offered him his last glance as Tommy sped off as fast as possible. Through the shattered rear window the woman in red stood in the middle of the road, her chest heaving and fists tight just like the other creature. Leaning forward she let out a screeching, mournful howl that echoed through the forest. It chilled Tommy down to his bones, the ghoulish thing not taking its hateful gaze off even as he disappeared out of sight.
They had failed.