The camp owner failed to respond to her frantic pleas. Dugan’s office hadn’t been locked, and Melanie bolted the door closed after slamming it. Dugan’s office, screaming for help the whole way.Īt her back, fast and heavy steps gave chase. Melanie about-faced and bolted up the trail toward Mr. A misshapen silhouette of a man, buoyed by an unnatural form, pulled open the door and filled the frame. In a sprint back to the counselor’s cabin, Jennifer’s killer had presented himself. She’d gone walking down to the female counselor’s bunk and found Jennifer there-strung up on the inside of the door like a rabbit and suspended off the floor with thick manila rope, rugged gashes sliced across her neck.Ī thick pool of blood grew at her feet, collecting every drop from her leaking body.
Melanie stumbled across the first bodies an hour earlier, when everyone failed to show up for their nightly poker roundtable. A hammer buried so deep in his neck that only half the handle jutted up through the torn flesh and broken cartilage. Across the way, Bill stared indifferently-his one visible eye vacant and popped wide. They’d fallen from the shelves during her impromptu barricade. The corner of the room was a sea of spilled cassette tapes and smashed boombox pieces that surrounded her. She pulled her head closer to her knees and winced each time the madman’s fists fell on the door. Forcing through it would require more strength than she hoped the killer had. Melanie had thought fast, leaving her seat beside the fireplace and pushing two bookcases in front of the shattered sill, reinforcing them with all the furniture in the cabin’s living room-a crude blockade of couches, chairs and lamps. Melanie heard impatient footfalls pacing just beyond the cabin wall.Īcross the room, Bill’s body lay sprawled across the floor, face down in a thousand glass fragments-hurled through the casement window five minutes earlier.
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