"Yeah," said Ned, making a big production out of rearranging all the burgers on the grill, flourishing the spatula like a conductor leading an orchestra. Alice sighed. Maybe Ned was being a bit juvenile but at least he didn't keep his feelings secret. If Brenda held up a hoop, he'd undoubtedly jump through it. There was something to be said about that puppy-like infatuation. It was sort of cute and she could tell that Brenda was responding to it. She wished Steve would be a bit more demonstrative. He was always so serious, so intense. She wished he'd lighten up a little. One would think from the way he acted that everything at Camp Crystal Lake was a matter of life or death.

Bill shut the door behind them as Brenda switched on the flashlight, aiming it at the old gasoline powered generator. The wind was starting to pick up outside. All they needed now was a power failure just as a storm was about to hit.

"You really think he's going to be bent out of shape?" Brenda asked as Jack approached the generator.

"I don't know," said Jack. They weren't looking forward to Steve's reaction when he learned there was something wrong with the power lines. Throughout the day, he'd been obsessive about every little detail of each job they had done. Running into town to pick up more supplies every few hours, making up new lists of things for them to do, checking on their work when he got back and finding fault with everything. None of them looked forward to sitting out a storm in a cabin without any lights, listening to Steve complaining about all the things they hadn't done.

Bill scanned the interior of the cabin, the oldest one in the camp. It needed too much renovation to be useful as a dorm for the campers, so Steve had designed it as the plant cabin, the one where they kept all the tools and emergency supplies.

"Hey," said Bill, glancing at the generator. "This looks almost like the one at my uncle's cabin in Maine."

"What an antique!" said Brenda.

"Well, here goes." Said Jack, priming it.

He threw the switch, kicked it over and it sputtered to life, making a sound like an outboard motor about to throw a rod.

"What hath God wrought?" Brenda watched the generator shudder on its mounts as if it were alive.

Jack dusted off his palms and stepped back from it, watching it dubiously. He wouldn't have been surprised if it shook itself apart, but it seemed to work. They went outside and looked at the sky. It was a cloudy blue-grey. The wind had died down and everything was still, as if waiting for the storm to break. The surface of the lake was mirror smooth.