Hurled from outside by someone with incredible strength. Alice recoiled from the window, screaming. Brenda's corpse fell onto the kitchen floor like a sack. It was pierced with arrows and caked with blood. Blood on her face and neck. Blood everywhere. And she was tied tightly with rough rope, tied so her arms were against her side to prevent them from flopping around.

"Brenda!" Alice whimpered. She sank to her hands and knees and crawled around the body, away from the window, sobbing uncontrollably. She crawled to the center of the room, backed up against the stove and leaned up against it, rising unsteadily to her feet, thinking only that she had to get away. She had to run. But where?

The killer was outside, outside that very cabin and she could block the door but there was no way to block the windows, no way to watch all of them at once. She tried to run back to the main room but something caught hold of her jacket.

Terror-stricken, she fought against the pole, convinced that the killer had somehow gotten inside.

She turned and saw that the jacket had caught on the oven door. She shrugged out of it and ran into the main room, then realized she had dropped the baseball bat in the kitchen.

She stood in the center of the room, glancing wildly from window to window, unable to force herself to go back in the kitchen. And then, she saw approaching headlights.

Steve!

She started to pull down her barricade, sobbing with relief.

"Steve!" she screamed, "Steve!"

She struggled with the knot on the rope securing the door, her fingers working spastically. Finally, it was loose and she tore it away, threw open the door and went running out toward the headlights of the Jeep, crying hysterically, shouting Steve's name over and over again.

She heard the car door slam and saw a figure step out of the Jeep, silhouetted in the glare of the headlights.

"Steve!" she cried, running up to him.

It wasn't Steve.

Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Alice came to an abrupt halt less than a yard from the tall slim blond woman who stood before her, dressed in boots, slacks, and a sweater.

"Who… who are you?" she whimpered, backing away.

The woman gave her a friendly smile.

"Why… Why I'm Mrs. Voorhees, an old friend of the Christies'."

Alice ran up and threw her arms around her, sobbing.

"Help me… Help me please…"

"Now, now dear…" said Mrs. Voorhees, trying to comfort her, "I can't help you if you don't calm down, please."

"But… she's dead!" sobbed Alice, gasping for breath, "He's dead and oh my god, poor Bill! Oh God! They're dead… they're all dead!"

"Alright… alright…" said Mrs. Voorhees, as if trying to humor her. "All right, come on dear, then show me."

"No!" Alice screamed, moving away from her, "No… no."

"But it's all right," Mrs. Voorhees shook her head and smiled.