Running on tiptoe, clenching her teeth to keep from crying out, she ran back to the main cabin. It was an obvious place. Maybe the woman wouldn't think to look there. If she barricaded herself inside again… No. that wouldn't do, she thought, that would only give her hiding place away. She could barricade the door, but there was nothing she could do about the windows.

She ran inside the cabin and closed the door. Her wild gaze fell on Brenda's body, lying on the floor in a pool of blood amid shards of shattered glass. She whimpered, biting her lips to stop the screams that threatened to tear loose from her throat.

She had to find a place to hide, but where?

The pantry!

She slipped to the window and glanced out. There was no sign of Mrs. Voorhees.

Once inside the small pantry, she backed up against the wall and huddled in the darkness, trying not to breathe. Someone had to come! The lines must have been blown down by the storm and they wouldn't be able to call the camp to find out of everything was alright. They'd have to send someone but what if no one came?

No, don't think of that, she told herself, someone has to come!

She gulped and took a deep breath, trying to steady her nerves, to stop her heart from pounding.

She won't give up, she thought, I've seen her. I can identify her as the killer. She knows that she can't let me live.

She brought her hands to her face, sobbing quietly. It was hopeless. The cabin door slammed open and she froze as the lights came on. She could see the light through the cracks in the boards of the wooden door. She could hear the woman moving around out there. Something crashed to the floor.

Glass tinkled.

Go Away! Alice shut her eyes tightly and prayed. Please, please go away!

Suddenly, the cabin was silent. Alice opened her eyes and listened, holding her breath. The footsteps outside the pantry had stopped. She huddled on the floor just by the door, leaning against it, shivering and biting her bottom lip.

Please, please…

The doorknob turned, the door started to rattle and she felt the impact of Mrs. Voorhees throwing her shoulder against it. She scrambled to her feet and backed away, looking at the shelves around her, desperately seeking something she could use as a weapon.

She grabbed a large iron skillet and held it before her with both hands, staring wide-eyed at the door. The door shivered as Mrs. Voorhees repeatedly threw herself against it. But it held. She couldn't get inside.