Marilyne Monroe's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Marilyne Monroe ran barefoot through the black woods, and every breath told her Jason Voorhees was still coming. She wore only a bikini. Her friends had scattered when he broke the cabin door, and she hadn't stopped since. The cold ate at her skin. Her feet bled on the frozen ground. She knew the truth without saying it: without cover, she wouldn't last until sunrise. He would find her by the shivering alone. She stumbled into a clearing and saw an old pine cabin. Its windows were dark. Its wood was warped and gray. She threw herself at the door and shoved it open. Inside, three women in bikinis froze against the far wall. Marilyne knew them. They were the friends she'd lost in the trees. They clung to each other, wide-eyed, teeth chattering, no warmer than she was. One held a torn blanket. It was not enough for four. "We can't stay," Marilyne whispered. "He follows the cold. He'll hear us before he sees us." Then a floorboard creaked behind the women. A man stepped from the shadow, blond hair, blue eyes, a pistol raised and steady. Camouflage marked him as a soldier. Marilyne's hands shot up. "Down," he said. His voice stayed low and flat. "I'm not him." He lowered the gun. "Lieutenant Mitchell. My unit tracked the killer to these woods." He pulled a folded coat from his pack and pushed it into Marilyne's hands. It was thick and warm. "Put it on. You're no good to me frozen." She dragged the coat over her shoulders. Heat spread through her like water. For the first time in an hour, she stopped shaking. "There's more of us," Mitchell said. He keyed a small radio. "Steel, Crimson. I've got four survivors. Cabin, north edge." The radio hissed. A woman answered, calm and clipped. "Crimson copies. I've got eyes on the tree line." A sniper, somewhere out in the dark, watching the ground Marilyne had just crossed. Mitchell handed a spare jacket to the nearest woman and pointed the others toward a stack of wool by the stove. "Cover up. All of you. He can't hear what he can't chase." Marilyne breathed. The killing cold was gone. She wasn't alone anymore, and she wasn't going to freeze in the dark. Then glass shattered in the front window. A machete blade punched through the wood beside the door. Mitchell spun, gun up. "He found the light," he said. "Move. Back door. Now." Marilyne grabbed the nearest woman's wrist and ran. She had a coat on her back and soldiers at her side. But Jason was already inside the cabin walls, and the warm shelter had become a trap.