The cabins! They were safe before, they must be safe now, right? You sprint past the axe handle that almost cleaved your brain in two, past the cabin with your condoms and your bong, directly into the center of the camp, nearly stumbling over a fire pit along the way. You see a beat-up pickup truck driving away and notice that a couple new counselors have been dropped off.
“Hey man what’s your hurry?” a burly guy whose biceps are literally ripping through his shirt asks.
“There’s… someone… in… the… woods…” you manage to get out. You really should think about that keto diet.
“There are campers all over these woods,” the other counselor, a young freckled redhead, responds.
“Yeah, but this camper chucked an axe at my head!” you blurt.
“They take trespassing pretty seriously in these parts,” the burly guy says. “I’m Dave. As you can see” – he flexes his arms – “I can protect you.”
You hear a whistling sound steadily growing in volume, and suddenly one of Dave’s eyes explodes from its socket. A throwing knife drops to the ground beside the excavated eyeball. The redhead screams and hightails it faster than you’ve ever seen someone skedaddle, and she yells out, “Come on, let’s goooooooo,” the rest trailing off into the wind because apparently all of the counselors are Olympic athletes compared to your schlubby ass. But you notice that Dave is still writhing around on the ground, apparently attempting to reattach his eyeball to his retina.
Though you see a hockey-masked figure approaching, you do notice that Dave’s not even crying in pain; dude really is a trooper! You also see the shiny glint of steel in the hockey-masked guy’s hand, and he looks buff enough to hack through your entire body.