We survivors were in a bad way. Each one carried a different trauma, each one evoked that image of the killer appeared to take our lives, each one hoping to be next.
But the one who appeared through the bushes was Jason with the killer's Jack-o-lantern. Jason was covered in scratches and with a broken nose, but he was alive. That mysterious fellow had appeared, and not the lunatic who had imprisoned us against the trees. The 10 campers stared in astonishment at the skinny, mysterious guy who until recently we had thought was a submissive, wimpy writer.
Jason looked down before facing our scrutiny.
“What happened?" The first to speak was Barbara, Roberto's girlfriend. –“And the guy with the knife and that creepy flashlight?”
Jason showed the bloody knife.
We all screamed, including me, who was the camp guide.
“What have you done?, did you kill him?" were the questions of the only two men in the camp, except for me and Jason.
The writer, however, did not answer quickly and headed back to his tent. Apparently he didn't care about untying us. I watched as he rummaged through his backpack until he pulled out some first aid supplies. When he had them in hand, he went back into the forest.
The cold began to seep through my skin, I started to shiver, although I was not the only one.
The moon was at its zenith, and seemed to look at us fiercely, especially me, for bringing strangers.
First the assassin, who was none other than Jeancarlos, or so he called himself. He was a guy who contacted me through social networks to join the camping trip in the mountains. That never seemed strange to me, he seemed like a normal person, but at nightfall he beat us all and tied us with chains to the trees. The only one who got away with it was Jason, who went to relieve himself. Another weird guy also signed up.
Jason came back dragging Jeancarlos. Barbara screamed in terror as she thought he was dead. However, she noticed that the writer knew first aid. He had plugged and bandaged the murderer's wounds with a mastery he did not yet possess.
“He's not dead! I only stuck the knife in his ribs as a defens” Jason took charge of tying up Jeancarlos with the efficiency of a military tactician. “He went after me thinking it would be easy, but I anticipated the situation by the screams and pleas of you guys” the boy made sure he couldn't get away easily. “I hid in a favorable area, where he would not see me and fell on top of him. In the struggle I accidentally stuck the weapon and he has lost a lot of blood, we must move him.”
Those present kept silent.
That did not stop Jason's explanations.
“Wait, guys.”
Again he went to his tent and from his backpack he took out the tools to free us. With the pliers he broke the chains and each of us, including me, sat still stunned. The trauma of the beatings, the insults, the death threats haunted our minds.
Jason, however, seemed unaffected. He went around the camp setting everything up. He lit a campfire, heated some coffee and gave us all some, then with a gas stove he made a frugal dinner, but to keep us satisfied. Anyway, he did everything he was supposed to do.
I still had the bruises, but in my mind it was still hanging around when I met those two guys. One affable and the other quiet, one kind and the other observant, one extroverted and the other introverted. Jeancarlo had made himself known as an accountant in a bank and Jasón only as a writer, just that, he did not even talk about his achievements as Jeancarlos did.
I picked up other different attributes. Jason handled terms of economics when he interrupted Patrick about things in the field, he did it with subtlety, but with a mastery that impressed me. He also knew about the mountains and nature, wildlife and plants, he knew about climbing and camping gear. Jason spoke propitiously and kept silent. At that moment I was piecing the fragments together.
While the writer helped us recover at night, he was not a skinny submissive, he had a build from training every day, only he hid it in baggy clothes.
“How did you manage to bring Jean down?" Patrick finally wanted to know.
Jason looked at all of them. I understood that he was thinking what to say.
“Well, he has no training in killing. I can say it was the first time he was going to do it," he poured a new round of coffee without stopping talking. “I was a paramedic on a military tactical operations team. They taught me a lot about hand-to-hand combat, we must not only learn how to rescue, but how to survive ourselves.”
That said it all, however, I felt that Jason contained too much information.
“What else do you deduce from him?" I pointed to the assassin. “Why did he want to kill us?”
Jason became serious.
“He wanted to make a sacrifice to some pagan gods. Someone or some cult urged him to do this." Jason stood up to show them a tattoo that the assassin had. “The tattoo is a goat. I have seen these tattoos on members of violent cults. Maybe he wanted to kill them to get a blessing. Besides, it's Halloween, these movements are a trend at this time of year.”
“They're crazy!" Barbara sobbed again and her boyfriend reassured her.
“Will he live?" I asked, filled with anger.
Jason nodded.
“Yes, but tomorrow morning I must take him to a care center. Otherwise he will bleed to death.”
I nodded. I didn't like letting that bastard live, but it was the right thing to do.
“Do you want to partner with me, boy?" I asked determined, I wasn't going to let such an opportunity slip away.
“But what could I do? I'm just a writer!
God too much modesty for my savior!
