Annie Phillips, 19, was a traveler. She looked as if the problems of the past wasn't preying on her mind; her brown hair was long; her hazel eyes flickered with youthful dreams of the nineteen seventies. The conservative view of her parents was gone; the freedom of the "Flower Children" of the 1960's, was something that was akin to school pressures of the Civil Rights Movement, the Beatles, and other rock bands of like The Beach Boys, and the Mammas and the Pappas; and Woodstock, in August of 1969, molded today's youths into a darkness since the political assassinations of President John F. Kennedy, in Dallas, Texas, on November 22, 1963, and America was free to deal with the news that evil forces had come to shatter the vision of death. Annie was a girl of the times; she was a camp cook. She glanced at the sign that read Elston Gas Supplies; she saw a mangy looking dog. It stared at her as if waiting for a sign. 'Hello, boy...sorry, girl. How far to Camp Crystal Lake? Three miles, huh'. She wore a plaid shirt; blue flared jeans; a black belt; and a pink colored sweater across her breasts. She walked past the bridge; she headed to the Crystal Lake Diner, that was around since 1949. Annie waited. She opened the door; she was sure the locals were eating their hamburgers, and fries, and drinking warm coffee. 'Excuse me, but can you tell me how to get to Camp Crystal Lake?', Annie asked the owner.

'Are they re-opening that place up again?', Mabel Sable, 58, asked her.

'About ten miles, right Enos', Diane Parker, the 37 year old ower asked the trucker. 

'About that', Enos, 61, answered. 

He was eating a hamburger with the Lot, and sipping his warm coffee. 

'Name's Annie'.

'The camp's half way', Diane said.

'Okay, Annie. Let's go',  Enos said.

And she smiled, and left with the truck driver.

***

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