Ash was about to leave the waterfront when something above the nearby warehouses caught his attention.
A massive new billboard had been installed beside the port.
Ash stopped beneath it and stared.
The advertisement featured a large athlete wearing a hockey mask.
That alone would not have meant anything, but the designers had deliberately aged the mask until it looked yellowed, cracked, and weather-beaten. The resemblance to Jason Voorhees was so obvious that Ash could only stand there wondering who had approved the campaign.
"Seriously?"
He studied the enormous image.
"Did anyone bother asking Jason for permission?"
Ash had no idea that the Crystal Lake massacre already produced an unexpected cultural aftershock.
Local news reports officially described the killer as an unidentified copycat imitating Jason Voorhees, but the coverage also reminded younger audiences of Jason's old murder cases. Stories about the hockey-masked killer spread rapidly through newspapers, radio programs, and local television until Jason became a subject of morbid fascination again.
Some marketing executive apparently noticed the trend.
The company promoting an upcoming hockey championship adopted a modified version of Jason's iconic mask to attract attention. Barely half a month after the Crystal Lake murders, the giant advertisement was already hanging above the Manhattan waterfront.
Ash shook his head.
America could commercialize almost anything.
He dismissed the billboard as nothing more than an absurd coincidence and continued toward the subway.
What Ash did not see was the small boat approaching the shoreline behind him.
Five exhausted people sat inside wearing red life jackets. A black-and-white dog huddled near their feet while one of the young men rowed them toward the lights of Manhattan.
The Statue of Liberty appeared in the distance.
Julius Gaw nearly laughed from relief.
"We actually made it! Look!"
Sean Robertson turned and stared toward the skyline. After everything that happened aboard the SS Lazarus, the sight of New York felt almost impossible.
Across from them sat Rennie Wickham, her uncle Charles McCulloch, and their teacher Colleen Van Deusen. All three looked exhausted, soaked, and barely able to process the fact that they were still alive.
The boat finally reached the industrial pier.
Rennie climbed out first and removed her life jacket.
"There has to be a phone somewhere nearby. We need to call the police."
Charles immediately agreed.
"Absolutely. We find a phone first, then we stay somewhere public until the police arrive."
Julius, Sean, Colleen, and Rennie followed him away from the waterfront while the dog remained close beside them.
None of them looked back.
Ripples slowly spread across the dark water behind the abandoned boat.
A large hand appeared at the edge of the pier.
Jason Voorhees pulled himself from the water.
His clothing remained soaked and badly torn from the destruction aboard the SS Lazarus, while the familiar yellowed hockey mask covered his decaying face. Jason stood motionless for several seconds before slowly turning his head.
Then he noticed the billboard.
The enormous hockey player stared down from above wearing a mask nearly identical to his own.
Jason tilted his head.
For several seconds, he simply looked at it.
If anyone had been watching, the scene would have been almost comical. The undead killer who inspired the image had arrived in Manhattan just in time to discover that strangers were already using his face to sell hockey.
Eventually, Jason turned away.
His attention shifted toward the direction Rennie and the others had gone.
Then he followed.
The industrial streets near the waterfront were nearly deserted at that hour. Low warehouses and aging buildings lined the road, while distant traffic created only a faint background hum.
Rennie walked beside Sean and looked back toward the harbor.
"I still can't believe we survived."
Their graduation trip had been supposed to celebrate the end of high school. Instead, Jason climbed aboard the SS Lazarus and turned the entire voyage into a massacre.
Most of their classmates never reached New York.
Sean had survived because he was the captain's son and knew enough about the ship to help during the disaster. Julius, Rennie, Charles, and Colleen escaped with him by boat after the vessel was lost.
Colleen released a slow breath.
"We were lucky."
She barely finished speaking before two men stepped from an alley.
Both carried handguns.
"Everybody stop," one of them shouted. "Wallets. Cash. Jewelry. Put it down."
The five survivors froze.
After escaping an undead serial killer aboard a sinking ship, they had managed to reach Manhattan only to get robbed within minutes.
One of the gunmen became impatient.
He stepped toward Charles and shoved the handgun close to his face.
"Come on, old man. Wallet. Now."
Charles immediately reached inside his jacket and handed it over.
The robber opened it and grinned when he saw the cash.
"Not bad."
Charles watched both men carefully. Their movements were restless and overly aggressive, and their eyes showed the unfocused excitement of people who were probably high.
That made them more dangerous.
Someone desperate for money could be negotiated with. Someone intoxicated and carrying a loaded gun might shoot simply because he became nervous.
Charles quietly signaled the others not to resist.
The second robber was less interested in their wallets.
His eyes settled on Rennie.
She was exhausted, her hair still damp from the escape, but the long night had done little to hide her youth or striking appearance.
The robber smiled and stepped closer.
He pressed the barrel beneath Rennie's chin and forced her head upward.
Charles immediately moved.
"Leave her alone."
The robber turned toward him.
"You got a problem?"
Colleen raised both hands.
"Please. Take the money and go. Don't hurt her."
The man looked back at Rennie.
"Who said anything about hurting her?"
His smile widened.
"I just think she should come with us."
Rennie pulled away, but he caught her by the arm and dragged her toward the corner.
She shouted and struggled while Charles, Sean, Julius, and Colleen tried to follow.
The first robber raised his handgun at them.
"Stay where you are unless you want her dead."
They stopped.
The long-haired robber hauled Rennie around the corner and disappeared from sight.
His partner gathered the remaining wallets and valuables before backing away.
"That's better. Don't follow us."
He turned.
A fist hit him directly in the face.
The robber's eyes rolled back before his legs collapsed beneath him. He hit the pavement unconscious without firing a shot.
Ash lowered his hand.
Rennie stood behind him, shaken but unharmed.
A few seconds earlier, Ash had been walking toward the subway when he heard her shouting from the next street. He approached quietly and watched long enough to understand the situation.
The long-haired robber made the mistake of putting his handgun away so he could use both hands to control Rennie.
Ash did not waste the opportunity.
One carefully restrained punch knocked him unconscious.
Ash then circled back toward the others while the second robber remained distracted by the wallets, ending the fight with another blow before the man even realized someone else had arrived.
Ash had deliberately held back both times.
With his current strength, a full-force punch would not have knocked either robber unconscious.
It would have shattered their skulls.
Rennie stared at him.
Ash looked toward the unconscious men and flexed his hand.
"Welcome to New York."