Chapter 39: S#7. Saturday the 13th (1)
by fnovelpia
S#7.
13-
An odd number, one more than twelve, which symbolizes completeness.
It often signifies imperfection and is generally viewed negatively.
In the West, it’s almost considered a curse, supported by several historical examples:
The thirteenth chapter of the Mayan calendar signals the apocalypse.
Judas, the betrayer, sat in the thirteenth seat at the Last Supper.
Jesus died on Friday the 13th.
The thirteenth chapter of the Book of Revelation describes the ‘beast’.
In the legend of King Arthur, the traitor’s seat at the Round Table was the thirteenth.
The thirteenth Tarot card represents death.
The Knights Templar were tortured and killed on Friday, October 13th, 1307.
A gallows typically has thirteen steps.
The ill-fated Apollo 13 launched at 13:13 on April 11th.
These examples suggest a curse associated with the number thirteen, though it might simply be a coincidence emphasized by its bad reputation.
In reality, there’s no need to worry about the number thirteen.
But here, it’s different.
Because this is inside a crazy horror movie…
……Today is Saturday the 13th.
Supermarket.
I came shopping with Ellen Strode.
She wore a tank top and jeans, highlighting her slender figure.
In a horror movie, where exposure often correlates with death rate, her choice of clothing was risky.
In a slasher film, she would likely be an early victim.
However, she would not be an early target here because killers typically prefer college girls, not married women.
Ellen could easily be mistaken for a college student, or even Nancy’s friend.
Fortunately, we were in a large supermarket, not a remote campground.
Ellen hummed happily as she pushed the cart, enjoying the shopping trip.
“Summer, do you want to go to the beach with me tomorrow?”
“The beach?”
“Yes. I love tanning.”
Her skin was beautifully bronzed, slowly returning to its original milky shade.
Ellen tans regularly because she dislikes her pale skin.
“If you apply the oil, Summer, that would be great.”
“Oil…? Me?”
“Yes. And maybe give me a massage; it’s been a while.”
Ellen said with a laugh.
As a man, I wasn’t bothered by her request to apply oil.
This openness is typical in America.
It’s a cultural difference.
We walked through the aisles, enjoying the sights.
The supermarket felt like a museum because of the early designs from famous brands and products discontinued in the 2020s.
We reached the vegetable section.
Ellen put thirteen fresh red onions in the cart.
Feeling uneasy, I removed one to make it twelve.
When she added thirteen beets to the cart, that ominous feeling returned.
I took one out again to make it twelve.
Ellen looked puzzled.
“What are you doing, Summer…?”
“Thirteen just doesn’t feel right.”
“That’s just superstition~!”
In a horror movie, you can’t dismiss superstitions so easily, especially not on the 13th.
“Ellen, did you hear about the recent murder case?”
“Of course. It shook the entire country.”
Thirteen days ago, a brutal murder occurred in a nearby town.
The incident shocked the American public as there were twelve victims.
“The killer’s name is Jayce Borison.”
“Jayce Borison. Sounds like a killer’s name.”
“He’s not just any ordinary killer. He committed a truly horrific act.”
Ellen shivered.
“Jayce invited his friends to his cabin for a party.”
“…”
“And he killed them all.”
The victims numbered twelve, including Jayce’s fiancée.
The party at the cabin quickly turned into a nightmare.
Instead of music, there were screams. Instead of champagne, blood was everywhere.
Jayce horrifically killed 12 people, each in a different way:
① He set one on fire.
② He crushed another’s torso with his knee.
③ He strangled another with a rope.
④ He broke another’s neck.
⑤ He electrocuted another with a torn wire.
⑥ He impaled another’s abdomen with a long pole.
⑦ He strangled another with his hands.
⑧ He blew up another’s head with gunpowder.
⑨ He decapitated another with a machete.
⑩ He pushed another off the cabin’s roof.
⑪ He drowned another in a lake.
⑫ He sawed another in half, causing death by shock.
This was a gruesome buffet of murders.
“Why did Jayce do this?”
“No one knows. There was no clear motive.”
“He killed 12 people for no reason? He must have been a complete psychopath.”
“No, that’s not it. Jayce was normal. He wasn’t abused as a child, nor did he use drugs. He was just a normal young man who had grown up without any trouble.”
It’s hard to believe that such an ordinary young man could brutally murder his friends and fiancée.
This mystery raises questions about what exactly happened that day.
“It’s eerie, there were almost no signs of resistance on the victims’ bodies. He didn’t drug them either.”
“That’s strange. What happened that day?”
“Only God knows. The dead can’t speak.”
When the police arrived, Jayce Borison was the only person alive inside the cabin.
He walked out quietly, covered in blood and wearing a hockey mask.
A chilling hockey mask…
The police demanded he surrender, but Jayce kept advancing.
They had no choice but to shoot.
⑬ Jayce finally fell after being hit by 13 bullets.
His body was stiff as old baguette bread.
This ‘Jayce Borison Massacre’ resulted in 13 victims.
It happened just 13 days ago.
Ellen and I passed the sports section.
We saw an old janitor mopping the floor, cleaning dirty mud footprints.
There were 13 footprints.
I paused, and Ellen looked puzzled.
“What’s wrong, Summer?”
“Ah… nothing.”
Why does ’13’ keep catching my eye?
It felt too eerie to dismiss as just a feeling.
We continued walking, pulling the cart. We noticed a display with 12 large hockey sticks, a comforting number.
Next to the hockey stick display, a manager was berating an employee.
The manager had half his hair missing.
The employee looked pathetic.
“Do you want to get fired?! Your work has been a mess lately!!”
“Uhh… sorry, manager…”
“Your mother must be the world’s greatest zookeeper for raising a dumb ape like you for over 20 years!!”
“Sorry, sorry, sorry…”
“If you’re sorry, then find the missing hockey stick! How can you not manage the inventory properly?!”
The manager was furious, pointing and swearing. The employee looked helpless.
Wait a minute.
A hockey stick was missing?
The display now held 12 sticks, but originally there were 13.
My sense of comfort turned to discomfort again.
Ellen and I walked past the manager and employee.
Suddenly, the display collapsed.
Hockey sticks fell towards Ellen.
Before one could hit her, I quickly blocked it with my arm.
Ellen was startled. The employee ran over, flustered.
“Sorry, customer…!!”
He apologized shrilly, sweating from the recent scolding.
His face was covered in acne, his glasses thick.
His greasy hair shone, and his arms were thin as toothpicks.
Jerry had a face that made him easy to dislike.
I felt pity for him.
As I placed the hockey stick back on the rack, I reassured him, “It’s okay… Jerry.”
I used the name from his supermarket uniform nametag.
Jerry smiled, showing his crooked teeth. “Are you really okay, customer?” he asked.
“Yes, no one’s hurt,” I replied.
“Hehe, your wife is really beautiful…!”
Jerry commented, looking at Ellen.
That comment was unexpected.
Ellen and I aren’t married.
Jerry’s behavior felt slightly rude.
He seemed like someone who should keep his distance socially.
I noticed that Jerry had exactly 13 pimples on his face.
I suddenly had the urge to pop one to make the number more comfortable.
Why was I counting someone else’s pimples?
I was obsessing over the number 13 like a lunatic.
We left the sports section.
Ellen linked her arm with mine softly. “Hehe. I feel a bit good~,” she said.
“What do you mean, Ellen?” I asked.
“Just,” she chuckled and headed to the checkout.
It was a busy weekend evening, and the store was quite crowded.
We lined up at the checkout.
A radio on the checkout counter was broadcasting breaking news.
-[Breaking News:
The body of ‘Jayce Borison,’ the mass murderer who shocked America, has disappeared from the mortuary! Meanwhile, a mysterious fire broke out in the evidence room where Jayce Borison’s hockey mask was stored, killing three officers and injuring ten. Are the missing body and the evidence room fire connected in a planned crime? Skilled investigators are on the case to determine the cause…]
Jayce Borison’s body… disappeared?
I felt a chill run down my spine.
“Oh my. That’s really serious,” Ellen commented nonchalantly.
“By the way, I forgot to buy lemons. Summer, can you watch the cart for a moment?” she asked.
“No, Ellen. I’ll go get them,” I offered and went to the produce section.
As I reached to pick a lemon from the display, my hand stopped.
There were exactly 13 lemons left.
How many times would I encounter the number 13?
It could no longer be considered a coincidence.
It seemed fate was pointing to the number 13.
Then, it happened.
A sound like a circuit breaker tripping occurred, and suddenly, the store lights went off.
It wasn’t just the grocery aisle.
The entire store’s lights were out, plunging it into darkness.
It was a dark night, and not even moonlight reached inside.
The lemons in the display turned as black as coal in the darkness.
I couldn’t see anything.
People murmured around.
The manager shouted loudly.
“Attention, shoppers in the store! We are experiencing a temporary power outage, please do not panic… Aaaaagh!!!”
A scream echoed through the darkness.
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