The subway car rattled like it was trying to shake itself apart.
Fluorescent lights flickered overhead, turning the empty seats into shifting shadows. Outside the windows, darkness swallowed everything except the occasional flash of graffiti-stained walls.
Manhattan never really slept.
But underground?
It felt dead.
Rennie sat at the far end of the car, hugging her jacket tighter around her shoulders.
The class trip was over.
The celebration cruise had turned into a nightmare.
And now she didn't even know who was left.
Somewhere in the tunnels beneath New York, Jason Voorhees was walking.
Not running.
Not hunting frantically.
Walking.
Like he had all the time in the world.
Two cars ahead, Blake wiped sweat from his forehead.
"I'm telling you, he's not down here," he muttered. "He was on the docks. We lost him."
No one answered.
Maya sat beside him, gripping a broken piece of metal pipe she'd pulled from the wrecked ship earlier.
"You didn't see what he did," she whispered.
Blake scoffed. "Nobody survives that long. He's human."
The train screeched violently as it slowed.
Lights flickered.
Then went out.
Darkness swallowed the car.
A few people screamed.
Emergency red lights blinked on seconds later — dim, pulsing, barely enough to see faces.
The train had stopped.
Somewhere between stations.
A metallic thud echoed from the rear car.
Everyone froze.
Another thud.
Closer.
Blake stood slowly. "Probably just track noise."
A third thud.
This one was unmistakable.
Footsteps.
Heavy.
Measured.
Metal against metal.
Maya's breathing quickened.
"He's here."
The door between cars trembled slightly.
Blake swallowed. "Stay back."
The handle turned.
Slowly.
Deliberately.
The door creaked open.
And Jason stepped through.
He filled the doorway.
Water-stained jacket.
Mask emotionless.
Head slightly tilted.
The red emergency lights made him look almost unreal — like something dragged up from the bottom of a river.
No one moved.
Blake raised the pipe. "Back up!"
Jason stepped forward.
Blake swung.
The pipe connected with Jason's shoulder.
It sounded like hitting a tree trunk.
Jason didn't react.
Blake swung again — harder.
Jason caught the pipe mid-swing.
Crushed it in his hand.
Metal groaned and bent.
Blake's face drained of color.
Jason grabbed him by the collar and lifted him clean off the floor.
Blake kicked, gasping, clawing at Jason's arm.
Jason slammed him against the metal pole of the subway.
The sound echoed through the car.
Blake's breath exploded out of him.
Jason lifted him again — and drove him backward through the glass partition of the subway door.
Glass shattered.
Blake collapsed across the broken frame, unmoving.
The car went silent except for the train's distant hum.
Maya screamed.
Chaos erupted.
Students scrambled over seats.
Someone tried forcing the front door open.
Locked.
Jason stepped fully into the car.
Maya swung the pipe at his head.
He caught her wrist.
Twisted.
The pipe fell.
She tried to run.
Jason grabbed her by the back of her jacket and hurled her across the aisle.
She hit the opposite seats hard, struggling to breathe.
He walked toward her.
Slow.
Unstoppable.
Maya crawled backward, tears mixing with sweat.
"Please—"
Jason lifted her by the throat.
For a moment, she dangled.
Kicking.
Fading.
Then he hurled her into the subway window.
The glass cracked but didn't break.
He pulled her back.
And slammed her again.
The window shattered this time.
Cold tunnel air rushed in.
Jason held her there — half outside the broken window — as the train suddenly lurched back to life.
The wheels screamed.
The tunnel walls began rushing past.
Sparks flew inches from her face.
Her scream vanished into the roar of motion.
Jason let go.
The train kept moving.
The seat where she'd been was empty.
Rennie covered her mouth to stop herself from crying out.
Only three of them left now.
The front door finally gave way under panicked hands.
They rushed into the next car.
Jason followed.
Not fast.
Never fast.
But always closer.
The next car was nearly empty — just a homeless man sleeping across two seats.
He woke as they burst in.
"What the hell—?"
Jason stepped through the door behind them.
The man blinked.
"Aw hell no."
He tried scrambling away.
Jason didn't hesitate.
He grabbed the man's coat and pulled him upright.
The man struggled, swinging wildly.
Jason drove him headfirst into the metal handrail.
Once.
Twice.
The man went limp.
Jason dropped him without even looking down.
Rennie felt something inside her snap.
This wasn't just revenge.
This wasn't just following them.
Jason didn't care who got in his way.
The city meant nothing to him.
It was just new territory.
The train began slowing again.
A station approached.
Lights flickered brighter ahead.
An escape.
"Run!" Rennie shouted.
The doors opened.
They sprinted onto the platform.
Late-night commuters stared in confusion.
Jason stepped off the train seconds later.
People started screaming.
Phones dropped.
A businessman froze mid-step.
Jason walked straight toward him.
The man tried backing away.
Too slow.
Jason shoved him violently against a concrete pillar.
The crack echoed.
The businessman slid down, unconscious.
Crowds scattered in every direction.
Police sirens began wailing in the distance.
Red and blue lights flickered down the stairs.
Jason stopped.
Tilted his head.
Then turned back toward Rennie.
Always Rennie.
She realized it with horror.
He wasn't randomly chasing them.
He was following her.
Through the ship.
Through the streets.
Through the tunnels.
She didn't know why.
But she knew one thing:
Manhattan wasn't big enough to hide her.
Two police officers rushed down the stairs.
"Drop the weapon!" one shouted.
Jason faced them.
The officer fired.
The gunshots exploded through the station.
Jason staggered slightly.
Then kept walking.
The second officer fired.
Jason reached them.
In one motion, he grabbed the first officer's arm and slammed him into the tiled wall.
The gun clattered away.
The second officer tried to retreat.
Jason swung.
The machete caught the officer across the chest.
He collapsed.
Jason stepped over him.
Rennie felt the world closing in.
The city that never sleeps was wide awake now.
Sirens howled above.
Helicopters began circling.
But none of it mattered.
Because Jason wasn't leaving.
He was adapting.
And Manhattan was becoming his new hunting ground.
Rennie grabbed the last surviving classmate — Tyler — and ran up the stairs into the street.
Neon lights burned overhead.
Times Square pulsed with color and noise.
People everywhere.
Taxis honking.
Screens flashing advertisements.
It should've felt safe.
Instead, it felt like nowhere left to run.
Behind them, the subway entrance doors slowly creaked open.
Jason stepped out into the heart of Manhattan.
Traffic slowed.
People stared.
Some laughed — thinking it was a costume.
A joke.
Until they saw the machete.
Until they saw the blood on his jacket.
The laughter died.
Screams replaced it.
Jason looked up at the towering buildings.
Then back at Rennie.
And started walking.