Felicia and Gregory are camping for a weekend getaway on the 4th of July in camp area D, site 7.
The screams started at around midnight or 1 AM. Felicia could not remember to the exact timeframe. What she does remember is the scream itself. A woman in undeniable pain. Pleading for someone to hear and come to her rescue.
Felicias husband, Gregory, grabbed his Taurus G2s, 9mm handgun and tore through the pitch dark in his skivvies, tripping and stumbling across the rough, rocky ground. Gregory managed to get to the campsite of D13. The screaming had subsided but the strong odor of iron was filling the air. Gregory, who had worked in an Emergency Room for five years knew that it was the smell of blood. The scent of blood is never erased from your mind.
Gregory grabbed the handle for the door and began to open it, gun raised when the door came back and clobbered him in the face, busting his nose open so that the smell of blood was now his own. Gregory did not lose the handle of his firearm, but did however lose his sight due to the water that was now infiltrating his eyes from the impact of the door.
Without knowing what direction the attacker ran, he did not want to wonder around in the dark more than he had to. Gregory checked the halfway ajar door to the camper and saw blood seeping out. More blood than you would see from just an artery being cut on. Gregory did not go inside, instead he ran, he ran as fast as he could back to his camper, and wife sitting in D7. Screaming