In front of the car, illuminated by the ghostly glow of the headlights, the horrific fight continued. It was Boone who had saved her. He must have knocked into the man just as the gun went off, ruining his shot. Now he was riding the killer like a cowboy on a wild bronco. He seemed to be whipping the man, raising and lowering his right arm down into the killer's back again and again.

Then Carly saw the knife in Boone's hand, Boone's hunting knife, the one he had used to scare her last night! Blood geysered from the killer in all directions, gushing and spurting. The killer dropped his shotgun and began wildly slapping his hands back at Boone, trying to get him off his back. But Boone kept stabbing. And slowly, slowly, the killer's movements began to slow. Then he sunk to one knee. With Boone still on his back, he fell face forward in the dirt.

Boone continued to stab him. Finally he realized the man was dead. He stood slowly. Carly slid off the car and came toward him. She was bleeding. But she couldn't feel a thing. Her body and her mind were numb.

   Friday the 13th: Mother's Day, chapter 17