Mahler was still staring at his partner. Kemp spread his hands, as though confused. He opened his mouth. “Hey, Kip. I can’t find the damn—”

Then his mouth wasn’t there anymore. Neither was his head.

Halo shrieked so loudly, she could have sworn that something snapped in her throat. Mahler just sat there, goggling at the jet of blood that was spurting from his colleague’s neck stump, spraying the windshield like rain. For a surreal moment, the body remained standing like a puppet, swaying gently. Then the knees buckled and it fell out of view.

Jason Voorhees stepped into Kemp’s place, like an actor taking his mark on a floodlit stage. In the headlights’ glare, he glowed with a new intensity. He was once again clutching the machete.

Chapter 14, Friday the 13th: Hate Kill Repeat