Then Jason Voorhees stepped into Chris Seaver's path, raising his machete.

Seaver had the chance to fire three rounds, all of them kicking up dirt and leaves a few yards behind the masked murderer. Then the machete blade came down, splitting Seaver's night vision goggles and the screaming face beneath.

Samantha Noon whirled just in time to see the gout of blood spurting upwards from Seaver's face, the fluid tinted green by the night-vision effect. “Nooo!" she howled, elbowing her way through the others.

Townsend tried to draw down on the madman with his shotgun. Everything was a flashing frenzy of green shapes. Jason was right in the middle of them. There was no way to get a clear shot without risking taking down one of the Operators. Someone fired a couple rounds. Someone else cried out in anguish. Townsend saw a bright flash as Jason's machete lashed out again, laying Blair's thigh open to the bone. Blood gushing, the man dropped to the dirt, clutching his leg. The hockey mask glowed in Townsend's goggles. He had a clear shot. Just as the big man pulled the trigger, Noon shoved past him and he put the load of buckshot into a tree, kicking up bits of wood and bark. Then Seaver's twitching body fell in front of him. The man was trying to scream, but everything above his lower jaw was split wide open, cleaved all the way back to his soft palate. He was gargling on his own blood, spitting out flesh.

Sporadic gunfire and more screams. Townsend was sure he saw slugs impacting in the killer's torso, hammering him backwards, but that goddamned machete continued hacking and slashing through the team. Somebody else went down, their head landing a few feet away. Townsend heard Noon curse and saw her weapon spit fire. Jason took a swipe at her, the machete blade glancing off of her Kevlar helmet. The impact dropped her to the dirt. As Jason raised his machete for the killing blow, Townsend put a round of double-ought buck into his chest. The killer staggered back, away from the team. Suddenly, gunfire erupted all around Townsend as the strike team finally had a clear shot at their attacker. Amplified by his night-vision goggles, the muzzle-flashes were blinding.

"Hold it, hold it, hold it, HOLD IT!" Townsend yelled.

The gunfire ceased. Through the drifting haze of gunpowder smoke, Townsend could see... nothing. Jason was gone. Four Operators were down. Blair was the only one of those still moving. “Circle up!” Townsend ordered. What was left of the strike team rapidly formed a tight circle around their fallen comrades, weapons trained on the dark woods that enveloped them. "Call it off!" Townsend barked. Immediately, the team members rattled off their names in sequence. No response from Seaver, Miller or Hall. Blair was making all kinds of noise, so Townsend checked him off on the survivor column, for the moment, at least.

Chapter 10, Friday the 13th: Church of the Divine Psychopath