Z-Moll turned to look in the direction Trick had just come from-as Jason grabbed her shoulders, lifted her off her feet, and pushed her back onto the sharpest, heaviest branch of the old maple. She kicked and screamed as the wood drilled into her spine. Jason drove her forward, screwing the limb of the tree through her intestines. She heaved and punched, her mouth spat a plume of blood into the air-the droplets falling on Jason's hockey mask. He pushed harder. The bough poked out through her stomach, tearing a raised hole in her gut. She wailed and cried. For her mom, for her dad, for her sister, for her dog, for her friends, for her school: she was crying for her whole damn life, and she wanted it all back.

Jason spun her on the wooden spoke until her head was upside down and she was staring into his shins. Then he grabbed both her ankles and split her legs further than they wanted to go. Z-Moll retched and screamed as her body began to rip-it was just like pulling the legs off a roast chicken. Jason tore her groin apart, gashing her all the way down from her pussy to the wooden spear sticking out of her gut. But the most appalling facet of the murder was just how long the girl remained conscious before death finally seized her.

Jason stood back.

Z-Moll hung upside down in a broken V of scarlet. Her legs flopped askew and her eyes were like glass shining in the moonlight. Suddenly the branch cracked from the weight of the dead girl and then broke, dropping the whole bloody mess into the dirt.

Chapter 5, Friday the 13th: Carnival of Maniacs