The writing on the sign read "Hunt Ridge 4."

Just four more miles and Pamela would be reunited with her son. Even now, behind the wheel of the shaky old van, Pamela could hear Jason calling to her, his tormented wails drowning out that other voice—the voice of the girl Pamela had overpowered.

Glo looked at herself in the rearview and laughed.

"There's no point fighting, dear," she smiled. "Can't you see? You don't exist anymore. Not even your mother would recognize you now."

Suddenly her hands wrenched the steering wheel over to the left, aiming Swinburne's truck straight towards a wall of massive oak trees.

"I won't let you!" The vocal cords and the mind vibrating them both belonged to Gloria Sowici.

"Now now, dear," grimaced Pamela, struggling to bring the girl's body back under her influence. "That's not very nice. That's not very nice at all. You know I'll have to punish you."The tires kicked up dust from the shoulder before the truck veered and regained its rightful place along the center of the lane. Glo had failed in her attempt to defeat Pamela through suicide, and now she felt her dwindling life force being sucked into the maelstrom of Pamela's cruelty.

"I thought we might be friends,” said Pamela with a hint of regret. “But I guess it's time to say goodbye. It's a pity. I don't get along with many people and I had to wait a long time before I found you. You're special.”

Glo's failing life force tried to fight, to resist. She knew that, when Pamela finished speaking, her flame would be extinguished once and for all.

“Thanks to you," Pamela continued, "I'm going to find my son. You see, I've been away for far too long-Crystal Lake's become a mess. So I'm going to take Jason home and then we'll clear out all the trash. But first, I've got to make Jason better. He's sick, you know. That's why he hasn't killed those brutes at the carnival. But don't worry. I know how to fix Jason. By tomorrow, Jason won't need the silly old moon any more."

With that, Pamela tensed her stolen body and concentrated her willpower on one final task-a task that would stop the little bitch from interfering ever again. She could hear a recessed whisper in an alcove of her mind. She smiled. It was begging her for mercy. And then it fell silent.

Glo was dead.

   Friday The 13th: Carnival of Maniacs, chapter 11