Hunter slammed down the brake, practically standing on it. Halo gritted her teeth, determined not to vanish through the windshield. The truck jerked violently, reaching a whiplash halt.

Jason soared over their cabin, down over the hood and bounced along the road like a lump of clay, in front of the truck. He had initially struck the ground head first. Anyone else would have died instantly. Yet Jason Voorhees was not anyone else.

“Run over him,” Halo yelled.

Dazed from the emergency stop, Hunter pulled himself together and gunned the accelerator. The truck groaned in protest as it took off, rather slower than either of them would have liked.

By the time it hit Jason, it was traveling at no more than ten miles per hour. Still, thought Halo, the vehicle’s weight alone had to damage him.

The truck rose into the air as one front wheel clambered over Jason’s left hip, chest and right shoulder.

"That should do it," breathed Hunter. "Let's get the hell out of here."

Halo was already gazing through the space where the back window used to be, one knee crunching painfully on tiny fragments of broken glass which had sprayed her seat.

"He's not on the road," she shouted. "He must be under us!"

Before Hunter could react, a terrible raking noise came from somewhere beneath them. Then, with an ear-splitting rending of metal, something burst upwards.

Hunter's face twisted in agony. He howled as his groin soaked with blood.

Transfixed, Halo sorely wished she could do something to help, but was also aware that he had lost all control of the wheel. She reached over and gripped one side of it, attempting to keep it steady. Nevertheless, they were drifting off the road.

Her new friend's face had turned purple. His tortured roar stopped for a second, only to be replaced by an even louder, more miserable cacophony.

Halo couldn't take any more. Spying a stout wooden fence bordering a field to their right, she spun the wheel in that direction.

The truck crashed through the fence, landing on the ground beyond with an almighty judder. Halo looked through the window and saw that Jason had finally lost his grip. He lay tangled in the spiked remnants of the fence: possibly even impaled. She couldn't see. All she knew, was that the filthy parasite had been prized from the truck.

As they bumped and bounced across the field, Halo would have been jubilant, were it not for the fact that the man she had briefly known as Hunter was dead. Decades of life extinguished in the space of one minute. Slumped to one side, his face was ghastly, his foot still jammed against the accelerator.

Halo brought the wheel back around, directing them back toward the road. The truck burst back out through another section of fence. This time, Halo took the impact in her stride, like a rodeo rider.

One mile later, she stamped on the brakes as smoothly as possible, considering that she wasn't in the driver's seat. Then she jumped out, ran around to Hunter's side and struggled with the effort of removing him from his own vehicle. There was, she noticed, a jagged hole in the seat where the machete had penetrated upwards. Halo winced.

Sweat dripped from her face as she laid Hunter in some grass by the roadside, as gently as her ebbing strength would allow. She would send people to collect him, she told herself.

The machete had fallen out, under the truck. It was partly bent, and covered in disgusting gore, so she hurled it far into the bushes. Then she scrambled back inside the vehicle and drove on. Hunter's seat was slick with his blood and the sound of his pain still seemed to echo in the confined space.

   Friday the 13th: Hate Kill Repeat, chapter 16