Jason advanced on Hobb. Hobb fired.

The grenade hit the floor near Jason's feet and exploded, sending up a shower of torn wood and hurling high-explosive ball bearings whipping through the cafeteria. Jason had disappeared in the fireball. Hobb was slammed to the floor by the blast, but quickly jumped up before the dust could settle. Jason was nowhere to seen. Surely he hadn't been torn apart by just one grenade? As the smoke began to clear, Hobb moved in closer. He tripped over something, tumbling to the floor and very nearly falling into a large hole the blast had opened up. He looked back at the object he had fallen over.

A severed leg, torn off just below the knee-Jason's severed leg. Hobb smiled. This just might work. He approached the edge of the hole, peering into a basement. And lying on the dirt floor, struggling to rise with only one leg, was Jason Voorhees.

But there was something else down there, too. Hobb stared into the gloom, finally realizing what it was. Bodies, piled like wood. Some of them were church folk, but among them Hobb could see Jeff Townsend's large corpse. Hobb stood, aiming the Milkors at Jason's thrashing body. "Sorry, Jeff," he said. “But I think you can dig it.”

He unleashed another grenade. The blast ripped Jason's right arm off at the elbow which spewed blood across the dirt floor. Hobb fired again. This time, when the smoke cleared, he saw Jason's guts trailing from his midsection, tangled in his clutching hands.

Another grenade erupted from the Milkors. Then another. And another. Each one unleashing more and more firepower and inflicting more damage on the massive psychopath, tearing pieces from his body: a leg blown-off at mid-thigh; a chunk blown from his shoulder.

Hobb was there for what seemed to be minutes as he emptied the Milkors into the basement, blasting away until everything had been reduced to small, blood-spattered lumps. Incredibly, the hockey mask remained mostly intact. Wishing he had brought more grenades, Hobb waited there at the edge of the hole for a very long time, just to be sure nothing was moving. The air was heavy with charred flesh, spilled blood and burned cordite. He then threw the Milkors onto the ground and walked away.

Chapter 21, Friday the 13th: Church of the Divine Psychopath