Teddy positioned the jack under the rear fender. The car was already at an angle, which made the whole operation a little dicey. But the tree was holding the van securely, he was sure of it. He started to pump up the back of the van.

He had only pumped twice when the van's engine roared to life.

Teddy was so scared, he dropped the lever and shouted, "Oh, Mommy!" He jumped backward.

How the...?

Engines didn't just turn on by themselves.

Then he realized what had happened. Someone had slipped into the van and started the car. Teddy picked up the tire iron. He was red with shame. Some kids at school had once put a plastic rat in his homeroom desk, so that when he reached for his papers, he had screamed for his mother, just like he had now. And his mother had died of lung cancer when he was only nine.

Teddy wanted to brain whoever had played this new trick on him; he wanted to kill them for embarrassing him. But when he stalked around to the front of the van, there was no one sitting behind the wheel.

Teddy stood very still, listening, trying to hear over the thrum of the car motor. He was sure that whoever was playing the joke on him —Slick, most likely—was creeping off through the dark. Teddy was about to go after him when the van's windshield wipers started wiping frantically back and forth.

Teddy backed away from the van, the tire iron starting to shake in his wet hands.

Because from where he was standing, he could see that there was no one sitting behind the wheel of the van. And that meant...

The van's headlights turned on, throwing two big, white spotlights on the battered trunk of the old oak. Teddy backed away, horror-struck. The van backed up as well. Its engine revved once, twice. For one crazy second, Teddy thought the van was going to come after him. He was set to run. But the van drove straight back down the incline, ramming the tree all over again.

Then van backed up again.

Over and over, the big, white van charged, and with each attack it splintered off more bark and wood from the old oak tree's wide trunk.

Glass from the van's windshield was shattering with every attack. The left headlight went out. Then the bumper came off. But the van kept coming. Until finally, the car sheered off from the tree, flew down the ravine, and smashed itself against another oak twenty yards down the hill. The one working headlight glowed out. The wipers slowly stopped. The engine shut down with a groan and a sigh.

Teddy watched the van for a long while, not trusting that it would stay dead. Then he smelled smoke.

It was a harsh, mustard smell that burned its way into his nose. He turned back toward the tree. Yellowish smoke was snaking out of a gash in the bark.

And—strange!—Teddy felt himself drawn forward, drawn toward the burning wood.

When he came closer, the smoke stopped. Teddy reached out a finger and cautiously traced the tree's wound. There was moss around the edges of the cut.

   Friday the 13th: Road Trip, chapter 10