William Howell was sitting in the command center and thinking about regisning his position when an excited voice crackled from the radio. "We got him! We got him!"

Teal, who had been drinking a cup of coffee, jerked, spilling a measure of the liquid on his lap. He tossed the cup aside and snatched up the handset. "Where?"

"1216 Franklin Ave!"

Howell consulted his clipboard. That was the Loud house.

"We're coming!"

Teal threw down the handset. "I knew I didn't like those people," he said of the Louds. He got up, snatched his hat from the desk, and put it on. "Come on!" he yelled. "Move out!"

Howell climbed into the car with Teal. "1216 Franklin," Teal told the driver.

"We got him," Teal said as they rolled out. Behind them a caravan of Humvees, jeeps, trucks, and even an armored personnel carrier fell into line. "We fucking got him!"

Howell's stomach turned. He remembered all of the things he'd read in Voorhees' file. If they were lucky, they were in for a bloodbath. If they weren't, it'd be Armageddon.

In five minutes, they were on Franklin Ave. Cops cars with flashing lights rocketed onto the street from Main and Chestnut. "Up a..." Teal started, but stopped when a bright flash filled the night. Moments later, a rumble shook the ground. Flames shot up into the sky.

"What the hell?" Teal asked.

Suddenly, a hulking monster stepped into the street, flames racing along its arms and shoulders.

"Stop!" Teal cried.

The driver hit the brakes, and the car came to a jerking stop. Teal threw open the door and got out. Howell followed, his knees shaking. Behind him, two dozen soldiers dismounted and took up positions along the street, crouching alongside their vehicles.

"Jason Voorhees!" Teal yelled happily. He withdrew his sidearm and walked to the front of the car. "It's over. Put your hands up."

Voorhees stayed where he was, the flames engulfing him.

"You're surrounded! There's no hope!"

Voorhees took a jerking step forward. Teal raised the gun.

When he was within striking distance of the car, Voorhees lashed out with his foot, kicking the front end and actually moving the car to the left. It struck Teal and he went down with a sharp cry and a discharge of his weapon.

Howell had immense respect for the United States armed forces, but they were only human, and got scared like everyone else. Seeing this, nearly twenty men simultaneously opened fire. Bullets whizzed by Howell's head. He screamed and ducked for cover. Bullets pinged off the car, shattered the windows.

On his stomach, Howell crawled away from the vehicle and turned just as the gas tank caught, and it blew: Voorhees was thrown to the ground, and Teal, pinned down, screamed as the fire found him. The driver threw open the door and fell to the pavement, entirely engulfed. A moment later, another explosion sounded. Howell reconized this one as a grenade.

On the ground, Voorhees was still. Soon, Howell couldn't pick him out of the conflagration.