Dr.

Caleb and I came out of the dark woods breathing hard.

I'd never been so scared in all my 13 years.

I just watched one of my friends die a horrible death,

and if we weren't careful, Caleb and I would be next. We moved through the

Henderson family's backyard and stopped at the front corner of the house. Then we

peered down the street looking for any sign of the truck from the construction site.

My house was across the street and one house down from the Henderson's place.

Everything looked normal over there.

When it looked like the coast was clear, we darted toward the street.

Just as our shoes touched asphalt, headlights erupted from a pool of shadows under a tree two

houses down for mine.

Tires squealed as the headlights lurched toward us.

It's him! I screamed.

The truck bore down on us as we ran into my front yard.

It jumped the curb behind us and crashed into the port steps just seconds after Caleb and I threw ourselves onto the porch.

My front door was locked, so I banged on it, shouting to be let in. Behind us just beyond the now

smashed wooden port steps the truck door opened. I glanced over my shoulder

still banging on the door and saw that the huge muscular man was now wearing a threadbare black ski mask.

He had a long flathead screwdriver in one hand.

Dad! I screamed, begging on the door.

Let us in! I could on the door.

...