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“Come on!” I yelled to my father. But he was already on the move, heading back to the car. I realized what he had in mind.

We were closer to the car. The gravel drive back to the pole barn was a good quarter of a mile.

I dove behind the wheel and started the engine just as Dad shut his door. The car lurched forward as I popped the clutch, but then we hurtled toward the sound of hell.

“Geneva!” I yelled. Of course, I couldn’t be sure. But who else could it be? I knew the neighbor’s property was vacant and up for sale. They’d been asking too much and it hadn’t moved in years.

I honked the horn, then listened. Nothing. Whoever screamed was silent now. We were losing daylight by the minute. I clicked on the headlights, illuminating the side of the barn. Without even thinking, I jumped out of the car and started running. I heard Dad shouting behind me but nothing was going to stop me from getting to that barn.

I saw a service door on the side of the building with a small window cut into it. I ran to it. The door was locked when I pulled. But when I peered into the window, I saw Geneva Bell’s living nightmare unfold.

She was on the ground, backed up against the far wall. She kicked her legs out as a figure stood over her. He was wearing all black with canvas gloves on his hands. He had a torn rag wrapped around Geneva’s neck, strangling her. She was still fighting, but her face was turning blue.

I pounded on the door. “Stop!”

He didn’t. But he looked over his shoulder. The man was wearing one of those ghoulish Halloween masks that fit completely over his head. I’d seen the exact one before the day Boone Sidney pulled up that awful website. It was a mask molded into his father’s likeness.

I raced back to the car, screaming for my father. I could barely get the words out.

“He’s killing her! We have to get in there! Dad! We have to do something! It’s locked!”

“Get in,” Dad shouted.

“What?”

“Get in!”

I got back behind the wheel. Dad turned to me, his expression as serious as death.

“Hit the gas, Mercy,” he said. “See those two windows on the side of the building. Aim dead center.”

I followed his finger and saw exactly where he meant. He was asking me to drive the car straight into the wall.

“We can’t ...”

“Mercy! Do it! Put your foot on the gas and gun it! Now!”

I did.

The engine responded instantly, propelling us forward with surprising speed. The barn wall seemed to crumple like paper when we hit it. I put an arm over my face but the windshield didn’t shatter. The horrible screech of metal on metal sounded so much like Geneva’s last scream amplified to a deafening level.

Dust and splinters exploded all around us. I don’t remember taking my foot off the gas. I don’t remember slamming on the brakes. But the car came to a lurching stop just before hitting the opposite wall.

To the right, I saw that frightening, distorted mask of Derrek Sidney leaping sideways. Geneva didn’t move.

My seatbelt held me back for a moment. Dad reacted faster than I did. He reached down and pulled something from beneath the seat.

I didn’t think. I just reacted. I tumbled out of the driver’s-side door as more small shards of wood rained down. The entire side of the barn had crumpled around the front of the car, opening up one half of the building to the gloomy sky.

I called Geneva. She didn’t respond. But he did.

Her attacker lunged for the car just as my father stepped out. He raised his arm and shouted. “Take one more step and I’ll open a hole in your chest bigger than the side of this barn!”

That’s when I noticed the gun. Dad must have had it hidden under the seat.

The man froze and cocked his head to the side. The gruesome mask he wore had slid half off. I probably shouldn’t have moved. But something compelled me to reach out and rip off that mask.

He staggered backward as if my touch burned his flesh. Or maybe it was the air itself. He tried to get his hands up. Then, as he realized it didn’t matter anymore, he let his arms fall to his sides and slowly fell to his knees.