Jack's Alive
Something came down through the trees, cutting a path to the ground, coming straight for them.
Jack Kamping has spent his whole life burying people. Not from accidents. From things that came out of the woods, and from men who were never held to account.
Nobody ever believed him. So at fifty-seven he wrote it all down, called it fiction, and set up a camera in a tent in the Michigan woods. Two million people are watching him drink and swat mosquitoes. One of them asks if the flannel is a fashion statement. Forty years old, Jack tells them, and the best protection there is against mosquitoes and nosy squirrels.
Not one of them knows it's true.
He isn't out here to promote a book. He came back for the thing that started it, and he brought a crossbow.
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