He enters the camp wearily , and the place is clean . Almost exactly how he left it , except … a pungent odor stains the air , like a gym bag left to fester in the summer heat--but worse . The tents are zipped up , and the lights are all out … only the campfire rages . All the firewood has been used ; he knows he had enough to last the next few nights . Every hair on his body prickles . He sets his pack on the ground and grabs his rifle ; the butt of it presses into his shoulder as he scans the perimeter . No signs of dinner on the table . No signs that his family left . No signs of anything . Where the hell have they gone ? And why does he feel as though someone ’ s watching him ?
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