Christopher Golden

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Jack looked at Artie. But Artie wasn? looking at him. Fear rolled off the ghost like ripples of heat off the summer blacktop, and it was infectious. The long jog up here had already gotten Jack? heart pounding, but now something seemed to clutch at it, a tightness in his chest. It was at least eighty degrees despite the lengthening shadows, but he still felt cold. Jack turned to see what Artie was staring at. His mouth dropped open. The Ravenous. The thing was huge, eight, maybe nine feet, but…