The Secret Garden

By his breathing I could tell he lived, but was out cold. The Great Bear could of broke his neck or fractured R.W.'s skull, but he let the Dibble off light with an early goodnight and deep dreamless sleep. Half inside the tent I flicked my Bic for abit of light. Being somewhat thin-skinned R.W. had already the beginnings of two good shiners. "That'll keep the decent girls at a distance" I told him, but he heard me not. Reaching down I slipped my SharpFinger from his belt and bid him - "Nighty Night sleeping beauty" Zipping up the door flap, I stood beside Dibble's tent, beyond fire and lantern light taking stock of the situation. I couldn't vouch for R.W.'s jaw, but at least he'd awake in this world perhaps sometime tomorrow whether he wanted to or not. As usual there would be little ill feelings between Dibbles the next day. Their fights rarely lasted more than a day. Yet I thought it best to take the knife. With food in my belly and not neck deep in the cup, I had much more vigor along with a sense of freedom and lightness of limb not felt since my teenage years. Perhaps a casted spell was danced away by two battling brothers. It was as if I'd been released from a black taloned grip and clear light shined through the shadowy gloom, but I was far from well.


The venoms of all the stepdames, gamesters' gall,
What tyrants and their subjects interwish,
What plants, mines, beasts, fowl, fish
Can contribute, all ill which all
Prophets or Poets spake, and all which She
Be annexed in schedules unto this by me
Fall on that man; For if it be a She
Nature beforehand hath out-cursed me

- John Doone, from The Curse.



With swollen eye and lip along with other various bruisings, Denny still managed to consume 3 porkchops with a piled potato side as our departed guest had left almost full plates. Although he was about as lean as a hard Winter, Denny could out-eat The Great Bear. Aside from his battered condition Dibble was almost back to normal. Claudia had did a fine job of cleaning up his hurts. Raising his cup to Bear, he spoke - "Thanks for pulling me off R.W., before I could fuck him up"
"Not a problem" Bear returned with a raised Pepsi can.
Denny went on to ask - "But did you have to sling me into that Tree ? Shit man, that hurt worse than R.W.'s punches"
"Sorry " The Great Bear offered - "Next time I'll try to pitch you into a leaf pile, if there be one nearby" Pulling a fresh deck from his denim pocket, The Great Bear wanted to know if there was anybody for some Poker.

Spending my remaining wakeful hours playing cards and losing all my coin. The cards loved me not when I was sober. Leaving last pennies in the pot I sat another sucky hand on the table and wished everyone a GoodNight. I would need to be well rested on the morrow. Climbing into the tent and pulling off my shoes, I was asleep in no time, drifting about in dreams of strange landscapes, huge lakes or inland seas, rugged coastlines, lonely shores and firey eyes in the night..

Part 4

Charlie and Denny were storing the last of our gear, while I scooped ash and half-burned hunks of green wood from our fire pit here at Sherando Lake State Campgound and Recreational Area.

We had pushed hard all the way down Skyline Drive, until getting off at Afton for gas and other items. Traveling about 50 miles as the Hawk flies, our journey up and down a twisting Mountain road at the 35MPH speed limit the ride lasted about 2 hours. We continued a short ways down The Blue Ridge Parkway, then turned, descending down a steep and narrow mountain lane into a good-sized hollow or creek valley. In short time we picked out 2 fine campsites and had about everything set-up in good order. We chose not to have banners waving in the wind.

Flip and Whitey were on a supply run up in Waynesboro. Awaiting their return and after a late lunch I had plans of getting a Fishing Party together to see what's biting down at the lake. Hopefully we could tag up on a few nice Rainbows. A couple of us were ready to cast lines right now, but I held them back until late afternoon. Tomorrow we would hike Torry Mountain or beyond. The Great Bear appeared to be in excellent spirits, enjoying a horn of beer and engaged with Patti over a checker game. Charlie was half drunk but at least awake. All of us who ever camped, fished, hiked or visited Sherando loved the place. Alot closer to supermarkets and liquor store Sherando Lake had long been one of our favorite camping spots. We knew the flora, fauna, trails, streams and overall layout of the area. Never had we ran afoul of neighboring Campers or State Park Rangers and on more than one occassion had them both sitting down and sharing our cooking.

We had picked a fine place to set-up camp, well shaded with a partial view of the lake.

The Bear had camped here as a boy with his parents. Several years ago while Bear and I were looking for a camping spot near Waynesboro he decided on re-visiting Sherando. Needless to say some of us would head up here for many fine weekends from early Spring to Autumn. In those days it was kinda rough and wild there, but The Fine Staff provided a small, yet decent Campstore along with maintaining both Park and Showerhouse/Shitters. Always clean and well kept, we had no complaints . We had heard news that very soon Sherando Lake would be turned into a more modern Camping and Recreational area, with a swimming beach, paved roads, Electrical RV hook-ups, cabins and a visitor center. What it would be losing was peacefulness, boat rental, good fishing, campstore and alot of it's natural charm. A people such as us may not feel so much at home camping in a place like that. There are many miles of mountains. There would be other places to find.

As I said, we had never experienced any problems here other than wet weather or Hungry Bears coming around because somebody left food out. They eat, rifle through gear and go. sometimes they'll brush-up against a tent.

There was a sense of security and comfort here at Sherando..

Who could blame the fellows for wanting to get in abit a fishing before lunch. In those days both upper and lower lakes were well stocked with Rainbows and Bass, while down at Back Creek, one of the feeder streams which flow into the Shenandoah River there were
Red-eye Rockbass, more Rainbows and some decent Native Brook Trout. My mouth watered and stomach growled as I thought of a fish dinner. I offered to burn a # while we waited for supplies to come in. With the exception of Bear, everyone took me up on this. I twisted up a fat one, lit it, hit it, then passed it to R.W. who appeared worse for wear. With his two black eyes he looked like a Raccoon with a swollen jaw. Taking the joint from R.W., Denny appeared in slightly better condition with his massive shiner, fat lip and multiple contusions. For the ones involved in last night's fracus, all ill feelings had slipped under the bridge and flowed downstream until next time, which hopefully would not occur during our remaining vacationing days here at Sherando.

The Whoodee had lifted spirits, perked up smiles and made our scenic surroundings much more colorfully alive. 'Just may end up staying here Saturday Night as well' I thought, looking at the Sunlight shimmer off lake water. Charlie and Denny were already in their tackleboxes checking lures, leaders, hooks and splitshot weights. I'd thought about getting my flyrod ready, but decided on a ultra-light spincaster instead. Like them I was eager for some upland angling. We all knew if artificial bait failed, the campstore sold Nightcrawlers and Red wigglers. Just down the road apiece the Sherando Grocery sold tackle and bait Crickets. With any luck I may just find some recently molted softshell Crayfish under a streamside rock to hook up for bait.

All heads turned as we heard the sound of tires turning dirt and gravel.

Flip and Whitey had returned from Waynesboro with enough supplies, if rationed correctly would see us through until our departure. Whitey came back with enough Bud to swim in as the campstore sold no alcoholic beverages.
"That swill should last until dinner unless it kills you beforehand" I sneered while watching him guzzle down an entire can. "Use a cup, you know the rules !" I ordered, pushing a mug his way. For Whitey these trips were not but drunken binges, not that nothing was wrong with guzzling, but he could of stayed at home, got snockered and miss out on Trout fishing just the same. Even in a near sotted-up state, Charlie was ready to cast a line. Myself ? I never drank and fished. It messed up my Fishing Medicine. Enough time for quaffing after the catch when Trout was at the end of a fork instead of 6lb test line.

Wednesday's lunch consisted of grilled hamburgers, potato salad and chips. Having little to no breakfast due to our migration, we were all famished. Charlie even managed to get a burger down.

With bellies full and rods in hand, Charlie, Denny, Flip, R.W. and I made our way down to the lake..

On maps and signs this body of water is labeled as a lake, yet was naught but a good-sized pond, dammed off a stream. Before casting out I couldn't help but take in the spectacular scenery. The pond's glassy surface reflected perfectly all around and above. Looking across the water I marveled at the mirror image of lofty Torry Ridge looming past an earthen dam.
Lace-winged insects danced above still waters and Newts crawled about in the shore-side shallows. Ahhh, twas the place for us to be in those days, before the summer houses and bedroom communities of the Northern Virginians had fully began to spread down the
Great Valley, along the gaps and atop foothills. Pondering the encounter with Yvonne's people there would either be a future of conflict with the invaders or we would have to accept their presence and move deeper into the hills.

Sherando gave up scant catch, an under-sized Bass, two small Bluegills and a Pumpkinseed. They were all set free to grow bigger and wiser.

We had better luck after picking up some worms and hitting a section of Back Creek that ran right by the campground. There we caught 9 keeper Rainbows and 2 decent-sized Brookies, which were released as it was our custom to let Brook Trout go. Charlie had found a deep bend in the stream and snagged up on 5 eating-size Red-eye Rockbass. They sparkled like living emeralds, thrashing around on Charlie's stringer.
"Fish dinner tonight, boys !" R.W. gleefully expressed.
Wishing to myself -'Oh if we only had a pile of Morels for the skillet'

Arriving back at camp we surrendered our combined catch to R.W. as he was the band's fish frying expert. At one time he cooked at Colonial Williamsburg's 4-star Inn, and fish was one of R.W.'s specialties. Bear, Flip and Whitey were not big on fish so that meant more for the rest of us. R.W. set about the task of gutting, cleaning and preparing today's catch, to be put on ice until supper.

As bottles opened and pull-tabs popped, I too filled a tall ceramic mug with cold amber-hued ale. Quaffing deeply, I felt a certain amount of ease here at our small encampment by Sherando Lake. Here was more familiar ground. We saw nothing more out of place than a young couple, obiviously lacking in camping experience, having way too much difficulty setting up their simple dome tent. Flip, always neighborly and well learned in CampingCraft, took it upon himself to lend the greenhorns a hand. He more or less set up the tent by himself. He very much prided himself on these ablitities.

"You're a good man, Flip " I complemented the Birdman as he ambled back to our table - "Accounts of your deeds shall be told at Night around Campfires for years to come"
"Is that what you've been scribbling down in that book, every so often ?" Whitey asked, popping open another can of beer.
"Just some field notes, Whitey" I replied - "I wasn't really planning on keeping any kind of record of this trip, until after seeing those 2 freaky-looking Albinos several nights ago. Following that, I sensed a certain amount of weirdness abounding back at Big Meadows"
Patti bounced abit, then asked if she could read some of my notes, so I pulled the green hard bound 160 page Avery record book from a pack and handed it to her.
"Alright, if you can read my writing" It was a gift from an old girlfriend who worked in the medical field. I had originally brought the record book along to make, supply lists, keep tabs on gambling IOUs or to make an occasional sketch.

Looking at that book today I see Flip still owes me Twenty dollars and twentyfive cents.

Patti, blushing pointed at something I wrote about her. She closed the booked, handed it back to me and then planted a wet kiss upon my cheek. Patti then expressed how much she liked it here, among friends and added - "Too bad Claudia, Mildred and Guy got mixed up on camping locations"
"Yeah, too bad" I returned, hoping to move past our Big Meadows experience.
She looked me dead in the eye and asked - "You sure us losing them didn't have anything to do with what I read in your book ?"
"And what was that" I inquired, already knowing.
"That stuff about Vampires and Sorcery ?"
Seeing that Patti was getting along so good with Claudia, The Great Bear had told this little Raven-haired vixen a small fib - Our former neighbors must of got confused on locations and became separated from us.
"You didn't notice anything weird about those folk" Flip asked, before ripping open a bag of Bugles.
Patti reflected for abit and replied - "The only strange thing I noticed was that Claudia started to look younger than me, especially this morning after crawling out of the sack"
Whitey stated - "She seemed to go from 60 to 20 in just a few nights"
"Like a Cactus bloom after the rains" Denny responded with a troubled look in his eyes.

Patti turned to The Great Bear for an explanation. Draining the horn, he belched, cleared his throat and motioned Patti to move closer..

Lighting up a cigarette, The Great Bear regarded Patti with serious eyes and said - "I honestly believe that Claudia was of a different kind"
Patti helped herself to a long draught off my ale mug then asked - "What kind is that?"
The Great Bear sighed and replied - "A vampyric sorceress of some type or order"
"What !?!"
Not ever wanting to deal with alot of questions The Great Bear managed to stay calm and continued - "A master of illusion who was either attempting or steadily milking our essense"
"What about Mildred and Guy ??" She demanded wanting to know more of why we ditched our former neighbors and guests.
"Familiars or sevants if you will" Then I gave her a brief account of what occurred yesterday evening at the outcropping. - "I suspect the reason we saw so little of Mildred and Guy was because keeping them in a seemingly normal human guise, proved to be a big drain on Claudia's power"
"They may of been human once" The Great Bear stated.
"Aye" I agreed - "Just another frightful aspect in the being of such creatures, I've heard tell that if a person succumbs to such critters, his or her misfortunate Soul becomes a slave to what set it loose"
Flip added - "Henry said they eat souls and enslave ghosts"
"Even their playful nibbling can infect and doom" I informed our band. With that we all quaffed deeply and looked at each other in a troubled way.

"Well I guess y'all are fucked !" Whitey said pointing first towards Denny, then at Charlie before cutting his eyes at me.
"How so with Denny ?" I asked, probaly already knowing the answer.
"He nailed her in the bed of Bear's truck about 2 hours after you crashed-out"
"Oh shit" I responded, shaking my head in grim wonderment.
Denny bluntly offered a scant explanation - "After another few cups of rum, and a Whoodee, she rubbed me into a boner underneath the table, so we moved it under Bear's camper shell"
"Fool !" Flip exclaimed - "I tried to warn you !"
"Warn me ?"
"Yeah, warn you !"
"When ?"
"Last night, before you guys bedded down, when she was nibbling your neck, you fucking horndog"
"How did you go about in warning me, Flippy ?"
"You didn't take notice of the danger signal ?" Flip asked repeating a hand motion similar to someone dispersing a bad odor.
"Fuck man, I thought you were swatting at a bug" Denny replied.
Pulling out the ointment still contained in an old cigarette pack and then raising my shirt, displaying a faintly stained navel I reminded him - "And you were not protected"
"That shit again !" Whitey said, rolling his eyes.
"That shit kept most of my Soul from being sucked out through the center" Seeing the worried look in Dibble's eyes I bade them to cease reminding Denny of his drunken bit of lust.
"Let's just be glad we shook them" Bear growled, wanting to savor the rest of his vacation.

The whole process seemed easy enough earlier when we parted ways. Supernatural or not, Guy's large stationwagon was real and needed fuel in order to make it to Loft Mountain. Bear advised them to fill up at Big Meadows campstore, while the rest of us would get a jump on picking some decent sites down at the next campground. This provided a good head start and put distance between us. Our three vehicles rolled on past Loft Mountain Campground and continued on until reaching Afton, fueling up, then heading South on the Blue Ridge Parkway past Humpback Mountain before we exited at Reeds Gap down a narrow winding mountain lane towards Sherando. Looking at each of my companions I hoped we were far down-wind and out of sight.

Casting another glance at Charlie, I became worried as he did not appear well. 'Drunken dolt' I thought, but could not hold him responsible for tagging Claudia those first two nights following her arrival. 'Hell, I was only an insert away from the old double-hump and side-swoop myself, even after suspecting her as such. In wrongful, ill-minded regret I pondered missing any personal star-bursting explosive eruptions when Claudia moved through our ranks, but after considering Charlie's condition, I was glad that I did..

Having a knowledge concerning the almost forgotten history of such devils or creatures, Denny should of known better. He seemed extremely troubled and quaffed deeply in his regret. Out of all the band, Denny had more conversations with the learned elders and in time became well versed in many strange subjects along with having a good understanding of the Supernatural. Like most people I knew, Denny had his weaknessess. The cup, chasing skirts and not ever applying himself enough to ever finish many things he had started. Besides that, Denny was intelligent and master of a few good trades where he could demand and usually get top pay. Interesting conversation with him was always refreshing especially, after a day of hanging with Charlie or Whitey. Yet the more he drank, the more his conversations became garbled and drifty. Denny poured a good measure of rum, raised his head as in preparation of answering a question he was sure to come. The Great Bear cursed under his breath knowing this matter needed to be talked-out abit more. Perhaps after that we could all carry on with a celebration that was becoming more meaningless by the hour. Usually by this time of night Charlie would be pestering Flip to no end, but for the most part he quietly drank and listened the words of other, offering scant response or humorous antidotes. Whitey, looped out on cheap beer and weed, could always be counted on to argue upon matters he knew very little about. Patti, seemed rather bothered, yet curious enough to request more of an explanation of why we had to shake off Claudia, Mildred and Guy in such a dishonestly rude manner.
"Not of our kind, Sorcery, Vampires, so what is she, what the hell happened ?" She demanded then went on to say " I know you Lynnhaven boys are a little weird, but I've never seen you guys so freaked-out" Patti took a good slug of rum then looked at each of us as if offering invitation to anyone who would shed abit of light and answer her question -
"So what do you think she is ?"
In a grim tone Denny responded - "They are all but gone, only a stir in the breeze, but those who have survived man grow powerful in small numbers or as individuals"
"Who ?" Patti asked.
Denny dark eyes focused upon the dancing girl and replied in a clear, steady voice - "SnakePeople, WingedPeople, WereCreatures, Giants, true Dwarves, not to mention various other species of advanced Human-like Creatures. They roamed and ruled the world long before the first ape-like subhumans ever thought about dropping off a low tree limb to lope awkwardly across a forest glade" Denny held all our attention now, even Whitey had cocked an ear no doubt hoping to derive abit of campfire entertainment. Denny had a slug of rum and continued - "Always have the Homo Sapiens been either in servitude or at war with the Old Ones, for over a hundred thousand years we have felt their yoke or in some cases the crunch of their misshapened skulls, especially after we found out they can be slained. At first these creatures either enslaved or extracted a terrible toll of human death and hurtful suffering" Denny poured another drink and went on - "Enduring countless centuries of bleak co-habitation with these creatures as slaves, sport, prey and often foot soldiers caught up between feudind Old Ones, humans came to learn that these beings had certain weaknessess. In time the prey became predators, and the slaves became masters, or so they thought. Over time Humans became apt in making war upon the Old Ones all the while having scant knowledge that many of their War Chiefs or Warrior Kings were not but the hybrid bastard offspring of those they bore arms against. Oh how these bastard children hated their parents who had abandoned them among human relations. An age old woe and struggle, even now when they are all but gone" Denny drained his cup and added - "They who remain have either been driven to lonely hinterland places or else have attained high and secure standings among unsuspecting humans. We have almost wiped them out in the past and now they are still few in numbers"
"They have been bred out in many places as well" I informed our band.
"True" Denny agreed and went on to say - "And their traits live on either heavy or slight in so many people today, yet the old pure bloods walk among us in human guise"
"Claudia ?" Patti asked.
Having a good quaff of ale, I answered - " An advanced Human-like Creature, or else the daughter or grandchild of one. Either turned out of some ancient clan or circle,,,"
Denny cut me short - "Or still part of some ancient clan or circle and out for abit of hunting sport and quarry"
"At least she admired her prey" Charlie stated.
"Oh she admired the fact we were so tolerant of her presence and readily available to feed off of" I replied.
"Well you were kinda tolerant and wrapped up with her for awhile, Jim" Whitey said - "Hell man, you sacked down with her too"
"Yeah, she tore a few chunks off of me as well, but I didn't mate with her"
"Not even a head-job ?" Whitey asked, grinning from ear to ear.
"Not even that" I replied - "All I did was make-out abit, and copped me a few feels"
"Come on !" Whitey barked.
Flip, sometimes not the gentleman added - "She has nice knockers"
"Yes she does" I agreed, but that could of been an illusion"
"They felt real enough to me" Charlie told us.
"A case of prey admiring the hunter" Denny stated.
Patti attempted to raise some much needed cheer, lifted her cup and proclaimed - "At least we're all alive"
"Are we ?" Denny asked, then turned his eyes to our fire - "For so long they have had time to master their deception, but cannot fool all of us, all the time, but now I sit here talking to you, knowing I've been fooled"
"We all were, and still may be" Flip said, hitting on a clipped roach.

From the other side of the lake an Owl hooted and a low breeze blew upon our legs..

The low cool breeze continued to stir both dust and nerve. Yet our fire blazed in a whirling dance and at that point in time was the only thing we could count on besides ourselves.

"As we continue to be" I said watching Whitey slip the sheathed Bowie onto his belt.
The Great Bear issued a rumbling growl, sitting his horn down, he uncorked the rum, took a sizable swig and proclaimed " But we are not the kind of fools who are easily fooled, and that itself is a mystery as to why something like that would consider us easy game !"
"How mean you Bear ?" I asked, curious to know what he was getting at.
Handing the large bottle of rum to me so as to conceal it until further needed he then chased down the hard drink with a gulp of German Beer and replied - "This time of year, when most normal vacation campers are back at home or jobs and kids starting off the school year, these campgrounds become host to a good number of festive folk like us"
"Ahhh, a time of celebration, good cheer, low traffic trails and uncrowded fishing holes" I returned.
"Alot of Party People tenting from The Meadows of Dan to all the way up to Mathews Arm" Flip added.the Great Bear nodded his head and said - "Exactly. The State and Federal Campgrounds now have to put up with a wide variety of drunks, dopeheads and those like us, taking advantage of seasonal rates and looking to enjoy some elbow room"
"No drunks or dopers here" R.W. laughed.
The Great Bear went on - "Alot more easier prey than us sitting around fires and swilling swilling booze"
"Really ?" Denny asked, then went on to say "We were foolish enough"
The Bear cut his eyes at Denny - "How so ?"
"Either forgetting of these creature's existence or so secure in our thoughts believing they have long been defeated or killed off, humans have grown soft and become over confident. With so little memory of just how crafty and terribly real these Old Ones were, we have made them mythical or the stuff of fantasy books. But as they continue to prey off of humans there will always be those who are wary enough to either flee or fight. In our case we may of fled too late" Denny paused and looked up at Flip's Tarp wavering in the breeze.
"I believe she knew we were on to her our last day and night at Big Meadows"
"Before that !" I snarled.
"Well she knew from the start we were not the average Redneck, Billy Bob, Hick-Dick and raise Hell party campers like those goobers we saw setting up tents over by the restrooms and showers" That was another concern I pondered. We noticed them while buying bait at the campstore and gave the RedNecks a wide birth in passing. I also wondered why there was no sound of them as of yet. We had encountered those types before while camping in The Appalachians. We always tolerated them to a point, maintaining an uneasy peace. Hopefully they would not intrude..

"Not the average campers indeed" Denny commented and then went on - "Yet more and more the fiends prey and are ever out for bigger game"
"Like us ?" Whitey asked including our band with a sweep of his arms and eyes rolling.
"We were either just good sport or else a meal for some turned-out dark child" I replied.
"Certainly not big game" Denny added and continued - "They are forever incorporating themselves with and climbing to high places in government, big business, mainstream media, entertainment and Religion along with most other aspects of human life. The Pure Old Ones stay behind the scenes directing many of their bastard offspring in the management of alot of human affairs. Some of these bastards are world leaders, corporate CEOs and big time religious mouthpieces. With all their arcane knowledge and in pleasant human guise, these hybrids can get a foot in the door of anywhere they want. These hybrids are usually welcomed with opened arms, greatly admired, helpful and charming in the beginning, but in time, rule by deception and through fear. They are powerful enough to enchant and bewitch at will with little trouble. They are powerful enough even, to cloud the minds of the suspecting"
"That's why we had to give them the slip, up on the Skyline Drive" I added.
"Are you sure about that Jim ?" Denny asked. Recalling my account Bear reminded me of what I described which occured at that rock outcropping - "She could of changed into an Owl or else have such birds or others in service to spy for her"
Whitey popped open another bud and laughed - "You crazy fuckers have been watching too many science fiction movies or else have smoked yourselves silly"
"They eat souls" Flip grimly said.
"And steal your face" I added.

Suddenly there was a loud banging. It was Bear pounding the end of his walking stick against a cooler. "Enough talk of troubling matters, she's probaly up at Loft mountain sizing things up, alot of party people camping there this time of year. Let her feed off them, while we hole-up here at Sherando. So lets leave her behind and move on. We need not fret over yesterday's poke and run"
"Then you better sleep with steel near" I advised him, then went on to say - "Ahhhh, but for now there is dinner to look forward to and afterwards we'll happily drown any lingering fears and regrets. I raised a toast - "Camp Sherando !" We decided to attempt no further mention of what was strangely encountered at Big Meadows.

We ate good that Night and all was seemingly settling in a good way. Pan fried Trout, Rockbass, sweet roasted corn on the cob, raw spinich salad and campbread piled on paper plates. Flip Bear and Whitey opted for left over Atomic Sausages and hamburgers. Charlie surprised us all by scarfing down 3 Rockbass, 2 Trout and 2 ears of corn, but he did not seem quite his old self. Still it seemed, he was mending. Flip was tinkering with the boombox dial. Pausing at a Soft Rock station out of Lynchburg we listen to a Bread Song until Whitey, now pretty much lit-up threatened to smash the radio unless Flip found some decent music. The Radio Waves being somewhat abundant that Night we tolerated 'college music' from Blacksburg or near abouts. Having enough of that, Flip located a Classic Rock station coming out of Roanoke.

Denny and R.W. sat side by side chowing down on fine camp victuals. Bruised and battered as they were, both portrayed a golden image of brotherhood rather than last night's two male Bobcats savagely battling over a mate. With each downed cup of spirits they focused more attention on Patti.

I found myself checking her out as well..

With each slug of rum or ale quaff I found myself paying more attention to her every curve and turn. All that close personal contact with what we left back at Big Meadows campstore had left me in a way.

Although we had a couple of close relations years ago, on this camping adventure, up until now, I looked upon her as kind of a little sister and our happy little picnic table sprite rather than an adult entertainer. Now my regards for her seemed to have changed. 'It's the booze' I thought - 'not long married, not a rounder like the Dibbles, whose cheating ways fucked-up some pretty good relationships. What's happening ?' Settled, I would drink myself into a state of temporary insanity and impotence. Having did it before, I knew it could be done.

Hitting my secret stash I pulled out a jug of Irish Whisky to go with the rum and ale.

"Whatya got there Jim ?" R.W. asked
"None of your fucking business. It's mine"
"Aww, come on man"
"Whisky" I replied - "Get your mind off it"
Charlie showed great interest as well - "Hey Skid, let me have a pull off that jug"
I uncorked the ceramic jug, there was a plooooping sound as the aged whisky gasped to breath air again. I had procured the fine imported spirits from a William and Mary student/neighbor of mine as a wedding present. He always had a line on imported goods such as liquor, food items, books, trinkets and weed from different parts of the world.
Pouring a good measure of the heady drink, I swirled it in my cup before draining the contents. "WOOOOOOWEEEEE!!!!" Passing the jug to Charlie - "Here, since you're kin and all"
Putting a good bit in his cup, he threw it down as well - "Daayaaam ! Where'd ya get this ?"
"Personal connections" I replied, pouring myself another. Holding their cups out like third world beggers, I felt compelled to fill Denny's, Flip's, R.W.'s and Patti's cup as well. In this generous mood I offered some of this elixir to Bear and Whitey. They both declined, but Bear did give me a rain check. Charlie's cup was out again. Fixing him up I suggested he should go easy on the stuff.

After everyone was through eating, we cleaned up very well as Sherando was known for it's night time Bear visits. With that out of the way we fell into our routine of festive celebration.
The drink flowed, music played, smoking circles attended, jesting abounded and the general goofyness prevailed. Patti with a head full of grass and pretty much on her way to Snockerdom, once again pressed Denny or anybody else, to go further in depth describing The Old Ones.
"Fuck that shit !" Whitey snarled - "No more than childish superstitions ! Vampires, ghouls and boogeymen. Ha! Tales to frighten kids into being good, that's all"
"No more for now" The Great Bear added - "Speak of a devil too many times and it will appear"
Flip, half drunk himself agreed - "Invoke them not"
Despite all his bold talk I could not help but notice abit of fear in Whitey's eyes and that huge fucking hunting knife hanging from his belt.

The Khyber blade hung from my belt as well, although I couldn't remember slipping it on..

Armed as we were and hopefully miles and mountains away from our former neighbors, I could not help but ponder upon the age of the one called Claudia and how many victims it had drained to dry soulless, lifeless hulls. Did she feed constanly, or gorge herself on a large meal, then go off to a dark hidden somewhere to coil-up for awhile like a Snake ? Was she able to satisfy that hunger or slake her thirst back at Big Meadows, or bound to finish us off ? I thought about Denny's earlier words concerning Humankind's wars and strife with such creatures. I tapped my knife handle in knowing that although such critters are powerful, they are not invulnerable or un-killable. Getting the jump on on such a being would be no easy matter. 'Claudia' like the rest of it's kind are shielded by old darksome powers that have enabled and served well in the survial of such beings all the way up to the 20th century. Bear was correct in saying decapitation and burning is the way to go, but there were other methods as well. Now both free of such and somewhat hip, we would no longer be a willing Human smorgasbord.


Kim and Bryon


The more alcohol and weed we consumed the more outrageous our conversations became. But we did manage to catch up on abit of local news. Patti informed us that things would be changing at Bucks Brand.
"What, no more jerking-off under the stage side table ?" Charlie asked.
"Not gonna be alot to jerk-off to there pretty soon" She replied, to which I inquired -
"Buck lose his ABC license again ?"
With no kind look in her eyes she said - "Damned Southern Baptists"
"Not the Go-Go Dancing industry too !?!" Flip wailed. Patti went on to inform us that once again church leaders and government officials had gotten together on a new law which would require exotic dancers such as herself to cover their breasts with a bra, bikini top or some other garment while performing in such establisments open to the adult public. She mentioned how already there were ABC agents and undercover cops hanging out at Bucks making sure the girls weren't flashing cooter or pulling tricks over to the neighboring Fort Eustis Motel. We were disgusted, but not overly surprised as the church wielded tremendous power over the counties, towns and burgs of Virginia's lower Peninsula. It had been not so long ago when the good many churches which dotted Todds Lane in Hampton got together with local lawmakers in banning the sale of alcohol, 'smoking paraphernalia' and certain magazine publications at any business establishment or store on that road. For one place this new ruling resulted in a lack of customers and in time closed down. Still living off of Todds Lane Flip touched upon the subject - "Well If I have to drive over to Mercury Blvd. for a fucking pack of rolling papers, I can keep on driving west, cross the James, head down to Portsmouth and watch the titty dancers at Mad Dogs" Being a sometimes patron of such establishments, Flip knew well all the locations. I recalled the Monday last March when Flip took me to Mad Dogs for lunch where upon a small hardwood stage I met 'Stormy' the Monday through Thursday daytime dancer. Sent over the hill and no longer prospering from the weekend crowd she danced and turned tricks for the retired, un-employed, snockered 3rd shift shipyard workers and guys like Flip and I, playing hooky from our day job. After each set, she would gather-up her meager gratuities, sneak a good sip from a flask, take a break and maybe blow somebody out in the parking lot for a Andy Jackson. A truely sad way of life that could very well lay in the future of many of these so called exotic dancers.

Flip placed a dollar on the stage where upon she plopped down in front of us, spread her legs, shot a quick look around and then flashed her cooter. In a gravelly voice she inquired if we were interested in a quick date outside. Flip did, but was either low in funds or too tight to oblige. I had the bucks, but not the notion and politely declined. She then asked if Flip and I had any toot, which we didn't. Then she asked if either one of us had an aspirin. Flip gave her a headache powder. Flip enjoyed such places and I had a time getting him out after we ate.


"Onward Christian Soldiers,," I sung to Patti.
"Yeah" She sighed and then wondered aloud - "Wonder how many of my regular fans are dragged to those churches on Sunday morning by their wives ?" Then with a smile she rebounded - "There's always private shows, and massages"
Without any kind of forethought, the words left my mouth - "Massages ? I'd love one"
Patti's eyes widened in surprise then reminded us all she was on vacation too and - "I make it a practice not to conduct that sort of business with my good friends, but,,"
"But what ?" R.W. beat me to the question.
Still giving me a rather odd look she replied in a teasing tone - "But catch me at the right time and who knows what kind of vacation recreation fun we can share in"
"Just when will that right time come ?" The words came out of my mouth riding atop whisky breath. Patti laughed but did not answer.

Deeper in the cup I kept such outdoor recreational fun in mind..

Flip, our camp engineer and keeper of the Smoke Lodge closely scanned a trail map. We had planned to hike the Torry Ridge Trail, but now there was talk of exploring other area traces. We were eager to get out in some wild places where there were no teams of backwoods law enforcement officials lying in wait or poking around.


The Great Bear pretended to show no interest in our planning. He tugged at his beard and would have to be content hanging around camp. We could tell though he really wanted to get out in the deep woods. Parts broken, ripped-open and jabbed a few times, he always mended back well. The Great Bear had survived and healed from hurts that would kill two normal men at once. It troubled me somewhat to see the big critter in such a stationary state of being, but damn glad to have him as a Home Guard while the rest of us went to and fro. Fetching him one of my ales for a change of taste. Reminding him of our next adventure got his hand free of bushy beard hair - "You'll be up and about, walking and talking shit by this coming Spring. Just don't be kicking in any bar windows twix then and now"
"Oh yeah, this Spring" The Bear smiled, then gulped down half an ale - "Bigger hills"
For early May we had laid plans to cross the very ancient New River, North flowing with many rapids and falls, it was one of the oldest rivers in the world. West of Galax we would go into The Iron Mountains otherwise known as Mount Rogers Recreational Area. The highest ground in Virginia, surely in those Iron Mountains we would have to put abit more effort in catching up to the elevation. But that was a good seven months away and for now our party were high enough in the Eastern Appalachians.
"I'll stay here with you Bear" Patti lent abit of comfort -"We could go down and sit by the lake tomorrow"
"Oh no, you go out in run around in the woods with the boys, have fun, don't fret over me,, I just may take a drive down the Parkway tomorrow, check out some overlooks and gift shops" Charlie and Denny both opted to go with him. The Great Bear slowly rose, lifted his horn high and declared - "So much for a tomorrow that isn't even here yet,, Tonight though, we celebrate !" Howls and hurrahs burst from our lips as we raised cups to return cheer. Tonight I would allow myself a good many quaffs to chase away a sigh of relief and re-establish that light easy feeling.

Although hopefully we were miles and mountains away from our former neighbor/Vampyric Enchantress an air of uncertainty hung over the camp at Sherando like Poquoson marsh gas. I pondered whether this creature had forgotten about us and moved on to bigger game, or else was extremely pissed because our band had slipped off her plate, scurrying off like the good little snacks we were. My hopes were Claudia-n-Company took a liking to Loft Mountain and were now sitting up their web there. Taking a look around it seemed to me everybody was lacking something. - Come now ye Heathens, this is not a Night for grim thoughts and glum faces. Let us pass the Pipe !"

All the others with the exception of Bear and Denny made way to our Smoke Lodge, entering one at a time. Following them all slowly I had to pull my eyes away from Patti's backside as Denny tugged upon my shirt in passing. Halting, then looking down I saw his usual dark face was somewhat palish. His dark eyes were fearfully serious. I strained ears to listen as he warned - "Something's out there,, I can feel it"
"How do ye say ? What's out there ?"
"Who can say, but I feel like a mouse at Night, in an open field"
"I know the feeling, but we should be safe enough here. I doubt they have a clue that this place exists. If so we'll just have to close ranks" I patted his shoulder and assured him of a future uncertain, then went to take my place in the Smoking Lodge.

Already dimly illuminated by a battery operated lantern, Flip was in the process of packing a bowl. Finishing this small task abit too slow for my liking, I smiled and said - "How generous of you to go this one, Flip. Think I'll be the last one in late more often" With a flic of my Bic, I lent him flame. The long stem ceremonial pipe went around three times, but that wasn't all. Coming to me, I cleaned the spent ash out, reloaded it and sent it around for three more. Instead of leaving right away, we sat in a circle engaging each other with a fair amount of Marijuana induced gibberish. Even Charlie was up for abit of Monkey-shining, sticking the small lantern up to his chin and entertaining us with a Boris Karloff impression.

Stoned out of her pretty little head, Patti got a little sad-eyed for a short while and made mention of how she wished Claudia was here to share in the fun. Putting the pipe and gear away I offered her a mirthless laugh - "But there's so many other things out there slithering in the dark to pal-up with"
"Like Bigfoot !" Charlie blurted out then proceeded to tell us of a movie he saw about a killer Sasquatch taking out a group of teenage campers.
"I saw that flick !" Whitey stated then went on to issue the movie inspired BigFoot call which became louder as Charlie joined in. Blitzed and sitting through all this howling noise I failed to hear the Bear outside give warning of company coming.
"There's none of those critters about " I corrected - "They're all up in the Pacific NorthWest and Northern California" They cared not as Whitey and Charlie now spoke of other monster slasher movies until we started to pile out of the tent..

The last in and the last out, I followed my comrades outside through open door flaps. Halting short of our table like all of the others I was surprised to see two strangers in our camp. Bear broke the tension by once again rising then initiating introductions - "Patti, R.W.,Whitey, Jim, Flip, Charlie, this is Kim and Bryon from down the way"
"We met already" Flip said, extending his hand to Bryon. We all shook hands and offered them refreshment. Denny closely studied them for anything abnormal as did I. It was a shame to have to be on guard when dealing with fellow campers who were probaly not soul sucking changelings. They accepted some beer and we went on to find out Kim and Bryon were out of Virginia Beach. Both employed at a hotel at the strip, they decided to spend a few nights at Sherando. Up until now neither had ever been camping or up in the Blue Ridge. Bryon was short, somewhat corpulent, dark of wavy hair and abit too slue-eyed for my liking. He was somewhat nervous and even more so after Patti jokingly winked at, then blew him a kiss. He took tiny little sips off his beer. 'doubtful that one could adapt to our ways' I thought.
Kim was kind of cute in a mousy sort of way. She was taller than Bryon, but not by much. One would expect someone from the beach to be quite tan, but like Bryon she was rather pale. With a delicate face, set off by pretty light brown eyes behind a pair of oval-shaped black frame glasses and a strange pageboy hairstyle, she sure seemed to float Flip's boat as he oogled her up then down. I could never make up excuses for Heathen behavior but it was what it was with inhibitions as light as a feather.

Both were clad in brightly colored beach garb and talked very little. Bryon remained abit stand-offish, While Kim seemed neither fearful of, or put off by our crude Heathen mannerisms and seemed to be enjoying her beverage more so than Bryon.
"Bryon here, needs to borrow a lighter or some matches to get a fire started" The Great Bear informed us.
With a high gurgling voice Bryon stated - "We had some matches, but they didn't work" He produced an old pack of hotel matches. Seeing their hotel logo on the pack Whitey exclaimed - "Me and my cousin Tiny stayed there last,,,," but cut himself short remembering that Tiny had checked in with a fake ID and later in a fit of drunken rage concerning something or another they savagely rampaged about the suite, tearing it apart like whacked-out, big-name rock stars, barely escaping the police with whole skin in the pre-dawn of a Sunday morning. - "Last year in highschool many moons ago" He lied knowing this incident took place two months ago. "Have not been back since" He added for good measure.
Flip gave Bryon a brand new lighter and asked how they were on wood.
"We don't have any wood" Bryon said with a goofy half-smile.
Whitey shook his head and inquired with a bark of laughter - "Well how in the hell do you expect to make a fire without firewood ?"
Maybe it was just now dawning upon Charlie's scrambled brain that Kim and Bryon were out of Virginia Beach, when he asked - "Ever heard of the Peppermint Beach Club ? Ever go there ?" They both shook their heads no. Finishing their beers, Flip was kind enough to fill Bryon's arms with firewood and Kim's arms with scrap-cut pine kindling then offered to help them with their fire. But Bryon politely refused Flip's assistance after thanking him. We offered them no smoke as these were the years of Nancy and Ronald Reagan's just say no to drugs. It was hard to trust anybody then a time when undercover cops, snitches and a wide array of patriotic citizens would turn in a harmless silly weedhead for a sticky pat on the back.

They bid us a good night, took their gifts and left.

"Odd, they never heard of the Peppermint" Charlie said once they were surely out of earshot. Odd indeed as the Peppermint Beach Club is a well known Night time beach attraction..

"Maybe they're from another state and new to Virginia" Patti said while pouring herself an ale. True, many Northerners were migrating South to the Old Dominion and both had not a trace of a Virginia accent.
Always the Yankee hater Whitey spat - "Fucking comeheres"
"Whoever they are, hopefully neither one of them had an inkling to what we all were doing in the tent" I stated.
The Great Bear issued a mighty belch then informed us - "I tried to give y'all a shout-out when they came in, but y'all were howling like lost souls at the time" He continued - "Just some greenhorns who probaly never camped or encountered folk like us, that's all"
"We should keep an eye on them anyway" I said knowing narcs and snitches come in all types, but there were other concerns as well.


The lofty ridges of dark wooded mountains closed about Sherando Lake like giant sentinels. I always liked the way an upland horizon played against a starry sky. The still night air grew cooler with no breeze blowing off the lake. Behind our encampment loomed Torry Ridge which shaded our mornings and shadowed our nights. On one side of us a great Oak, that was no doubt already old during Stonewall Jackson's defense of the Shenandoah Valley. To our other side grew a large clump of Rhododendron. Covering both lake and shore was a layer of low fog or mist that obscured the bright boathouse light to a faint glow. In the distance a Fox cried out suddenly causing night roosting birds to rustle about abit in the tangled branches of a neighboring thicket. There was something very ancient about this place which before dam and campground was a large mountain hollow with a stream running through. I had camped here often but did not feel the same sense of security now as those other times. Tonight something didn't feel quite right in this upland vale. We sat around our table sharing what there was of good cheer. However there was not enough to keep me lively the combination of supper, spirits and smoke had packed a wallop. My eyes became heavy and sleep courted my brain despite the hour. Rising, I bid my companions a yawning goodnight, staggered off into the brush to piss, came back and crawled into the tent. As I fumbled to locate our battery powered lantern Whitey's voice hissed through tent fabric - "Fucking lightweight" With abit of light I was able to pull off shoes and store my belongings before stretching out

I obliged Whitey no returning snarl as my foam pad and sleepingbag felt more comfortable than the finest of hotel beds. Words and laughter tinged together into a droning hum. Turning off the lantern I lay with eyes almost closed from the dim firelight coming through tent fabric. Closing my eyes for what seemed a few minutes I opened them again after hearing a strange call in the Night..

All was dark now. No more did fire light find it's way into the tent. No more did the sound of revelry disturb native night creatures. I was wide awake or so it seemed. It felt nothing like the lassitude which crept up on me earlier at our party table. But at the same time I did not feel normal. Turning the light on low as not to overly foul my nightvision I pulled on my shoes, slipped on my knife swiftly, neither caring or taking notice of Flip's sleeping place at the other side of his tent. Instead I turned off the lantern sat still for a minute and listened to leaves rustling along with a faint humming of some long forgotten melody. Moving silently to tent's door, I slowly unzipped the flap as not to make too much sound while an old terror waited no doubt with ears cocked high.

Exiting the tent I halted just outside adjusting my eyes to a gloom like I'd never seen before. The table was empty and our fire had burned down to a few red glowing coals peeking through ash. 'Everyone's asleep' I thought realizing I'd been out for awhile. Didn't even know exactly what time it was as my watch was inside and the Night Sky had a strange deep violet hue. Strange bright yellow stars winked from high above. "This is a dream" I whispered under my breath, then was aware of the humming again. It was drifting out of the Rhododendrons and into our darken camp. Dream or not the large Khyber knife seemed real enough as I tapped it's horn handle. The humming then ceased.


My eyes attempted to pierce shadows and a dark leafy tangle. I looked for any signs of movement. All was silent until a musical, yet mocking laughter burst forth out of the brush. Wasting no more time I moved over to our fire pit, gathered up a fair amount of kindling and dropped it on the burning coals. With a paper plate I fanned it into a small blaze, then went for the firewood. With an armfull of Walnut I heard - " I can't in the world understand why anyone would be so rude"
I at once recognized the familiar voice and shouted - "Up with you all, it's coming into camp !" all the while not taking my eyes off the dark thick growth.
"They cannot hear you Jim"
"Flip ! Whitey ! Bear !!, get the fuck up"
"Fool !" the voice laughed out as my shaking hands placed chunks of wood upon the blaze. Grabbing the poking stick I stuck one end of it into the growing blaze as well.
"Come to me" it said. I did not oblige, but drew my knife instead.
"Come on Jim, I'm not sore at you"
I stayed by the fire and heard movement in the growth.
"Oh well, guess I'll have to make the first move, you shy man"
"Keep back or die you devil !" I growled only to hear more mocking laughter as something moved towards me only slightly rustling leaves and branches. Moving out from my fire a few steps I caught a glimpse of fierce yellow eyes burning in the shadows and a shape moving through the Rhododendrons. Backing up to the fire, I pulled out the poking stick and now had a flaming brand. Having about enough of this shit, with steel and fire I strode forth, but not far before halting for a stand. I would either slay or die in my camp.

It stepped out into the open not twenty feet away and halted..

I could see her plainly enough by fire light and under a violet sky.

She was a splendid young creature, well formed and fine featured. Her only garmet was a string of large beads hung with no great care around shapely hips. Decorating her well tanned body were serpent-like swirls and coils of paint which suggested the primitive. Her thick hair hung lose past her shoulders, framing a strangely beautiful face complemented by those exotic firey eyes.

What stood before me was alluring to the point of temptation and fell folly. Beautiful, yet at the same time as venomous as a Chickahominy swamp Viper. She flashed a lovely smile and then with a inward turn of both shoulders pushed together and out her bare breast. She was shaped like a Primitive Goddess both well turned and beautiful, but powereful enough to have her own way in most matters. Her lips parted and she asked in a rich seductive voice - "Why fight it ?"
A strong lustful feeling shook my soul while hot blood raced through my veins, pounding fiercely at my temples. Un-controllable passion flooded my whole being as I thought to drop blade and brand, take Claudia in my arms to smother her with a fool's kisses.
"Take me" She said - "You know you want me"
Both arms went slack, hands barely grasping blade and brand I stood like a mouse in an open field at night. She cupped one hand down over her vagina then brought it forth making a circle in the air. A sweet musky scent riding on a un-natural breeze reached my nostrils. My head swam and good sense dipped, but a taunting laugh slicing through the air was enough to enrage me out of enchantment. Ignoring blade and brand before me she began to walk forward.
"Back it on up" I warned thrusting the large blade towards her advance. Now at only a few yards away she stopped and regarded the long knife with some concern.
"You have to separate all that anger and fear from your true desires, dear Jim" She said with a toss of her hair.
"I'll separate your head from your shoulders if you come close enough" I returned, waving my brand into a brighter blaze.
"The fool you are ! Ha !"
"Try me Witch !" I snarled, then went on to say " If it wasn't for your constant gluttony, you wouldn't be half bad for a little evening company"
"Gluttony ?" She acted surprised.
"That's right, you're a fucking pig ! Call me rude would you ? A critter so low as to feed off good folk that accepted and provided for her. You are the rude one for tainting such good hospitality and shitting on hands extended in friendship !"
She became livid - "A fucking pig ?"
"A hungry pig !" I screamed
"You see anything pig-like about me ?" She asked in no friendly tone with crossed arms and a hip thrust high.
"You wouldn't cut it for my last piece of ass, before dying a fool's death here at Sherando Lake " I returned, once again waving my glowing brand into flame.

"You are a fool !"

My words seemed to of un-hinged Claudia and a change swept over her. Claudia's skin began to lighten in some places and mottled in others. Her hair became even more wild and flowing but parted in the middle by short needle-sharp spines. Her once full bosom sagged down into scaly bag-like growths. Her once shapely limbs turned long and gnarled. Hands became like talons and feet were now inhumanly wide, having huge toes tipped with yellowish claws. In the creature's eyes danced terrible fires and a foul dark mist extruded from her mouth and female parts. But in the same sweet voice she said - "I'll take you then"

And she rushed in..

dammit, i told you to watch out for that claudia....
but do you listen to me? no
(i won't say "i told ya so")

As the creature closed, I sidestepped and swung a terrific slashing blow aimed at it's neck which along with a rock turning under my foot put me off balance thus hindering a sure death stroke. Instead the blade struck it's extended hand then continued, biting into the thing's middle torso and ribs. A decent cut by any means, yet I knew my stroke was far from fatal. It felt as if I had swung into a Tree trunk instead of flesh and bone. A horrible scream split the night air all but unraveling my nerve. Not allowing the creature time to react, I aimed another swipe at it's neck, which was deflected by one of it's reptile-like arms. I followed with a left and the fire brand broke over it's head setting hair into a glowing smokey smolder. Again it issued a scream that no doubt could be heard in Waynesboro and swung a backhand blow which put me hard against the ground yards away.

Inspecting it's wounded arm and long gash across it's scaly torso, she then turned her burning eyes to me glaring in a most hideous manner.
"You son of a bitch, I'll never be able to wear a two piece bathing suit again,,, I'm going to rip your,,," Claudia's words suddenly ceased and the creature jerked it's head to one side as if listening. It's eyes widened into twin balls of fire.


The creature hissed - "Later, you can bet your ass" then turned and fled with hair still smoldering, up into the wooded rise which based Torry Ridge. Issuing a war cry I heaved myself up and gave pursuit. Through Night's upland woods and up sloping inclines the chase led.Something was crashing up through the underbrush ahead of me. I followed. Around and over over outcroppings I ran and halted long enough to wipe blood from my eyes, catch my breath and notice that something was moving up behind me. 'Mildred and Guy' I thought, but the sounds veered away from my position continuing up the slope. This was no dream, or dream like I'd ever had as blood clotted up upon my opened eye brow and dried tight on my face. Never had I dreamt of my own bleeding.

Pushing off from the the trunk I was leaning on, my hunt continued. Recklessly I plowed upwards through a tangle of trees, underbrush, vines, creepers and brambles following the sounds of the creature's flight. Some distance up ahead of me I heard a frightful scream - "Yahlillah Usnaah !" two more times it repeated then faded into distant crashing through the brush. It was moving fast. Following it up the slope I was aware of my brush tattered condition, weary legs and that the first pale amethyst hued light of a strangely different dawn was stealing over the ridge. 'It has to be a dream' I raced on by Dawn's dim light finally reaching the summit. Looking down at the rocky ground I saw drops and splatters of dark reddish-purple blood leading down the other side.
"Ha ! A blood trail !"

Descending from the top, following blood-spoor and broken branches I came to a large level area strewn with outcroppings and cut by washouts. This I traversed still following the trail of gore. Hearing no sound of flight ahead of me, I continued carefully and ready for rending claws at any time slashing out from behind the next Tree or rock. However the blood-spoor continued onto a down a Deer path.

The Creature was bleeding every step of the way..

Following down the game trail for some time I heard the sound of moving water and came upon it's source. I dropped down into a broad stream bottom that was walled in by steep wooded inclines and traversed by a swift moving run of clear upland water. It cascaded gently down hill and both bank and bottom were clear of any underbrush providing no cover for a sudden ambush. Beside this stream I followed the creature's blood trail and rare partial beast-like foot prints pressed into wet exposed soil. Both dirt and wild grass were splattered with blood. It's trail turned a stopped at water's edge. Above me on the rise I heard movement along with a familiar nasal whine-like call and caught a glimpse of two small figures racing along the top in a blur of speed.

'The Twins !' I thought.

At first thinking it had took to wading either up or down stream, I took time to look across the run and saw water and gore splashed upon some rocks. It had crossed and so would I.
This critter had to be caught and destroyed or else it would continue to feed off of humankind. It had feasted upon our essence, trailed us to Sherando and attempted to either breed with me, or have me for an early breakfast. Now equally strange beings were hunting it as well. So they followed her following us ! Perhaps this was a savage drama that had spanned countless ages. Even if they beat me to the kill, I would at least count coup on the creature's dead body, knowing a wound or more was my doing. It gave me a parting threat back at camp and I would see it dead either by my hand or someone else's. I was about done in after running over a mountain and down the other other side and knew full well my limits were strained. Still I went on.

Continuing down my side of the run I looked for a good fording place and found one. A bathtub-sized rock sat in the middle of the water offering a good jump across point. Chancing a glance down the open trace, I was amazed to see two smallish pale-skin, white haired, black-clad figures leap from the heights, land onto the broad bottom and race swiftly downward out of my field of vision.
"Freaks chasing another !" I shouted, then laughed at the madness of it all, before leaping.

Instead of landing soundly upon the large rock at midstream, my foot hit a patch of slimey algae that in my haste I failed to noticed. I went down like a sack of potatos striking my head on stone before landing with a splash in the cold stream. Wet and dizzy I rose and waded knee deep to the opposite bank. Taking up the chase I staggered on about 2 yards until my senses left me and the world went black..

Sherando Lake and surrounding mountains.

http://photo.accuweather.com/photogallery/2006/7/500/487a0bde9.jpg

"Wake yer crazy ass up !" The Words sliced air like a Peach switch, but it was cold water splashing on my face that brought me out of the void. Following another double cupped handful of cold stream water I heaved myself up and yelled "I'm awake damnit !" at Whitey who was ready to baptize me again and did
just for the hell of it.
Flip was squatted by the stream dipping a spare bandana into it's cold running water. Walking over to me he offered the wet cloth as to clean up my face. - "Shit man, you're a fucking mess" He then began pulling out items from our first aid kit.
Dripping wet, no doubt by attempting the same jump as I did, R.W. asked - "What the fuck happen to you early this morning ?"
"How early ?" I demanded, then bummed a smoke off Whitey as mine were back at camp.
"Around quarter after five " Flip responded rubbing a gop of tube extruded goo on my eyebrow. - "When you were leaving the tent I woke up. At first I though you were out for a piss, but after awhile I heard you fussing at something, so I started to get up, but couldn't remember where my glasses were"
"Then there was an ungodly scream " R.W. added and inquired - "Was that you ? It sure didn't sound like you. I thought it was a Screech Owl "
Flip went on - "I finally found my glasses, you had knocked them off my bag when you were getting up. Well I poked my head out of the door flap just in time to see you tearing into the woods"
"Did you see that fucking critter ?" I asked
"Nope just you"
"No burning head ?"
"Burning head ? No I just saw you taking to the brush but quick and howling like a mad dog" Flip replied, putting up his tube of medical goo.
"You woke everybody up with your crazy 'sleep running', so Whitey, Flip and I got geared up to bring you back. Damn Skid, I ain't even had coffee yet" R.W. informed me. I guzzled down about half of Flip's canteen then told them - "She must of tracked us here, then waited to attack just before dawn"
R.W. gave me an odd look - "She ?"
"Yeah she ! Claudia you wet Poodle !" I continued - She was calling me from the Rhododendrons. Calling me, but I did not go in. She walked into camp as naked as dawn and smeared with paint"
"Paint ?" Flip asked
"Body paint, snake like swirls, circles and such, anyway she came in wanting to hook-up in a personal way"
R.W. wanted to know - "Did you tag, Skid ?"
"Fuck no, I didn't tag you dumbass, I refused, and she turned into somekinda forest devil then made a grab at me" I got up, pulled off what was left of my Tshirt and washed the blood out.
"Then what happen ? " Whitey asked as if he was talking to a nut-job.
"I threw down on it, swung my knife and gave that old critter a good nick or two, but it was those fucking Albino freaks who chased her away"
"You stupid ass !" Whitey laughed - "You were sleepwalking in a nightmare" He had a hard time accepting anything Supernatural or Paranormal, even it was right in front of his face.
"Bullshit Whitey !" I growled - It was wounded when it booked off. I followed it's screams and crashing until dawn found me atop the ridge where I found it's blood trail. Fucking blood that looked like grape juice"
"Purple People Eater ?" Whitey chuckled poking more fun than he should of.
"We saw no gore other than a few splatters of regular red blood " Flip said
"It wasn't purple ?" I asked.
"Nope, red, like a Deer or Human" Whitey replied
"Came from you probaly " Flip said - "You may need to get that stitched-up " he suggested pointing at my gashed brow.
"Aint that bad" I assured him then walked over to where earlier, the Creature's blood dripped over flora, dirt and stone. I inwardly swore seeing only dead-bleached spots upon the moss on a rock, wilted dying grass and black splotch stains in the dirt. "Even it's blood is vile"


At a slow and easy pace we went back over the ridge and back to camp, swearing oaths not to speak of what occured. We decided to make the best of what was left of our vacation. We fished, hiked and celebrated.

Charlie got real sick, so we left Sherando Saturday instead of Sunday..

Epilogue





Our accommodations at the Ramada Inn were somewhat better than many of the other roadside motor lodges we had bivouac. Flip and I had been doing abit of side work in the City of Blacksburg Virginia for some old friends and decided to take abode here right off Highway 460. Finishing up some Chinese take-out, I cracked open a bottle of vodka and filled our cups. Outside it was an unseasonably sunny 70 degress this late Febuary weekend here in this college town. Earlier than expected we had finished installing some of our fine home crafted Cedar kitchen cabinets in an old house that was being restored. Paid in cash, we would relax abit in our motel room and get one going before hitting the main drag of the party section. Bars, Taverns and new situations awaited us. Up until today weather had been rather mild in Virginia during the 2006-2007 Winter season. Our room had a view of a grassy field-like depression and beyond that, other buildings. Grabbing our drinks and walking out the second floor room onto a railed walkway, we gazed of what scenery there was before us.
"Hey what's that ?" Flip asked pointing to a low platform-like wooden structure some 10 feet out in the field.
"What the hell does it look like ?"
"It looks like a small stage" Flip answered his own question as we looked down at the treated wood structure surrounded by metal picnic tables.
"A soapbox to stand upon if needed" I replied checking out the horde of college kids pouring into a room about 8 doors down.
"Too bad Charlie ain't here, that boy loves a stage to Monkey shine on"
"Yeah too bad " then I thought of my cousin languishing away with a crippled body and scrambled brain back in a Williamsburg nursing home. The party life, messing with things he had scant understanding of and 5 years in prison had reduced Charlie almost to naught.
Flip on the other hand although shot with gray and more gaunt than ever, still managed to get around good. He was younger than me, but looked years older. Suffering from a few health problems, along with his occasional cocaine indulging it was apparent Flip was slipping downhill. Gone was the colorful bandana knotted about his head, now he topped it off with a Greek Fisherman's cap just like the one his ex-girlfriend lit on fire and tossed out the window during a drunken spat. Oh what a lovely couple they were, a thin Bird-looking man and a somewhat rotund younger woman with coarse black hair, weird sky blue eyes and a tough hide sporting a good several tattoos. (The wench is over at Myspace now) They had planned to get married this June until he had discovered his bride to be was also banging a Biker, Bartender and an Airforce flyboy from Langley. Already somewhat strapped, She had put him into heavy debt.
"How's Nicole ?" I asked being abit mean.
"Fuck that hosebag" He snarled. I smiled at his odd response as a co-worker had informed me Flip and 'Nikki' were together at a local watering hole the night before she had to turn herself over last month to the Virginia Correctional System for 3 DUI arrests and assult on a law enforcement officer during 2006.
"She's in the pokey" He said and went on to tell me not to mention her name again - "I'm trying to stay in a good mood"
Flip had reason to be in a good mood as this was the last month he had to pay child support . His youngest child was now an adult. Needless to say his ex-wife did not share in his happiness. There was already talk of her and her new hubby having to sell their Florida Timeshare. I told him to get a lawyer when they first separated, but he was too tight to spend a quarter to save himself a 10 dollar bill so to speak.

Like Flip, I had grown older and went through divorce with my first wife. Thank goodness no children were involved. Now with a new woman and beautiful 9 year-old daughter, the many bawdy nights of hard drinking, wenching, rounding and all other aspects associated with being a bad husband were a thing in the past. Besides work and an occasional camping trip with the boys, I pretty much stayed with my family. A homebody of sorts.

But now about 250 miles from home we decided to get up there abit..

Going back inside I tightened up both cups, while Flip packed a small Steatite bowl full of Whoodee. With the radio on we we caught-up on local news and spoke of our old comrades living or departed.
Denny had been killed on a dark cloudy night in the fall of 86 while sitting atop his motorbike at a stoplight by a fast moving pickup truck. A witness stated Denny had stopped about 3 car lengths back from the green traffic signal and for some reason cut off his lights. Some said suicide, others claimed it was something else. His brother R.W., once the dandy of Lynnhaven was now ate up with hardcore chronic alcoholism in an old mobile home at the edge of Poquoson's salt marsh. Unable to work he had became a recluse. Old friend Whitey was no better off, drunk every day on Bud and slowly dying of cancer. Although I had talked to The Great Bear on the phone a few times, neither Flip or myself had seen him since late 1999 after he decided to join The Republican Party. We had heard he had slacked-up on the drinking, but had ballooned twice his normal size around the middle. After attending a large Autumn Pagan Festival with us he vowed not to go camping with us anymore and began talking with Jesus more than he spoke to Woden.
"Ever heard anything from Patti ? " I asked, thinking of the dancing girl for some odd reason and knowing Flip still frequented the Go-Go Clubs.
"She was crackwhoring down in Ocean View, but I also heard she is dead" Flip sadly replied.
"Sad" I said - "Such a happy-go-lucky little sprite, she had the whole world before her"
"That world got smoked through a crackpipe" Flip returned.
I informed him that Patti's sister worked at my place of employment but would not talk about her sibling.
"Yep, she's probaly dead or worse" Flip said. Getting away from Patti I raised my cup to Flip and cheered him - "Well you have not aged abit"
"You ain't either" He lied.
"Dispite the gray around my muzzle" then clanking his cup with mine I raised a toast - "Here's to good liars and better lies !"

We drained our cups and proceeded to sample the usual potent green hydroponic Whoodee that had become the mainstay of area heads. None the less we got pretty much up there.

We were a vanishing people. Two of a few still active menbers of a band, now all but disbanded. Some had moved away starting new lives, some were sickly, unable to travel, much less camp, a few were currently serving time in prison and all others were dead. Memories and names carved on headstones. Even our own High Chief had departed for places unknown. The past glories of Lynnhaven were now only campfire and tavern table stories. Those of us who had survived carried ourselves in a more careful manner here in King George's crusading Kingdom of America. Once again the Islamic Desert Hawks battled Western Eagles.

These were strange days..

We were comfortable enough in the Ramada room and there was a sense of security, but having never lodged at this place it may be best for us to tread carefully. I had found the ice, soda and snack machine earlier with no trouble. It was a good thing we'd checked in Friday around noon as the motel was rapidly becoming non-vacant We ate lunch then went to the work-site where Flip and I worked till 9 pm, came back to the room, feasted upon pizza, got sotted into sleep. Rising early, then back to work, we finished the job by lunch. After that The Ramada was filling fast with weekend celebrating college kids, Power drinking locals, bawdy bumpeteers, out of town craftsmen and the rare Winter season tourist or three. Returning to the room not long ago with 7Ups, Bugles and bucket of ice I was approached by a late teen or barely into her 20s underage lass who wanted me to violate Virginia ABC laws by going into town and picking up some hard sauce. She asked in such a pleasant manner that I felt ill at ease to decline. She thanked me anyway as I knocked for Flip to open up.
Seeing the young woman walk away Flip watched with hand shaded eyes.
"Who was that ?" He wanted to know.
"Didn't catch her name, she wanted me to fetch booze for her and her friends"
"Never know" Flip said - "They could be operating an ABC sting"
Shaking my head in woe, and then remembering how it was when I was young - "These kids have a more hard way to go getting up there, shit man, back in the 70s, the fuzz barely fucked with us, unless of course we were raising too much hell"
"These kids know how to score, probaly better than us. She'll find somebody to pick up her alcohol"
"You're probaly right Flip" Then I reminding him of the days of our youth when the age to buy beer was 18, and how we had little trouble copping hard spirits. Many times we had checked into various motels under assumed names, filled a bath tub with ice and beverage for a Friday Night Festival. Now as the 21st century dawned, badges, batons and big brother were always a step away or passing near. The sense of HomeLandSecurity caressed with the comfort of a roll of 60 grit sandpaper hanging next to a dirty toilet. When traveling we secured our own rented homeland. Having a permit to conceal, Flip traveled with his long barrel 38 revolver, while I took along my reproduction 1860 Army 44 ball and cap hogleg. Of course we brought our blades. My Khyber knife lay under a pillow and as a gag I brought along one of my Xmas presents, a three ring guard, swept hilt rapier. If some crack-head kicked in the door like what happen at Motel at Ocean View back in 94, we would be ready.
We were drinking rum with a hair dresser/hooker, well she was drinking most of the rum faster than we could quaff, when the door of the McThrift Inn was pushed in and then entered a wild-eyed substance abuser. Flip drew down on him, he apologized and left. Not wanting to draw the heat, we reported the broken door to the staff that nexy morning at check-out. "Must of slept right through it" I told the manager.

Having reflected upon days long past over another drink, a motel lamp and the free HBO illuminated the room as I called a cab so as to get us to 'Party Town' without the risk of a DUI. In no time the driver had arrived blowing his horn outside. Exiting our lodging we had to go back in and grab coats as it had suddenly turned cold and grey.

We booked off into the Night..

Stoned, snokered, I failed to remember names of the establishments we visited that night. All were packed with school kids not half our age. They treated us for the most part in a civil manner, but still we felt out of place. In the last of these college bars, a very nice top floor place atop a good many steep stairs it was time to make plans. I could barely hear Flip over the loud music.
"Is there anywhere in this town where oldfolks can drink in peace and quiet ?" Flip attempted to shout over the pounding beat. Before I could reply, the bartender gave us a name and directions , which upon finishing our drinks we followed. A chill was in the air and a light frozen rain and mist fell. Soon the sidewalks became rather precarious for fellows such as us and Flip slid almost going over a newspaper machine.
"Easy there Peggy Fleming" I laughed, taking lead in crossing the street - "This is the place" pointing at the dull structure ahead.

It didn't look to be a bar from the outside, more like some old business thrust between other old storefront. However inside both of us grinned, knowing this place was better suited for our festive needs. Before us a darken table area that was about half filled with patrons and beyond that a dimly lit bar sporting a dozen stools. Two old Kats sat atop swiveling seats at the rough-hewn bar, while two more copped a squat.

We had gave this place a once-over while making for the bar, recognizing no one to our knowledge. The Bartender a friendly enough looking soul asked what we would be drinking tonight.
"Two of the largest Zombies you can make please" I ordered and informed him we didn't mind paying extra for a good drink.
"I can do that " He said with a smile and produced two glass beer pitchers in which proceeded to mix our beverages.
"Fuck man, don't know if I can handle all that" Flip said watching the massive amount of booze being poured.
I breathed in the cigarette smoke and the smell of spilt beer - "A nightcap, Flip, before bed"
"Some fucking nightcap, more like a sledgehammer to the skull" Flip returned.
"A last one for the road" I laughed.
Flip chuckled -"That last one is going to do just that"
"What's that ?"
"Last" Flip replied - "Last all night, that's about 5 drinks in one"
"Don't worry about it Flippy, tis my treat, but you're getting the cab home"

Thinking it would be good to put a table under such large beverages we hefted the pitchers like huge tankards towards an empty booth near the door where both of us qauffed deeply.
"How's your drink, Flip ?"
"Heavy"
"How's your's Jim ?"
"Strong"
With good booze running down his chin, Flip warned - "I hope we don't slip and break our necks out there"


Getting bombed off our giant-sized drinks, we sat and talked. At one point we touched upon plans of getting our families together for camping at the Verona KOA.
"I hate privately owned campgrounds"
"Yeah but the kids like the waterfall and bunnies" He slurred, then with full bladder made his way to the restroom. Grooving on the Jukebox's top 20 sounds, I enjoyed my large drink while gazing at a distorted reflection upon the cloudy glass door. Scant worries here getting fucked-up before calling a cab and taking our chances back at the Inn.

My ponderings were suddenly disturbed by a gentle tap on the back. Turning my head down and around I saw a pair of women's boots. Looking upwards I saw she was wearing jeans and a thick woolen sweater. She appeared barely into her 30s with a beautiful face framed by shoulder-length Chestnut hair. I drew in a deep breath as my hackles rose. She kept her arm crooked slightly inward. As my eyes adjusted more to her form and features, I felt a chill colder than the ice storm outsde. She regarded me with strange firey golden-hued eyes and with a rich voice said - "I know this sounds old, but,, I'm sure I know you from somewhere"
Almost reducing down to kettle-mush while gazing at that haughty yet sensual face, i managed to gather myself - "I doubt that"
"I'm Melissa" She offered an extended hand, but I grabbed my drink and raised it instead.
"I'm Joe" I returned having a sense we knew each other lied. Above smiling lips, the look in her firey eyes could almost be mistaken for a glare. I expected her at any split second to change into some terrible semi-human creature from the dark, demonical past and with a sharp black taloned hand, rip my face off. That didn't happen, but I felt like a mouse at night in an open field.

Although repelled, I could not take my eyes off her unusual beauty. She spoke of the weather - "Getting cold out there. A good night to be near the fire and under the quilt" It was then Flip returned to our table. I watched his jaw drop as he got a good look at our visitor.
"Hi my name is Melissa" She said, again extending her hand which Flip lightly and swiftly shook.
"My name is Joe " he stated not realizing I already snagged that handle.
"Two Joes in the same bar, at the same table" She laughed - "What are the odds on that ?" Her eyes now aglow with fire, she bowed her head slightly and said - "Well nice meeting you Joes, I've got to be getting back to my friends. Maybe I'll see you Joes around" With that she smiled, turned and walked across the room with the gracefulness of a She-Panther.

Flip pulled out his cell-phone to call a cab, while I went to piss, getting a decent look at 'Melissa's friends in passing their table.

And what friends did they appear to be..