We woke up the next day around noon. I felt more relaxed than I had since before my dad had died. This visit with the Newman’s had been the most perfect time ever. I hated to think of leaving, but I needed to head to Spartanburg since I hadn’t been there since August. That afternoon I was headed home down I-26 for the rest of the weekend.
After all the activity in my dorm and all the noise and mayhem at the Newman’s, the silence at my house was a bit unsettling. I had so gotten used to having people around that I found myself craving the activity and commotion.
Chapter 6
When Sunday finally arrived, I was more than ready to head back to Western. Catherine had beaten me back. I noticed her car in the parking lot. I grabbed my stuff out of my car and ran up to my room, colliding with Cat as she was headed out the door.
“Cat! Where are you headed?”
“I’m gonna grab a pizza. Wanna come?” she asked.
“Yeah, I’m starving.”
We headed to the local pizzeria and caught up on our weekend.
“So how was it?” Cat asked.
“Oh, it was great to see all my friends, but the house was scary lonely. The other thing, I don’t feel like I have as much in common with my friends anymore. And, if you can even believe this, I missed you!” I said.
“Hey, what do you mean ‘if you can believe this?’ I can’t understand why everyone doesn’t miss me!”
“Funny! What about you? Did you have fun?”
“Well, after beating up my brother a time or two, I guess it was okay.”
“Hey, I’d trade with you in a heartbeat any time. Don’t knock it,” I admonished.
“Just kidding. No, really, I missed you too. And I had fun with my family. They’re great. They all loved you, by the way.”
“Tell ‘em I feel the same. They’re awesome. It was great being with you all for Thanksgiving. Cat, I don’t think I’ve ever had such a great one.
Cat was fidgeting with her napkin, twisting it around, and I sensed something was on her mind.
“What’s up? I can read you like a book.”
“That obvious, huh?”
“Yeah. What’s going on?”
“My parents want me to move back home and go to UNCA, University of North Carolina at Asheville.”
“What?” I was dumbstruck and felt the beginnings of panic begin to course through me.
Cat’s parents were tight for money and didn’t know if they could afford her tuition and boarding expenses. They thought it would be a better decision for the family if she would move back home. I could see how upset she was, and she was trying her best not to show it.
“Can you apply for scholarship money?” I inquired.
“I’ve already done that, and I’m also applying for financial aid. But I don’t know if I can swing it. They said they would help me with tuition, but that they can’t help me with my room and board. So, I guess you could say I’m screwed.”
“No, let’s think about it. I can help you. I have money, Cat. I can lend it to you, and you can repay me whenever—no time frame or anything. No interest either. You can’t leave here.” I reached across the table and squeezed her hands. “You are my only family, and I’ve just found you. You can’t leave me now,” I said brokenly. I was heartsick by the prospect of Cat not being here. I couldn’t stand the thought of it.
“Hey, Maddie, don’t be upset. Okay? I don’t want to leave you, but I can’t take your money either,” she said sadly.
I felt like a jerk. Here she was trying to comfort me!
“What about a job?” I asked.
“Now, there’s a thought,” she said sarcastically. “Maddie, even with a job, I couldn’t afford all of this.”
“So, what are you saying? Are you definitely out for next semester?”
“No, not definitely…yet, anyway.”
“I’m sorry, Cat. And I’m sorry about being so selfish about this. I shouldn’t be thinking about how sad I’ll be without you. I should be thinking about how sad you are over this situation. I do wish you’d let me help financially though. Can’t you talk to your parents about it? We could even do it officially. I would have my attorney draw up papers and all. Can you just think about it?” I pleaded.
“Okay, I’ll talk with my parents about it and see what they think.”
“Promise?”
She nodded.
“That’s a deal,” I said, feeling a bit better about things. I knew I could find a way to persuade her to let me lend her the money.
Cat continued by telling me her family wanted me to return for the Christmas Holidays or, at the very least, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. They were unwavering about me being alone on those days. Cat told me that her parents said that if I didn’t agree to it, they would come to Spartanburg and drag me back to Asheville.
It was hard for me to think about Christmas; my mind was locked into the fact that there was a strong possibility Cat wouldn’t be returning to school as my roommate, and that thought was disturbingly unsettling to me. I would not allow my mind to wrap itself around that suggestion. I tried not to be selfish. Cat had become family to me, and I was not going to give that up.
I numbly responded to her that Christmas had become my day for backpacking. It’s where I had decided to celebrate it, so maybe I could come to Asheville afterward. I had even thought of going down to the Keys after hitting the mountains for a change of scenery.
And then I remembered, “Oh, before I forget. You and I are finished with finals on the same day: the twelfth. Do you want to go on a two-nighter backpacking trip? It’ll be awesome because all the foliage is gone so the views will be ah-may-zing. What do you think?”
Catherine answered back glumly, “I doubt I can. My mom has me lined up to get my wisdom teeth out that week…I think on the thirteenth. Ugh! I am so mad at her. We argued about that all weekend too. I had a pretty crummy break now that I think of it.” Cat scarfed up the last bit of pizza.
Regrettably, I answered, “I’m sorry. I had my wisdom teeth out the summer before last. It’s not too bad once you get past the first couple of days. You’ll be fine in no time. And thanks for the Christmas invitation. Let me think on it a bit, and I’ll let you know. I just don’t want to be an intrusion, you know. Maybe it would be best if I came for New Year’s instead,” I said.
* * * * *
A week passed, and then we were up to our eyeballs preparing for final exams. This was our first experience with this, and we were both edgy about everything. We didn’t quite know what to expect, and listening to everyone who had been through it, we were getting ready to run the gauntlet. Neither of us was looking forward to it, but we both wanted to get through it and move on.
We lived at the library, staying up too late, existing on too little sleep, too much caffeine, and Red Bull.
We both finished on the same day and felt pretty positive on what our grades would be. I was hoping for A’s in everything but Chemistry. I was sure I ended up with a B in that class.
Cat was headed back to Asheville, but we went out to lunch before she left. She had not made a decision yet, but the deadline was drawing painfully closer.
“Just so you know, Cat, the offer still stands if you need the money. I’m one hundred percent serious. If you want to come back here, I can totally make it happen. I already spoke with my attorney, and he can draw up the legal documents. But I want you to know that you need to base your decision on what you want, not what anyone else wants,” I explained.
“Thanks, Maddie, you’re the best,” was all she said. And then, “Well, I guess I’d better hit the road. I have to get these teeth yanked out in the morning. You still going backpacking?”
“I’m just going to go for Christmas, and then I’ll see you on New Year’s Eve. Okay?”
“Sounds great. Have fun up there and be careful. If you change your mind about Christmas, the door will be open for you.” We walked back to the dorm, and Cat hopped in her car and too
k off.
I watched her drive away and thought that she was the greatest thing in the world. She was the sister I never had; the family I didn’t have. I went upstairs and started packing to go home.
My plans would be to go up to the mountains on Christmas Eve, stay two days, head back down and drive to the Florida Keys. I would stay there for a few days and then head up to Asheville, in time for New Year’s Eve.
Chapter 7
Enter Darryl Carter
Darryl Carter was a highly trained marksman, a skill he had learned early in life. Born and raised in the mountains of West Virginia, his parents were, by all standards, brutal child abusers. His father forced him to practice his shooting skills, beginning at the tender age of five, when he was so small he could barely hold up a rifle. If he didn’t make his mark, he would have to endure a beating that would incapacitate him for days.
“Son, real men don’t ever miss. I’m gonna make sure you don’t forget that,” his father would sneer. The beatings would begin after that. Not only did Darryl learn how to become the most accurate of marksmen, he was also as steady as a concrete post. He could stand for hours and not move a muscle, also courtesy of his constant beatings.
Most children looked to their mothers to tend their wounds and care for them when they were sick or injured. Not Darryl. Darryl’s mother was equally as bad as his father. She was usually drunk by noon, so if he came inside nursing his wounds after a beating from his father, she would pick up where his father left off. He had the worst kind of upbringing anyone could imagine. He learned to isolate himself from anyone and anything, and he became an expert at hiding his pain and emotions for fear of enduring more abuse.
The last thing Darryl learned was how to be cruel to others. You could say he came by it honestly. He never had any friends in school; he was a true loner. Early on the kids would make fun of him. However, as he got older, his own cruel streak emerged, and they began to fear him. He thought nothing of waiting for a solitary child walking home from school so that he could make his move. He would twist arms, kick, punch, and steal money. He also had a knack for being cruel to the local animals. You didn’t dare tell Darryl you had a pet dog or cat. He would find a way to make the animal disappear, only to turn up dead on your front porch days later. He was also known to use this threat as a way to get money from you. Darryl was the cruelest kind of bully.
It came as no surprise to most folks when Darryl left town and never returned. What they didn’t realize was that Darryl had joined the military. Because of his talent as a sharpshooter, he was quickly channeled to the Green Berets, and then, he became a sniper as a part of the Special Forces. Unfortunately, Darryl had become brilliant at hiding his twisted nature, so his superiors were unaware of his warped, psychotic mind.
The most regrettable part of all was that Darryl ended up with the kind of survival training that is usually reserved for the most competent of men. He could live in the woods for days on end and survive on barely any food. He learned to live off the land and endure extreme temperatures without the benefit of proper equipment. His comrades jokingly and, sometimes, jealously referred to him as a machine.
If there were ever any shooting competitions, Darryl would win. He never lost at anything, whether it was a training mission or just simple fun. He was so intense about everything he did; he truly acted like a well-oiled engine. He was both respected and feared by his fellow soldiers.
One other talent Darryl had was his skill with a crossbow. He could split an arrow in a bull’s eye without even stopping to aim. He would bet the other guys that he could shoot a cigarette out of their mouths. Only after many shots of whiskey would they ever really let him try. He never failed…just another small gift from his adoring father.
Darryl’s military career ended abruptly when he was dishonorably discharged sometime during the war in Afghanistan. There was a skirmish in a mountain village, and some of his fellow soldiers witnessed him executing an entire group of women and children. The men claimed he did it dispassionately and without remorse. The Army could never prove anything but they wanted it hushed up. So, in lieu of pressing any charges, they discharged him and sent him home. Unfortunately that would turn out to be a grave and costly error.
Darryl returned to the States, but he never again set foot in West Virginia. He had nothing to go back to, since he never kept in touch with his parents. As far as they were concerned, he was as good as dead, and that was just fine with him.
Darryl first wound up in Alabama. His social skills were all but nonexistent due to his psychopathic nature, so getting a job of any sort wasn’t likely. He thought about the mountains in the northern part of the state. He had heard several soldiers from that region talk about the area. He took to the woods and stayed there for a while, but then, he moved on to Northern Georgia. It was there the killing began.
He was out on a “mission.” Somewhere over the past several years, living in the forest without any real contact with humanity, his true psychosis took root and fully developed, and he imagined himself on missions in which he had orders to kill the enemy. The enemy would be any kind of young woman he would find alone. He would hear his superiors telling him these young women were dangerous, and they wanted to kill his comrades. His mission was to take out the “targets.” So began his serial killings of innocent young victims, completely unaware of the monster he was.
He would usually find them hiking or running alone on trails that were devoid of most crowds. He would render them unconscious and hold them captive until he deemed it was time to terminate them. It was never an easy death for the young victims. Torture was usually part of his plan, because he imagined he needed to get information from them, needed them to “talk.” They, of course, would have no idea what he wanted from them. They would beg and plead to no avail. The whole process would take several days, when finally, they would be begging for death. He was quite gruesome with them at times, taking the opportunity to explain to them exactly what he intended to do.
The authorities could not find him because his Special Forces training made him an expert on covering his tracks. He was also highly proficient at tracking the authorities. He could discern their every move, so it was quite simple for him to evade them. It was as if he had been born to do this very thing.
The killings continued, escalating in numbers. He would stalk his “prey” and attack when they least expected it.
He stayed mainly in the Alabama, Georgia and Tennessee area, but he was on the move constantly. Sometimes, he would venture down into Mississippi or even Louisiana, but his favorite was Tennessee. He felt more at home there. He would oftentimes find farms where he could steal small animals for food.
It was only a matter of time before he decided to roam into the mountains of North Carolina. He imagined the many opportunities in this unchartered territory. Darryl recognized the need to be covert, and his missions in Tennessee had been attracting the attention of others. Thus, he deemed it necessary to find somewhere else to continue his duties.
He was thrilled with the prospect of exploring the Smoky Mountain National Park. Most of his time was spent surveying the trails and familiarizing himself with the area. His travels took him all over the park, from Lake Fontana to Forney Creek, Hazel Creek to Oconoluftee, and out to I-40. He often found himself up around Mt. LeConte and took a strong liking to that area. It was fairly close to the Appalachian Trail, so he would have a good in and out access route. He loved the Appalachian Trail as it gave him access to virtually the entire Eastern United States.
* * * * *
Darryl Carter pulled into the town of Sylva, North Carolina, shortly before Thanksgiving. The town was small with a population of about 2400. The setting was idyllic in that it was in the heart of the Great Smoky Mountains, surrounded by majestic views. Darryl did not notice any of that. He was on a scouting mission. He was intent on looking for potential prey, a young female unaware of her surroundings. Sylva was a good place to focus
on, because it had the draw of being in the mountains, which attracted all the hikers. It was also only a few miles from Western Carolina University. This was a Mecca for young females that loved the outdoors. Yes, this was going be a great place for Darryl to hunt and to accomplish more “missions.”
He spent some time wandering around the town and hanging out at some of the coffee shops. He ventured to the university a few times just to see what kind of targets he would have. He found a couple of internet cafes where students would hang out and socialize. He was getting a very positive feeling about this place.
One afternoon, he found himself walking along the streets of downtown Sylva when he spotted two females that matched up perfectly to the kind of game he wanted to hunt. They looked to be wholesome, not the kind of trashy city girls that wore pounds of make-up on their faces. These girls were not fancy but just plain pure; they were precisely what he wanted.
He followed them from one store to another and decided he’d sit and wait for them to come out. He didn’t figure they’d notice him because they’d been busy chatting to each other. Darryl never could quite figure out how women could talk so much; sometimes, he wished they’d just keep their mouths shut. After he watched these two for a spell, he decided it was time to start tracking them.
Suddenly, Darryl felt like someone was watching him. That one girl with the blond hair started looking his way. He should have kept his distance, but he didn’t figure they’d see him follow them. He was wrong. Damn. They kept walking and headed straight for the police station. It was time to hightail it out of town. He would have to change his plans and head up to the mountains and hide out for a while. Darryl didn’t mind that. He was a patient man, and being patient always awarded him a better prize.
Darryl wasted no time in getting back to his car and drove straight up to the park on US-441. When he got to the Oconoluftee Ranger Station, he turned right and parked his car in an obscure spot on a rarely used forest service road. He got out, went to the back of the car and removed his license plate. He didn’t need to worry about the car’s VIN; he had scratched that out a long time ago. He grabbed his registration from inside the car, and then he retrieved all of his gear. This included a backpack filled with his survival tools, food and sleeping bag. It also held a small camp stove with a tiny tank of propane, some water purification tablets, a headlamp, a good length of rope, matches, and all of his ammunition, including six loaded clips for his 10 mm semi-automatic Glock and twelve aluminum broad head arrows for his crossbow.