Jessica Sneed was a proud member of the Eastern Band of Cherokee Indians, a tribe based in North Carolina. But she was even prouder of being the mother to a rambunctious little dark-haired boy named Garrett. Being a single parent at age twenty-five was anything but easy. Had it been up to her, she would be happily wed with a strong marriage foundation and Garrett would have both parents to dote on him. That wasn’t the case, though, as his father, Andrew Crowe, wasn’t much interested in being a husband. Much less a dad. Besieged with alcohol-related issues and a self-centered attitude, he’d left the state two years ago, abandoning her, forcing Jessica to go it alone in taking care of her then three-year-old son. Well, maybe not entirely alone, as her parents, Trevor and Dinah Sneed, did their best to help out whenever they could.
Shamelessly, Jessica took full advantage of the precious little time she had to herself, such as this sunny afternoon when she got to hike in the Blue Ridge Mountains. She loved being in touch with nature and giving back to the land her forefathers had once roamed freely, through retracing their footsteps in paying her respects. She made sure that Garrett, whom she’d given her family surname, was aware of his rich heritage as well. They spent some time in the mountains and forest together when he wasn’t in school.
But today, it’s just me, Jessica told herself as she ran a hand down the length of her waist-long black hair, worn in a bouffant ponytail. She was wearing tennis shoes along with a T-shirt and cuffed denim shorts on the warm August day as she trekked across the hiking trail on the Blue Ridge Parkway, the hundreds-of-miles-long scenic roadway that meandered through the mountains. She stopped for a moment to enjoy some shade beneath the Raven Rocks Overlook and took a bottle of water from her backpack.
After opening it, Jessica drank half the bottle and returned it to the backpack. She was about to get on her way when she heard a sound. She wondered if it might be coming from wildlife, such as a chipmunk or red squirrel. She had even noticed wild turkey and white-tailed deer roaming around. Humans had to adapt more than the other way around. Some did. Others chose not to.
She heard another noise coming from the woods, this one heavier. Suddenly feeling concerned that it could mean danger, Jessica headed back in the direction from which she’d come.
But the sounds grew louder, echoing all around her, and seemed to be getting closer and closer. Was it a wild animal that had targeted her? Perhaps rabid and ravenous? Should she make a run for it? Or stay still and pray that the threat would leave her alone? As she grappled with these thoughts, Jessica dared to glance over her shoulder at the potential menace. It was not an animal predator. But a human one. It was a man. He was dark haired, with ominous even-darker eyes and a scowl on his face. In one large hand was a long-bladed knife.
Her heart racing like crazy, Jessica turned away from him to run but pivoted so quickly that she lost her balance and the backpack slipped from her shoulders. She fell flat onto the dirt pathway, hitting her head hard against it. Seeing stars, she tried to clear her brain and, at the same time, get up. Before she could, she felt the knife plunge deep into her back. The pain was excruciating. But it got much worse as he stabbed her again and again, till the pain seemed to leave her body, along with the will to live. What hurt even more was not getting to say goodbye to her son. She silently asked Garrett for forgiveness in not being around for him before complete darkness and a strange peace hit Jessica all at once.
HE TOOK A moment to study the lifeless body on the ground before him. Killing her had been even more gratifying than he had imagined in his wildest dreams. He recalled his mother once telling him as a child that he was messed up in the head. The memory made him want to laugh. Yes, she’d been right. He had to agree that he wasn’t all there where it concerned being good and bad, much more preferring the latter over the former. His sorry excuse of a mother had found out firsthand that getting on his bad side came with dire consequences. Too bad for her that he’d put her out of her misery and made sure no one ever caught on that he’d been responsible for her untimely death.
His eyes gazed upon the corpse again. How lucky for him that she’d happened upon his sight at just the right place and time when the desire to kill had struck his fancy. It had been almost too perfect. A pretty lamb had come to him for her slaughter. He wondered what had been going through her head as she’d lain dying, a knife wedged deep inside her back. Maybe it had only been his imagination, but there had almost seemed to be a ray of light in her big brown eyes before they’d shut for good, as though she’d been seeing something or someone out of his reach.
He grabbed the knife with his gloved hand and flung it into the flowering shrubs. There were plenty more where that had come from. And he intended to make good use of them. Too bad for the next one to feel the sting of his sharp blade. But that wasn’t his concern. A man had to do what a man had to do. And nothing and no one would stop him.
He grinned crookedly and walked away from the dead woman, soon disappearing into the woods, where he would slip back into his normal life. Before the time came for a repeat performance.
Copyright © 2024 by R. Barri Flowers