Death in the Mountains

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters; I am making no money off them.


“I was afraid that you were dragging us into Deliverance, but instead we’re in the friggin’ Twilight Zone! These people talk about ghosts as if they’re next door neighbors! I was watching that cop when you came into the lobby. Why did she act the way she did?” Sam and Dean were having an intensive whispered conversation in Dent’s Diner. The place was pretty busy; apparently it was the gossip and hang out place for the local teens. Now it was Dean’s turn to be freaked. “Every ghost we’ve ever seen has been dangerous; I think we should check out this Katie Wyler thing. You told me that you felt a nudge to come up here, maybe this is why!”

Sam sighed in exasperation and rolled his eyes, the day before he’d have given anything for Dean to take his “psychic abilities” seriously, now he couldn’t get him to quit obsessing over them.

“Katie wasn’t attacking me, Dean, she was just there. She seemed just as startled to see me as I was to see her. She was sad, something terrible had happened to her, and she was guilty about something, but she didn’t want to hurt anyone.” Sam stared past Dean. He could still see the expression of grief, horror, and terror on her face. He didn’t think he would ever forget it.

“Maybe she is our job, Sammy! Maybe the deaths are linked to these murders! I still think we should check it out!”

“Fine!” Sam threw his hands up in defeat. “We can check out the library and research her! I still think it’s a waste of time. We don’t even know if these deaths are unnatural!”

Deputy LeDonne was sitting in the next booth. He was off duty but dropped in for a late lunch and to keep an eye on the teens. They made up about 80% of the trouble in their small county, and Martha, Spencer and he made a point to be places where they could keep an eye on them. He may not be in uniform, but the community was so small they all knew who he was. Today he had the added bonus of keeping an eye on the two transients staying at the Rice’s KOA. Martha had told him the youngest thought he had seen a ghost. Even if they were not involved in the murders, they could be trouble of a different kind. The last thing they needed was a couple of stupid flatlanders getting lost in the woods or bit by a timber rattler while trying to play Ghostbusters. Millie and the rest of the volunteer rescue squad had better things to do with their time. He was glad they were going to the library instead, even if they were going to annoy Vera Kesterson, the new librarian. Millie was kindness itself; Vera would verbally cut them to pieces if they pestered her too much.

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Vera Kesterson, the subject of Deputy Le Donne’s musings, was having a bad day. Her brother’s family was having a hard time and one of the volunteers had called in sick so she was working the circulation desk in the Wake County library. She had a Ph.D. in Library Science and she was checking out books!

This might appear to be a tiny little backwater library, but there was something real about it; it actually had a place in the local community. Hell, people volunteered to do fundraising drives to help buy books! She certainly got more respect here as a librarian than she would have in Nashville or Knoxville, even though her place in the community was a bit strange. The Kestersons were an “old” family, but her father had moved out of the mountains when he was young. She was the first Kesterson to come back to Wake County in about 60 years.

Another fascinating thing about the area was the library itself. It was an absolute treasure trove of documents and rare books about the history and culture of the region. House to house fighting during the Civil War, the lost state of Franklin, Nancy Ward, Dragging Canoe and other people involved in the Trail of Tears, and that was just a smattering of the historical importance of the area. Then there was the culture, the old folklore, the meanings of quilt patterns, the old folk songs, the crafts. Vera loved the way that some of the old folks way back up in the hollers still spoke with Scottish, Irish and German accents. Tourist thought they had recently immigrated, but members of these families had lived in Appalachia for well over 200 years. That is how isolated the area was until recently. As a result, Vera did a lot of conservation work and had major university libraries from all over the country and Europe contacting her for information on the collection. She smirked at that. Her fellow students thought that she was crazy for taking this position at a small county library. She now worked with some of the most prominent scholars and libraries in the world as well as getting to do community library work. The government grant she’d won for the conservation work gave her a comfortable additional income in addition to what she was paid by the county. She had the best of both worlds.

Vera saw two young men enter the library. They were in their early to mid twenties and were easy on the eyes. Vera bit back a smile. Little Kim Jessup would fall into a fit if she saw them later on and realized she’d missed out on a chance to flirt with them. Kim was a good kid, but she was still a teenager. The scruffier looking one approached the desk.

“Good afternoon Ma’am. I’m Dean Keelper with the Nashville Times. We’d heard that the Katie Wyler case may be reopened and we just wanted to do a little background research.” He said, flashing what appeared to be press credentials. The younger one winced at this introduction. She could see why. It was a very stupid lie because there wasn’t a Nashville Times; the major newspaper for Nashville was the Tennessean. She took a closer “look” at the two of them. The younger one was…interesting. “Is there any way that we might take a look at back issues of the local newspapers?”

“That would be ‘newspaper’; the area is too small for more than one paper.” Vera said calmly. She was trying very hard not to laugh in his face, his officious demeanor was hysterical.

“We have microfiche copies of the Hamelin Record back to the 1960’s. Any further back are still hard copies. I’m afraid I can’t let you see those. We are doing some major conservation work and can’t risk any harm to them.” Vera watched them very closely as she spoke.

The “reporter” frowned and she noticed him pressing a hand to his ribs. Vera tried not to show any surprise. She should have realized who they were when they first walked in.

The younger one gave her an odd look. She’d have to be careful of him.

“Well, since you’re in the newspaper business, I reckon you know how to do some conservation work. How ‘bout y’all make microfiche of each record you look at after you get past the 1960’s? The paper goes back a little over a hundred years, I’m sure there’s something in there ‘bout the Wyler case.” Vera was purposely jazzing up her Appalachian accent. It was all too easy to play the dumb hillbilly card, and she did so shamelessly when she needed to.

Dean gave her a dazzling smile. Vera had to admit he was a handsome devil, even if he didn’t appear to be too bright.

“Why don’t I show you the conservation room and show you how the machines work?” Vera asked, pretending to simper at Dean’s attempts at flirtation. She was only about 10 years older than him and had no problems in her love life. Too many people still saw librarians as unhip spinsters. Another stereotype she used when it was to her advantage.

Jeff McCullough had copies of all of the Hamelin Record’s, so if they screwed up an issue or two, she still would have a backup copy. She wondered how much work she’d get out of them before they realized Katie Wyler had been dead over 200 years and it was well known who her killer was.

Besides, if they were who she thought they were, she owed them a little payback. That, and descendant’s of the Wyler’s still lived in the region. She would try to keep these two from bothering them. They were like puppies barking at sunshine. Until they got tired of researching Katie Wyler they wouldn’t be good for anything else.


“Damn it!” Dean irritably pushed away the first published edition of the Hamelin Record. They had spent three afternoons in the library, coming up after Sam had put in his four hours a day at the KOA and Dean’s time helping Mrs. Rice in the office as he healed. Their actual hard cash was at a good level and Mrs. Rice was feeding them most of their meals. They had gone through every issue of the newspaper and not found a single mention of the Katie Wyler murder.

Oh, they had found mentions of the Wyler family. About the most exciting thing they found out about them was Misty Wyler had played Juliet in the 1996 Hamelin High’s production of Romeo and Juliet. There had been bizarre deaths in the last hundred years, but there was no pattern or connection between them that Dean could see.

“We should go ask for the head librarian. Maybe he will know something useful, that chick at the desk sure isn’t.” Dean muttered. “Are you sure you can’t find anything on the ‘net?” He asked Sam.

Sam shook his head and continued to flip through their dad’s journal, not really seeing it. He told Dean that he thought this was a dead end. Besides startling someone, Katie wasn’t a threat. He almost had a feeling that there was something here that already took care of dangerous demons, ghosts and monsters in the area. The murders that the deputy had told Dean about made him feel uneasy when he thought about them, but so many people around here seemed so matter of fact about these things that he wasn’t sure what to think. He kept having the strangest feelings, like he was feeling other people’s emotions. In Dent’s a few days ago he felt like someone was watching them, but the place was filled with kids. The librarian here made him feel like she was constantly laughing at them, but the only time he’d even seen her smile was when Dean was flirting with her. All of these were just a few examples, and they had gotten worse since he started trying to use his abilities. He wasn’t having the problem at first, but they had been staying at the campground and there were not many people around. He had spent a lot of his time in the woods. Sam found himself looking for excuses to not go into town.

He was getting scared. Was he mentally ill? Some mental illnesses didn’t start showing up until your early twenties. He was still having sexual dreams about men. Sam was questioning both his sanity and sexuality. At some point he was going to have to tell Dean. As much as they may squabble, he couldn’t put his brother in danger because he was unstable.

“Sam! Sammy!” Sam was jolted out of his thoughts by Dean shaking his arm.

“What?” Sam asked, feeling a bit dazed.

Dean looked closely at his brother. “Hey, are you okay?”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Sam shook his head, both to clear his thoughts and in a subconscious signal that no, he wasn’t okay. Sam shuddered, now he felt like someone was watching them.

Dean was getting worried. Sam was acting spacey and he was waking up several times a night with nightmares. He wasn’t eating much and was constantly looking around. Dean didn’t know what to do to help Sammy. The scales from the Uktena that Light Feather had given him didn’t seem to be working. Light Feather had given him what looked like four quartz crystals, one large one and three small in a doe skin bundle, saying that it helped psychic’s control and to focus their abilities. They had to be occasionally smeared with a drop or two of blood. He had put some of his own on them and took some of Sam’s blood from his bandages as well. Was that what was causing Sam’s problems? Did Light Feather lie to him for some reason? Sam said the guy gave him the creeps. He wished he knew someone he could ask. Maybe Mrs. Rice could help since she knew about ghosts.

Sam would have been comforted if he knew that someone was watching them. Vera was carefully surveying them from behind a bookcase. She was used to moving around the library undetected to keep the teenagers from causing mayhem or making out in the stacks. She was feeling rather guilty, but not about getting them to help conserve the newspapers. Sam was obviously a powerful psychic dealing with his abilities after suppressing them, and other things, for most of his life. Vera wished she could help him, but he wasn’t ready yet. If she tried to help him now, he would be startled and shy away, like a young horse. His brother was worried about him and bound to be defensive. She would have to wait until they both realized that they couldn’t handle this on their own and were desperate enough to take help from anyone. All Vera needed to do was to be sure that they didn’t leave until Sam was stable.

Vera’s eyes narrowed as she saw the journal on the desk next to Sam. It was filled with badly done drawings, newspaper clippings and unorganized notes on supernatural creatures, and not the friendly ones. The journal looked like it had been cobbled together by someone more obsessed than stable. Shit. Not only was Sam a psychic, he and his brother were also Hunters. Amateur Hunters with a journal written by someone who was disturbed and a baby psychic. Damn. She would make up a story of some sort to get Sheriff Arrowood to throw them into the county lock up if she had to. These two were not going to leave Wake County until she was sure they were ok. Damn it, her hillbilly librarian act was going to work against her. She hadn’t been truly honest with them in the beginning, and that would make it harder for them to trust her. Once again, she’d outsmarted herself through her own arrogance. This time someone else was paying for it.

What a tangled web indeed…


Sam thrashed around in his bed. He was standing in a small, cool cave with a dim green light that pulsed and shimmered across pale walls. He heard a noise to his left and was struck with horror at what he saw. Two gigantic men, so large that they couldn’t be real, were fucking a young woman. One of them had her bent over his lap while he spanked her slowly. Her ass was bright red and the man spanking her would stop occasionally and gently rub her ass before fingering her and rubbing her clit for a few moments, and then go back to his rhythmic spanking. Another one was kneeling by her head and thrusting his cock deep into her throat, his hands grasping her long, dark brown hair. The girl squirmed and shuddered, but they showed her no mercy. The one spanking her seemed to be bringing her to the brink of orgasm time and time again just to go back to spanking her. Eventually the man spanking her started finger fucking her ass brutally and with little lubrication. Sam could hear shrill screams at this invasion even around the cock that was still fucking her mouth. He knew he had to stop it, but he couldn’t seem to move. The man - the monster – that was fucking her mouth began grunting with what Sam was sure was an orgasm. When he pulled out of her mouth the girl started choking and gasping for air, but the man spanking her just laughed and started bringing his hand down on her ass even harder before rubbing her clit again, making her squirm and beg. One of the men laid her down gently on her back and started licking her clit and pussy while the other one stroked her breast and played with her nipples. Their motions seemed gentle, but they were both holding her down. They brought her to the edge of orgasm again and again, but whenever she got close, they would start pinching her nipples viciously, finger her ass and spank her pussy brutally before going back to teasing.

Eventually, they allowed her to come, and when she did, the entire cave echoed with her cries. Her face was flushed and she was sweating heavily. The two men seemed to glow with a greenish light they seemed to be pulling out of the young woman.

One of the giants smiled, and he slowly turned his head towards Sam, an obscene smile playing across his lips. Sam felt a strong feminine presence behind him suddenly. She grabbed him and threw him backwards, putting herself between him and the men.

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Dean woke up hearing Sam thrash around in his bed.

“Damn it” Dean muttered as he got up. He didn’t resent Sammy waking him because he was more worried about his nightmares. Dean turned on the light and frowned. Sam usually woke up from his nightmares faster than this. His eyes were fluttering but he obviously wasn’t awake and he was fighting the sleeping bag he was in.

“Sam, Sam!” Dean tried shaking his brother’s shoulder to get him to wake up. Sam’s eyes snapped open, but he started screaming loud enough for half the campground to hear him. Dean tried grabbing both his shoulder’s to shake him and started yelling his name.

Next thing Dean knew he was flat on his back in the floor with Sam on top of him, still tangled in the sleeping bag and thrashing around. The left side of his face felt like it had been hit by a brick and by Sam’s screams it was obvious he still wasn’t awake. Dean flipped Sam over on his back and sat straddling his chest and pinned his hands above his head. Dean was glad that Sam was still half in the sleeping bag; it made it easier to keep him pinned. Dean had lost muscle while healing, and Sam had built up plenty doing work around the campground. He had to get Sam awake and calmed down quick. He didn’t want the police called. They might haul Sam off to a mental hospital, especially since one of the deputies had seen him in a panic over seeing a ghost already.

Sam struggled for a few moments more before his eyes seemed to clear and he stopped screaming and began to taking gasping and shallow breaths.

“Dean?” Sam asked, but he still sounded dazed and his eyes didn’t look like they were focusing right.

“Come on, Sam, talk to me.” Dean ordered, staring into Sam eyes as if he could bore into his mind. Dean was afraid and on the verge of tears out of fear for his brother, but he couldn’t show it. Not now. He had spent too much time trying to keep scared people from panicking that he knew you had to stay cool. If you started freaking then they would only freak worse and the situation would get dangerously out of control. He clamped his legs tighter around Sam’s ribs and leaned more pressure onto his wrists. Dean wasn’t letting Sam up until he was sure he was totally awake and in control.

“Let me up, you’re hurting me, jack ass. Why am I on the floor?” Sam was trying to sound as normal as possible so Dean would let him up, but his voice was unsteady and he was shaking like a leaf in a thunderstorm. His skin was clammy and cold, even in the heat of early August. Dean had to work hard to keep his dominate scowl in place. He could feel Sam’s rapid pulse from where he was holding his wrist. Sam was in actual medical shock and it was from a “nightmare”.

“Okay, I’ll let go, but only if you swear to me you won’t try to get up right now.” If Sam tried to get up right away he could get dizzy or even pass out from the shock. Either way, he could hit the floor again and hurt himself.

“Sure” Sam said. He had to admit he wasn’t sure if he could get up. Dean let go and stood up to loom over him, still scowling. He quickly rearranged both of their bedding. Dean was glad he was just about healed up. Before his brother could register what he was doing he scooped Sam off the floor and plopped him on the bed. Then he arranged his pillow and sleeping bag under Sam’s feet to prop them up and zipped Sam up in his own sleeping bag to keep him warm. Dean was relieved; he hadn’t felt any pain picking up Sam. Dean sat down on the bed next to him, still scowling and exuding a certain physical menace. With Sam zipped into the sleeping bag it would be hard for him to get past him.

“Okay Sammy, what’s going on? I know you’ve been friggin’ holding back on me. Start talking.” Dean knew he was bullying his little brother and taking advantage of his condition, but he didn’t care. Something was very wrong.

After a few deep breaths, Sam began talking, and he told everything. The dreams about other men, the strange feelings when he was around other people and the nightmare he just had. Whenever Sam began to falter or close up, Dean pushed and bullied him until he kept talking. Dean felt a growing tension in his temples and neck. This was far worse than he expected. Sam was crying like a child by the time he was done. Dean kept his jaw clenched to keep from crying himself. He had to stay strong in front of Sam. He could cry in private later on. Dad had trained both of them not to show their emotions, either to the monsters or to the people they were trying to help. They had a hard time showing emotion to one another, but right now Dean felt his control tested more than at any other time in his life. He had to remind himself repeatedly that he had been raised as a warrior.

Dean grabbed some bottled water and paper towels so Sam could clean up his face. As much as Sam bitched about Dean ordering him around, right now it was obvious he wasn’t up to making any decisions. Dean was scared. He didn’t know what to do with Sam. Normally they traveled so much from place to place they had no one else. He and Sam were on their own since Dad died; they had to take care of one another. Maybe they should pack up and leave at first light. Dean bit his lip. Sam said he had more problems around people, and this place was pretty isolated. The Rice’s had been helpful, they were the closest things to friends they had right now. They could call Light Feather back in Chattanooga, but Sam didn’t trust him.

Then a thought hit him. What about this Nora Bonesteel that Betsy Rice had told them about?

Ashera woke up cursing. The Goddess be damned things were getting stronger and there was an inexperienced psychic out there that would be a tasty morsel for them. Even if she scared them, she was tackling the two brothers tomorrow when they came to town. If they spooked and tried to leave, she’d go to Plan B. She just hoped she was good enough to manipulate the Wake County Sheriff’s department. Ashera knew she would have to be especially careful of Spencer Arrowood. His mother was close to Nora Bonesteel. She knew the old woman was a powerful psychic and she respected her from a distance. Nora had abilities that Ashera had to train for years to attain, and the old woman had decades more experience using them. Ashera wished she could approach Nora Bonesteel directly, but she was afraid to. The story around town was that the woman was a strong Christian, and Ashera didn’t know how she would feel about a coven of Wiccans as next door neighbors. The farm was in the shadow of Ashe Mountain.

Both Ashera and Sam would have been relieved to know that two others had the same dream. These two had just as much concern for Ashera as she had for Sam. Unlike her, however, they didn’t think that she was ready for their intervention yet.


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Sheriff Spencer Arrowood was usually a calm, steady officer that the voters of Wake County depended on in times of crisis. Today, anyone who knew him could see he was under strain. He and Doc Benton were looking at the body of Kim Jessup, a local teen home from college for the summer. Her body was totally nude and her clothes were lying neatly folded a few feet away. She was in a small cave just over the line from the national forest and in Wake County’s jurisdiction. Spencer wished to God she wasn’t, and then he could hand it off to the FBI. Kim looked like her body had been posed as if she had been masturbating when she died. Healthy 19 year old girls didn’t wander off into woods they had known since childhood and die from dehydration while masturbating in a cave. He was glad that the only people there besides him were Doc Benton, Millie from the rescues squad and Martha.

“Hell”, Spencer swore softly. Only Martha was close enough to hear, but she covered her surprise well. A bit louder he said “Everyone please keep this under your hat. Carver and the rest of the Jessup family don’t need to know the details.”

Doc Benton and Millie Fortner both nodded. Doc Benton was the local pediatrician as well as the medical examiner, but he sent all the really tough cases to Johnson City. Millie Fortner also transported bodies in addition to her rescue activities and teaching CPR classes. Everyone in a small community like this wore multiple hats. Everyone at the scene had known Kim Jessup since she was a young child. Her family was one of the “old ones” in the area, the first Jessup’s in the area came at the same time as the Wyler’s, Greer’s, Ayer’s, Arrowood’s, Bonesteel’s, Stargill’s, Sorely’s, and Kesterson’s. The Fortner’s, Benton’s, the Rice’s and the Phillip’s had come later, but were no longer considered “outsiders”. After all, they had been here for over a hundred years now. It took generations before you were no longer considered a “newcomer”. Old or new, the entire community was proud of little Kimberly Jessup for winning a scholarship at Yale. She wasn’t rich or particularly pretty, but she was Wake County’s favorite daughter.

“We’ve received calls from the National Park Service.” Martha said slowly. “Five hikers and tourists have gone missing in and around the Wake County area in the past two months. Then there are the two Lee College kids we found. All of them in caves, nude and with evidence of some sort of sexual activity and all of them dead from strange causes, dehydration, stroke or heart attack. Healthy young people do not die like this.”

Doc Benton nodded his head. “I’ve sent all the victims out to be autopsied, but there are no signs of trauma; no injuries, defensive marks, nothing.”

Millie glanced at Spencer. “What about those two boys out at the KOA?”

Spencer shook his head. “We’ve been watching their movements. Between the Rice’s and Vera Kesterson at the library, we know where they are just about 24/7. We know where they’ve been since before Kim disappeared. Unless they can be two places at once, they’re not behind these deaths.”

“The Rice’s can’t praise them enough” Martha added. “With Jude Rice being sick and all the runs they have to make to Johnson City for treatments, Betsy reckons they’d have to close the campgrounds without them. It’s early August now and their busy season starts in September. I spoke to one of them. He’s no saint, but he’s not a killer either.”

“We need to go notify the Jessup’s. At least we don’t have to put them through identifying the body. I think Doc Benton qualifies as her pediatrician. Are you ready to go Martha?” Spencer asked.

“No” Martha said quietly, “I’m not ready to go tell the Jessup clan that their little girl is dead, but it’s better us than the grapevine.” Martha, like the rest of them, was trying to control her grief. In a community this size, everyone would sincerely mourn. Flags would be at half staff throughout the county by tomorrow morning and crying would be heard in random places all over town.


Thanks to Ann for her review! Sharyn McCrumb is a Southern mystery writer. I enjoy her books because my family is Appalachian and many of her books are set in that region. My mom’s family is from a place similar to Wake County, so I have a good feel for my original characters. I’m taking the advice of many writing instructors. I’m starting off by writing what I know!