arrived.
“Got your hiking shoes on, I hope?” Jimmy said, as the two men got out of the truck.
“Yep – ready for a long day, blister-free hopefully,” Jordan said.
“Is this going to be some real hiking? We can’t drive up?”
“We’ll drive up a ways, then kick it into four-wheel drive for about a mile in. To get where I really want to show you, though, that’s only accessible on foot.”
“That’s going to make it difficult to bring in camera equipment,” Bob told Jordan.
"Now, Jordan," Jimmy said. "Are you absolutely sure about this. I know this is where you were born, but this is not, shall we say, the friendliest place in Tennessee for outsiders."
"I've already tried to talk him out of this," Bob said. "I grew up on stories about this place. My grandmother called it 'Shifter Mountain'. She said the people living up here could turn into bobcats and mountain lions. Said she once saw it for herself when she was a little girl."
"You didn't tell me that part of the story," Jordan said.
"I saw something up here pretty weird one night, myself," Jimmy said. "I pulled up behind a drunk driver on the highway — not quite on Scopes — and he was weaving in and out, crossing the line. There are no streetlights around here on the highway, and it was mating season for deer. So, I pull on my lights and got him to pull over before he killed himself. Well, I ran the plates, and then just as I got out of the cruiser, I swear I saw a goddamn hawk fly out of the window of that car. And when I walked over to the driver's side, nobody was there."
"Seriously?" Bob said.
"I wrote up a report saying the driver had run off, which made me look bad. But not as bad as if I reported the truth, and everyone thought I was on drugs. I was new at the time, and the other stateys teased me about it. Later, after I got promoted to Captain, I told some of the guys about the hawk. Then some of the other troopers started opening up about some of the weird shit they've seen around here."
"You're not going to spook me, if that's what you're trying to do," Jordan told Jimmy.
"Hey, I'm here, aren't I? Helping you out even though I think you're a fool to care at all about this armpit of a mountain. If the shifters don't scare you, try this: You think moonshine and Meth is bad around these parts? Nuh uh. Try ginseng."
"Ginseng? Like, the stuff in my vitamins?" Jordan asked him.
"Yeah, totally legal, but it grows all over the Appalachians and the Chinese are buying it from America, paying top dollar. So local crooks trespass on private and state-owned land, diggin' up the stuff, then selling it to the highest buyer. Guys are shooting each other up over this stuff. Going to prison. Over friggin' ginseng ! This is the kind of weird shit I have to deal with now, never mind rumors of skinwalkers."
"What the hell does ginseng do you for you anyway?" Bob asked.
"It's an aphrodisiac. A stimulant. It is all things to all people," Jimmy said.
“We’re not leaving until we see the holler you're talkin' about ,” Jordan said. “I’m thirsty, though – let me run in and grab a soda. Either of you want anything?”
Bob shook his had no, and Jimmy said he was fine.
Jordan walked into the store, opening a creaky screen door that didn’t shut all the way behind him.
“Mornin’ to you,” said an old man reading a local newspaper. At the very least he was the clerk, but probably the owner. The man scrutinized Jordan for a second, not unfriendly-like.
Jordan walked around the store and grabbed a root beer from the fridge, bringing it up to the counter.
“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before,” the old man said to Jordan, putting his paper down, but seemingly being in no hurry to ring up the sale.
“Actually, I was born around here, but haven’t been back since I was a kid,” Jordan said.
The old ma n, who must have been in his 90s, took a hard look at Jordan.
"Who's your
“Got your hiking shoes on, I hope?” Jimmy said, as the two men got out of the truck.
“Yep – ready for a long day, blister-free hopefully,” Jordan said.
“Is this going to be some real hiking? We can’t drive up?”
“We’ll drive up a ways, then kick it into four-wheel drive for about a mile in. To get where I really want to show you, though, that’s only accessible on foot.”
“That’s going to make it difficult to bring in camera equipment,” Bob told Jordan.
"Now, Jordan," Jimmy said. "Are you absolutely sure about this. I know this is where you were born, but this is not, shall we say, the friendliest place in Tennessee for outsiders."
"I've already tried to talk him out of this," Bob said. "I grew up on stories about this place. My grandmother called it 'Shifter Mountain'. She said the people living up here could turn into bobcats and mountain lions. Said she once saw it for herself when she was a little girl."
"You didn't tell me that part of the story," Jordan said.
"I saw something up here pretty weird one night, myself," Jimmy said. "I pulled up behind a drunk driver on the highway — not quite on Scopes — and he was weaving in and out, crossing the line. There are no streetlights around here on the highway, and it was mating season for deer. So, I pull on my lights and got him to pull over before he killed himself. Well, I ran the plates, and then just as I got out of the cruiser, I swear I saw a goddamn hawk fly out of the window of that car. And when I walked over to the driver's side, nobody was there."
"Seriously?" Bob said.
"I wrote up a report saying the driver had run off, which made me look bad. But not as bad as if I reported the truth, and everyone thought I was on drugs. I was new at the time, and the other stateys teased me about it. Later, after I got promoted to Captain, I told some of the guys about the hawk. Then some of the other troopers started opening up about some of the weird shit they've seen around here."
"You're not going to spook me, if that's what you're trying to do," Jordan told Jimmy.
"Hey, I'm here, aren't I? Helping you out even though I think you're a fool to care at all about this armpit of a mountain. If the shifters don't scare you, try this: You think moonshine and Meth is bad around these parts? Nuh uh. Try ginseng."
"Ginseng? Like, the stuff in my vitamins?" Jordan asked him.
"Yeah, totally legal, but it grows all over the Appalachians and the Chinese are buying it from America, paying top dollar. So local crooks trespass on private and state-owned land, diggin' up the stuff, then selling it to the highest buyer. Guys are shooting each other up over this stuff. Going to prison. Over friggin' ginseng ! This is the kind of weird shit I have to deal with now, never mind rumors of skinwalkers."
"What the hell does ginseng do you for you anyway?" Bob asked.
"It's an aphrodisiac. A stimulant. It is all things to all people," Jimmy said.
“We’re not leaving until we see the holler you're talkin' about ,” Jordan said. “I’m thirsty, though – let me run in and grab a soda. Either of you want anything?”
Bob shook his had no, and Jimmy said he was fine.
Jordan walked into the store, opening a creaky screen door that didn’t shut all the way behind him.
“Mornin’ to you,” said an old man reading a local newspaper. At the very least he was the clerk, but probably the owner. The man scrutinized Jordan for a second, not unfriendly-like.
Jordan walked around the store and grabbed a root beer from the fridge, bringing it up to the counter.
“Can’t say I’ve seen you around here before,” the old man said to Jordan, putting his paper down, but seemingly being in no hurry to ring up the sale.
“Actually, I was born around here, but haven’t been back since I was a kid,” Jordan said.
The old ma n, who must have been in his 90s, took a hard look at Jordan.
"Who's your
Similar Books
A Date with Fate
Cathy Cole
The Dr Pepper Prophecies
Jennifer Gilby Roberts
Full Moon Feral
Jackie Nacht
In Death 17 - Imitation in Death
authors_sort
Between the Alps and a Hard Place
Angelo M. Codevilla
Matt Archer: Monster Summer
Kendra C. Highley
Wild Orchids
Karen Robards
TYCE 3
Shareef Jaudon
LOVING ELLIE
Lindsey Brookes
Target: Rabaul
Bruce Gamble