Fancy Gap
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2011 by C. David Gelly
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 1469955490
ISBN 13: 9781469955490
eBook ISBN: 978-1-62112-831-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2012901394
CreateSpace, North Charleston, SC
For
Helen
…the Lulu of my life…your love and support are my blessings.
You are simply…the best!
Eric & Tanya
& your families…I am so proud of y’all!
CONTENTS
DM Sykes…my humble thanks my good friend!
The Soz…
To all those brave men and women who proudly serve as local and state law enforcement officers in southwest Virginia.
Teddy Roosevelt for his immortal words that I live by:
It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.
Citizenship in a Republic (Speech at the Sorbonne, Paris, April 23, 1910)
Virginia State Police Photo
From the
Roanoke Times
in Virginia
“Dense Fog at Fancy Gap Blamed for I-77 Pileups”
This stretch of I-77 is known for bad wrecks, but none as bad as this one, officials said. Fog was so thick on Interstate 77 at Fancy Gap that motorists had very limited visibility. As a result, drivers couldn’t stop, and vehicles piled into and on top of one another in numerous crashes that shut down the road for hours. Tractor-trailers lay on their sides, twisted and smashed on fog-shrouded Interstate 77. Cars rammed into one another, mounting the remains of earlier wrecks. Dozens of rescue workers laid the wounded on stretchers and hauled away mangled metal. Cattle thrashed inside their ruined trailer. The toll on the mountainous highway near the North Carolina border included two dead, 16 injured and about 75 wrecked vehicles, half of them trucks, the Virginia State Police said. This stretch of I-77 at Fancy Gap is legendary for crashes, though none as bad as this one, according to the State Police.
Fancy Gap—a fancy name for a fatal place—straddles the top of the Blue Ridge Plateau at three thousand feet, where fewer than three hundred people live on less than four square miles. On a steep slope nearby, the rocky entrance of a cave known as Devil’s Den gapes open like the jaws of some primitive and sinister beast. Native Americans who once roamed the hills and hollows knew it as “Foggy Camp.” It’s one and only famous son is Frank Beamer, the head football coach at Virginia Tech.
Tourists and sightseers drive up the mountain on Highway 52 from North Carolina to Fancy Gap, where the vistas and mist shrouded hills of the Blue Ridge Parkway beckon. Known as the north/south Great-Lakes-to-Florida route, I-77 parallels Highway 52 and sees as many as thirty-two thousand cars and trucks a day on top of the mountain at Fancy Gap. The famous and very well attended flea market and gun show held every Labor Day weekend in Hillsville is but six miles away on Highway 52. Some five hundred thousand visitors attend in any given year.
Many exit the highway at Fancy Gap to get gas, eat, or flee the fog.
Most return
…
The Prestons had left Detroit well before first light. Tim Preston still found it difficult to process that his mother was dead. She hadn’t been sick and was having the best time of her life. She had left a tough life in Michigan several years earlier and had finally found the happier life she had yearned for in Florida. Then, in a moment, without warning, it had all ended. Her heart just stopped beating.
Tim’s wife, Susan, had been silent for the last hour, but now she spoke up. “Tim, please listen to me. We’ve been driving for hours already! The kids are hungry, and I have to pee like a horse!”
“Susan, we have to get to Miami tomorrow. Mom’s funeral is in two days. We can stop in another hour or so. We’ll need some gas soon anyway.”
“Tim, I know you’re in a hurry, but we really do have to stop soon,” she said as she turned away.
Will he ever stop? He is such a man!
Susan thought as she tried to forget the knot in her empty stomach and her bulging bladder.
Midday was quickly passing into late afternoon on the Blue Ridge Plateau. The leg from I-81 to the north/south I-77 was easy and rolling. Tim’s thoughts drifted to the highlights of his mom’s life and her influence on his life. Her passing would change his life as well as his children’s. They adored Grandma, and she spoiled them rotten.
He hadn’t noticed his speed. He missed the beauty of the passing Blue Ridge Mountain vistas as they descended into the New River valley. The late-day sun reflected off the New River as they gained more speed going down the steep hill to the bridge going over the river.
As they passed trucks and cars, Susan realized they were going faster than they should have been. Tim was not prone to speeding.
“Honey, how fast are you going?” Susan asked.
Tim snapped out of his thoughts and looked at the speedometer. “Oh, shit, we’re almost at ninety-five!” He braked to a more comfortable seventy-five and noticed that the speed limit was now sixty-five.
Susan looked out the window as they passed another exit. She saw the cars and trucks parked at the fast food restaurants on both sides of the exit. Her stomach rolled with hunger. “Tim, this is the last exit we can pass. We’re starved!”
Tim glanced at her and got the message. “OK, Susan, enough already. We’re off at the next exit. I promise!”
The Virginia VDOT message board set up between the Hillsville exit and the Fancy Gap exit was flashing. Tim looked up at it: Dense fog ahead. Slow down to twenty-five mph. Danger!
“Susan, did you read that message board?”
She looked at him with a puzzled look. “I did. But it’s clear as a bell right here. That must be a test message.”
But what if it isn’t
, she thought.
As they rounded the next curve, Tim couldn’t believe what he saw. A wall of thick fog was no more than one hundred yards in front of them. He immediately hit the brakes. The car swerved out of control with less than a hundred feet or so until the edge of the thick fog. He cut the steering wheel hard to the right to avoid the rear end of a tractor trailer stopped right in front of him. Susan screamed.
We might die
, she thought.
Both children were jolted out of their sleep by her scream and the seat belts locking in as the car skidded out of control. Tim swerved the other way and barely missed a woman jumping out of the way. A look of terror occupied her face. Blood gushed from her hairline.
He cut his steering wheel hard to the right again to avoid hitting an SUV he could barely see until he was right on it. The sudden turn pushed their car off into the ditch. They didn’t know how lucky they were. Within a moment, a semi barreled into the SUV. The impact pushed the SUV into the dazed woman and pinned her sideways against a pickup truck. Her scream shattered the fog.
Tim and Susan knew they were still in harm’s way. Susan jumped out of the car on the shoulder side of the road and hauled their son, Pete, with her. Tim pulled daughter Katie over the seat and yanked her out his side of the car. They crawled up the side of the embankment as more cars and trucks crashed into the pileup. They ducked low as three quarters of a Harley flew through the air not five feet from where they sat no rider in sight. The sounds of pain through the dense fog were deafening. Shrieks of anguish could be heard but not seen.
“I think we’re far enough,” Tim said as he tried to imagine what might hit them where they sat. Both children looked at their parents in horror as the thunderous sounds of metal against metal resonated through the blanket of fog. They could hear the shrill of the rapidly approaching sirens. Their ears were their eyes. Katie hugged Tim and cried. Susan held Pete close and prayed that they would be safe.
Her prayers would be answered.
At least for the moment…
He had been there for hours.
It didn’t matter. This plan had been with him for a long time. He had endured the torment. But now the struggle was lost. He had succumbed. His will had weakened.
Yet, he wasn’t sure. He thought of many places he could be. This had to be right. The fog didn’t disappoint. Its blanket spread across the Fancy Gap hillsides like a shawl and slowed all life to a crawl. He smiled as life crept by—slowly.
They were all blind. They couldn’t see life in front of their very noses, and they were scared. Fear parked at every doorstep and behind every steering wheel. He knew they would come. They always did.
He was invisible. He was as black as the night. But he could see what he needed to see.
The old motel would soon see new guests who never knew this place existed. The fog had changed all of that. The bigger motels in Hillsville filled up fast when the fog was thick. Those who were turned away were diverted to the next exit and the old motel in Fancy Gap near the little pond.
He knew that. He waited for his prey to arrive. He would not be disappointed.
He felt the blood swell in places where the sins of the past were remembered.
He slowly unzipped his trousers and rolled over in the wet grass. He settled on his stomach and gently started to rub his groin into the tall, wet grass as his thought’s raced back to a jungle of a life long forgotten. His gyrations and undulations quickened until the violent moment of release set him free, if only for a brief moment.