The Haunting of Roan Mountain

by S A Jacobs

  I picked up my phone and called Linda.

  “Yes David, I know, Spearfinger,” she said as she answered the phone.

  “Damn, you are good! How did you know?”

  “Really? You should know better. I’d promised to help you out with her, and we haven’t spoken since.”

  “So, have you been able to find anything?”

  “Not much yet. Like I said, this is a little outside my repertoire. Want me to set you up with an Ayahuasca ceremony, no problem, but hunting down a Cherokee legend is a bit more difficult.”

  “Ayahuasca? Is that what you had me doing? Jesus, I could’ve died!”

  “Don’t be a drama queen. Salestino is a highly regarded practitioner. Anyway, my point is, without being a Cherokee, it is a little hard to get this info, but I have some leads I am following up on for you.”

  “What kind of leads?”

  “Cherokee, my dear. A friend of a friend has been studying Cherokee legends and happens to be one-eighth Cherokee, which is enough to actually talk to the right people on this stuff. He should be calling me back any time. Why the sudden urgency?”

  “Well how about the fact that I now believe that my father, among many others, were killed by Spearfinger?”

  “Just a feeling, or have you investigated this too?”

  “A little of both, I’m still flushing out some details.”

  “Okay, because everything I know about Spearfinger says she was vanquished. I’d hate for you to be barking up the wrong tree with this.”

  “Yes, I know she was vanquished, but did you also know that she fed exclusively on people's livers?”

  “I did.”

  “But did you also know that everyone who died in the woods here, including my father, have no information about their liver listed in their autopsy reports?”

  “Ah, so your research does point to her being more than a folk story. I just wanted to double check. You know how at times, when one is emotionally connected… well I didn’t want you to be jumping to conclusions.”

  “It’s fine.”

  “David, I’m worried about you. I know firsthand how hard this can be when it hits so close to home. I just want to make sure your judgement isn’t impaired.”

  “Linda, I’m fine. If you want more proof, I should have it tonight. I’m meeting with the medical examiner who signed my dad’s autopsy report.”

  “Okay, call me afterwards please.”

  I drove up the long drive to Claire’s house. It was a beautiful farm house, no doubt a hundred years old. The porch light was on. I parked and walked up the steps to the front porch. As my foot hit the second step, Claire threw open the front door. Her eyes intently stared down the driveway.

  “Did anyone follow you here?” she whispered.

  “What? No.”

  “Have you told anyone you would be here?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Okay, come inside and have a seat.”

  She led me to the dining room where I sat down. She followed with a manila envelope. As she sat down, she pulled some papers out of the envelope.

  “Here, this is the report, correct?” She slid the report over to me. “A Mr. Roger Spur?”

  “Yes, this is my father's report.”

  “You know, the only reason I’m doing this is because he was your father. Well, that and I fear you would get into more trouble with me ignoring you. What is it you want to know?”

  “I want to know why, ever since he died, I have been told he died of liver failure. Yet, when I found this report, there is no mention of his liver at all.”

  “Perhaps I should start from the beginning. You see, this wasn’t a typical autopsy for me. Usually I would be called in to the county hospital, and I would just come over the next day and go to work. This was different. It was immediate and in a location I’d never been nor ever saw again.”

  “What do you mean immediate?”

  “Just that, it was about seven at night when I got the call. It wasn’t a ‘come in tomorrow’ situation; I had to be there within the hour, no excuses.”

  “Where was it?”

  “Oh, I don’t remember the location. It was part of the National Forestry Division. It wasn’t a doctor’s office or a hospital. It was like a vet’s office. I think it is where they rehabbed injured animals from the forest. It was unnerving walking in there through a maze of cages with all these animals getting freaked out.”

  “So what happened then?”

  “I performed the autopsy. This one concerned me. At first glance, there was no clear signs to point to a cause of death. Some scratches and bruises but nothing that would hint at something fatal. Then, as I continued with the autopsy, I realized he had no liver.”

  She stopped to take a drink of tea.

  “I’d never seen anything like it. The liver was removed, surgically. I mentioned it and the officer in charge dismissed it. Said that it had already been removed and sent off to a lab for testing.”

  “Okay, so there should be a report somewhere about the testing of his liver then, right?”

  “I don’t think you understand what I am saying. His liver was surgically removed. Yet, when I examined his body, there were no incisions anywhere, not even scars. From that moment forward, I was the only one touching him. I never even left the room. The liver was removed alright, but not by me and not in that office. Whoever removed it seemed to be able to do it without leaving even a hint of an incision. It just isn’t possible.”

  “You mentioned an officer there with you. Do remember who he was? Was he local police?”

  “There was an officer present. He oversaw everything. He was also the one who informed me that the liver was being tested. The odd thing was that he was just a forest ranger. He was in charge there, but there was also someone pulling his strings. He was constantly on the phone, both reporting and taking orders. His name was Owens, if I remember correctly.”

  “Owens? Gordon Owens perhaps?”

  “Yes! That’s it!”

  “Okay, but one thing you haven’t told me is why all the secrecy around this?”

  “Secrecy is just for self-preservation. Look, this is not how I work. There was nothing about that situation in any way indicative of how I do things. I am extremely transparent about everything I do. With this however, I wasn’t given a choice.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Okay, typically if I work with anyone outside the hospital, it’s through the local police. This was being handled by the Department of Forestry. Federal. They run things a bit differently. Due to the sensitive nature of this case and the current investigation, I was informed that the case was confidential, and I was ordered not to speak about it to anyone. That’s why I was surprised to see this report on your phone. Every report I have ever written is readily available.”

  “Except this one.”

  “Yes! Except this one. This report does not exist. From a documentation level, that evening doesn’t even exist. I couldn’t log my time, nothing. I was paid in cash that night and told that it was a matter of security due to the nature of the investigation surrounding it. I didn’t completely believe them then; I believe them less now. At the same time, I am a doctor, so with HIPAA and all that, confidentiality has always been second nature to me.”

  We spoke a little longer. Then I thanked her for her time and reassured her that I would never relay any of our conversation to anyone. As Claire showed me to the door, she stopped to offer a parting piece of advice.

  “David, I don’t know what you’re looking for, nor do I know the reality of who is behind all of it. But I have been a medical examiner for many years. Whatever you look to discover in this, it may not be worth your effort. You are not going to bring your father back.”

  “Thank you. I appreciate that. However, I am not looking to right any wrongs of the past so I can sleep at night. I am trying to ensure that no one else ends up like my father.”

  I awoke the next morning to find
a text from Linda telling me to meet her at a certain address at eleven. The address was far, at least a two hour drive. Typical of Linda, she offered no other information aside from the address and the time. In the back of my mind, I couldn’t help but think back to the secluded mountain villa where I’d underwent meditation with some medicinal assistance. Despite my apprehension, I couldn’t deny that Linda always came through for me.

  I navigated the narrow mountain passages into North Carolina and finally arrived at the location, a trailhead for the Whiteside Mountain trail. I pulled up and parked next to Linda’s VW. She was standing outside the car speaking with a young man.

  “David, this is Adahy!” She gestured to the young man. “I think he will be able to help you understand a bit more about what’s going on.”

  “Please, call me Andy.” The young man extended his hand to me.

  “Uh, hi Andy, great to meet you,” I shook his hand.

  “Adahy grew up here and knows quite a bit about the legends of this area,” Linda said.

  “Linda tells me you are interested in Spearfinger,” he said.

  “I’m not completely sure, to be honest. Up in Roan Mountain, there has always been talk of Spearfinger haunting the woods. I guess I would like to know more about the legend of Spearfinger, as you know it, before I make any definitive claims.”

  He looked at me with a perplexed expression, his deep brown eyes wide.

  “Are you suggesting that Spearfinger is haunting the woods in Roan?”

  “No, I didn’t mean that. All I really know is that a lot of people like to apply the Spearfinger story to just about anything that happens in the Appalachian Mountains. I figured, at the very least, I should learn what I could about the legend and then try to figure out what, if anything, is scaring people in the woods up there.”

  “Well, if people are just getting scared, it isn’t Spearfinger. She didn’t scare people at all. However, she did feed on people’s liver. Unless you have a bunch of people turning up dead without a liver, this is definitely not your haunt.”

  My heart sank deep into my chest as he spoke.

  “Come, walk with me. I will tell you the story,” he said.

  Linda took that as an opportunity to exit. Andy and I began to walk down the sparse trails. As we walked, he began to tell the story of Spearfinger. Most of what he told me was no different than what I’d already read.

  “So given the legend of how Spearfinger was defeated, is it even possible for her to return?” I asked when he had finished.

  “In theory, no, not at all. But that is why I wanted to meet you here. There is something I think you need to see.”

  We walked another quarter mile on the trail until we reached a clearing.

  “What I told you is the Spearfinger legend as it was first documented. But the documented story isn’t complete. See the documented story always tells of how a rock remains in the place she was vanquished. Not just a rock, but her body, as it retreated back to the form she was created from.”

  “Yes, I read that too.”

  “Okay, so let me ask you something. This story has been repeated and rewritten hundreds of times. The story states that the location of her remains is known and still visible today, yet no one states the actual location. Don’t you find that a bit odd?”

  “I suppose, although I deal with a lot of lore and it is inconsistencies like that which always make these stories get classified as lore and nothing else.”

  “Well, that was the question that bugged me. I spent a massive amount of time researching and interviewing many of the Cherokee elders in an effort to find an answer.”

  “And what did you find out?”

  “What I found is that this clearing right here,” he said pointing to the center of the clearing, “is where she was vanquished. If you look close, there is a rock circle here where the spot was marked.”

  “I don’t understand. I’m not seeing this large rock that is supposed to be her remains.”

  “Exactly! The elders are insistent that this is the location. All recorded information points to the rock being here up until somewhere around the turn of the century. Then the records describe this as being the known location with no mention of the rock.”

  “So are you telling me she is gone?”

  “I’m not stating anything as a fact. But, I believe she was here and she no longer is. If this ghost in the woods by you started in the early 1900's ...well...I guess this may be a possibility.”

  I was completely overwhelmed by that possibility. If this was Spearfinger I was dealing with, how would I vanquish her?

  By the time I made it back to my car and bid farewell to Andy, I realized I had no cell service in that particular area. After about fifteen minutes of driving, my phone finally found service and started vibrating like crazy with missed calls and messages.

  The first message was a playful voicemail from Melanie. “Hey David. Look, it’s a gorgeous day out. I’m gonna take the afternoon off work and head out to the Gap. Why don’t you join me? We can take a stab at finding that lost gold!”

  When I listened to her second message, I realized she was more serious than I’d initially thought.

  “Hey, I made it to Spearfinger’s shack. Listen, there is something out here. I’m kinda freaked out and holed up in the shack. Please come out here.”

  The final message had been left only fifteen minutes ago and was nothing but rustling noises followed by Melanie’s shrill scream.

  Part III

  18

  April 22, 2001

  Roger Spur sat on the edge of the abandoned hiking shelter. It was covered in spray paint and littered with empty beer cans. In stark contrast to the mess of the shelter was Roger. His boots were recently shined, his uniform clean and pressed. The forest was alive with sounds that spring morning. Birds chirped and rodents rustled as Roger listened intently, waiting to hear something different.

  Roger jolted as he heard a twig snapping in the distance. He looked in the direction of the sound but was unable to see anything. Soon, more sounds were audible, the unmistakable sounds of a human moving through the forest. As the sounds grew closer, Roger stood up and ran his hands down his uniform.

  “Glen?” he yelled. “Is that you?”

  The sounds stopped for a brief moment before a voice replied. “‘Course it’s me. Who else would be stupid enough to come down here?”

  Roger relaxed slightly, letting his shoulders drop. Soon, a large man forced his way through the brush and into the clearing. He was broad and stood well over six feet.

  “Why the hell do you insist on meeting me here?” Glen asked. “I told you we could have done this anywhere.”

  “C’mon Glen. You could use the hike.”

  “Alright, so if this is gonna happen, I gotta know. What makes you so damn special?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You know damn well what I mean. Everyone who has gone anywhere near that cache has turned up dead… ‘cept you.”

  “What do you care? If I don’t make it back, your secret dies with me. If I do, you’re a very rich man. I’ve been up and down these hills a million times. I know what I’m doing.”

  “You sure about that?” Glen asked.

  “Of course I’m sure!”

  “No, what I’m sayin’...this forest...it isn’t like other spots. This forest can read you. Read your intentions. It knows why you are there. You may have been up through these hills a million times but never out seeking the cache.”

  “Like I said, I’m the one taking the risk,” Roger replied as he patted the gold coin in his pocket.

  “Alright, well then, I guess this is yours.”

  Glen pulled a single sheet of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Roger. Roger carefully unfolded it. As he looked at the paper, his eyes narrowed. He looked up at Glen with disdain.

  “250°? What the hell am I supposed to do with that?”

  “It’s your heading. You walk on that beari
ng true to course from the starting point, and you’ll walk right into the damn cache.”

  “I don’t suppose you know the starting point?”

  “Of course I do, That’s easy. Well, it should be for you anyway. It’s the southwest corner of the ol’ Cloudland Hotel.”

  “Jesus, Glen, you know as well as I do, that place was destroyed long before we were born.”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, but the foundation is still there. Find the southwest corner up there, follow your heading precisely from that point, and you’ll hit the cache.”

  “So it’s that easy, then?”

  “Easy? You’re speaking to the man who lost his son in this search. It’s anything but easy!”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Yeah, I know…” Glen started to shift uneasily. He pointed off into the distance.

  There was a loud thrashing of the trees followed by a stomp so loud the ground seemed to vibrate with it.

  “You hear that? Do you fucking hear that?” Glen shouted.

  “The hell?”

  “It’s her. That bitch is coming back for me!” Glen took off in a sprint back the way he’d come. His massive body moved awkwardly, yet with incredible speed, before he disappeared through the brush.

  Roger stood frozen in place. His head shifted from watching Glen run, to the opposite direction where the thrashing had come from. The sounds continued and came closer with every second. Roger snatched up his radio off of his duty belt and raised it to his mouth, pressing the button.

  “Gordon, you copy? It’s Roger.”

  The thrashing continued to get closer as Roger held the radio to his ear awaiting a response.

  “Gordon here, go ahead.”

  “Glen split. He is on his way up to the trailhead. Make sure he gets out of here okay.”

  “Did everything go as we intended?”

  “Sure did. This should be no trouble at all.”

  Roger clipped the radio back on his duty belt and focused his attention on the sound in the trees. It was close now. By the way it was moving, it would only be a few seconds before it emerged from the brush.