Surrounded By Snakes In The Darkness

The Safety of Strangers in a Turbulent World

It was April 2021, and the United States had not only undergone a pandemic but racial and societal unrest over the past year. We were in North Carolina where we had stopped our RV for the night at a local distillery. They host your stay in hopes you will purchase their inventory. We had a lovely tour and tasting of spirits.

I had finished dishes after making a nice camping dinner of salmon patties, potatoes, and mushrooms. I wanted to go for a little walk down to the river. I love walking at night, especially where there is a body of water involved. There was one other RV couple camped, but the rest of the property was very dark, quiet, and secluded at night.

I walked alone in the deepening dusk, to hear the chirping sounds of spring and the water rolling down the river. A very loud white truck pulled into long driveway of the distillery where we were parked. The music was blasting from the interior and the florescent lights accenting the headlights were shining brightly on me. I turned to see the truck and why they had invaded my quiet nature, but it was impossible to see with the bright lights in my eyes. As I turned back toward the water and continued walking, the huge truck swerved over toward me in a threatening manner. I ran off to the grass to avoid being hit.

I was still fairly close to our RV, so I debated whether to run back and go in for cover. I started walking back to the RV but was hoping to continue walking. I waited as the truck revved up the engine several times. Then it flew by me and drove along the park and eventually left.

It was quiet again. I could still hear the noise of the engine as it drove through town. As long as I knew it was in town, I felt safe to continue my walk. Now I could go back to hearing the crickets, frogs chirping and sounds of the water lapping on the shore. It was a stunningly beautiful night as the stars reflected on the water.

It was the wrong call. I had walked a significant distance from the RV, almost to the other side of the park, when the truck suddenly pulled back into the distillery. I didn’t hear it coming this time. It came down the driveway and deliberately drove near me again. Then it went past and parked. And stayed.

Not one to be overly cautious, I was officially freaked out. I was a woman in a strange place, alone at night and I felt incredibly vulnerable. As a fan of true crime stories, I had visions of them just pulling me into the truck and driving away. I didn’t have anything on me, no ID, no flashlight, no mace, and no phone.

The huge white truck just sat there in the lot, revving its engine and playing the music even louder. We were at a standoff.

Perhaps the true standoff was going on in our country, to mask or not to mask. To mandate or not to mandate. To openly allow hate or to let it continue to simmer in the midst of our humanity. We were being encouraged by our government to rebel, not follow laws, not care about our fellow humans, and make America Great Again by forcing pre-1960’s view of life on the world of 2021.

I stopped walking back toward our camp, judging the distance and how fast my fifty-something-year-old legs would take me back to the RV. The truck was between me and the RV.

There was a man in his 30’s and his young son who were fishing by the bank of the water. They were the last remaining holdouts from the earlier groups of fishermen who had been there. I felt comforted there were still other people out, now darkness had completely fallen.

I decided staying near Dad and Son was the safe thing to do.

Dad asked where I had come from and I told him we had an RV up the hill. I pointed toward it, but neither of us could see it from where we were.

I didn’t ask permission; I was certain I was in trouble here. “I am going to hang by you guys until this truck leaves.” The father shrugged his shoulders. He had no idea who this crazy woman was infiltrating his quiet fishing evening. He was just trying to have some quiet time with his son as they fished.

I tried to explain, “They swerved to hit me the first time they came in here. Now they’re back. I am certain they are up to no good.”

Thoughts of Deliverance were going through my head. I had no idea how many people were in the truck; how old they were or what kind of threat we were up against. I only knew there was no way I could get back to the RV safely by myself at this point. The truck was not leaving, and it was strategically parked too close to us.

The Son, who was about 8 or 9 years old was very smart and clever. He was watching the water moccasins on the water as he and Dad were fishing. Son was showing me, God bless him. Son had no idea who this white lady was; hanging out by the water with them for some strange reason. He was happy to have an audience to his banter about the fish.

Still, the truck did not leave.

There was more talk of fishing, of getting lines stuck on weeds, and more baby water moccasins were showing up on the shoreline. I had never seen a water moccasin before, much less the 15 babies I was looking at now. Ordinarily, poisonous water snakes would have frightened me, but not as much as a truck full of unknowns, in the dark, by a river in North Carolina.

“Honestly, this is really freaking me out,” I said. “They came back, and they knew I was out here walking by myself.”

Dad took a better look at the truck. Were he and his son also in danger? Perhaps the thoughts were crossing his mind as well, but he didn’t let me know it. “Probably some kids, partying.”

“Partying is not what I am worried about. They knew I was here, and they came back.” I tried to focus on his vision of the situation rather than my own. It was just kids, looking for something to do on a Saturday night.

My mind, however, kept going back to what we were going to do if they did attack us. Where would we run? What would I do? I decided it would be safer in the water amongst the water moccasins than it would be here on the shore with Deliverance freaks. I’d take my chances with the real snakes.

My heart was racing, and I kept looking at the truck but trying to be casual. I didn’t want them to think I was afraid. I wanted them to believe I was the Mom in this family. I wanted them to believe I was not in fear.

But then I realized this could go really bad, especially since Dad and Son were black, and I was not.

We had previously lived in North Carolina for over three years, so I am cognizant of some southern attitudes. This situation could bring on a serious attack if these guys were white nationals or skinheads recently given open season license on violence from our leaders.

Was I was putting Dad and Son in jeopardy by being at the water with them? This could go bad for all of us. Now that I was standing here with them, how could I protect them from harm if it did come our way?

I chatted more with Dad and Son. I looked at the water, I watched the frog Son had found on the concrete. I was blissfully interested as the Son told me more about the fish…Dad seemed calm and asked Son if he wanted a snack. It was well past the dinner hour, and he probably hadn’t planned on fishing this late.

I debated my options.

Then we heard all the truck doors open and a girl got out of the truck. We could barely see her skinny white legs against the backdrop of the truck’s lights. I think this scared me even more. Were they sending her out as a decoy so they could attack from the side? Dad, Son, and I were at a clear disadvantage because the lights from the truck made us completely blinded at what they were doing.

She came out to the rim of the parking lot and asked, “Are they biting tonight?” There were more voices from behind the bright lights and laughter of several men. We were definitely outnumbered. I tried to count how many voices I heard.

I bent down and picked up one of the large river rocks. I selected one, not for size, but for the most effective, agile tool I could conceal in my hand and still do damage on someone’s head. I’ve had scary situations in my life, but have never felt as defenseless and threatened as I was at this moment.

“This is just…not right here.” I said to Dad, who must be thinking the same thing by now, “They knew I was walking alone and they came back. I really think they are up to something.” Once Son was out of earshot, I said again, “Are you worried… or is it just me?”

He nonchalantly cast his line, “They just came down here to party. That’s all, they’re just getting high.” Maybe he’d been down here hundreds of times before and knew this was a local party hangout.

I was a traveler in the middle of nowhere. I remembered high school partying and parking. This did not have the same vibe. I was sure we had a situation on our hands. Again, I considered if I would take to the water-filled with moccasins. Or was my best option to try to outrun them back to the RV? My husband was there, possibly watching TV and most likely asleep. He would have no idea what was going on if I didn’t come back. I held onto the rock, as my imagination continued to soar.

Eventually, we heard all the truck doors close again and they revved the engine several times before pulling out in a blaze of glory. They were gone and the quiet of the night returned.

I thanked Dad and Son for allowing me to be with them, for keeping me safe. He was packing up his fishing equipment into his car. I never knew for certain if he was afraid. Or who he feared more, this crazy white lady who wouldn’t leave them in peace, or the crazy unknowns with nothing better to do on a Saturday night?

I waited until the engine was down the road before I headed back to the RV. Rock in hand, I walked as quickly as I could. I went in and immediately locked the door behind me.

They came back several times that night and later they found some other people to party with them because we could hear the music and laughter for hours coming across the park. Although I was safely in my bed in the RV with my husband next to me and the door locked, I could barely sleep a wink the whole night.

I vowed to never put myself in this situation again. I thank the kind, Dad and Son, for allowing shelter with them and for protecting me. Wherever they are, I appreciated their kindness amongst the snakes of the darkness of the North Carolina river.