Chapter 15 — Mountain Refuge
Rays from the sun awoke me as I found myself slumped over in the front seat of the car at a rest stop near Greensboro, North Carolina.
My goods were overflowing into the front seat, but the station wagon was a good thing; there was plenty of room for things important to me.
Groggily, I exited the car and took a walk—still wondering what I had been through for not only the last four years since I had left Cherokee but especially during the last month.
The knot on the back of my neck now was about an inch in circumference. I just figured it was from stress on the nerves, but knowing what I know now, I was more than likely implanted right before the energy attack occurred at the carrier case.
I got back in the car and drove five more hours to exit the familiar cutoff to Cherokee. This time, I would not be driving back.
Thirty minutes later I stopped at a familiar shopping center in Waynesville. It was dusk, and the view from the parking lot of the setting sun over the mountains was awesome. Lots of land was visible. As I scanned the horizon, I thought again about what had happened, where I was coming from, and where I was going. It all seemed so senseless and confusing.
Sitting there in the parking lot for an hour brought me painful memories: a hearse circling the house at late hours; the Virginia Beach policeman tailgating my car for two miles just after I visited the FCC trying to figure out who was following me, and the four men blocking the exit door in a small foyer when I was trying to deliver mail near the university; and there had been five times as many state troopers on the road the night I left with some state helicopter following me to the state line.
I got back in the car after getting a snack at the grocery store and drove over Soco to mom’s house.
I greeted her and then went straight to bed, but when I awoke, I still felt confused and dizzy.
I thought, Oh no, not again! This is the place where I always get better, not worse!
This is the place where I would come to get well from the wounds in life, and now someone has seen fit to come here. This is where I recovered from a debilitating leg injury and nursed myself back to health in 1981, and the place where I recovered from hernia surgery. The sound of the running creek below the front yard gave me peace, and the flowering trees on the mountainside shed their sweet aroma on me.
What is causing this?
I tried to put the aggravation aside and enjoy the day but the dizziness continued. As I lay in bed, an airplane could be heard in the far distance, something I had never heard before at mother’s house. Shortly thereafter, the room felt like it was swaying. I knew the disturbance was external.
I had great knowledge about how to heal naturally, but I would least make an appointment with a chiropractor in Waynesville to look at the knot on my neck.
And the doctor could substantiate why I left my job.
It would be more than just the planes that would be seeking my whereabouts.
As mom and I were driving her car to the chiropractor’s office, a late model black Ford car began to follow us. The car was quite noticeable in the middle of autumn on the Reservation four-lane highway where there’s hardly any traffic in November – before the casino came to town.
I slowed down, and he slowed down. So I stopped right in the middle of the road. He did a U-turn and disappeared.
Mom later told me the FBI asked for permission to conduct surveillance of her phone conversations, but this guy wasn’t a FBI guy.
Six weeks passed and I felt much better. The knot went down on the back of my neck and I began to eat decent food. But now I was in need of money, to make the support payments for Sarah.
The sick leave pay from the Post Office would help but I wanted to go to work somewhere but not in Norfolk after the murder attempt.
Fortune came my way, and in early March, I got a temporary job with the local fire crew.
This only lasted three weeks but it did a lot for my morale after what I had been through. I was physically active again, and I started back to church.
And then in April, I was able to get a seasonal job with the Park Service.
By letter, I quit the Post Office after an argument about them not doing enough to protect me from direct energy attacks as I was casing my mail.
Someone had used direct energy on me at that post office; I was disturbed while carrying the mail, and then saw fit to manipulate the Inspectors to harass me.
I should have figured something was going on when one of the carriers suddenly went down with a pinched nerve and went into surgery, and then arrived weeks later with a brace on his neck. He was their practice guy. His case was about five cases down from me, and he had been in good physical condition.
And then new supervisors were brought in from other cities. These supervisors I did not know, and they began to treat me roughly, going so far as to hide behind bushes and catch me driving my postal vehicle fifty yards with my door open on hot day to give me a ticket and take my license. They took me off my regular route and put me on a walking route – right behind the Post Office – where the perpetrators could continue to target me from the apartments in back of the Post Office.
Sensing I may be coming to Cherokee one day, I had bought a small lot just across the Reservation boundary about three miles from mom’s house. I had already installed a septic tank.
Anyway, I started building a shed.
One day while working on it, I received a call from the Park Service on the telephone I had connected: they offered me work in the summer months.
This job was something I really needed, for there weren’t many decent paying jobs around Cherokee.
I started working at a campground.
And then I bought a mobile home. It wasn’t much of one, but it would be mine and I could shield myself somewhat better than if I was at mom’s house.
After getting my trailer set up, I was still receiving pulsations hitting my body. Trying to determine the source, I bought several pieces of electronic equipment, and one day, while listening to a Citizens Band radio, which only picked up broadcasts nearby since mountains surrounded the trailer, I heard, “He’s got a radio!”
I then suspected someone at the Recreational Vehicle Park just below my trailer 100 yards was now monitoring me. Searching my trailer perimeter later, I found a stash of stomped out cigarettes behind a bush fifty yards away from my kitchen window.
One of the things perpetrators do is loosen wires like the neutral and ground wires or disconnect them from their proper places and put them near a hot wire – where pulsing will occur throughout the circuit. I doubt it’s a coincidence 18 serviceman died over in Iraq from electrocution, some in the bathroom shower and others in a swimming pool, from a report I read.
It’s bad enough radiological frequencies are disturbing the human nervous system through regular household wiring and the smart meters, for many victims have proved that.
And you would also want to make sure your electrical panel is bonded to a good ground. If you are in question, have the resistance composition of your soil checked out to make sure there is a good ground.
For what it’s worth, I’ve wired houses from start to finish, having been schooled at a vocational school in Norfolk while attending the tenth grade.
Anyway, the targeting continued. Air Force planes would suddenly appear out from the sky and come down over my property, with emanations cutting off my ground fault electrical breaker and causing severe pain to my body.
And whenever I traveled, a small plane would appear just as I arrived somewhere or went somewhere – I presume to get my coordinates.
The harassment was so bad one night, after I had been at the trailer for a couple of years that I called my friend Miriam and asked if I could spend the night with her.
She agreed, and I was so thankful.
(I sure would appreciate anyone reading this if they would go on Amazon books where my book is listed and give a positive review, unlike the one a perpetrator gave to try and stop me from getting this story out.)