Prologue: A Northeast Georgia Back Road four weeks after the Randolph tornado!
Raymond Camp staggered out of the juke joint totally drunk around eleven Saturday night.
He was headed home down Hog Mountain Road, just outside the small town of Randolph. It was a late July night, and the moon seemed brighter and fuller than normal. He only had a quarter-mile walk to Horton Street where he would take the short path to his boxcar-style house. He'd try not to wake his grandma.
The occasional car passed as he left the road wanting to relieve himself of seven bottles of beer. Something seemed amiss; he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye. That darn creeping Kudzu always seemed to be moving eerily.
A gentle puff of air, like a baby's breath and smelling of jasmine, grazed his cheek. Next, something touched his foot, then curled around his leg and caressed his thighs with a seduction that froze his soul.
He staggered and struggled to make his way back to the road, Raymond tripped and fell to the ground. He felt cornered as the Killer Kudzu's vice-like grip entrapped his body. He screamed, but nobody could hear his cries for help.
He clawed at the ground, but he was now covered in Kudzu. The grip was unyielding and squeezed his skin tearing flesh releasing streams of blood. The Killer Kudzu seized his arms and torso and dragged his body into the underbrush.