The Writer's Voice
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George H. Lafferty
This a purely fictional story and any resemblance of the characters to real individuals, living or dead,
Who would ever believe a trip up to the State Park for the weekend to camp, fish, hike and jog,
would be the place where he would make his first kills? That a trip planned for rest and relaxation
would wind up a slaughterhouse. That they, or at least most of them were going to die.
Oh, not for money and not really for the fame, as he intended to be the hardest man to trace to the crimes the police had ever come up against. Indeed, he was going to make every effort to never be caught. He knew just how to do this too, he had read and watched enough TV to know the police's worst nightmare was the one who killed totally at random, over a wide area and had a selected number of victims, then just stopped altogether.
Never to strike again, never to leave a trace and never to give himself away to the press, friends or
anyone else. He had practiced for years, in the woods, in the mountains, and in the desert and in
any other rural areas in what he considered his theatre of operations. He had assembled his war
bag accordingly. The right cammo outfits for the right areas, the best times to act, the right
weapons and most important, his escape routes.
The FR-F1 sniping rifle, known as the Tireur d'Elite, is a manually bolt-operated, 10-round detachable box, magazine-fed, 7.62-mm x 51 or 7.5-mm x 54 weapon. The length of the stock may be adjusted with the butt-spacer plates. This weapon's sighting system consists of the Model 53 bis 4-power telescopic sight and integral metallic sights with luminous spots for night firing. It weighs 11.9 pounds, has a barrel length of 21.7 inches, and a total length of 44.8 inches. This weapon has a muzzle velocity of 2,794 fps and a maximum effective range of 800 meters. Standard equipment features a permanently affixed bipod whose legs may be folded forward into recesses in the fore-end of the weapon.. He had purchased the weapon at a gun show, two years ago, from a private dealers table, with a small bribe under the table, to overlook the obviously phoney ID he had used.
The cover story, of course, which the dealer heartily agreed with, was that
he didn't want any AT&F or US
Gun Control people to know he even owned the weapon. It was a perfect killing machine for the
purpose he had selected it for and he smiled as he peered from his concealed position,
his selected prey go about the business of having fun. When the older woman and the oldest
daughter yelled for everyone to come and eat lunch, the killer was ready.
Slipping quietly out of his hidden position he quietly and carefully policed up
his brass, then slipped away, being careful to leave no tracks at all.
They never had a chance, as the nearest thing that would have given them any cover at all was
the refreshment stand nearly thirty feet away. He did not give them time to get anywhere near that
far before dropping the last of them with a killing shot to the head. When he was finished with his
killing, he calmly policed his brass and crawled away, dragging the sand colored
blanket he had
covered himself with, to blot out even the signs of his crawling. As he had calculated, the stiff
breeze that was blowing across the desert, quickly eliminated even those faint signs.
The murders were still in the headlines, two days later, when the killer once again relaxed with a cold beer, while watching the reports of his latest activities. Upon hearing them refer to the "deranged killer" he simply smiled and said aloud, "that's what you think. I guess you are all entitled to your opinion and you just go on thinking that and we will get along just fine. Some people like to kill deer or pheasant or quail or raccoons or even bear, me, I just like killing people. Rich, poor, any age, any color, any religion, and any way I can." Hearing his wife's car pull in the driveway outside, he shut up and changed the channel to an old movie.
This time only three months had gone by, before once again the FR-F1 spoke out, killing two backpack hikers on a path in the great Redwood National Park in California. Once again ballistics linked the killings and this time a headline about the "Campground Killer" caught the attention of UPI and it didn't take long for all the news media to pick it up and the newest US serial killer had a name. The location, in a national park, brought in the FBI but with no better immediate results than local authorities. No motive, no links between victims, nothing seemed to give any clue as to the reasoning behind the killings. Nine months passed before the FR-F1 spoke its deadly message again, this time at Mount Rushmore, and four more bodies were discovered, killed by the "Campground Killer," with his 7.62 ammunition.
Then, four short months later, again in Arkansas, in the northwest portion of the state at Devil's Den state park, he struck yet
again. This time, he seemed to be in no hurry to leave and simply kept on killing anyone who
came up the paths or tried to save those trapped by his fire. Seven dead and one wounded, who
died within hours of reaching the hospital, made it eight more dead for the "Campground Killer."
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