I’ve loved volcanoes since I was a boy. So when I finally landed my dream job at the Cascades Volcano Observatory, I was elated. I was promptly sent on a long-term special assignment to help monitor the Mt. St. Helens volcano.
Mt. St. Helens fascinated the Native American population in the Pacific Northwest long before its famous 1980 eruption. Tales of Bigfoot, UFO abductions, and other strange happenings permeated this forest for centuries. This area has a strange feeling around it. I felt it as soon as I arrived at the monitoring station several months ago.
The work itself had been great, and I was very passionate about it, even though it mainly consisted of interpreting seismic graphs of earthquake magnitude or spreadsheets examining chemical compounds and underground pressures. There’s so much math that it can get tedious and repetitive at times.
Lately, I’ve had to work late nights at the observatory. The pandemic decimated our working staff, and since I was one of the only staff members that stayed on the whole time, I’ve had to crunch a ton of overtime. Not to mention the hellish commute times. Mt. St. Helens is very remote and is tucked far away from any kind of civilization. And let me just say…
I’ve had some odd occurrences at night. Misplaced items showing up in places they shouldn’t, weird noises that come from the woods, strange lights and orbs that float above the volcano, but this isn’t about that. I’ve had an experience that’s much, much, stranger.
Now, to address the obvious, no, I didn’t see the 1980 eruption of Mt. St. Helens. I wasn’t even born yet. I’ve spoken to some senior staff that did witness it, and well, the magnitude was unthinkable. It’s why we monitor this volcano so heavily; we know what it’s capable of.
So imagine my concern when we spotted some smoke streams billowing out of the lava dome inside the crater. Now, I was told that it usually wasn’t any cause for concern, but, management being how they are, ordered me to stay a little late and verify that everything was in order.
I was in my office alone this particular evening, typing away at my laptop. I could see the mountain in the panoramic window behind my desk. The sun’s late afternoon rays painted the mountainside a fantastic shade of burnt orange. I was just concluding my day, satisfied with my data suggesting the mountain wasn’t waking up. Good.
I swiveled around in my chair, facing the mountain, and froze.
Something was emerging from the volcano’s crater. What was it? Another eruption? No, it was a singular object. Besides, I was only a couple miles away, it’d better not be that. Was it an animal? Maybe, but it was running, seemingly bipedal. I couldn’t be sure.
The overhead air conditioning unit was the only sound in the building. I rummaged through my desk, snatching a pair of highly-powered binoculars. I put them up to my eyes, adjusted the lens, and froze. Stunned. My breathing ceased, anxiety rocketing into my chest. My head felt dizzy. The AC unit hummed above me…
Mrrrr.
I blinked, thinking I was hallucinating. No! It was right there!
It was a…
Man.
A naked man, running out the volcano’s 2 mile long crater.
His arms were flailing manically above his head. His tongue was out and slapping his cheeks in long, wet impacts. His long, dirty head of hair and unkempt beard made him look like a wild man.
Now, the way the volcano erupted in 1980, there is a massive landslide deposit that acts almost like a descending ramp of sorts. There is no steep, cliff-like drop off like you might expect of a normal shaped mountain. The crazed man was running, no, sprinting, down this steep pathway.
The air conditioner kept humming.
Mrrrr.
My heart stopped. You can’t just walk into a volcanic crater, it’s a serious hazard. I immediately phoned the Forest Service, informing them of the situation. They said they’d send someone out to deal with it. I just sat there, watching the man. Suddenly, he stopped. He stood normally, staring off into space. He remained motionless for a few minutes.
Then, abruptly, his face contorted into a wide, toothy smile. He turned his head robotically, and stared right into my eyes.
I gulped, my mouth dry and raw. I needed to get out of here. I crouched down, out of view from the window, and gathered my belongings. A strange howl shot through the wilderness as I left, the long drive back to civilization made strange by the sinking sun. The thick forest on either side added to my apprehension.
I sat back in my driver’s seat, too anxious to play the radio. I left my windows rolled up tight, not something I did very often. I drove back, uncomfortable the whole way.
—————
The next day, I kept quiet about the creepy experience, and argued with my boss when he told me I needed to stay late again. I relented on threat of a write up, and settled in for another long night.
I was once again finishing up, and decided against my better judgment to look at the volcano behind me. It had snowed overnight, dusting the decapitated peak in misty, white powder.
What I saw once again made my heart stop.
Thousands of people, all naked, running out of the volcano’s crater.
Men, women, children, all disturbingly swinging their arms above their heads. I scrambled up onto my desk, papers flying haphazardly, and ran out of my office and into the main monitoring area. Seismographs, lab tables, and numerous computers all dotted the room. I sprinted past the scientific instruments, needing to get out, away from the sea of people that were only a few miles away.
I don’t really remember how I tripped, if it was over a cord, a box, or just a simple misstep. All I remember is the feeling of weightlessness as I crashed head first into a filing cabinet.
I was in the open air. The volcano sat right in front of me now. Its flanks are snowcapped. It’s so tall it consumes my field of vision. It’s nighttime, the moon highlights the volcano as the naked people climb up on the top of the crater wall. I’m their leader now. Hundreds of them sit on the miles-wide caldera, staring down at me. They all look to the moon and howl in unison like wolves.
The volcano starts erupting, a massive earthquake causes me to fall down. I look up, seeing a massive ash cloud that shoots up miles and miles and miles. It’s never ending. It goes into space. Bright red rivers of lava shoot out from the sides of the mountain and encircle me. I’m trapped, watching nature in its purest form.
The naked people on top of the volcano start fighting. They grab rocks and bash each other’s skulls in, desperate to escape the eruption. Some unlucky ones get pushed into the incinerating ash cloud or lava rivers. Their agonized screams are my lifeblood, my everything.
I awoke to the sun in my eyes. I was laying in some dirt clearing. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs. I get up to my knees, realizing I’m naked. What? No! Impossible! I was still at the station! I never left!
Then I saw the station. A crowd of people had gathered at the observation deck, staring at me. I looked up behind me…
Mt. St. Helens, in all of her glory. Looking down at me. I touched my face, scraggly beard, long, messy hair.
NO! IT WASN’T ME!
I was fired from my job the same day, my boss and forest service unable to comprehend why I would report myself in the volcano. I didn’t, it wasn’t me. I’m still convinced.
Did I experience a matrix glitch? An out-of-body-experience? I still can’t wrap my head around it. But that wasn’t the worst part. One of the forest rangers looked concerned. His eyes seemed to avert my gaze, as if I scared him somehow. The worst part was what he told me next.
“Uhh, I don’t really know how to put this, but, uh, well, here goes.” He scratched his head, fidgeting uncomfortably.
“You’ve been missing for the last two weeks.”