I don’t work for the National Park Service, but I dated a guy who did. His name was Dean, and he was an odd cookie. I mean, he had a great body. Very fit. Oh and that face! The right combination of angular, broody, and yet slightly vulnerable, growing just enough five o’clock shadow to give off a manly vibe without going full beard-bro. Visually, Dean was a real catch. But like I said, he was also a little strange.
He didn’t like people, nor was he able to communicate in more than two or three words at a time. Makes sense. Anyone who chooses nature over the big city probably isn’t much of a social butterfly. Heck, I don’t really like people either, but I couldn’t live without them. I figure survivalist types are the ones who try. But there was more to Dean than just being antisocial.
On the rare occasions where I did get Dean talking, he’d start going on about some pretty weird stuff. Lights in the sky, strange footprints, inhuman things living in the woods; Dean was a real believer in the paranormal. We’re talking UFOs, Bigfoot, ghosts, cryptozoology, the whole shebang. On top of that, he also had this paranoid fantasy about a secret government conspiracy being carried out by the Park Service itself.
Of course, Dean was a park ranger, so I asked him, “shouldn’t you be in on the conspiracy then?”
His answers were predictably cryptic and evasive, saying only that he knew the others were keeping secrets from him. After that Dean clammed up, which he often did, making further questioning pointless.
Besides, I didn’t really feel like pressing the issue. Honestly, wanting to isolate yourself in the woods doesn’t exactly scream mental stability under the best of circumstances, let alone adding a bunch of conspiracy nonsense to the pile. I probably should’ve broken things off with Dean right there. But like I said, he was really hot, and I kind of liked the fantasy of dating a rugged park ranger.
Dean was allergic to the city, so I drove to his place on the weekends. Not gonna lie, it was nice getting away from the hustle and bustle. No more traffic or crowds of people, just a two-lane highway flanked by stretches of green on either side. The park itself was hidden behind a wall of pine trees, accessible only by navigating a tangle of backroads and dead ends. Eventually the trees would thin out, revealing a rolling valley with a big lake right in the middle of it.
After a few more twists and turns I’d finally get to Dean’s cabin. It was rustic and spartan, as you might expect. He wasn’t always there to greet me, probably out on patrol or whatever rangers do. On Date Number Three he gave me my own key, so I got used to letting myself in and waiting till he got back.
On our fourth weekend together, I woke up in the middle of the night, likely because Dean had the body temperature of the Sun. It practically took a crowbar to get him off me. I decided to pour myself a glass of water and sit up for a bit, do a little star gazing. I put on Dean’s oversized flannel and plopped down in front of the window.
Living in the city, it’s easy to forget just how many stars there are. But out in nature the heavens radiate with celestial light. The Milky Way is like a glittering brush stroke across the night sky, and if you’re lucky you might even spot a shooting star.
Just as I was getting all wrapped up in the mysteries of the universe, I caught movement in the corner of my eye. It was coming from the forest beyond Dean’s yard. At first I thought it was a flashlight, but flashlights aren’t typically blue, and they usually don’t float ten feet off the ground either. Whatever it was, it made a low vibrating noise as it moved. Even behind the window I could hear it.
The light bobbed around aimlessly for about a minute. Then it let out a soft flash, enough to make me squint slightly. When my eyes focused again I could see that the light had taken on a different shape. The best description I can think of is a set of three interlocking jaws made out of shimmering blue light. The little flickers it had for teeth turned against each other like gears in a clock.
Before I could make much sense out of what I was seeing, the light flashed again and returned to the shape of an orb. A second after that it shot upward, vanishing into the trees overhead. I scanned the sky hoping to catch another glimpse of it, but I didn’t see anything up there other than stars.
That was it, the show was over. Whatever that thing was, it had disappeared into the night. I felt simultaneously frightened and annoyed. Frightened, because that was some straight up UFO kinda creepiness, and annoyed because the whole experience lent a sliver of credibility to Dean’s wild theories. Not that I was quite ready to believe in Bigfoot yet. But something weird was definitely going on, I had to admit.
I told Dean all about it the next day. I figured he’d be really interested. Unexplained phenomena was kind of his thing after all. Instead he got irritated with me, and didn’t say much for the rest of the weekend. In hindsight, I bet he thought I was messing with him, having some fun at his expense. Well, the joke was on both of us. Here I, the skeptic, had a bonafide paranormal experience while he, the conspiracy guy, was the one who didn’t believe me. Life is full of irony like that.
Another month or so went by and things returned to normal. It was around then that Dean told me about an upcoming party the park employees were throwing. It was a twice-a-year kinda deal. He asked me if I wanted to go and you better believe I did. I mean, if these people were all part of some secret National Park Service cabal, then I absolutely wanted to meet them. Who knows what sort of juicy secrets might slip out after a few beers? If I was lucky, I might get to find out what the government was really up to at Roswell.
In reality though, you’d be hard pressed to even call it a party, more like a room full of people struggling to engage in basic small talk. Most of the other rangers made Dean look like an extrovert. There were a few exceptions, of course. For one thing, I stood out like a sore thumb. Then there was Randy.
When I first saw him, I assumed that someone must’ve invited Bigfoot, because Randy was just that huge, and absolutely covered in hair. He seemed like the sorta guy who has a pet bear and cuts firewood by the moonlight. When he reached out to shake my hand I was afraid I might get swallowed up in the vortex of his enormity.
Randy really was the star of the show, standing in stark contrast to everyone else. He was an over-the-top character; flirty without being creepy, drunk without being sloppy, and completely full of crap. At some point during the night he started telling stories about the park’s history, stories that quickly devolved into local legends. It was all total BS, but still hilarious to listen to. All the while he kept topping off our plastic cups with vodka and piña colada mix.
Dean was looking pretty lit by the time midnight rolled around. So was I, probably, but I didn’t want to call it quits. Randy was just too much fun. Eventually linear time lost all cohesion, so everything was kind of a blur after twelve-thirty. I do remember one thing though.
“Storm Bear,” Randy had said. We were sitting outside, admiring the night sky. I think Dean was leaning against me, completely catatonic.
“Storm Bear?” I asked Randy, hoping to get him to elaborate.
“Yes,” he said, and pointed at the sky. “Storm Bear lives up there, beyond the clouds, among the stars.”
“Oh?” I responded, trying to mask the snarkiness in my voice.
Randy didn’t care whether I believed him or not though, and went on to tell me the story of Storm Bear. Again, my brain was swiss cheese at that point, but I managed to get the jist of what he was saying.
Before the colonies, before the settlers, way back in the early days of the Native Americans, the tribes were being terrorized by monsters that lived under the earth. The shamans prayed to the spirits for help, but got only silence in response. One particular brave, “Little Bear,” as Randy called him, was so angry at the spirits for their indifference that he decided to give them a piece of his mind.
So he climbed to the very top of the highest mountain he could find and started shouting obscenities at the sky, really tearing the spirits a new one. This confrontation took place in the middle of a thunderstorm, either because the spirits were angry with Little Bear or because Randy wanted to add dramatic effect.
After hurling a few more insults at the gods, a lightning bolt shot down and struck Little Bear square in the chest. It didn’t kill him though. Far from it. When he woke up a week later, Little Bear discovered he was able to wield the magic of wind and thunder. From that point on the tribes called him “Storm Bear” and he used his superpowers to drive the monsters back into the underworld. After that, peace returned to the land. Well, if you don’t count all the subsequent generations of inter-tribal warfare.
There was a bunch more to the story, but most of it’s a blur, honestly. At some point Storm Bear got pissed off at the tribes and decided to leave the world, flying up into the heavens to wander the stars. According to Randy though, Storm Bear would still visit Earth from time to time, whenever the creatures lurking in the underworld threatened to return.
Now, here’s why this story stuck in my booze-addled brain. Before Storm Bear came back, there would be signs, omens, including strange blue lights in the forest that would dance and change shape.
“Ah,” I thought. That sounded familiar, just like the lights I saw outside of Dean’s house! Admittedly, I might have been jumping to conclusions, seeing patterns that weren’t there. But in my defense, prolonged exposure to Dean’s conspiracy theories had significantly worn down my critical thinking skills.
Randy finished off by saying that when Storm Bear was close, the frequency of storms would increase too. That this just so happened to coincide with the rainy season was pure coincidence, I’m sure.
Somehow Dean and I managed to make it home. I woke up the next morning to the sound of him puking in the bathroom. Can’t say we did much that day, other than feel like crap and wish we were dead.
Another uneventful few months went by as we shifted into autumn. That’s when the first of the storms rolled in. Now, there was nothing unusual about that, at least not at first. In fact, they were right on schedule for that time of year. Even with Randy’s story simmering in the back of my mind, I didn’t realize there was anything strange going on until Ned, the old guy who ran the boat rental shop, mentioned it in passing.
“Been having a lotta storms lately,” he said to me one day.
I was there because Dean had to check on some things down by the lake and I decided to tag along. Ominous thunderheads were indeed looming on the horizon, though apparently not ominous enough to scare off the Hendersons. They were a family of very round, very sunburned people who went out on the lake every Saturday. Just like clockwork, there they were, pulling up in a gargantuan pickup truck towing an even bigger boat behind it.
“Dunno if it’s a good idea to head out there Floyd,” Ned said to Mr Henderson.
Henderson shrugged, mumbled some random words, then started backing his boat up to the shoreline. When the truck stopped, Henderson’s wife and their three little kids plopped out. Just imagine the parents both looking like Winnie the Pooh and the children looking like a trio of Piglets, but all covered in barbeque sauce. That was basically the Hendersons. They got in the boat and off they went.
“What the hell?” Dean said as he came back, clearly not approving of people going out on the lake in what could very well turn into a lightning storm.
“No talking ‘em out of it Dean,” Ned said in response.
Dean made some calls, probably conferring with the other rangers. I could make out Randy’s voice shouting on the other end of the radio. Clearly, he was even less happy about the situation than Dean was. None of them did anything though.
On average, the country is less dangerous than the city, meaning there are fewer safeguards in place. Nature isn’t quite as stupid-proofed as more urban environments. Out in the wild people really can take their lives into their own hands if they choose to. Sure, the rangers are there to mitigate that sorta stuff, but nature’s really big, and they can only be in so many places at once.
Dean left the Hendersons to tempt fate while we drove back to his place. The storm rolled in as expected. A crack of lightning tore through the sky and rain started coming down in sheets. We sat on the porch for a couple of hours, just listening to the thunder. It was very relaxing. That is until around seven, when Dean’s phone rang.
He said, “okay,” and, “uh-huh,” a lot, punctuated with a very exasperated, “goddamnit.” From what I could gather, the Hendersons never made it back from their day on the lake. Mr Henderson’s truck was still in the parking lot, and there was no boat in sight.
Dean grabbed his stuff, including his heavy boots and a raincoat, then headed out. He didn’t get back until after eleven, absolutely bedraggled and covered in mud. They had found the Hendersons north of the lake, in a rocky area riddled with small caves. They were all alive, though Mr Henderson was unconscious. Dean nearly got knocked out himself when Mrs Henderson swung a log at his head. She was practically rabid, he said, like a cornered bear fighting to protect her cubs. Randy managed to get her calmed down.
After that they were all rushed to the hospital. Mr Henderson had a slight concussion, but he was going to be fine. Everyone else just had a few scrapes and bruises, nothing serious, aside from being pretty shaken up, as you might expect. Only later, thanks to a little amature detective work on my part, did I start to hear bits and pieces of what really happened to the Hendersons that night.
They had indeed gotten caught out in the storm. Mr Henderson made a b-line for the nearest dock he could find, which so happened to be the northern one. They parked, or whatever you do with a boat when you’re done using it, then ran for shelter. That’s how they ended up hiding in the caves.
If it worked for our ancestors, why shouldn’t it work for the Hendersons?
They were fine for a while, but the rain just kept coming down. On top of that, it was starting to get dark out. Mr Henderson thought he might brave the storm, see if he could find someone with a truck to come and pick his family up. Just as he was about to leave, his son, Dusty, said he heard noises coming from deeper in the caves
Now, these caves aren’t big or anything. Dean told me that most of them don’t go back farther than thirty feet or so. With that said, when the Hendersons looked to see where the noise was coming from, they saw a huge tunnel yawning open behind them. Beyond its threshold everything was pitch black.
Mr Henderson shouted into the opening, asking if anyone was there, but the only answer he got was the echo of his own voice. Then the pitter-patter of footfalls cut through the silence. Steadily they grew louder and louder. When he tried to take a closer look, Mr Henderson thought he could see a faint glow in the darkness, a deep orange, like the flickering light of a torch. Right then he caught a whiff of something foul. It reeked of smoke and rotting meat.
The Hendersons were about to make a break for it when things began to emerge from the tunnel. According to Dusty, there were hundreds of them, a menagerie of nightmare creatures vomited up from the depths. Only he seemed to be able to put words to what the Hendersons were witnessing. He described one of them as a “crocodile-man with two heads.” Another was “part goat, part spider.” Twins conjoined at the torso were standing behind a woman with snakes for eyes. Next to her sat a disembodied pile of intestines studded with snapping jaws.
Before any of the Hendersons could think to run, the creatures had them cornered. Mr Henderson tried to fight the things off, shouting and flailing his arms around, like that would do any good. That’s when a hulking monstrosity stepped out of the darkness. It had no head, and in its stomach rested a huge, fanged mouth dripping with green saliva. One swipe with its clawed hand sent Mr Henderson flying across the cave, knocking him out cold.
Slowly the creatures tightened their circle around Mrs Henderson and the kids. She spotted a pile of firewood gathered in the corner of the cave and grabbed a branch. She actually managed to get a couple good hits in on the spider-goat, but still the things kept coming.
Just then, a massive lightning bolt exploded outside. It must’ve hit a nearby tree, because it was bright enough to blind Mrs Henderson momentarily. When the world came back into focus, the creatures were gone, as was the tunnel they emerged from. Just like that, the ordeal was over. Sometime later Dean showed up and the rest is like I said earlier.
Crazy stuff, to say the least. And totally unbelievable, or so I thought at the time. Surely they had to be making it up, right? But of course, why would they? Especially after everything they went through.
The incident with the Hendersons, combined with the threat of mudslides caused by the heavy rain prompted the authorities to close the park for the season. At least, that was the official reason they gave, not that Dean was buying any of it. All the weirdness going around must’ve kicked his conspiracy instinct into overdrive. He was more certain than ever that the Park Service was trying to cover something up.
Everything came to a head over a single weekend. I was still driving in to see Dean, even after the park was shut down. In hindsight, that was probably one of the dumber decisions I’ve made in my life. Even the clouds looked angry, like they were telling me, “stay out!”
Rain was coming down in buckets by the time I reached Dean’s cabin. He was holed up inside, looking more scraggly than usual. His typically perfect scruff had grown out dangerously close to a full beard. At least I had the foresight to pick up two steaks and a six-pack. Dean seemed slightly less high strung following a tasty dinner and a couple of beers. That didn’t stop him from jumping down the conspiracy rabbit hole though.
He kept going on and on about cover-ups and aliens. I remember thinking, “Oh, but you didn’t believe me when I thought I saw a UFO?” Dean seemed genuinely unhinged, so I thought it best to keep my snide comments to myself.
That was the moment when I made up my mind to break up with Dean. No matter how sexy or rugged you are, there’s a limit to the amount of crazy I’m willing to handle. Still, I figured I better not rock the boat too much. After all, I didn’t want Dean flying off the deep end and kicking me out, only to find myself having to drive home in the middle of the Storm of the Century.
Lightning danced in the sky while wind tore through the woods, ripping limbs off of trees and lashing everything with curtains of rain. It was so bad that the windows in Dean’s cabin were leaking. The water hitting the glass reminded me of what it’s like to drive through a carwash.
At some point the power went out, so Dean lit some candles. I’m not sure if they brightened up the place or added to the already creepy atmosphere. The howl of wind and constant blasts of thunder didn’t exactly lend themselves to a relaxing evening. Still, there was nothing we could do other than hunker down and wait out the storm. The storm, however, wasn’t willing to wait for us.
Somewhere around nine o’clock I started feeling sick to my stomach, the kind of nausea you get from eating before you ride a rollercoaster, or what they say sea sickness feels like. Everything in the house seemed to be tilting to one side. It was subtle at first, but gradually I started noticing it more and more.
Suddenly Dean’s beer went sliding right off the coffee table, taking one of the candles with it. Before either of us could react, the entire room shifted. Everything rattled, causing the pictures on the walls to rock back and forth. Then an insanely loud cracking noise shot through the air, followed up by the sound of wood splintering.
In a flash, Dean had me on my feet and headed in the direction of the front door. It was difficult to walk, almost like the floor was uneven. If Dean wasn’t practically carrying me I don’t think I would have been able to stand up. Before I even knew what was happening we were both outside in the rain.
It came down in sheets, hitting my face so hard it stung. Dean made the right call though, because a second later his entire house was gone. It just folded up and washed away, carried down to the lake on a river of flowing mud.
I have no idea how we survived. I guess Dean’s park ranger instincts were able to point him towards what few stable bits of ground were left. Unfortunately for us, his keys were still in the house, so there was no way we’d be taking his truck out of there. I doubt we would have gotten very far in it anyway. Instead, Dean led us into the woods. I think he was trying to head north, to where all the rock formations were. His plan must’ve been to reach solid ground.
Trudging through the storm was easily the most miserable experience of my life. The rain was viciously cold, and every so often the wind would send a branch full of pine needles flying into my face. It was nearly impossible to see. Without the lightning constantly crackling overhead, I don’t think Dean would’ve had a clue where he was going. Nevertheless, we actually did manage to make it to the rocks.
Just before we could duck into one of the caves for shelter, a powerful gust ripped through the trees, causing a huge limb to break free and come crashing down right on top of Dean. He disappeared in an explosion of pine needles and mud.
It took everything I had, but I managed to get the branch off of him. At first I honestly couldn’t tell if he was still alive or not, but then his hands moved a little, so I took that as a good sign. He was out cold though. I shouted his name a couple of times but got no response. After that I tried to drag him to the cave entrance, but Dean was made out of solid muscle. There was no way I’d be able to budge him.
Before I could do anything else I saw something that made me freeze in my tracks. A massive black shape was standing just a few yards away. It looked vaguely like a person, only much bigger, with thick arms and legs. Where its head should’ve been there was nothing but a smooth lump. A flash of lightning briefly illuminated the front of the thing, long enough for me to catch a glimpse of the huge, toothy maw in the middle of its stomach.
Only then did I notice the forest behind the creature. Things were moving among the trees. There were dozens of them out there, possibly hundreds, writhing in the darkness, a hideous parade of deformities and abominations. The creatures were just like what the Hendersons had described, only so much worse in person. I saw the two-headed crocodile, the goat-spider, the conjoined twins, the intestines with teeth, and a host of other malformed grotesqueries.
I didn’t want to believe my eyes. There was no way any of this could be real. Maybe it was a nightmare, or maybe I hit my head and didn’t know it. Maybe I was going crazy. Too much time in the wilderness. Too much time around Dean and all his wacky theories. That, combined with all the stress caused my fragile mind to snap like a twig. That had to be it!
The sound of twigs snapping brought me out of my little nervous breakdown and back to reality. The hulking tummy-monster had just taken a step towards me. That thing was definitely real, no doubt there. I considered running, but where could I go? The forest was crawling with those things, so I probably wouldn’t get very far. Besides, I didn’t want to leave Dean. The thought of such a hot guy getting shoveled into that thing’s mouth-stomach was just too horrific to contemplate.
Just then I heard a man’s voice, shouting.
I turned to see where it was coming from and there was Randy, drenched from head to toe, buck ass naked with his pecker flapping gloriously in the wind. His eyes were wild. His lips were curled back in a feral snarl. I swear I could spot tiny little bolts of static electricity dancing up and down the hair on his chest. Two words popped into my mind upon witnessing this indomitable wall of primal vigor:
Storm Bear.
The sight of Randy must’ve caught the tummy-monster’s attention as well. It turned to face him, letting out a hideous roar from its stomach. Randy cut loose with a roar of his own, then leapt into action.
Now, it was dark out, I was terrified, and probably more than a little delirious, but I am positive the entire universe shifted into slow motion as Randy flew through the air. A streak of lightning split the sky in half, illuminating him from behind in an aura of electric blue light.
Only then did I notice he was holding an ax, the kind you chop firewood with. He brought it down right on top of where the thing’s head should normally be. Of course, it didn’t have a head. Still, the blow seemed to do a decent amount of damage. Not enough to stop the creature though.
It let out a howl and tore at Randy with one of its massive claws. Amazingly, Randy managed to stay on his feet, and even get a few more wacks in with his ax. The two of them went back and forth for a while until Randy jumped on the creature’s back and started pummeling it with his free hand. I lost sight of both of them as they went tumbling off into the darkness.
I don’t know if I could’ve helped, and it didn’t matter because I had my own concerns at the time. While the big monster had its hands full with Randy, the others were still swarming around Dean and I, snarling and snapping at us as they drew closer and closer.
Something with mandibles and too many eyes caught Dean by the cuff of his pant leg and tried to drag him away. I wrapped my arms around Dean’s chest and held on as tight as I could, kicking wildly, trying to get it off of him. One of my kicks actually managed to land, right in the middle of the thing’s eyes. It screached and teetered backwards, loosening its grip enough to allow me to pull Dean away from it.
I had only managed to buy us time though, and not much. Those horrible things continued to close in, forming a wall of fangs and biting mouths, of malformed limbs and writhing tendrils. I genuinely thought we were gonna die. Even with instinct and adrenaline screaming at me to fight, to survive, reason told me it was hopeless.
It was then that I spotted something glowing in the forest, faint at first, but slowly it started to grow in intensity. Orbs of light were flying through the trees, just like the one I had seen all those months ago behind Dean’s house. But they were much brighter now, and heading in our direction.
The creatures spotted the orbs as well, letting out a cacophony of howls and squealing as the objects descended upon them. Some of the creatures tried to run, while others seemed to be mesmerized, held in place as the orbs opened up into disk-like patterns of light. The disks would envelop a creature, then snap shut, returning to the shape of an orb again before shooting off into the sky.
In less than a minute the monsters were all gone, gobbled up and carried away. I was in such a state of shock that it took me a second to notice the rain had stopped. So had the wind and lightning. As far as I could tell, the storm had simply vanished.
I looked up to see the night sky, perfectly clear and full of stars, or so I thought. But stars aren’t blue, are they? And they don’t typically wave back and forth either. I realized that the orbs were still visible overhead, wriggling around up there in the atmosphere, almost like they were dangling from something.
Just then the sky split open. Great flaps of darkness peeled back to reveal a colossal three-lobed mouth full of skyscraper-sized fangs. Blue light poured out of the opening, illuminating the entire landscape. That’s when I noticed that each one of the orbs was hanging from a strand, or tentacle, attached to the entity’s central mass.
What on earth was I seeing? Was that the Sky Spirit from Randy’s story? Was it Storm Bear? Or was it some titanic alien monster beyond anything I could possibly comprehend?
Answers wouldn’t be forthcoming. A massive bolt of lightning shot out of its gullet and went crashing down into the lake. The water evaporated on contact, sending huge plumes of vapor billowing up into the air. A few seconds later I was hit by a wave of thunder so powerful it knocked me on my ass.
When I came to, everything was dark again. I felt the pitter-patter of raindrops on my face. Not anything heavy, just a light drizzle. As far as I could tell the sky was clear. Whatever that thing was, it had gone away, hopefully back to wherever the heck it came from.
The next morning rescue services found Dean and I. He had taken a nasty blow to the head and spent a couple of days in the hospital. His house was insured by the Park Service, so they’d get him a new one as soon as they could. In the meantime they put Dean up in a nice hotel in the city. I stayed with him till he got back on his feet.
In a master stroke of irony, Dean was the one to break up with me. Said he just wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, something about needing space. I remember thinking, “Seriously? You’re breaking up with me? You’re the one who’s the conspiracy wacko!” But I decided to swallow my pride and keep my mouth shut. After all, him calling the relationship off meant I didn’t have to feel like the bad guy.
As far as conspiracies go, the Park Service attributed all the weirdness that took place during the night of the storm to landslides and “unusually active weather phenomena.” Yeah, no kidding. They decided to omit the part about tunnel-dwelling freaks and cosmic space monsters. I mean, it wasn’t exactly a cover up. Randy and I were the only ones who actually saw anything. And it’s not like I was planning on spilling the beans.
Oh hey! I almost forgot about Randy. They found him in the bottom of a ravine, beaten up but alive. I made a point to visit the park one more time, to ask him about that night. He told me he didn’t remember anything after the power went out. I couldn’t tell if he was lying to me or actually being serious, but I figured if he didn’t want to talk about it, that was his business.
Right before I got in my car to drive home though I looked Randy in the eyes and said, “Storm Bear.”
He just nodded.