There’s a strip of islands that run off the southernmost tip of Alaska called the Aleutian Islands. These islands, 69 in total, are volcanic, and are some of the most remote and unreachable places in the world. They form a boundary across the Bering Sea, the sea that stretches across 770,000 square miles to the eastern tip of Russia. It’s cold, desolate, and barren.
I undertook a fishing expedition up there once, a long time ago now. This trip took place around 2002 or so. You see, I used to own a cabin up in Anchorage, and from time to time I liked to explore and do interesting things. It’s also the reason I used to live in Alaska to begin with. Used to.
The trip was guided, and I intended to spend a few days out there. I flew out on a seaplane and met up with my guide, Jeremy. Jeremy was a former crab fisherman, so he knew the frigid waters well.
We set out on Jeremy’s personal boat. It was massive and had an indoor cabin area, fitted with a kitchen, lavatory, and two bedrooms. I was astounded by the luxury, and felt that the tour’s asking price of $3,000 was a bit cheap considering my accommodations.
We set sail at around midnight. I intended to do some night fishing, but the weather proved too cold to do anything but freeze, so I decided to spend most of my time alone in the bedroom, engrossed in a novel. I heard the frosty pellets of sleet smack into the boat’s glass windows as I drifted off into sleep.
I was awoken in the early morning hours by Jeremy. He shook me violently, and covered my mouth with his hand. I started to kick and fight back, until he put his finger over his lip, and pointed up above him.
“Something’s outside. Floating over the island out there.” My blood ran cold, my head stabbed with sudden pains of anxiety. Adrenaline quickened my heart rate as the dark boat interior came evermore into focus.
Jeremy straightened his skull and crossbones fishing hat as he quietly walked up the steps to the deck. The way the boat was set up, the steering wheel and other control mechanisms such as GPS were completely encapsulated in glass, a cab if you will. This provided me with a false sense of security. The hellish snowstorm outside was billowing, limiting visibility to less then a few feet in either direction. The faint glow from the boat instruments illuminated my meshy base layer as I followed Jeremy’s point. What was he pointing at? Then I saw it. It was a…
A vast array of white lights. They all cut through the snowstorm with ease. But they weren’t white exactly, it’s like they were a brighter shade of white, I don’t know how they managed to be so visible. Despite this, the source of the lights remained hidden.
For hours and hours, we floated past the lights. Island after island, coming and going without a sound. Thousands of bright white lights pierced the boat’s interior like the headlights from a car. Me and Jeremy remained silent, transfixed.
The sea life in the water below us became agitated by the lights. Fish jumped up randomly, as if experiencing pain of some kind. Thumping on the sides of our boat worried Jeremy, as he seemed convinced that fish were beating their heads against the hard surface.
Then, finally, a break in the snowstorm. The white lights on either side of us, however, ended abruptly, as if they intended to be obscured by the snow. I saw what seemed to be the last shining white light. I strained my eyes in the clearing sky to see what the source of the light was. I squinted in the darkness as Jeremy rotated the boat’s spotlight around.
I saw it.
There, squatted down on the edge of the forested island, was a woman. At least, the thing had the body and legs of a woman. But it was all wrong! The thing had a, and I swear to god I’m of a sane mind, it had a…
Crab head.
Mounted on human shoulders. I stopped breathing, fear causing my heart stabbing palpitations. The white light was shining out of the thing’s genitalia. I stared, hypnotized by the abomination. My mouth went barrenly dry. I couldn’t speak. I just pointed and stammered out gibberish to Jeremy. I heard scurrying behind me. I glanced back momentarily, seeing Jeremey crab-walking, on all fours, over to the cabin door. The boat continued to drift and rock back-and-forth.
“No, stop!” I shouted. Jeremy’s eyes were glazed over, completely white. He opened the door, turning the knob with his mouth, and promptly slithered overboard like an animal. The icy water splashed up as I saw frantic, robotic swimming.
He was swimming to the thing.
“Jeremy!” I shouted uselessly. That was it. I wasn’t turning that boat around. Some things are best left behind.
I’ve never told anyone about this incident. Jeremy had no family, so I was never suspected of anything. The guilt, however, is never ending. What bothers me the most, however, is that we were floating by thousands of the creatures for HOURS, completely oblivious. That is what fuels my nightmares twenty years later.
Sometimes I wonder what happened to Jeremy, if he survived, if he died. I think I know the truth in my heart, but I don’t want to face that.
I’ve since left Alaska forever. The place I once loved irreparably tarnished. It’s bittersweet, but it’s a pill I’m willing to swallow. It’s never easy, but those lights out there, those are lights I never want to see again.