The Haunted Traveler December 2017 Edition

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storm coming up from the south. First, Black Butte reported high winds, vertical rain.
The lookout cabin’s south-facing shutters were lost in one wind gust. Rather than have
all the windows blown out, the lookout opened all of them and let the wind blow
through the cabin.
An hour later Green Ridge reported high winds and strong rain. There was also a
lot of electrical activity, mostly sheet lightning, not much reaching the ground. Ninety
minutes later the storm front had reached Bald Peter; the rain was heavier, the winds
somewhat diminished, but lots of cloud-to-ground lightning. Once the storm cleared,
Bald Peter expected there to be plenty of smokes.
Ben watched the storm work its way up the Cascades toward Olallie Butte. The
storm front seemed to be rising, like a massive black stallion rearing up on its hind
legs, its front legs extended forward like an anvil. The skies were clear overhead, the
sun had another two hours before it set. Ben was standing on the catwalk watching the
progress of the storm when Shitike Butte, only ten miles to the southeast of Olallie
Butte, reported rain. There was a flash from the very top of the storm cloud. Ben
jumped through the door toward the insulated chair just as the whole world turned
blindingly bright. A second later the thunderclap shook Ben like a rag doll. He fell off
the chair. His eyes were open, but he couldn’t see. He smelled smoke. He grabbed a rug
lying next to him on the floor and started beating his clothes. He was sure he must be
on fire, but he didn’t feel any heat. His eyes began to tear up from the thickening smoke.
He was still blind. He crawled in the direction of the fresh air from the open door. He
couldn’t breathe for the smoke. He crawled along the catwalk until the smoke lessened.
Somewhere in the distance he heard a roaring sound, like an approaching train. The
darkness deepened through the haze over his eyes.
A tidal wave of air hit Ben, pushing him back against the outside cabin wall. He
grabbed the grating of the catwalk to keep from going airborne. The smoke lessened
but the sounds of burning increased in spite of the rushing air. The cabin was on fire.
Then the rain hit. In seconds Ben was soaked. The smoke increased, the darkness
grew, but the sounds of burning diminished. Ben let the rain wash his face. His eyesight
was coming back. He crawled back inside the cabin and found a dry spot underneath
his cot. He fell asleep waiting for dawn.
Ben heard horses come up the trail and stop by the post behind the cabin.
“Hello, anybody in there,” Isaac said.
“Look, somebody is moving in there,” Charlie said. “Hey, do you need help.”
Ben was dreaming about being surrounded by wolves. He pushed himself farther
back under the bed.
“I think he might be hurt,” Isaac said. He walked into the cabin, stepping over the
insulated chair and kneeling down next to Ben’s cot. “Hey, man. Come on out. We won’t
hurt you.”