I've been trying to tell the truth for so long that our lies become more
convenient. There's been countless emails and phone calls, but there's no one to
listen. I can't blame them. It sounds insane. If what I told
them was even partly true, it had changed the way they looked at the
world forever. It started with little lies. I stopped saying I saw something,
but even then it was considered in bad taste to even talk about.
They still thought I was lying or spicing up the truth to hide something even
more sinister. And honestly, I've grown tired. I'm so tired of trying
to be believed. So for one final time, I'm going to tell the
truth and then just never talk about it again. This has to stop.
I never like the term storm chaser. It sounds too much like a fun
hobby. While it is a term commonly used, it's not just about being
a thrill seeker. We provide real and tangible services. The NWS relies on
real time updates about barometric pressure, wind direction, rainfall and rate, service
conditions, wind speed and direction, and a dozen other data points. This
is information taken into account when providing early onset warnings and to alert emergency services
in affected areas. I worked with two other guys. Back then. We
rode in separate vehicles, the two of them up front, with me following
in a back up. There was Javert, the gear head. He made
sure as cell phones worked even in nasty weather through various cell phone boosters,
as well as keeping us updated on satellite radar and mesoscale analysis. He was
also in charge of the radio, making sure we were up to date on
any info coming in from police, the fire department, emergency services, citizen
band, or military frequencies, mostly Air Force, but we could get marine
as well. Second guy was read This meatball shaped man was a veteran in
every sense of the word. He came back from Afghanistan and went, oh,
well, let's check out tornadoes. So he did. He educated himself
and got a job as a forensic meteorologist. Yeah that's a thing. Years
later he started his own business, one which I was employed at. We
were on a data gathered job a storm about six o'clicks north of a small
Minnesota town not far from Rochester. Early predictions had put the storm as passing
east of Madison, but there had been a sudden western shift. They needed
boots on the ground for new measurements, and it was looking to be a
nasty surprise. There'd been no weather warnings going out as far as Saint Cloud,
and this thing was puffing up into a monster. Rionn roaded a quick
damage survey as we passed through Wardville. It didn't look like much a couple
of bent saplings along the tree line, but we were at the edge of
it. This was just early indicators. We could tell service conditions. We're
going to go straight to hell. I was hearing Reed react to it in
real time over the radio. Sky's gonna hail. Crap, he laughed.
Mark, my goddamn words, I ain't no way, Javier said, ain't
that kind of pressure. Boss says it's gonna hail. It's gonna hail.
I added, Glad, I've got at least one agreeable man on my side,
or to call him raise Jaser. Javie scoffed, I'm telling you it's
not happening. We were breaking the speed limit, but driving in rough conditions
kind of comes with the job. Our vehicles go through regular checkups to make
sure they can take some punishment. Last thing you want is to get stranded
in front of a twister. It's a measure twice cut once kind of deal.
We made away through Rochester, heading northeast by way of Kellogg. It
was a decent chance we'd have to cross the Mississippi first. Out of the
storm was about to pass Maxville. Javert couldn't help but to laugh. It's
a quick turn, quick, quick turn. I could almost hear him shaking
his head. Hailst don't move like that, he added, you're full of
it. Reid laughed, you'll see. The roads were looking clear. As
we rolled up on the Wabisher Nelson Bridge. The sun was setting, casting
a stark contrast between the dark clouds and the red sky. We slowed down
to get a better view. I wasn't sure what I was looking at.
That's what Hale looks like, said Reed. No, that it's clustered,
right, Javert sighed, Did the Rockies do it? Ain't no way,
I scoffed at the radio, unless the rock Is are somehow out in New
England. Girls, girls, Reid laughed, you're both pretty. It's fine.
There was a rest stop just across the bridge. We turned in to
check the weather stations into a preliminary reading. Javert double check the power supply.
We were running a ton of devices and you don't want any of them
breaking in the heat of things. He was reading a checklist out loud as
Rudy and I took a sidebar, getting a closer look at the storm.
You really think it's hail, I asked, Could just be a nasty downpour?
Ah, it's hail, he nodded. You get a feel for it.
You can smell it. Smell it, Yeah, smell it smells like
nonsense, more like it's what's happening. He pointed south, predicting a sharp
movement to the west, powerful winds enough to rip away more than just a
couple of saplings across the road. We were locking a potentially serious property damage.
Checking the weather station confirmed it. Wind direction was shifting fast and picking
up speed. We kept going north, heading to Wisconsin, then southeast to
the thirty five. Got a better view of the storm, and something just
felt off. I had only worked with Reid for about eighteen months, but
it's like he said, you can kind of smell it, and I did.
We kept going another ten to twenty minutes, stopped by the roadside and
updated our readings. As Javert updated the local NWS office, Reid stopped for
a cigarette. The wind was picking up another nemometer was picking up speed,
spinning faster and faster. Reid was having trouble lighting his cigarette that if anything
seemed to worry him, rain or shine, he could light a goddamn cigarette.
It ain't looking good, he said, not one bit. What are
you thinking. I'm not sure yet, he sighed, coping a and around
his lighter, looking worse than hale. You're talking, twister, he shook
his head, finally lighting up a spark. Nah, he sighed, that
ain't it. We kept going south for another ten minutes or so. The
clouds were rolling in fast. I could feel the increased moisture in the air
sticking to my skin. I had to turn up the ac. We got
to stop for another reading, said Javert. We're getting in the thick of
it. We're turning back, said Reed. No, chuckled Javert. No,
we ain't. That's moving out of We're turning back. We have no
idea what we're running into. You got no idea, huffed Javert. You
really got no idea? You yeah? Read at the pause. Hang in
the air for a moment. I could feel the tension, all right,
said Javert, Yes, we're going back. Tyres screeched. As Reid turned,
I could see flashes of light in the rear view mirror. Then came
the thunder. Yeah it's picking up. Reid said, so it's not Hale,
juggled Javert. I don't know what the hell that is. Told you
it ain't Hale. Now's not the time to be a smug ass, old,
Javi, I interrupted, we're are headed. Red vigured we could cut
the thing off going north through Nelson coming out behind it. As he shared
his plans, I couldn't help but to notice Javert going quiet. This was
a guy who was more banter than man, and all of a sudden he
wasn't feeling it anymore. Bad sign. We kept sending updates to the local
NWS office, and within minutes there was a weather warning going out. I
got on to return north up the twenty five, hoping we'd get far enough
before we struck the brunt of the storm. With a bit of luck,
we could get some more accurate readings on the other side and still be home
before midnight. But yeah, no, we weren't that lucky. The storm
picked up and we ended up in the tail end of the northernmost edge.
We got hit by the rain first. I kept my eye on Reed's car,
watching the rain drops gather and disappear with the tick tacking of my windshield
wipers. Read and Javert were arguing about the readings, about connection issues,
about how the power strip was acting up, overcharging the batteries. I was
having trouble hearing them over the radio. I could suddenly smell ozone again.
You can smell it just before it happens. I bet Reed did too.
The first lightning strike came out of nowhere. Now I've seen bad weather,
I've lived it, slept in it. But this wasn't just bad weather.
It was downright nefarious. Not just rain and thunder, but something else.
A split second, in that single heartbeat where the strike lit up the sky
and everything was quiet, there's not a person alive that's quick enough to react,
giving this eerie, ethereal feel to it. As Reed's car kept sailing
straight forward when in that light I saw something shadows cast across the pavement.
Something Reed swerved and the road took the wheel. He tried to bring it
back, but it was too late. One wheel dipped into a ditch,
lurching the car forward, spinning it around and nearly flipping it, ripping it
off the road and about twenty five feet into a nearby field. Made it
look like a goddamn bumper car. I stepped on the brakes, leaning my
car into the side of the road. I didn't even think about it.
I grabbed him my radio and hurried out of the door. I called out
for them to respond, but they were doing the same right back to me.
We screamed over one another in those chaotic first few seconds, in a
garbled mess. Finally I stopped to listen. Reid came through. Get back
into your car? What Get back into your goddamn car. I wasn't thinking
straight. I was heading out into the field with no cover. In a
storm, it's safer to be inside the vehicle. It can act as a
sort of Faraday cage. I was completely exposed out there. A quick turn
of the heel and I was heading straight back to my car. I threw
myself into the passenger seat, and the moment I closed the door, the
sky lit back up, A single lightning strike reaching from the clouds and into
the windshield of Reed's car, and from that light I could see them.
There must have been a hundred people. Burn people, people with exposed bones,
crack skin, missing limbs, all in various stages of decay and decomposition.
They were all over, covering the street, circling Reed's car, or
just standing there in a white light, staring with dead eyes. And in
the blink of an eye, they were gone. Thunder rumbled as the world
turned dark. Javert threw himself out of the car. The strike had cracked
straight through the windshield, shattering it. I couldn't hear Javert over the radio,
but I could see him looking my way, pointing at the driver's seat,
where Reid sat read He wasn't moving. Lightning doesn't move like that.
It hits the tallest point, not the weakest. But this one wasn't following
the rules. Javert bolted for my car, rushing across the field. I
left the passenger side door open and crawled into the driver's seat, urging him
on, come on, I cried out, come on. He was sprinting
at full speed with this wild look in his eyes. His pupils were so
dilated that his eyes looked black. He didn't get far another strike, this
one piercing straight through him. I could see his muscles contract and burst as
his jaw twisted at an unnatural angle, and in that split second burst of
light, they came back. They circled him. I could see them across
the field in the hundreds, the lightning strike bringing out the image of their
form looking at Jeverir with dead eyed stairs. But one of them was looking
my way. I didn't recognize him at first, but I couldn't help but
to notice him. He was the only one of them looking my way.
Read his eyes had rolled back in his head, and there was a smoldering
black spot stretching out from his barrel framed chest, just as dead as the
rest of them, looking right at me. I was next. I could
barely see as the light faded and the figures faded from my eyes. My
head shrieked from the pressure as the thunder shook my car. The world looked
gray. I think I was blinded temporarily. Everything looked red. When I
blinked, I couldn't even see each other air Lying out in the field,
my first instinct was to take cover. That's what you usually do when you're
stuck in the storm, you take shelter and you wait for it to pass.
For this was different. It hadn't worked for Reed, and it sure
as hell wouldn't work for me. I got out just seconds before lightning rocked
my car, burning through the engine block and scorching the pavement underneath. In
the flash of light, I saw them. They were all there. Javert
too, his jaw still twisted and bent. But now they were all looking
at me, waiting for me. I stumbled backwards, falling into a ditch
by the side of the road. I got my clothes covered in rain,
water, stinging nettles, and discolored sunflowers. The rain was relentless. My
first thought was to get up and run, but I couldn't get my legs
to move. Instead, I just curled into a ball, covered my eyes
and tried to make myself as small as possible. Strike after strike after strike,
but it didn't reach me. Now, with every flash, the figures
came closer. By the third flash, I was surrounded by the dead,
shouldered to show, packed like sardines. They didn't say a word. All
they did was come closer, reaching for me. It felt like an eternity,
every flash of light making my heart skip a beat. It felt like
minutes past in every instant where the ground was struck. I covered my ears
and eyes, but there was just no way not to feel it. It
consumes your every sense. You can taste it, smell it. It's so
bright it burns through your eyelids. It ripples through the hands who use to
cover your ears. It's such immense, ungodly power. I could feel them
and, not having the time to grasp me the smell of decay as a
hand blinked in and out, trying to strangle me. A flash of pain
as someone tried to bite my leg, but the flash was over before the
dead teeth could pierce my skin. I couldn't fight them off. There were
too many, and it was impossible to tell where they were coming from.
I waved my arms around frantically, scrambling to protect myself. In a fleeting
moment, I lugged up. I expected to see the clouds moving and the
storm bringing the rain westward. But that's not what I saw. There was
an eye up there, and honest to God, I looking straight at me.
In hindsight, it must have been as large as a football field.
It was such an immense thing that I couldn't comprehend it. It hung there,
parting the clouds, and with every blink, another strike came thundering down
looking for me. I counted eighteen lightning strikes in the span of at most
a matter of minutes. It felt like I'd been there for hours, every
strike lasting longer than the previous. But as the rain passed me by,
I was left freezing and shuddering. The grasping hands stopped, the biting,
the tearing. I was bleeding from cuts and bruises, but I was alive.
When I finally got back on my feet, there was nothing but cracked
pavement, burnt grass, and two bodies, one still in the driver's seat
of his car, the other left face down in the rain. It took
me a couple of minutes to call it in. I couldn't believe it.
I just sat there trying to breathe. I've been telling people about it ever
since, but they call it trot, like it was all just a big
accident waiting to happen. Even people in the business refused to lessen, no
matter their relation to Read and his company. The terrible tragedy is all they're
ready to say, as if a guy like Reid would mess up this bad.
Lightning strikes do not aim. It doesn't happen. I tracked it as
long and as far as I could, but from what I could tell,
it dissolved somewhere over the coast of Norway. I read something about swaths of
gulls being pulverised into rains of feathers in the fishing village over the northwestern coast.
But that's where the trail ends. I've never had a problem with storms
until now. Now I wake up in the middle of the night imagining I
just felt the rumble of thunder. I freak out sudden light. I can't
bring myself to go outside when there's an overcast. I just got this feeling
that whatever that was, it didn't like me getting away. Maybe I can
tell the next time it's near. I can kind of smell it.