Forest Service Road 22

“Hello?” I picked up on the second ring. “Hi, Jerse! No, I’m alone. Whazzup?” Jersey, Jerse as she was known, wanted me to join her to plan our girls’ foursome weekend. It was her turn after I had done last month’s. I invited her over, put out some snack munchies, and cracked open a crisp Albariño.

“Yo, yo, are ya ready? This is going to rock, Hailey. Let me lay it out for you!”

She unrolled a small map on my olive-green IKEA Vihals table. I bought it for the melamine top, which is so easy to keep clean. I also loved the style and the perfect fit in my 600-square-foot condo. I noticed bright highlights beginning at the Donkey Creek area of the Olympic National Forest. “Are you fucking kidding? That is so remote; why do you want to go there? You’ve heard the stories. That’s it, isn’t it? You want to ‘investigate, right?” Bile rose in my throat; I was so pissed. She knew why. Jerse cringed at my outburst.

“Let me just finish and explain it all, okay?” I glared at her, arms crossed. I have to say, by the time she explained her entire plan, I was intrigued. Sucked in. We’d be fine. Her plan was good.

One week later, we arrived at the Forest Service road off Highway 101, the Olympics gleaming with their snow-capped peaks. We had passed deep-blue Lake Quinalt, its waters jade green near the shore. Whitecaps stirred the lake, surrounded by enormous fir trees. Occasional cabins dotted the shores of the lake, and some curls of woodsmoke trailed upward. Jerse was driving her charcoal Ford Bronco, with our supplies neatly packed in the back and Nevvie and Roseanne in the back seat. I was the co-pilot, since I had grown up on the Olympic Peninsula, and I rambled on about the area and sights.

“Slow down; we’re close to the 22. There, turn left!” Hitting the Forest Service road immediately set us bouncing, and the girls hit their heads on the potholes the Bronco burst through. I checked my watch and looked for the sun’s position. It was late August and warm, but the forest would soon obscure daylight. We had to find a level place to park the vehicle and make camp.

“Over there!” shouted Nevvie. I looked to my right and just saw mud. Turning back toward her, my brows arched upward. “What’s wrong with that spot? It’s flat and close to the road.”

“It is a mudhole, and we can’t pitch a tent there. Thanks, though.” Damn, she is dumb sometimes, but I don’t want to hurt her feelings. This is a three-day weekend for us.

Jerse was wearing her black cargo pants and navy sweatshirt. My pants were zip-off ones from REI and, for once, I had remembered my hair tie-back and my small, neon-green flashlight. The only jewelry I wore was my dangle earrings made of abalone, for good luck. Nevvie wore shorts because she is always hot, and Rosemary had on a t-shirt, a button-down cardigan, and hiking boots under her ankle blue jeans. (Really, Rosemary? I hope your ankles get bug bites!)

Dusk was rolling over us, and the pot-holes and corrugations were spotlighted by the vehicle’s headlights. Jerse slowed for potholes, sometimes using the 4-wheel drive, and rolled slowly over the bumps. Finally, I found a good place to pull over and park, and pointed it out. I hopped out, went about thirty feet into the woods, and found a promising trail. Giant ferns grew under the trees, and in shadier spots, there were some avalanche lilies with their fragrant white petals and yellow stamens.

“This is it. See? Here is your highlighter. We have to haul our stuff on the trail. Let’s go; we have about an hour, and I don’t want to set up camp in the dark. I’ve done that before, and it’s not fun.”

I was in the best shape, then Jerse, followed by Rosemary. Nevvie was the least outdoorsy of us and only did stair stepping at the gym once a week. I had never known her to walk more than a half mile at one time. After twenty minutes of hiking in, she was huffing, carrying her goods.

“What are you doing, Nevvie?”

“I’m tired. I’m resting.” We all looked at each other. I stole a glance at my watch and promised myself I’d give her five minutes; only five.

“Okay. Let’s go, everyone. We have to make camp. Come on, Nev, you can do it.” I encouraged her. A howl cut through the valley, echoing.

“What was that?” Nevvie froze in her tracks, hugging herself. “What was that? A wolf?”

“No, it was just a Barred Owl. It’s all right. That is just one of their calls, they have others that are really scary. Come on.”

Another howl, closer and louder. I laughed to calm their nerves. “Owls are not looking for us. Let’s go. We are still about twenty minutes out, and we don’t want to be hiking when night falls. Hurry!”

I picked the pace, hoping they would fall in step, and they did. Finally, we got to the place Jerse had marked on the map. It was not the one I remembered from childhood, but it would do. We were very remote in the Olympic Forest with no outhouse, no shelter but what we brought. Fir, Cedar and Spruce trees covered the land, some of them several centuries old. We didn’t need a breeze to scent the aromas of them. It was heavenly. Inside the dense forest, the temperature dropped several degrees, but it was still comfortable. The night chill had not set in.

Jerse and I set up the 4-person tent quickly, right before rain sprinkles hit my forehead. Great, not even set up fully, and now the rain will soak us. And the whining began surprisingly with Rosemary.

“It’s sprinkling. I don’t want to get soaked. What kind of girs’ weekend is this supposed to be, Jerse?”

“It is fresh mountain air, forest and lakes and hiking. Stop complaining. We are in Washington state, remember? It rains here.”

“And you decide to go to the really rainy part, the Olympics? Great idea.”

“You didn’t have to come, you know,” Jerse replied.

“Okay, kids, that’s enough. Mama Hailey is here. I will save all of you. Let’s get inside the tent and lay out the sleeping equipment.”

Once all were crowded inside, kneeling, a low rumble began under the tent. It vibrated through our knees, and each of us knew that the others felt it, but we just knelt in silence. A wind howled through, pulling on the tent, but the stakes held.

“Was that thunder making the ground rumble?” Nevvie was staring at me. I shrugged. “You don’t know?” I shook my head. “Fuck, I want to go home. Can we just go back to the city?”

No one agreed to her request. I dug out individual Skinny Pop bags of popcorn and threw one to each of my friends. Then, I laid Hershey Kisses on the mat we would use as a table. Nevvie loved chocolate, so she grabbed two. I watched as she peeled back the pink and silver foil from the kisses left over from Easter months ago. She popped both in her mouth, and her eyes closed. That will calm her for a bit.

“I brought my Ouija board.” Jerse was pulling it out of her backpack. She laid it on the mat, and we gathered around it, sitting cross-legged. I was eyeing the planchette; I didn’t believe in it, but my cousin Stephen did. He had introduced me to it; it didn’t scare me, but I found it creepy. I always told him it was his subconscious mind making the planchette move, and he would give me that look.

The wind ripped through again, pulling insistently on the tent’s flap, then its sides, trying to lift it. Once, twice, three times. Silence. And the planchette was moving around the board on its own. None of us touched it. The ground began rolling ever so slightly under our fannies. We looked like cross-legged genies getting a glute massage by rocking back and forth.

“This place is creepy. Howling, rolling ground, and that damned wind.” Nevvie was getting worked up again. She stood up just as the wind hit the tent. She spun in circles, arms stretched wide, whirling and finally stopped when the wind died down.

Silence descended around us. Utterly quiet, with no wind. The trees were not breathing, and we held our breath with them, in the silence.

I stuck my head out of the tent. “Wow, the stars are out. It’s beautiful. The trees block a lot of it, but we could make a campfire and tell spooky stories.” I heard a slight scraping noise and turned around. Everyone stared at the moving planchette.

Rosemary rasped out the words it spelled, “You are invaders. Get out.”

“Very funny, Rosemary,” Nevvie said, slapping her arm. “Stop it. That’s not cool. You are trying to creep us out.”

“Not me. The thingy spelled that.” We all stared at the board.

I didn’t want any part of it, so I went outside and sat under the stars on a fallen log. The log made my rear feel clammy from its mossy dampness, but a shooting star held my attention. Until it disappeared, and the log rumbled beneath me. My knees were moving in rhythm to the rumbling, and my stomach began pitching. I dry heaved, and couldn’t see my hands; it was so dark. The stars had disappeared, yet no clouds blotted the light. They were just gone, not a beam of a star or a twinkle of a planet in the sky. Blackness. Above and around.

Whispers from the tree trunks began, like chants. A gush of wind slammed into me, lifting my body and flinging me backward into a cedar. My head rocked forward, like a head-on car crash, and I fell onto my face. Faint chanting, and the earth rumbled beneath my chest. Lightning cracked the ebony sky, and thunder hit my ears like cymbals, sending a shrill ringing inside my head. A river burst from the sky - a waterfall of raging rain, so heavy it held me face down. I couldn’t move my arms or legs, and when I took a gulp of air, it wasn’t air. It was water, so much water. Trying to turn my head, only my eyes would move, but nothing was to be seen. No light now, no lightning, the rumbles faint and far away. Another woosh of the wind sat me up, facing the camp. But there was no camp. No tent.

Wait, that is where the tent was. Isn’t it? I was unsure now. How far did the wind throw me? “Jerse! Rosemary! Nevvie! Help!! Where are you?” I crawled forward in the mud. I couldn’t see in the blackness of the night. Feeling with my hands, I moved slowly forward.

Nothing. No tent. Why didn’t I hook the flashlight to my belt? Dammit. Where did my watch go? I can’t even guess what time it is without stars. Can’t find my way. Crawling in the dark. A slow, long, and low hiss began. I couldn’t locate the direction of the source. It seemed to surround me. The ground began a slow roll again. The hiss was echoing, and it was surrounding me. “Jerse!” I yelled desperately, realizing too late that it was a mistake to call out. The hiss hovered over my head, a beat within it, boom, boom, bah, boom, boom, bah! I felt slithering tendrils touch my arms, sliding down to my fingers, across my collarbone, to my cheekbones, sliding toward my eyes. I screamed. I screamed again, loud and long, trying to drown out the hissing and stop the slithering, but my hands were frozen. I squeezed my eyes shut right before the tendrils touched my eyelids. I felt them pulling at them, gently at first, then more insistently. Chanting, hissing, singing, “Open. Open. I must see and you must see too. Open.” I shook my head violently, desperate. Tendrils feathering my lips. No, I won’t open. Wait, I can bite it. I pondered this too long, and a violent slap sent my head snapping right and left, back and forth. I lost consciousness.

Five Days Later

Channel Five News at 5 O’Clock. Our headline story is the missing campers in the Olympic National Forest. Four girls left last Thursday, and their families reported them missing on Monday morning. No reports were filed with the Forest Service as to their intended route. There was even a strange weather report, and they may have gotten lost in a storm. We want to caution listeners that, for your safety, when in the wilderness, always share your plans with someone back home and with the National Park or Forest Service. Be prepared for all weather and injuries when hiking the backcountry. Numerous teams, using dogs and helicopters, have searched the area without finding anything. They will continue searching this week.

Twenty Days Later

Channel Five News at 5 O’Clock. The search for the missing women in the Olympic National Forest has been called off. No signs of a campsite or vehicle have been found. Call local authorities if you see them or any evidence of them.

Three Years Later

“Hey, look at this!” Steven was rolling a triangle in his hand when Charlie caught up.

“What is it?”

“I’m not sure, but it looks kind of like an Ouija Board planchette. My sister and our friends used to fool around with a board when we were kids.”

“Weird. Maybe a camper had one and lost it. Or a crow could have stolen it. You know how they like to pick up objects.”

“I found this too.” He held out a portion of an abalone earring.

“Well, let’s make camp, Dude. Light is fading fast.” A low hissing sound echoed around the forest. “Did you hear that?”

“Yeah, it’s probably the owls. Some make hissing sounds, not hoots.”

“Is the ground moving, or is it my vertigo kicking in?”

“Over there is a good spot to put the tent. Come on. Did you leave our plan with the Forest Service?”

“Dammit! I forgot! Shit, I’m sorry, man. I told Shelby, though. She has the info.”

**

“Hello, Olympic National Forest Headquarters, how may I help you?”

“My name is Shelby Richmond. My husband and his friend are missing. They went camping and should have come home Sunday night.”

“Do you know where they are in the area?”

“Only that they were going to drive up Forest Service 22 and find a place to camp. Then they planned to hike. Only for the weekend. I can’t reach either of them by phone, and neither has a satellite phone. I heard there was strange weather up there over the weekend. Please help me find them. He called me as they got to the 22, but then nothing.”

Copyright © 15/18/2026 by Andrea O. Corwin

Thanks for stopping by! 😃 You can subscribe for free. Please consider leaving a comment. ✍️❤️