I Survived the Eruption of Mount St. Helens 1980 Read online

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  DEDICATION

  FRONTISPIECE

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  WHY I TOOK SO LONG TO CREATE A GIRL MAIN CHARACTER

  QUESTIONS AND ANSWERS ABOUT THE ERUPTION OF MOUNT ST. HELENS

  FOR FURTHER READING AND LEARNING

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT

  For more than 100 years, Mount St. Helens had been quiet, a beautiful mountain surrounded by forests. Hikers climbed its winding trails. Skiers raced down its snowy slopes. Children splashed in its crystal clear lakes.

  Except this peaceful mountain was not a mountain.

  It was a dangerous volcano, a deadly cone filled with molten rock and poisonous gases. And soon it would explode with the power of ten million tons of dynamite.

  In the minutes before the eruption, eleven-year-old Jessie Marlowe and her best friends Eddie and Sam were in a forest near St. Helens. The day was warm and bright, the sky brilliant blue. St. Helens rose up over them, its perfect triangle peak sparkling with snow.

  And then,

  Kaboom!

  Suddenly, Jess was in the middle of the deadliest volcanic eruption in American history.

  She watched in horror as the sky turned pitch-black. A blizzard of ash poured down, swirling up her nose and making it almost impossible to breathe. Hot rocks pelted her like bullets shooting down from the sky.

  Then, whoosh, a blast of wind exploded out of the mountain, a white-hot mix of ash and gas and shards of rock. It raced down the mountain at jet speeds, burning everything in its path. The heat hit Jess and the boys, knocking them down. Jess felt as though she would burst into flames. Every breath was like inhaling fire.

  But the terror was just beginning.

  The eruption had shattered the mountain, and now a fifty-mile-wide avalanche of rock and mud and melted ice was taking aim at the valley below. It grew larger by the second. It snatched up trees and boulders. It tore away bridges and swept away houses.

  It would destroy everything — and everyone — in its path.

  “Skeleton Woman is not real,” Jess said.

  “She’s totally made up,” Sam agreed.

  “Can we please stop talking about Skeleton Woman?” said Eddie, Sam’s twin brother. “You’re giving me the creeps.”

  It was Sunday morning, and Jess and the Rowan twins were riding in the back of a red Ford pickup truck. Mr. Rowan, the twins’ dad, was up front, singing loudly along to his favorite disco song.

  They were about twenty miles from their hometown of Cedar, Washington, rumbling along a winding highway. The road was lined with trees, a forever stretch of forest and rolling hills.

  They were heading to the Rowans’ fishing cabin, which was on Loomis Lake, up closer to Mount St. Helens. It wasn’t fishing season quite yet. But Mr. Rowan wanted to get the cabin ready. He was happy to have Jess and the twins tagging along for the day.

  Looking across at the twins, Jess saw two matching buzz-cut heads, four identical green eyes, and about ten thousand freckles. When they were little, Jess would have done anything to look more like them. She’d blown out her birthday candles with a wish for green eyes instead of brown. She’d even drawn Magic Marker freckles onto her pale skin.

  But Jess had outgrown that. And anyway, the twins weren’t so exactly alike. Eddie was quiet and serious. Sam never shut up and he had a fearless streak that sometimes got all three of them into big trouble.

  Like today, for example.

  Mr. Rowan didn’t know the real reason that Jess and the boys wanted to get up to the mountain: Skeleton Woman.

  She was an evil woman from a scary old story, kind of like the witch from Hansel and Gretel, but worse, because she supposedly lived around here. She had wild white hair and coal-black eyes and rusted metal claws instead of fingers.

  According to the old legend, she lurked in the dark forests that covered the slopes of St. Helens, the mountain that rose up over this whole valley. She wandered through the woods, searching for children, whose bones she used to make her magic powders.

  It was just a creepy story, the kind you told while you were roasting marshmallows or huddled together at a slumber party. But some of the kids in their school actually believed Skeleton Woman was real.

  One girl, Missy Samuels, swore Skeleton Woman lived in a broken-down shack in the woods near Loomis Lake.

  “That whole part of the forest is cursed,” Missy had said, flicking one of her curls. It had been last Wednesday, and they were on the blacktop at school. Eddie had been impatiently bouncing a red rubber ball. Usually they played kickball at recess, but Missy wouldn’t stop yakking about Skeleton Woman.

  Jess used to be good pals with Missy. But that was about a million years ago, before Missy’s dad got an important new job at the lumber company. Now Missy lived in the biggest house in Cedar — the only big house in Cedar.

  “Skeleton Woman is in those woods,” Missy went on. “My dad says some of his workers saw her. And now they refuse to step foot in that part of the forest.”

  “That’s not true,” Jess said.

  “They saw her, Jess!” Missy insisted. “Her clothes were covered with blood!”

  “It’s just a dumb story,” Eddie scoffed.

  “If you’re so sure, maybe you should go to the shack yourselves,” Missy said.

  This was starting to sound like a dare.

  “Fine,” Sam blurted out. “We’ll go.”

  Jess and Eddie had shared a look that meant Please tape Sam’s mouth shut now!

  Too late.

  “Fine,” Missy said. “You better bring a camera, because I’ll need proof.”

  Within minutes, she’d blabbed to everyone, making it sound like a big joke — with Jess and the twins as the punch line.

  So of course they couldn’t back out.

  Which is why they were here, on this cold morning, sitting in the back of the red pickup.

  “But what if she’s actually there?” Eddie asked.

  “Then Jess will take her picture,” Sam said.

  Jess gripped her backpack, where she’d put Dad’s camera. She felt a pang of guilt. The camera had been Dad’s prized possession, and Jess knew that Mom wouldn’t want Jess taking it into the woods. But Jess would be extra careful. She’d even wrapped it in a plastic bag, in case it rained.

  “How will I take her picture?” Jess asked.

  “Mrs. Skeleton Woman,” Sam said in a high voice, “say cheese!”

  Eddie leaned forward and bared his teeth like a skeleton.

  “Cheese!” he growled. A glob of egg glistened on one of his teeth.

  They all burst out laughing, and Jess’s honking giggle mixed with the twins’ loud snorts. It took them all a few minutes to calm down.

  Eddie’s face got serious again.

  “You guys aren’t scared, are you?” he asked.

  “Nah,” Sam said.

  “No way,” Jess lied.

  Of course they were scared. Who knew what they would find in that shack? Even if they didn’t find Skeleton Woman and her bones, there could be a bear, or a thousand rats. Jess shuddered.

  But fear was better than other feelings, wasn’t it?

  Like missing her dad, wh
o died in a car accident two years ago.

  Or worrying about Mom, who seemed so lonely and worked way too hard.

  Those sad thoughts were always flickering at the edges of Jess’s mind.

  So it was good to have other things to think about, like an evil old witch with smoldering black eyes.

  They pulled into the parking lot at the lake and Mr. Rowan came around to open the tailgate.

  “Hello, troops,” he boomed.

  With his big belly, bushy beard, and laughing eyes, Mr. Rowan had always reminded Jess of a younger version of Santa Claus. Mrs. Rowan was half his size, and about twice as strict. They all loved her, of course. Mrs. Rowan was Jess’s mom’s best friend. But today the boys didn’t seem too upset that their no-nonsense mom wasn’t here to keep them in line. Mrs. Rowan was away for the week. She was taking care of the twins’ grandma who lived about fifty miles from Cedar.

  There were only two other cars in the parking lot today, a beat-up Toyota and a white pickup. There was an older woman standing by the truck. Even from a distance, they could see her long gray braid and bright smile.

  “Hello!” she called out with a wave. “What a day!”

  “You said it!” Mr. Rowan exclaimed.

  It was usually pouring rain around here in late March. But this morning the sky was bright blue and the sun shined down.

  “And just look at our pretty mountain,” Mr. Rowan said, putting an arm around each of the boys and smiling up at St. Helens.

  The mountain’s lower slopes were blanketed with green trees. The top was covered with snow. Its perfect triangle peak sparkled in the sun. Jess always felt a flash of pride when she looked at St. Helens. No, it wasn’t as famous as Mount Hood, across the border in Oregon. And it wasn’t as tall as Mount Rainier, which loomed over Seattle, about two hundred miles to the north of Cedar. But folks who lived here knew St. Helens was the most beautiful mountain in the Cascade Range. And if most people had never heard of it, who cared?

  Mr. Rowan gathered his supplies and headed to his fishing cabin.

  “I’ll be organizing my gear,” he called. “Don’t go far. And, Jess, keep those boys out of trouble.”

  “Will do!” Jess promised.

  Jess and the twins watched him disappear down the little path that led to the cabin.

  “This is going to be fun,” Sam said, rubbing his hands together.

  “Fun?” Eddie said.

  “Let’s face it,” Jess said. “We have nothing better to do.”

  The twins nodded.

  Cedar wasn’t a terrible place, but it sure was dull. Only about four hundred people lived there. The closest grocery store was twenty miles away. Last weekend the big excitement was the elk that wandered onto Main Street and blocked traffic for an hour.

  But Jess and the twins had their mountain and their forests.

  And they had each other.

  Eddie held out his hand, palm up. Jess and Sam laid theirs on top of his. It was a three-way secret handshake they’d made up back in kindergarten.

  “All for one,” Sam said.

  “And one for all,” Jess and Eddie chorused.

  Dad had taught them that saying a long time ago. It was from The Three Musketeers, which was a book way before it became the name of a candy bar. The book was about three best friends who’d do anything for each other.

  Like Jess and the twins.

  They linked arms and started marching toward the dark woods.

  “Watch out, Skeleton Woman!” Sam screamed. “We’re coming to get you!”

  Missy had said the shack was about half a mile up the winding trail above the lake. They figured it would take about thirty minutes to get there.

  The twins walked slightly ahead. Right away, they started bickering about who was the best pitcher on the Seattle Mariners. The baseball team was only three years old, and it wasn’t very good. But the boys had become instant fans. Their dream was to see a home game in person. But they’d never been to Seattle. Neither had Jess. Missy had gone there last month for her birthday. She’d come back bragging about eating at a fancy steak restaurant. And of course she’d seen a Mariners game. The twins hated hearing about that!

  Soon they’d crossed over into the best part of the forest, with old trees that soared up so high it seemed they were touching the sky. Jess breathed in the spicy smell of the pines. Her ponytail swung in the chilly breeze. Her mind drifted, and the twins’ bickering voices faded. She walked with light steps, whispering the names of every tree and flower, careful not to trample any saplings or mushrooms as she stepped.

  It was how Dad had taught her to be in the forest.

  He’d loved it here so much. He and Mom and Jess had come up here whenever they could sneak away from the little diner they owned in Cedar. They’d camp under the trees and hike the trails. Dad would stop every minute to photograph Mom or Jess or some bird perched on a branch. He’d saved up for two years to buy his camera, and his dream had been for one of his photographs to be shown at a gallery in Seattle.

  No, he’d never taken a photography class. He’d never worked anyplace other than their diner.

  But you never knew.

  “Anything’s possible,” Dad always said.

  And the way he looked at Jess, his eyes bright with hope, she didn’t doubt it.

  Maybe he’d gotten his optimism from his granddad Clive Marlowe.

  Clive had come here to southern Washington State when he was just sixteen, to work as a lumberjack. Back then there were no highways or restaurants or towns in the Cascades. There were still wolves in the woods, and grizzly bears that stood ten feet tall.

  But mainly there were trees — some of the most spectacular trees on Earth. The oldest ones had been here before George Washington was born, before the Mayflower sailed, when the only people here were Native Americans quietly hunting and fishing among the trees.

  But that all changed in the 1800s when American settlers came. They chased away most of the native people. Lumber companies bought up the forests. They sent men like Clive in to cut down the trees. Soon enough, most of those centuries-old trees had been chopped into wood to build ships and railroads and buildings for America’s brand-new cities.

  Lumberjacking was dangerous. The biggest trees weighed fifty tons, as much as a traincar. They came crashing down with so much force that the earth shook a mile away. Men were crushed by falling branches. They lost feet and hands to the blades of axes. Clive himself was almost blinded by a spray of razor-sharp wood chips.

  But it wasn’t the danger that got to Clive. It was watching those big trees disappear. He grew to hate the grinding sound of saws and axes. He dreaded the moment when a tree started to fall over, how its wood would moan and creak as though it was crying out in agony.

  So he quit work at the lumber company and opened a diner he named Clive’s. Folks were sure the diner would fail. But Clive didn’t listen.

  And fifty years later, Clive’s Diner was still there, passed down through the proud Marlowe family like a priceless treasure. Dad had taken it over after his own dad passed. And he and Mom ran it together until Dad’s car accident two years ago.

  After Dad died, Mom wasn’t so sure she wanted to stay in Cedar. She’d always dreamed of becoming a teacher, of living in a city like Seattle.

  But how could she close the diner that had been in Dad’s family for generations? And how could they leave Cedar, where every crack in the sidewalk reminded them of Dad?

  Sometimes it felt like Mom and Jess were as rooted here as the old trees.

  Thinking about all of this made Jess feel dizzy, as if she was teetering at the edge of a cliff.

  But then Sam’s voice jolted her back.

  “There it is!” he cried.

  Jess looked ahead.

  It was the shack.

  It sat there in the distance, as though it had been waiting for them.

  “Yikes,” Eddie muttered.

  The small cabin looked like nobody had stepped f
oot inside in years. The porch sagged, the windows were boarded up, and the chimney had crumbled to bits. Thick, twisting vines crawled up the sides. It was easy to imagine two deadly eyes peering through the cracks in the wood. Jess could practically hear a croaking voice whispering to her.

  Give me your bones!

  Jess’s muscles twitched. All she wanted was to get away from here.

  But then she pictured Missy’s smirk.

  Don’t be a dope, Jess told herself.

  There was no such thing as Skeleton Woman. But all-too-real Missy would be waiting for them at school on Monday morning.

  Jess gathered her courage and stepped forward.

  Sam and Eddie glued themselves to her side.

  Together they moved through the tangled brush, pushing through the thorny bushes that grabbed at their clothes.

  Skeleton Woman is not real. Skeleton Woman is not real.

  Jess said these words over and over to herself.

  But just to be safe, she scanned the ground for traps. She remembered that detail from the old legend — how Skeleton Woman dug big pits in the ground to trap her victims. The holes were as deep as graves. She’d cover the pits with branches and leaves and wait for helpless victims to tumble to their doom.

  Skeleton Woman is not real. Skeleton Woman is not real.

  Sam reached for the door first and gave it a little push.

  Creak!

  The door swung open. Jess braced herself for a hideous scream, for two rusty-clawed hands to reach out and pull her into the darkness.

  But wait … it didn’t look so scary. A buttery ray of sunlight beamed through a crack in the roof. There was a battered table and chair and some cardboard boxes of junk. A paintbrush and a can splattered with red paint sat on a shelf.

  There were no baskets of bones, no cauldrons of bubbling witches’ brew.

  It was just an abandoned hunting shack, like hundreds of others that dotted the forests around here.

  They all stepped inside and looked around.

  “So hurry up and take the picture,” Eddie said.

  “Okay,” Jess said, shrugging off her backpack. She opened it up and took the big black camera out of its plastic bag. The sight of it sent a little jab through her heart; it reminded her so much of Dad.