The Volano is Erupting

 

The Volcano is Erupting

 

The gas station sat along a lonely stretch of highway just north of Flagstaff, Arizona. It was a quiet outpost, where the rhythm of the day was punctuated by the occasional roar of a passing semi or the crunch of gravel under the tires of a tourist’s trailers. The attendant, a wiry man in his mid-forties named Hank, had seen his fair share of peculiar characters come through. But nothing quite prepared him for the three young men who barreled into the station one early summer evening.

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the surrounding landscape. The trio arrived in a white 59 Chevy.  They parked haphazardly near the pumps, piling out of the car with the frantic energy of kids who’d just seen a ghost. Hank, standing behind the counter with a weathered paperback in his hands, raised an eyebrow as the door flew open, the bell jangling wildly.

“Excuse me!” one of them exclaimed, his stammering voice high-pitched with excitement. He was about 6 feet tall with a mop of unruly hair.   His companions weren’t far behind, one short and stocky, the other wiry and jittery, all of them wearing expressions that teetered between awe and panic.

“Can I help you?” Hank asked, setting his book down and bracing himself for whatever this was about to be.

“You see that red glow on the hill out there?”  The stammering voiced-one, gesturing wildly through the station’s smudged glass door. “That’s a volcano, right? Like, it’s erupting or something?”

Hank blinked. He stepped around the counter to get a look. Sure enough, in the distance, the setting sun had painted the hills in a vivid crimson hue, the light pooling in the low spots and glinting off the rocky terrain. It was beautiful, sure, but a volcano? Hank squinted, trying to decide if these boys were pulling his leg or if they genuinely believed what they were saying.

“You mean up by Sunset Crater?” he asked, turning back to face them.

“Yeah!” the stocky one chimed in. “We saw the red glow, and we thought, man, this has to be lava. Like, it’s flowing down the hill or something. Shouldn’t there be some kind of alert?”

“Yeah,” added the wiry one, who had been bouncing on the balls of his feet since they walked in. “Is there a place we can report this? Like, a hotline or the fire department or something?”

Hank scratched his head, trying not to laugh. “Well, Sunset Crater’s been dormant for about a thousand years,” he said slowly. “What you’re seeing is just the sunset reflecting off the rocks. It’s not lava.”

The three exchanged glances, a mix of disbelief and mild embarrassment flickering across their faces. But the talkative one wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“Are you sure?” he pressed. “I mean, it really looked like fire. There’s gotta be a road we can take to get a closer look, right? Just to be sure?”

Hank sighed. “There’s a road up to the crater, yeah, but I’m telling you, it’s not erupting. That’s just the way the light hits it this time of day. Happens all the time.”

 The wiry one deflated slightly, his enthusiasm waning. But the talkative one wasn’t quite ready to let it go. “Let’s at least check it out,” he said to his friends. “I mean, what if it is something? We’ll never forgive ourselves if we don’t.”

The short one shrugged, apparently indifferent either way, while the wiry one nodded hesitantly, his earlier excitement tempered by Hank’s explanation. The three turned to leave, their energy a little less frenetic than when they’d arrived.

“Hold on a second,” Hank called after them. “You boys aren’t planning to get too close, are you? That area’s protected. And, you know, there’s no actual lava.”

The talkative one grinned sheepishly. “No promises,” he said, pushing open the door. “Thanks for the info, though!”

Hank watched as they piled back into their car, their voices carrying faintly through the glass as they debated whether to head toward Sunset Crater or continue their road trip elsewhere. As the car pulled away, Hank shook his head, a wry smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

He’d encountered plenty of strange questions in his time at the gas station—everything from directions to the Grand Canyon to whether Arizona had any alligators—but the “volcano eruption” was a first. Chuckling to himself, he returned to his book, the drama of the three amateur volcanologists already fading into the hazy evening.

Out on the highway, the 59 Chevy disappeared into the horizon, its passengers still buzzing with what they’d seen—or what they thought they’d seen. Whether they truly believed a volcano had erupted or if they simply wanted an adventure, Hank didn’t know. But he had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time he’d hear a wild tale at the gas station north of Flagstaff.

Authors note:  One of these three crazy teenagers was yours truly - now that was embarrasing!