This story was told by a professional writer Yevgeny Dmitrievich Lebkov (1928-2005). In 1975, Lebkov divorced his wife and went to the island of Kunashir, one of the islands of the Kuril ridge, in order, in his own words, "to recover from an exciting family life."
Yevgeny Dmitrievich settled in an empty hut of a forester near a volcano with the strange nickname Tyatya.
On the morning of August 14, 1975, the writer went fishing to a river that flowed near the volcano. Approaching the fishing spot, Lebkov drew attention to a cloud of smoke smoking over Tyatya. The day before, Lebkov recalled, he had heard on the local radio the forecast of volcanologists: a sharp increase in the activity of Tyati volcano is expected in about two weeks, that is, at the end of August.
Evgeny Dmitrievich settled down on the bank of the river and … The last thing he remembered was how he threw his fishing rods. Further - a blackout.
When the writer woke up, he found himself lying on a trestle bed in a rickety hut, which Lebkov, having approached the river earlier, noticed on its opposite bank. His clothes were all torn. My body ached, nausea rolled up to my throat, and my head was splitting from hellish pain.
Lebkov glanced out the window and was amazed. First, the evening twilight was deepening outside the window, and he, as we all remember, lost consciousness in the morning. Secondly, over the Tyatya volcano there was a huge black cloud, and the roar from its top was clearly audible. The volcano is awake!
In the hut there were three men who were having supper at the table. As it turned out later, these were hunters-poachers. Noticing that Yevgeny Dmitrievich came to his senses, they were delighted and invited him to the table. Poachers told the writer that a couple of hours ago he himself entered the hut, swaying from side to side, like a drunk, and collapsed unconscious on the floor …
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Tyatya volcano
Lebkov was greatly surprised by their story. Meanwhile, the eruption of Tyatya volcano continued. Evgeny Dmitrievich, looking out the window of the hut at the revived volcano, uttered thoughtfully:
- Look what is being done! Volcanologists predicted that the eruption would begin in late August. And it started today.
The poachers looked at each other, and one of them patted Lebkov condescendingly on the shoulder. Then he said:
- You, friend, need a good rest. You look all sick, yes, as I can see, and your brains have completely moved to one side … Today, after all, is the end of August.
- And what is the date? - asked Lebkov, perplexed.
“August 29,” the hunters told him.
Lebkov lost consciousness on the bank of the river in the morning of August 14 … Where was the writer for two weeks? He remembered nothing of what happened to him between August 14 and 29! Or rather, almost nothing, except for some kind of auditory, as he later decided, hallucinations.
Memories of these hallucinations tormented the writer for a long time. Some strange sounds remained in my memory, similar, according to Evgeny Dmitrievich, to the waxing of lizards. But Lebkov for some reason - he himself finds it difficult to explain why - was sure that this whistling was a meaningful speech.
It is curious that the writer, who spent two weeks in an unknown place, did not lose a single kilogram of his own weight. And on the cheeks did not appear, oddly enough, two weeks of stubble.
