Among The Quiet Beyond: Part 1
a story, so far, of introspection in the wilderness before shifting it
Heat shimmered off the tarmac in ghostly waves, whirling the air into a trembling mirage.
Elior crouched by the roadside, watching a caterpillar make its determined crawl across the scorched black tarmac.
It was an odd little creature — bright blue with yellow spots, soft hairs covering its body like down, and a row of longer bristles along its back forming something like a mohawk. Its head, slightly horned, tilted with surprising purpose as it advanced. The asphalt could’ve fried an egg, yet the insect moved as if the heat didn’t exist.
Elior found himself leaning closer, fascinated. What sort of butterfly would it become? He didn’t know enough about insects to tell — but he imagined something beautiful, something bright enough to justify the struggle.
He squinted down the road. Through the heat haze, no cars came from either direction. The only sound was the faint hum of cicadas and the occasional struggle of an old pump filling up parked four-wheeler.
Maybe the little thing would make it across alive. He smiled at that thought — funny how it suddenly mattered, how a creature so small could command such attention. He didn’t want to see it crushed. Not that it would change anything in his life, or the other way around. Perhaps, in some grand cosmic sense, it all connected somehow — but here and now, it was just curiosity. Or maybe attachment. Either way, it felt strangely real enough to matter.
He wouldn’t dare reflect the encounter onto himself — not consciously, at least. Maybe that was why it fascinated him so much. Something in that quiet determination spoke to a part of him he preferred not to examine.
“Are you coming, or are you trying to take a shit there?”
Val’s voice tore through the heavy air. Loud, playful, and utterly without restraint. Elior winced, standing up as the mirage of heat folded back into the blur of the highway.
Val was coming out of the gas station, bag of snacks swinging from one hand, sunglasses perched lazily on his head. Rev stood by the truck, finishing with the pump.
Val tossed the bag into the back seat with a grin. “Our last stop at civilization, boys. Best we grab the finest it can offer, right?”
“No beers?” Rev asked, glancing at the bag.
“Can’t have that. Only hard liquor going forward.” Val patted his stomach with mock seriousness. “Getting too old for beers. They’ll just get you fat.”
It was a lie, of course. Val was in better shape than either of them — lean, tanned, his tank top plastered to his body with sweat. The heat made him look like he’d just walked out of a gym, every muscle carved and veins standing in relief beneath his skin.
“But don’t you fret,” Val continued, flashing his grin. “I brought the good stuff — sweet poison of caffeine, to keep your frigid minds awake.”
“Great,” Elior said, fishing a can from the bag. He cracked it open and took a long drink, the fizz sharp on his tongue. “Feel like I’m about to be boiled alive out here.”
He tossed a can to Rev and one to Val.
Rev turned his over, raising a brow. “Sugar-free. Thanks for the luxury.”
Val downed half of his in one go, then rested both arms on the truck’s roof. “Luxury, my ass. This is survival, boys.”
Val’s grin lingered as he climbed into the driver’s seat. The truck rumbled to life, spitting dust and heat behind them as they pulled away from the gas station and left the highway for a narrow dirt road that cut between tall grasses and wild bushes.
The world grew quieter the farther they went. Asphalt gave way to loose gravel, then to uneven earth, and soon the only sound was the rhythmic thud of tires on ruts and the birds screeching in the trees.
Elior rolled down the window and held his hand out into the wind. It was hot, dry air, brushing past his fingers in waves, but still it felt pure — cleansing somehow. He couldn’t help but smile.
It wasn’t the tents, or play pretending survival, or even the long hikes that drew him back to the wilderness each time. It was something else — something wordless that bloomed inside him the moment civilization fell behind.
He remembered the first time he’d gone camping, how that strange lightness filled him. It was like euphoria, subtle but unmistakable. Out here, he could breathe — truly breathe — as though for the first time. The world made sense in its quiet chaos.
He never spoke about it with the others, but he suspected they felt something similar. It was the reason they always came back, pushing farther and farther into the wild each trip. The deeper they went, the more it felt like shedding another layer of the world they were trying to escape.
This time, though, they were going farther than ever before.
Val glanced into the rearview mirror toward Rev in the back seat.
“How long we got left, Rev?”
Rev looked up from his phone, the GPS screen glowing faintly in the sunlight. “Don’t worry, we’re on track. Still quite a way to go, though.”
Val smirked. “That’s what you said an hour ago.”
“Don’t worry, we’re on track.” Rev’s lips curved into a lazy grin.
Rev — was short for Reverend — during the period of his life when he was searching for a direction he joined the clergy determined to become a priest. But at the time he had problems with addiction, which pushed him to come up with creative ways to make extra cash. Eventually he started running a small prostitution ring, pimping it out to his new friends at seminary. But it didn’t last long; he was soon found out and expelled. But ever since he was “reverend” to his close friends.
Despite it all, he had the calm poise of a man who could still walk into a church and be mistaken for one of the faithful — smooth voice, confident smile, that eerie knack for making you trust him, at least until the cracks showed.
Val laughed quietly under his breath. “Alright, buddy,” he murmured, easing his grip on the steering wheel.
Elior noticed the shift immediately. Val’s shoulders had loosened; some of that restless energy he’d been carrying finally started to bleed away. The past few weeks had been rough on him — another breakup, the fourth in two years. Each one had been “the one,” until it wasn’t.
Didn’t come as surprise to Elior. He’d always known Val was searching for something he couldn’t name — trying to fit himself into molds that never truly fit. Maybe it was confusion, maybe denial. Whatever it was, Elior couldn’t help but feel protective of him, even as it hurt.
He turned to the window again, letting the sunlight blur the road into a ribbon of gold. Ahead, the hills began to rise, crowned with towering pines that swayed in the dry wind. The air smelled of dust and resin and the faint sweetness of sun-baked grass.
For a moment, Elior closed his eyes, breathing it in.
It was going to be a good day.
By the time they reached the campsite, dusk had settled like a soft bruise over the horizon. The last of the sunlight bled through the tall pines in amber streaks, and the air had cooled just enough to carry the resin’s scent.
Val parked the four-wheeler at the edge of a small clearing, headlights slicing through the trees. Dust swirled lazily in the beams, drifting like ghosts in suspension.
“This it?” Elior asked, stepping out.
“This is it,” Rev said, grinning as he stretched his arms. “A little piece of untouched paradise, just for ourselves.”
It really was. The clearing wasn’t large — just enough room for their tent, the truck, and a makeshift table — but there were no fire rings, no trash, no signs that anyone had ever camped there before. It felt hidden, claimed by no one but the nature itself. Perfect.
They worked in the fading light, the headlights washing the trees in pale gold. Elior and Val tied up a tarp, stretching it from the truck to two nearby trees — their improvised roof in case of rain.
Meanwhile, Rev wandered off with his foldable saw to gather firewood. His flashlight bobbed between the trees like a will-o’-wisp before disappearing into the dark.
Val unfolded the lounge chairs beside the camp table and muttered, “Man, this place smells good. Real forest. Not a camper in sight.”
Elior took a lungful of now pleasantly warm air and nodded, running his hand over the tarp’s edge. He felt that old thrill again — the wilderness wrapping around them, the silence so complete it felt sacred.
Rev returned not long after, dragging a pile of wood that could’ve lasted two nights. He broke off chunks from a kerosene fire starter and stacked the logs carefully before striking a match. The flame caught quick, crackling to life, sending a ribbon of smoke curling into the dusk.
Val clapped his hands together. “Alright, boys,” he said, ducking into the truck and returning with a sizable cardboard box. Bottles clinked together inside as he dropped it on the table with a grin. “Pick your poison.”
Elior laughed, already knowing where this was going. Val had been on his “mixologist” phase for months now — collecting liquors, memorizing recipes, talking about balance and aroma as if he’d invented the concept. They all knew it wouldn’t last, but for now, it was harmless fun.
“Sure,” Elior said, sliding into his chair. “Surprise me.”
Rev glanced up from the firepit, his face painted orange by the flames. “Just don’t get us hammered with your concoctions. We’ve got a long hike to the lake tomorrow, and I’d rather not do it half-dead.”
“Relax,” Val said, waving him off. “A few cocktails never killed anyone.” He shot Elior a look. “Besides, no headache if you don’t stop drinking.”
“Yeah, hear that, Rev?” Elior teased. “Guess we’ll just drink through it. Won’t mess us up worse than your mushrooms did.”
Rev chuckled darkly. “Those were natural and they don’t leave you feeling like you took an axe to the head the day after.”
Val snorted. “So does arsenic.”
They laughed — the kind of laughter that came easy between people who’d shared too much life already. Soon, Val was handing out drinks, improvised cocktails in plastic cups, each one stronger than the last.
By the time the stars came out, the fire had burned down to a steady glow. Elior leaned back in his chair, tracing the path of golden sparks rising into the dark. They vanished into the canopy like fleeting souls.
“How’d you even find this place?” he asked dreamily. “It’s perfect. Not a camper in sight — feels like we’re the only people for miles.”
Rev smiled over the rim of his drink. “Remember Mr. Morphs?”
“The guy you pulled that crypto scam on?” Val groaned. “How could I forget?” He took few greedy sips to gulp down bitter memory Rev summoned.
Rev’s grin widened. “Hey, if someone’s dumb enough to buy into Fentanyl Dragon Coin, they deserve a little educational, financial consequence”
Elior chuckled. He remembered that whole debacle — the weeks of panic, drama and the absurdity of it all. Mr. Morphs had been the father of one of Val’s “serious girlfriends,” a relationship that had burned out faster than fentanyl coin’s value.
“So, anyway,” Rev went on, “I was working with Morphs for a while — before all that blew up. He was planning to start logging out here. Brought in a full crew — trucks, equipment, surveyors — everything.”
He paused, squinting at his drink before taking another slow sip. Whatever Val had mixed was potent enough to make his eyes water.
“But something went wrong. The trees — the soil, I don’t know. He said the wood wasn’t right. When the crew finally got here, they couldn’t log a thing.”
Val frowned. “Couldn’t? What do you mean, couldn’t?”
Rev shrugged, his face flickering in the firelight. “Just that. They said the forest wasn’t safe. Machinery wouldn’t work right… Maybe they saw a skunk ape roaming about or some of the workers were shape shifting at night. Or they just didn’t want to. The point is the whole operations had to be canceled.”
The fire crackled sharply between them, sending a spray of sparks skyward. For a moment, no one spoke. The night pressed in — not menacing yet, but heavy in a way that made Elior suddenly aware of the depth of the woods around them.
Then Val laughed and poured another round.
“Guess we’ll find out if it’s safe enough for three idiots and a bottle of gin.”
Elior smiled faintly, but he couldn’t help glancing at the tree line — black silhouettes standing perfectly still, as if listening. The eeriness that you grasp once in a while when the night is dark enough, or something brushes against your thoughts the right way, was part of the charm. He enjoyed it as much as the rest of it — that sharp prickle of life that made his pulse quicken for no reason at all. The camp fire wrapped them in the smell of its incense; the stars hung cold above them like unblinking eyes.
“However,” Rev continued, snapping Elior from his reverie, “the contractors weren’t too happy about it. Meant they weren’t getting paid in full, so they demanded more money, threatening to leave all the equipment where it was if Mr. Morphs didn’t agree. He didn’t. So I got together some guys, came down here, and hauled it all back myself.”
For a moment, the fire popped — dry sap bursting with a hiss.
After a long pause, Elior narrowed his eyes on him with suspicion. “And that’s it?”
Rev blinked. “What do you mean, Elly? You wanted to know how I came across this place, and that’s how it happened.”
Elior puffed his lips, disappointed. “I don’t know… I guess I thought there’d be more to it.”
Rev stretched, rising from his seat with a groan, and tossed his empty cup into the fire. The flames flared and briefly lit his face — calm, unreadable. “Next time I’ll throw in a spicy romantic encounter or maybe a paranormal twist, just to entertain you. But for now, I think I need to get some sleep.”
Val laughed, raising his glass. “Better yet, one leading to another!”
Rev flipped a lazy middle finger over his shoulder as he disappeared into the tent.
Val turned to Elior, grin curling in the dim light. “So, let’s have another one.”
“Sure,” Elior said, too quickly. Maybe he shouldn’t have. He was drunk enough already — his body humming, the world softly tilting — but maybe he didn’t want it to end. There was something about the night, about the warmth and flicker of the fire, and about Val, that made him want to linger there just a bit longer.
“I’m really enjoying this whole cocktail experience with you,” Elior admitted with a shy smile, leaning against the table that now served as Val’s makeshift bar.
“I’m sure you do,” Val replied, his grin slow and confident. “So what’s it gonna be next?”
Elior hesitated. He wasn’t much into drinking — never had been — but he was very much into Val. “Something fancy and… magic,” he said finally, trying to sound playful.
Val’s eyes glinted as he rummaged through the box of supplies. He pulled out an elaborately perforated spoon, its surface catching the firelight in a strange, hypnotic shimmer.
“What’s that?” Elior asked, leaning closer.
“You’ll see,” Val said. “Think I’ve got just the thing in mind.” He glanced toward the food bag. “But first, do me a favor — look through that and find the sugar cubes. I think we packed some.”
Elior crouched by the bag, the sound of his rummaging swallowed by the night. From the trees came a faint rustle — a soft, deliberate sound, too heavy for the wind. He froze for a heartbeat, listening. Then it was gone.
“You hear that?” he asked, glancing back toward the fire.
Val was bent over the table, pouring something green into a small glass, his movements deliberate. “Hear what?”
Elior hesitated, then shook his head. “Nothing. Thought it was an animal or something.”
Val smirked. “If it is, it better not want a drink. I’m running low on supplies.”
Elior found the sugar cubes and tossed them onto the table. Val placed one delicately on the spoon, balancing it over the glass. The liquid shimmered faintly green in the firelight.
Absinthe.
“You ever tried it before?” Val asked, his tone low and teasing.
Elior shook his head. “No. Should I be scared?”
Val’s grin widened. “A little fear makes the flavor better.”
He struck a match, and for an instant, the light carved his face into sharp, golden lines — eyes bright, mouth set in a smirk that was almost predatory. Then the sugar ignited, hissing softly as it melted into the drink.
The forest seemed to step aside, as if giving way to darkness pressing closer.