 Just beyond the hills, under a sky studded with lidless glowing eyes, there's a place where the borders of reality grow thin, somewhere between Paseo de Luces and Faraday's crossing, not terribly far away, but closer than you'd like to believe. Even if you count yourself lucky enough not to know where those landmarks are as if the physical remove from these signposts might prevent you from coming into contact with this blurred boundary, you are never far enough. It's a place rarely seen under light of day, even with the sun overhead, the world seems to stretch beyond its normal limits as if nothing were close. As if all monuments to mankind were distant, even that gas station you passed a few miles back becomes distant, it's a place where the night sky seems to vibrate around you and where the air is prenaturally cool and dry, and there is a perpetual hum in the air, barely present, but undeniable. If you tried to record it, your recording would come back corrupted. Only the unaided ear can hear it, and even then, only by ignoring it. The moment you focus your hearing, it will scarper off into nothing. The locals dare not visit, they know enough. There are those who take stock of missing persons' reports. They know not to put themselves in harm's way, leave well enough alone is their motto, and they live longer for it. It's only the out of towners who seem to get into any trouble, and as a result, you're unlikely to find the place by word of mouth alone. No one around these parts likes to talk much about that place. Talk around, and the only thing you're liable to hear is, stay away. Of course, not everyone heeds the words of locals. I've seen far too many wander off into the wilderness in search of that fateful place. I've seen many of them come back, too. Sun burnt and sleep deprived, and badly in need of a shower. Nothing out there but dirt, shrubs, and more dirt, they say, and shake their dusty heads. There's always a faint disappointment in their faces, they'd hoped to have something confirmed. Some belief in the paranormal corroborated by the sky itself, finding nothing. They lose a little hope in the world. To them, life has gotten a little less strange, a little more stable, confirming more and more to the world their pastors and parents first mapped out. They lose faith in the weird, the strange, the ability for life to surprise them still. These are the lucky ones. For what they lose in imagination, they gain in good, solid years left upon the earth. The others? Well now. I suppose no one really knows what happens to the others. They wander out just as far as their tired legs can take them, beneath the blazing sun, the quiet moon, into the distance, further and further and further, and then, thinking about it brings back the old hurts, I've lost too much not to hate that place. Once I watched an entire team of young people drive their van out in hopes of finding the boundary. I happen to be sitting on my porch as they went, enjoying a smoke. My house is fairly isolated, but it's along the way, and I'm friendlier than most locals. It's not uncommon for visitors to stop and ask a few questions before heading back out. These travelers in particular didn't quite know how to tell me at first just where it was they were headed, but I knew already. I always know. A young gang of adventurers like them, well, I've seen their type pass through a fair few times. Two young guys and three girls couldn't have been much more than twenty years old, any of them. Finally, it came out that they were hunting the boundary, the place beyond the hills. Only they might have had some misguided thoughts about what they'd find when they got there. I hear it's a UFO hotspot. One of the young ladies said, crossing her tattooed arms. She looked to be their de facto leader. The others nodded vigorously in agreement. We're going to camp out all week. See what we can see. More if we have to. One of the others jumped in. We're not leaving till we get that footage. We've got supplies for a week. The first woman explained, she ran a hand through her close cropped hair. It was a dyed bright red. She flick loose sweat off her fingertips. We're hoping we won't have to wait all that long, though. You might not have to wait long at all, I thought. But all I said was, lots of young people like you have gone missing out there. That wouldn't be enough to deter them, it seemed. I should have known better. Never works. I took a long hard look at their van. It seemed sturdy, and it was running well enough for a vehicle out this far. If it were as stocked as they said, I had no doubt they'd manage a week in the desert heat. But even the best vehicle in the world won't help out in the kind of situation these poor fools were getting themselves into. Yeah, well, we're hoping to find out exactly why so many people have gone missing. Someone's got to document it, right? I, uh, I hear there's a mothership out there. One of the young guys called out, hiding in plain sight. I shook my hand if I didn't try one more time to stop them and something happened. I'd have that on my conscience. This was way back before I stopped trying to turn people away back when I thought I could still make a difference. I don't know about UFOs or motherships. I explained. But about ten miles down the way, there's a gas station. Sells hot dogs, charcoal, lighter fluid, beer, too. Don't have much of a selection, but they keep it cold, which is what you'll want. Ice in the freezer, too. If you've got a cooler to carry it, nothing like a dog and some ice cold beers. Yeah, we've already got food, drinks, too. Either they weren't listening, or I wasn't trying hard enough. But I wasn't finished. About five miles past the gas station, there's a stand of cactus, big old things can't miss them. Hang a right and drive till you reach the dry Aroya. No need to worry about flash floods. We haven't had a drop of rain in months. It's a great spot to camp, undisturbed, quiet, prettiest view of the stars you'll ever see. And far as I know, not a soul's gone missing who pitched out there. It was the truth. I've camped out there myself. It's a touch too close to the boundary for my own comfort, but I already live too close to that place to rest totally easy. Ah, um, listen, the woman said. We just want to make sure we're headed the right direction. Can you tell us if this is the road we want? Nothing I could say would convince them. I'd seen it all before. Oh, it's the right road, all right. Not paved all the way to the spot you're looking for, though. This old beast can handle it, she said, slapping the side of the van. She flashed a wink and hopped back in along with her friends. See you on the way back. To her credit, I did see her on the way back. Only her. She drove like a madman, sent plumes of dust skyward behind her as she weaved off and on the main road. I'd been sitting out front that night, enjoying another smoke. Cancers got off a way to go, watched both my parents struggle at the end of their rope with that dread beast. But when you've seen the kind of things I have, cancers suddenly seem small in comparison. When I saw her, small on the horizon first, but ever larger as she sped back down the road, I watched that van come spinning towards me at an inadvisable speed, before bouncing in a shallow ditch and coming to an abrupt stop. Good thing, too, another few feet and I'd have lost my mailbox or perhaps the porch altogether. The van door flew open and she stumbled out, openly weeping, before crumpling into my arms. A few minutes later, I had her cleaned up on my couch, a warm blanket drawn about her shoulders and a hot mug of coffee in her hands. Take it from me, a blanket and some hot coffee can work miracles. She still shivered and sniffled, but physically she was alright. It was in her mind that she was all shook up. In her soul, I gave her space to decompress. Sometimes people just need to be near someone, especially after they've suffered a shock. In time, she'd open up or not. That was really up to her. My job was to make her comfortable and help her get the van started back up when she decided it was time to go. She sat there uncomfortably, not touching her mug, staring at nothing. A minute or two passed, the stars through the window whirling slowly. You were right. She finally said, course I was right. I thought, only she didn't need to hear that right now. I arched an eyebrow at her and took a sip of my coffee, as if I'd broken a spell that seemed to give her permission to drink her own. She took a long pull before continuing. We never should have gone out there, she admitted. People don't need much encouragement to share what's on their mind. Sometimes it's better to say less. This time, I just said, oh, sure enough, that did the trick. It all came spilling out, maybe too fast. I couldn't slow her down after that. They just disappeared. All of them. I don't have a clue what happened. We didn't see any UFOs or anything either. That was all bullshit, I guess. Just one second they were there, and the next, gone. There was a flash of light, but what happened? It can't be possible, can it? I mean, people don't just vanish. They can't just vanish. Oh, God, oh, God, what have I gotten myself into? They have to be somewhere, don't they? I thought hard before I answered that one. Hard enough that I had time to shake free a smoke, light it, and offer one to her, too. She shook her head. I don't smoke. Fair enough. I countered, then took a deep drag while I considered how best to answer. Having this conversation would require a fair amount of delicacy on my part, best to get to know her first. Hell, is there any place else to start? What's her name? I asked. Eh, Ember. Well, it's actually Emily. She met my eyes once, then looked away. My friends call me Ember. You can, too. Ember, huh? It's an inside joke. She spoke very quietly. I can only imagine. Thinking about her friends and the group dynamic at a time like this would have to be very difficult. Then she looked up and said, What's yours? Call me hers. I said, Is that your real name? I ignored that. It's nice to meet you, too, Ember. Fair enough. Ember echoed my earlier sentiment, then hesitated. Um, I changed my mind about the cigarette. A few moments later, and she was taking a deep draw of her own, leaning back in her chair. Immediately she seemed more at ease than before, but I could tell that was just posturing. Behind her eyes, her mind was working a mile a minute, and I could guess her heart was just about there, too. In the calm light of my home, we looked an odd pair of pals, I far older than she, and tall, wide, while she was a slip of a woman, short and willow thin. We were bound by a shared knowledge of the deep, distant place beyond the hills of first-hand experience of its weird terror, and by the smoldering glow of our smokes, we shared a further communion. Please, Ember said finally, Tell me that I'm going crazy or something. They can't just be gone. You must know something that can help. I'm going to level with you. Your friends are gone. It's tough, but you'd be wise to accept it and to move on. I took a drag of my cigarette and watched her. Her expression was downcast, for she already knew it was true. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, and she choked a sob. I pitied her. She was a stupid girl to have gone out there in the first place, but then I'd been stupid once too. I sighed and bent to take the mug from her hands. She was shaking now, and I'd rather not lose that mug. Someone close gave it to me. Long ago. There has to be something we can do, please, you have to help me. But I pressed on. There was only one thing for her to do, and I wasn't going to pretend otherwise, no matter how much I had to play the villain. I was firm and stuck to what I'd said. Maybe think of a story to cover your ass while you're at it. I continued. Folks around here won't ask too many questions, but if you get back home with four of your friends missing, she broke down completely, sobbing helplessly into her hands. The cigarette between her fingers was burning unnoticed, and I took it from her, set it down in the ashtray. Nothing you can do when someone's like that, but wait, let them cry it out. And that's exactly what I did. I knelt beside her and laid a hand on her knee while she cried. When at last she'd composed herself, we had some more coffee and shared another smoke. When she said to asking her new questions, I should have known she wasn't going to take the easy way out of this. Not everyone's smart enough to take advice, even if it'll save their life. She pressed on with her inquiry. You warned us, she said. Simple enough statement. Not a question either, but I knew it was leading into one. You knew something would happen. You must have some clue what goes on out there. I might. I said it last. This one wasn't going to rest until she had a few answers. And anyways, I thought answers might be the best way to convince her to stay away. Not to go back. Frankly, she was dumb lucky to have made it back the first time. Tell me. I need to know. Tell me. Tell you what? What happened? What, what is that place? That place. I didn't know how best to phrase it. I had a story of my own, and though I'd avoided telling it to others, it might be the only way I could save her. If only I hadn't seen so much of myself in her, I could have avoided getting attached. Would have made what happened next hurt less. Well, no one really knows what that place is. Some say it is UFOs. Some say that the aliens swoop in and take people away. Of course, I don't go in for that E.T. shit. Other people say it's a vanishing point. The end of the earth? Too many steps the wrong direction and… but you don't think that's true either? I shook my head. And what is it? It's a gateway. I replied and looked away. And you don't want to go through. Believe me. I remembered it all too well, more than I wanted to let on, but I didn't hold back. Not this time. Not if I could stop her. I told her how I'd gone through once with a friend. Natalie was her name. She'd been more than a friend, I suppose, but it didn't do any good to dwell on that. I learned to live with my loss years ago, and those wounds still hurt. We were both too young and too stupid to consider the consequences of meddling with things we didn't understand, or to consider that any of it might be real. But when we got out there that night, we realized that there could be truth to the rumors of odd old places in the world. We could both hear that faint humming, a persistent buzz in our ears, and the cold plucking sensation on our skin. The air around us might have been alive, and the stars overhead might have been watching. We had a million chances to turn back, but we followed that cold air, that low wine, until the sensations grew stronger and stronger, and we knew this was the place. And then we stepped through. The shift was instantaneous, a flash of light. We didn't even have time to blink. It was a dark place, with a floor of stone visible only by a lurid green glow that had no source. Shadows loomed and flickered like beasts. Overhead the roof had crumbled away, and through the open ceiling I saw unrecognizable constellations, a huge moon terribly close. In a slew of smaller moons in the distance. I knew that we had made a terrible mistake, but only I was able to react quickly enough. I turned and saw a shimmering light, and knew without knowing that it must have been the gate through which we'd stepped. I didn't hesitate. I didn't grab Natalie's hand and pull her through with me. I acted only to save myself, which I have since come to regret. Though I do not know if I could have saved her, I know how hard it's been to live with myself for never trying. I tumbled back into the desert, in the place beyond the hills. The humming had gone, the air was still. The stars overhead had lost their alien luster. Before I could climb to my feet, I heard a terrible scream ring across the landscape. It bounced through the hills and echoed against the sky. It etched itself into my heart, forever. When I'd finished my story, I saw that it had had the opposite effect on her. Ember's eyes were twinkling, and her jaw was set, resolute. So you're saying it's possible to come back. This was not at all what I'd intended. I'm saying. They're already gone, Ember. They're gone. Don't play games with this. It wasn't going to be enough to stop her. I should have known. I hadn't been able to stop her from going once, and I wouldn't be able to stop her from going back. What she said next caught me by surprise, though. Come with me. She said, help me through. We can bring them back together. I'm sorry, Ember, but that's never going to happen. We can find Natalie, too. She's still in there. We can save her. I closed my eyes, saying Natalie's name had been difficult enough, but hearing someone else use that sacred word, it was too much. That scream was still ringing in my ears all these years later. I'll tell you one more time. You do best to forget any of this ever happened. With luck you might go on to live a good life. It won't be the same. Never can. Not after seeing your friends vanish through that gate, but you can go back to something resembling normal, and the only way that'll ever happen is if you turn around now and drive away, don't ever come back. She didn't answer that, but she did ask for some help getting the van back on the road and start it up again. I was able to do that much for her before putting her in the driver's seat and sending her off. Then I tried again. I had to. You remember what I said, turn around, drive away, don't come back. She just shook my hand through the window, said thanks for the hospitality. And she drove off. I was feeling damn sorry for her that night. Worse, I was feeling damn sorry for myself. I talked to Natalie for a long time under the stars. Maybe Amber was right. Maybe she was still out there somewhere. But I couldn't shake that screaming in my ears. In the morning, I took my own car down the road, passed the gas station, passed the stand of Cactus, and off further to a distant place between Paseo de Luces and Faraday's crossing. To a place beyond the hills where the air was alive and the sky seemed to shimmer even under the hot, hot sun. There was a van parked alone, baking in the heat. I walked up to it but already feared the worst. Sure enough, it was empty. Since then, I try to avoid talking to strangers altogether. They don't know what they're getting into, but the kind word of a local is never enough to stop them, no matter how much first-hand knowledge is shared. I've seen plenty come and go, and most often, they do come back, disappointed as I said, but never knowing just how close they came to losing everything. There are places in the world that are gateways. I don't know where they lead, but it isn't any place fit for humanity. One such place is in the desert, not too terribly far away from yourself, and if you go hunting out there beneath the open sky, you might just find where reality begins to open. Without opening, it's mighty thin, even those looking for it rarely get there, but you do best to steer clear and hope that this reality holds you tight. We live a slippery existence, and other realms will swallow you whole without a second thought. Take it from me, I've seen it, and lived to tell the tale. That you might not get so lucky.