The Olympic Peninsula, home to high mountain meadows of idyllic beauty, dramatic pacific coastline where the ocean fights land for dominion of the airy realm, and deciduous rain forests, the last bit of old growth forest to be found in our wasteful world.

And so on.

What hasn’t been bought is already sold.

The boys find time to reflect, admire, and explore.

It was on one of these explorations (a particular long a grueling hike up the Ho River trail) that they crossed paths with...

Elliot, the Black Slug of the Apocalypse. To them he related the story of how our bedraggled and befuddling world would finally end. They came away with quite a tale, but when they compared notes the details seemed fuzzy, the story full of holes, the ending just didn’t make any sense, and characters were left hanging like brittle leaves in the Autumn wind. What Elliot had given them, ultimately, was not a story of the end of things, rather just a pervasive sense of dread that lingers with the brothers to this very day.