Austin does dream, but it’s nothing out of the norm. Screams, rooms with bleeding walls, vague snippets of conversations he may have overheard once in his life. The usual recurring nightmare of the man with no skin wandering around someone else’s home. A bonfire in the forest, surrounded by faceless people. A dream of zipping down a stretch of desert highway on his motorcycle, a billboard proclaiming PAPER MUSEUM REUNION TOUR looming high above him.
“Austin!”
Richard’s voice is little more than a hiss, but it’s enough to send Austin catapulting out of bed. The motel room is still well-lit and undisturbed, and Austin is about to ask what’s wrong before it hits him - the smell. The oppressive, rotting, almost sweet stench of roadkill. Out of instinct, Austin looks under the bed. Nothing there. He turns to Richard.
“You don’t smell-”
“I heard something outside,” Richard says in a hushed voice, waving Austin towards the door. He’s right. Through the wood, Austin can hear a noise that’s most definitely more animal than human, a grunting, snuffling sound sometimes interrupted by a low, rumbling growl. Maybe some kind of dog. Likely the same animal that attacked the other motel guests.
A shadow passes in front of the window to the left of the motel room door, and Austin sidesteps towards it. Peeking through the blinds, he sees a dark, hulking figure in front of his room, its back to him. Austin sucks on his teeth to suppress a gasp. The thing is definitely a dog, but its body bulges in places a dog shouldn’t, almost like something human-shaped is trying to stuff itself inside of an animal skin. Its back is to him, but it’s squatting on its hind legs, and the closer Austin gets to the window and door, the stronger the roadkill smell is. It must be coming from this dog-creature.
“Dad,” Austin says in a low voice. “If I don’t come back, find a way to let Mac know.”
“Wait-” Richard says from behind him, but Austin is already out the door.
The dog-thing sees him right away, its bared teeth flashing in the dark as it turns, and it drops down onto all fours and bolts before Austin can get a good look at it. Swearing, Austin pursues it. His bare feet hit the blacktop of the motel parking lot like handclaps, the noise ringing in his ears alongside of his ragged breathing and the sound of the dog-thing grunting up ahead. What happens when he catches up to it? No time to slow down and think about that - the thing turns a sharp corner and rounds the back of the motel, past the vending machines, into the construction site.
The forest behind the construction site, the line where man-made objects and machinery meets trees and foliage, seems thicker and more forboding at night. As he nears it, Austin becomes aware of just what the dog-thing intends to do - once it leads him into the woods, it can get the jump on him. He doesn’t know his way around in there, but he’s more than willing to bet that this thing - whatever it is - does, and will happily maul him to death if it can lure him out of the well-lit area around the motel. Just like the buck did this afternoon. They’re closing in on the woods now, maybe five yards and gaining, and Austin has to make his move fast.
He dives for the dog-thing’s legs, and only halfway down does he realize that it’s the worst idea he could have had. He manages to wrap his hands around one of the dog-thing’s ankles, clenching his fingers and tangling his nails in the matted fur, but the dog-thing keeps running, dragging him along. The asphalt cuts into every exposed inch of his skin, Austin’s arms straining as his shoulders threaten to pop out of their sockets. With the forest less than a yard away, now, Austin doesn’t have a choice. He lets go.
To his surprise, the dog-thing doesn’t immediately round on him and attack. It keeps going into the treeline, and Austin can hear the rustling and crashing sounds of it continuing to make its escape through the woods. Maybe its home is back there. Or it still thinks he’s in hot pursuit.
Austin rolls over onto his back, groaning, and tries to assess the damage done to his body before he tries to get up. Scrapes in several places, almost certainly. His cheek feels like someone’s been dragging sandpaper against it, and he lifts a hand to his face to find it unsurprisingly sticky with blood. Arms - sore, but not dislocated. Feet - kind of numb, but probably going to hurt later on. Austin groans more.
“Shit, Austin, are you okay?”
A figure appears in his line of sight, looming over him. Austin’s eyes take a moment to bring the face into focus. It’s Walker, his expression one of tense concern.
When did he get out here? How much did he see? Austin blinks several times, shutting first his right eye and then his left to make sure what he’s seeing is real.
“I’ve been better,” he manages, finally.
Walker grunts and extends a hand, helping Austin to his feet. “What the hell was that all about?”
“That dog, or...whatever it is. That’s been attacking people.” Now that he’s up, Austin is beginning to realize how winded he is. He hasn’t sprinted like that since high school. “I don’t know. It was outside my room.”
“You saw it?” Walker asks, stepping slightly away and scrutinizing Austin’s face.
“Kind of.” Austin shakes his head, bending over with his hands on his thighs. “I don’t know what it was. It was big.”
“Then why the hell would you go chasing after it like that?”
“Because it’s been attacking people, obviously,” Austin snaps, frustrated. His fight-or-flight instinct is still buzzing underneath his skin, screaming at him to go after the dog-thing again, but he knows he’s at a serious disadvantage now that he’s injured. If he steps into the woods now, by himself, he’s dead.
“That doesn’t mean you chase after it!” Walker snaps back, with a surprising amount of conviction. He seems to remember himself after a moment, and sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, Jesus. No use in another person getting chewed up out here.”
Austin straightens up. “Why are you out here, anyway? Didn’t you see it?”
“I came out to get a soda and saw you eat shit on the pavement,” Walker says, nodding back towards the vending machines. “Didn’t see the dog, though.”
Great. So Walker didn’t see the dog - or he did, and he’s lying about it. On that note, it’s awfully suspicious that he showed up just as soon as the dog disappeared. Still just circumstantial evidence, like all of the evidence against Walker has been thus far, but the circumstantial evidence is certainly starting to pile up.
“Well, just...be careful,” Austin says, because he’s not about to press the issue now. Not when he’s already exhausted and hurt.
“You can be damn sure I’m not about to go running into the woods after that thing, but don’t worry about me.” Walker looks over his shoulder at Austin, grinning wolfishly. “I can handle my own.”
“I bet,” Austin says, dryly. His feet suddenly feel like he’s been walking on broken glass for the past hour, and he wobbles, having trouble staying upright.
“How about I walk you back to your room?” Walker comes around to his side, slouching and slinging one of Austin’s arms around his neck to keep him upright. “Just point me in the right direction.”
“I’m in 105,” Austin says. His voice sounds far away. “Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it,” Walker says, his voice noticeably more gruff.
Austin nods. He tries not to drag his feet or put all of his weight onto Walker as they walk back towards the front of the motel, silently wondering if it’s possible that the same creature could hurt and help him all in a matter of minutes.
there are so many layers to this one. austin dreaming about “the usual” and it’s a bunch of fucked up nightmare fuel, walker getting mad at austin for having no sense of self preservation, a mysterious dog creature. i wonder where all this could lead? (i know where it leads and i’m excited)