1.12
The Antlers library is bigger than Austin assumed it would be, a squat brick building that’s much, much longer than it is tall. It’s down the road from the diner, so he heads there after lunch, and a quick phone call to the sheriff’s department to leave a message for Mac and let her know where he is. It’s a shame that he didn’t get an earlier start, but he slept fitfully and painfully after his encounter with the dog-thing, and Austin feels that gives him a free pass to not roll out of bed until at least noon.
As soon as he’s through the double doors of the library, he’s hit with the musty smell of old books. It’s a nice smell. Homey. There’s a woman with big, thick-rimmed glasses behind the desk, and she looks familiar, but Austin can’t quite place where he knows her from. Maybe she just has one of those faces. She looks generic enough for a librarian - short brown hair, dark skin, big sweater, probably somewhere in her mid-thirties. Her eyes widen when she looks up and sees him walking over.
“I know you!”
Austin freezes, his gut clenching in a knot. She does? How?
“I mean - well, not really, sorry. We haven’t formally met.” The woman smiles sheepishly at him. “I saw you yesterday morning, on the main road? When it was all taped off?”
Oh. The pieces click into place - this was the woman who talked to him outside of the crime scene, the one clutching her tote bag and complaining about the book signing she had planned on going to. It’s hard for Austin to believe that all of that happened a little over 24 hours ago. It feels like a whole month has passed since he left Otter’s apartment in search of a job.
“Anyway, I’m Channery Cantwell-Miller. I’m the librarian here,” the woman says, pushing up the sleeves of her sweater so that she can hold out a hand to Austin. He shakes it briefly and firmly.
“Austin Jones.”
Channery gives him a big smile. “You must be new around here. Are you moving in?”
Austin chews his lip. That’s the million dollar question, isn’t it? He’s never liked to stay in one place for too long, in case Jacob somehow gets wind and comes to collect him. But if the Sheriff decides to take him on as a sort of permanent consultant, it’ll mean getting paid good money, and he can’t afford to pass that up, not with what little money he has right now. And then there’s Otter to think about, but he figures he can dance around that for a little while longer.
“I’m not sure,” he tells Channery. “Actually, I was hoping to find some information on the town.”
Channery’s face lights up even more. “Well, I’d be happy to help. I’ve written books about this place, you know. Working on a third one right now.”
“So you’re kind of a town historian?” Austin asks, impressed.
“Kind of,” Channery agrees, beaming with pride. Her good cheer is infectious, and Austin smiles back at her, feeling a little like he’s struck gold. Maybe she’ll be able to help him dig into strange occurrences in the forest a little more.
“I’m working on an article about the wildlife and folklore of Colorado,” he lies, maybe not as easily as he’d like. Making up stories on the fly is only a strong suit of his about half the time, and Channery seems like a sweet person, which makes him reluctant to conceal the truth from her. But he’s still not sure how much of the case he’s allowed to tell outsiders. The sheriff might not want the more supernatural aspects of it getting out. “What do you know about the land the motel is on? Where the animal attacks have been?”
Channery frowns, her brow furrowing in thought. “You know, I was just thinking about that the other day, when I heard about that woman being sent to the hospital. There’s an old superstition surrounding the woods there, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Really?” Austin asks, surprised to have Richard’s theory confirmed so quickly. “Can you tell me about it?”
“I remember it being a bit contentious at Town Hall, when they held a vote to expand and renovate the motel,” Channery says, still looking pensive. “I asked a few older residents about it then, and they said the town has never been expanded past where the woods are. I did some digging in some of the history books here, and - oh, actually...”
Channery hums in thought, and types something into the computer, her fingernails clicking noisily against the keys in the relative silence of the library. Austin can see her eyes darting back and forth as she scans the monitor. Her eyebrows knit even further together, her mouth screwing up into the smallest of frowns, but the expression dissipates as she looks back up at Austin.
“We’ve still got the book! Let me find it for you.”
“Sure.” Austin allows himself a small smile, relieved that this particular lead actually worked out. He wouldn’t have known where to go otherwise - maybe out of town, to a bigger city with a bigger library, but that would take too long. More people might get attacked while he was swamped with research.
Channery leads him back into the dense stacks of bookshelves, so closely packed that they’re almost a forest in and of themselves, but more clean and well-lit than any forest could ever hope to be. She skims her fingers idly over the spines of old history books before evidently finding the one she’s looking for, and plucking it from the shelf. Gesturing to Austin, she leads him over to one of the round tables for library patrons to read at, and takes a seat, cracking open the history book. Austin gets a brief glance at the title - something about the history of Colorado’s small towns.
“Let’s see, let’s see…” she mutters to herself, flipping page after page. Finally, she finds whatever it is she’s looking for, and taps the page triumphantly. “Here it is!”
“What is it?” Austin asks, finally sitting down next to Channery, craning his neck to read over her shoulder. Among the columns of text is a photograph of a letter written in spindly cursive that Austin can’t quite read, and a photograph of a forest - likely the one in Antlers.
“When Antlers was first established, it was a relatively small township,” Channery says. At first, Austin thinks she’s reading from the book, but then he realizes she’s looking at him, clearly reciting something she knows from memory. “Even smaller than it is now. Almost no more than a trading post. When more settlers started moving westward, the town expanded gradually. They started cutting down some of the forest eventually, to expand even more, but…”
She taps the page of the history book again, demonstratively. “Strange things started happening. Animal attacks became more frequent. Townsfolk would get chased by deer or birds, and wolves would come out and roam the streets at night. Eventually the townsfolk started attacking each other, too, without any provocation. Ten people turned up dead, before they figured it was a bad omen, and stopped trying to expand past the treeline.”
Austin cranes his neck even more, to see the history book. Sure enough, he can definitely catch the phrase “animal attack” scattered about the page, alongside other phrases like “rabies” and “axe murder”. It’s almost exactly the sort of thing he was looking for - proof that this has all happened before, that something in the forest doesn’t appreciate having its territory encroached upon. He wonders if there was some bloody injury that kicked off the animal attacks back then, too, and suspects there probably was.
“Did they ever figure out why it happened?” he asks Channery. “Or just chalk it up to magic or whatever?”
“Well, historians today mostly theorize that it was a case of mass hysteria, like the dancing plague, or that town where people thought someone was on the loose gassing them to death,” Channery says, and shrugs. “Settlers out in the wilderness tended to go a little stir-crazy, especially in the winter. It’s possible the town attributed all their misfortune to the forest so that leaving it alone would lull them back into a sense of security. Like a placebo.”
“What about the animals?” Austin asks.
“I don’t know,” Channery admits. “Maybe there were a few regular animal attacks that got blown up into something bigger, or maybe the folks destroying the forest disturbed a wolf den or something. There’s no real evidence either way.”
Austin frowns and hums in thought, looking down at the history book. “Can I keep this for a bit? I’d like to take some notes.”
“Oh, sure,” Channery says brightly, scooting the book towards Austin and hopping to her feet. “I’ve got to go back to the desk, but take your time. I can get you set up with a library card, too, if you want to check it out.”
“Sure,” Austin says. It doesn’t sound like a bad idea, even if he still doesn’t know how long he’ll be in town. He’s always liked libraries, and the Antlers library in particular has been pretty helpful already.
Channery nods at him and turns her back to go. Austin begins to scan the small rows of text within the history book, a little distracted as he dwells on Channery a while longer. She doesn’t treat him like most other people her age usually do. Sheriff Maxwell treated him like someone untrustworthy the moment she laid eyes on him, though maybe being caught trespassing at a crime scene had something to do with that. Still, most people do look at him like he’s some kind of delinquent - it isn’t necessarily hard to understand why, between the piercings, the dyed red hair, and how he dresses. But Channery has been treating him like every other library patron, like a member of the town and not just a stranger who came in off the street. She doesn’t have a reason to, either.
Austin likes her for that. Like Mac, Channery is someone he has a good gut feeling about. Someone he can trust.
He’s actually started to read the history book and digest the information within when the hairs on the back of his neck prickle to announce a presence in the room that wasn’t there before. Lifting his head to gaze around the room, Austin blinks hard. A person-shaped form drifts through the middle of a bookshelf nearby.
“I can’t believe you followed me here,” Austin hisses, making sure to keep his voice down so that Channery won’t hear and think something’s wrong.
Richard finishes materializing and shrugs at him. “I like libraries. Don’t get to visit them often.”
“Oh,” Austin says. He’s a little taken aback. He knows that Richard worked in a library when he was younger, before taking over as president of the Department, but didn’t realize there were still sentimental feelings there. There’s a lot he hasn’t gotten to know about his father, even with Richard being able to spend time with him from beyond the grave. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to-”
“Found anything useful yet?” Richard’s voice comes from over his shoulder suddenly, making Austin jump.
“Yeah,” Austin says, tilting the book so Richard can see it. “There was an incident just like this, back when the town was first being built. People getting attacked by animals. It even got kicked off with…” He trails off, re-reading a paragraph. “A guy got injured with his axe, when he was chopping down a tree. Lodged it in his foot.”
Richard grimaces. “Sounds similar enough.”
Austin nods. “The thing is, about a month after the animal attacks started, the people in town started attacking each other. Like they were rabid, or hysterical, or something. The guy who got injured by his axe ended up murdering his wife and daughter, then killing himself.”
“Wow.” Richard whistles lowly. “But no one here’s attacking each other, are they?”
“No. Well, not yet, at least.” Austin sighs. It’s beginning to look like he’s on a tighter time limit than he originally thought. He doesn’t know if people in present-day Antlers are going to start attacking each other out of the blue, and he really doesn’t want to find out. “I wish I could find something on how to repel whatever this thing is, or kill it, or...something.”
Richard leans forward, squinting at the book. “There’s nothing?”
“No,” Austin says, shaking his head. “They only got it to go away that time because they left the woods alone. There’s a footnote that says there’s been a few more animal attacks like this on record, usually while someone here is trying to tear down part of the forest to build on, or doing construction nearby. Apparently it doesn’t escalate after the projects are cancelled but...”
“So maybe we just wait,” Richard suggests. “Tell the sheriff to call off the construction, let this blow over.”
“But what happens in forty, fifty years when someone gets the bright idea to try and expand into the forest again?” Austin asks, knowing exactly what the answer is. The thing in the forest will wake up again, inevitably, and people will start being attacked again. Even Richard doesn’t seem to have an answer for that one, pressing his lips tightly together in silence.
Austin is starting to feel anxiety bubble in the pit of his stomach - what if they can’t kill this thing? What if they can’t stop it from hunting down more people in the dead of night? Or worse, making people attack each other in broad daylight? It’s already progressed from mutilation to murder, so there’s no saying what it could do next.
“Austin?”
The voice isn’t Richard’s. Austin looks up and finds Channery staring at him. She looks concerned, her mouth drawn into a line that’s turning steadily into a frown.
“Sorry to bother you,” she says, and she really does sound apologetic, “but someone from the Sheriff’s Department just called asking if you were here. She told me to tell you she’s on her way over.”
Mac. He’d almost forgotten he’d left her that message, telling her his plan for the day. Austin swallows, scanning the history book and wondering if there’s anything here she can actually use or make sense of. Hopefully something sticks out to her. And hopefully he’s not following the wrong lead entirely.
“Thanks,” he says a little dismissively, and feels bad as soon as it’s out of his mouth. He glances back up at Channery. “I mean, really, thank you. For all your help. The deputy’s a friend of mine who I met yesterday and I’m interviewing her for my research. I promise I’m not about to get arrested in your library.”
Channery’s expression brightens, and she laughs. “Well, I’m glad to hear that. Are you going to check that book out?”
“I think I probably should, yeah.” Austin stands, snapping the book shut and tucking it under his arm.
“Let me get you set up with a card, then,” Channery says brightly. “And if you have more questions, you’re always welcome back here, any time.”
“I like her,” Richard says softly over Austin’s shoulder, watching Channery retreat back to her desk. Austin grins.
“Yeah? Me too.”