It’s not thirty seconds after stepping in the door that Austin realizes that Otter Redford, cute nurse, is at least eight times cuter when he’s holding a large box of pizza in his hands.
“You are the light of my life,” he tells Otter very seriously. “I gotta shower, but then we’ll talk, okay?”
Otter says something in reply, but Austin doesn’t hear it, already on his way to the bathroom and grabbing an armful of clothes on the way. He’s been wearing the same clothes since yesterday morning, since he didn’t think he’d be spending the night at the motel, and nothing sounds better right now than washing up and putting on something clean.
Austin takes his time in the shower, letting the hot water rinse his wounds and soothe the ache in his muscles. By the time he gets out of the bathroom, dressed in an old, faded band shirt and boxers, the pizza is lukewarm at best. If he were a pickier person, he might mind. But pizza is pizza no matter of its temperature.
“Thanks for dinner,” Austin says, sliding into a seat at the kitchen table. Otter gives him a very small smile.
“No worries.”
They eat in silence until Austin’s hair is dry and there’s only one slice left in the box. Sometimes one of them will glance up, or the other will make a noise that’s almost the beginning of a sentence, but it never quite gets there. The only thing that breaks the strange tension is both of them reaching for the last slice of pizza at once.
“You can have it,” Austin says automatically, pulling his hand away.
“No, come on, you’re the one who was out all day.” Otter nudges the slice in Austin’s direction before also retracting his hand. He’s quiet for a moment, then looks up from the table. “Are you gonna stay here tonight?”
Austin also looks up, surprised. “What? I mean, yeah - if - if you want me.”
“Of course I do,” Otter says. He smiles again, this time widely and in earnest.
You’re in way too deep with this one, Austin tells himself for the second time in 24 hours, but smiles back at Otter anyway. He can’t help it.
Austin’s not sure he knows what to say if he does stick around. He doesn’t know how much Otter is willing to believe, or how much he can say before he gets in trouble with the Sheriff’s Department. Then again, it’s just Otter. Otter isn’t going to tell anyone, and Austin feels like he can be honest with him without getting much judgement in return.
“I think whatever’s attacking people might be some kind of evil spirit in the forest,” Austin blurts before he loses his nerve, grabbing the last slice of pizza and munching on it while he waits for Otter to formulate a response. Otter’s eyebrows are furrowed suddenly, and Austin can almost see the gears in his mind turning to formulate a response.
“Huh,” Otter says finally. “You know, my mom always told me those were real, but I thought it was just to make me and my brother stay out of the woods.”
Austin blinks. “Really?”
“Yeah, yeah. My mom had a lot of stories. She used to tell me about spirits that can look like animals, snakes that turn into people, that kind of thing. She grew up in the Navajo Nation, and she writes kids’ books based on a lot of the stories she heard growing up.” Otter nods. “I always thought it was cool.”
“Huh,” Austin says, the half-eaten slice of pizza still in his hand, hovering close to his mouth. Of course the research he’s been spending all day at the library for could have been avoided just by coming back to see Otter. Of course. It’s pretty par for the course, actually, as far as Austin’s life goes, but still enough to throw him off for a second.
He snaps out of it eventually, stuffing the rest of the pizza in his mouth and talking around it while he chews. “What do you know about forest spirits, then?”
“Well, they turn into different animals to protect their territory, or to help people.” Otter frowns thoughtfully, his thick eyebrows wrinkling. “I guess a lot of cultures have stories about that kind of thing. Like fairies and stuff, right? I think it probably started as a way to explain people going missing in the wilderness.”
“Probably,” Austin says. Even in the Jewish folklore he grew up with, he’s pretty certain something like that exists. “But I think there’s really something in the Antlers woods. And it tried to attack me twice yesterday.”
“What?” Otter asks sharply. “You mean - it tried to attack you twice?” He runs his hands through his hair, making it all stick up at one angle. “Holy shit, Austin. Why didn’t you tell me?”
Austin shrugs. “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“Yeah, but you could...not be! That’s the point!” Otter sounds pretty genuinely distressed for someone Austin has only known for about three and a half days. He’s extremely pale, and looks like he might need to throw up.
“I’m sorry,” Austin says genuinely. He didn’t know Otter would be nearly this distressed about his story, but now he can’t help but feel like he might owe Otter an apology. “I can tell you now, if it makes up for it. I just didn’t want you to worry.”
“I’m pretty worried,” Otter admits. “What happened?”
“Well, after I was at the hospital with that deputy, we went over to the motel to check out the construction site. Apparently some of the workers have been getting attacked by animals if they even go near the woods, so the deputy and I went in there to see what we could find, and got charged by a buck.” Austin pauses, studying Otter’s face. “The deputy shot it before it got to me, but it was close.”
“Jesus,” Otter breathes.
“Yeah.” Austin manages a half-smile. “Then when I was staying overnight, there was a dog...thing, outside my door. I tried to chase it, but it went back into the woods, and I wasn’t about to follow it in there in the dark.”
He leaves out the part where he ate shit on the pavement, because Otter looks worried enough without him mentioning that. Maybe he really should have told Otter all of this earlier, instead of waiting almost 24 hours.
“So it tried to attack you as two different animals?” Otter asks. He’s not quite incredulous - there’s a look in his eye like he believes Austin, even though he’s not happy about it.
“Yeah,” Austin says. “And I found out today that it might eventually be able to possess people. I was reading a history book at the library about how the first time the town tried to expand past the woods, animals started attacking people, then people started killing each other. It’s never gotten to that point again, but…”
“But you’re worried it might,” Otter finishes for him, perceptively.
“A little,” Austin says. He fidgets with the edge of his grease-stained paper plate, just to give himself something to do with his hands. “I think I need to get rid of this thing before then. Figure out a way to make it go inactive for good.”
“So you’re going to kill it,” Otter says bluntly. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”
“I don’t,” Austin says, honestly. “I think it might just be trying to protect its territory. But it’s also killed and attacked a bunch of people, for centuries. And more people are going to die if things keep going this way.”
“Couldn’t you talk to it?” Otter asks, eyebrows raised. “With your sixth sense thing?”
“Probably. But it’s already tried to kill me, specifically, twice. I think it might know I’m psychic, and that I’m working on getting rid of it.” Austin supposes that if he got close to wherever the core of this thing is, he might be able to have a conversation with it. But he’d be putting himself in pretty direct danger to do so. Which is always the risk, with this sort of thing. Still, Otter has a point - there’s something to be said for trying a nonviolent approach, first.
“I really think you should talk to it,” Otter says. He looks so earnest about it that it almost pains Austin to see. Why is such an altruist also so attractive? Completely unfair.
“I’ll do my best,” Austin promises, punctuating the agreement with a big yawn. He gets up from the table, walking around to its other side and resting his chin on Otter’s head. “You’re great. I’m exhausted. I think I’m going to try and get some sleep, before anything crazy happens again.”
“I haven’t changed my sheets since the last time you were here,” Otter says warningly.
Austin laughs. “Please. I slept in a motel last night. Do I look like I care?”
“Okay,” Otter concedes, reaching up to ruffle Austin’s hair good-naturedly. “I’ve got an early shift, so I’ll come to bed with you. And hopefully nothing crazy will wake you up.”
“Hopefully,” Austin says, though he still can’t shake that strange pit in his stomach he’s had since yesterday in the woods, the uncomfortable feeling that something, somewhere is about to go horribly wrong.
austin: something horrible is going to go wrong
me: maybe this time reading it he’ll be wrong