4.1
“And I’m just getting started, let me offend. The devil’s got nothing on me, my friend.”
- Keaton Henson, “Beekeeper”
“It’s too hot out here. This sucks.”
“I told you before you left the house where we were going. You should have put sunscreen on, or worn a hat.”
“Can we stop for lunch yet?”
“Rabbit, we’ve only been out here for an hour. There’s no way you’re hungry yet. You ate a huge breakfast!”
“I’m prepubescent, okay? Maybe I’m having a growth spurt.”
Austin grins. He’s been listening to Otter and Otter’s twelve-year-old half-brother Rabbit bicker ever since they parked the car and set off on the trail into the desert. Rabbit is clearly exaggerating how painful it is to have been dragged along on the hike, doubling over at the waist, the backpack on his back sticking up like a turtle’s shell. He sees Austin looking and pulls his tanned, freckled face into a melodramatic frown that’s really more of a grimace than anything.
Austin laughs. “What’ve you got in there, bricks?”
“Oh, don’t humor him,” Otter says. He’s also grinning, and claps Austin on the shoulder as they fell into step with each other on the trail. “He’s just in it for the attention. I think he was expecting to stay in and play video games all day.”
“That’s what we usually do when you babysit me!” Rabbit complains.
“Well, I wasn’t just going to let you sit on the couch inside on the only nice day we’ve had in months,” Otter says. He unclips his water bottle from his backpack and takes a long swig before continuing. “And Austin doesn’t get out of town much. I wanted him to see the trails while it was really gorgeous out.”
Otter’s right - it’s gorgeous outside, one of the first truly warm, sunny days that Antlers has seen since October or November. Even Austin thought to trade in his usual jacket and jeans in for a tank top and shorts, in appreciation of the weather. After months of bundling up against the cold, his arms and legs feel overexposed, though the breeze that occasionally rustles through the underbrush is mild at best.
The plants that surround the trail seem to glow in the sun, desert flowers creating bright constellations around the three hikers’ feet. It’s hard to tell how far they’ve gotten from the car, or how far they have yet to go on the trail, but Otter walks like he knows where he’s going, and Austin trusts him. Rabbit also seems to know where he’s going. Maybe he’s just more confident about being out in the middle of nowhere, or maybe he and Otter have done this before, as some kind of family activity. Austin doesn’t have much experience with this sort of thing. The Hart family - who fostered him and Jacob after Richard’s death - doesn’t exactly do bonding activities. And certainly not nature hikes. Even Richard hadn’t exactly been one to take his kids to see the great outdoors. But then again, suburban Pennsylvania has a lot less to look at than Antlers, surrounded by lush forest and vibrant desert and - well, one particular lake.
Austin feels himself starting to clench his jaw in a frown, and stops short so that Otter won’t see it. It’s been nearly a month since Otter and Landis’s run-in with the witches, and subsequently the lake entity, and still no sign of the entity. It’s unnerving, to know that it’s out there somewhere, without knowing where it is, or what it’s planning. Judging by how silent it’s been for so long, it’s being careful not to show its hand too soon. Probably gathering power. Biding its time until it has everyone where it wants them.
But where does it want us? Landis isn’t useful to it anymore - wasn’t really ever useful, once he decided to stop sacrificing people. And it wouldn’t possess me again. Or would it? Because that’s the last thing we’d be expecting. Austin can’t stop the frown from showing on his face this time, staring at the ground and losing himself in thought. It doesn’t make sense, that the entity’s been quiet for this long. When it possessed me, it wanted to go into town right away and start killing people. What changed? What does it want now?
“You okay, Aust?”
Otter puts his hand on Austin’s shoulder again, concern creeping into his voice. Austin flinches, not expecting to be pulled out of his thoughts so suddenly, but nods.
“Yeah. Just spaced out, sorry.”
He laughs, and it sounds forced, even to his own ears. Otter gives him an odd look, but doesn’t say anything about it. It’s probably for the best. Bringing up their life-or-death, fate-of-the-town drama in front of Rabbit might not be a great idea, and Austin doubts if Otter wants his little brother to know that they’ve been meddling around with magic and evil spirits. Not that Rabbit would believe them, but who knows? Kids tend to be a lot more receptive to that kind of thing, in Austin’s experience.
They begin descending a hill, Otter in front, Rabbit and Austin trailing behind him. It’s slow going, and the hill is steeper than Austin thought - he loses his balance a few times, and has to grab onto a bush to keep from sliding down on his ass. It seems like they’ve lost the trail, but Otter is still walking with purpose, like he’s been back this way before. If he has, he’s never mentioned it to Austin.
It’s not until they’ve reached solid ground again, and Austin is brushing the dirt off himself, that he sees it. A wooden frame set in the side of the hill, a decrepit mine shaft entryway that yawns open like a cavern. It’s dark inside, but Austin can make out the mine car track, a jagged, rusted pattern raised up out of the ground. The hairs on the back of his neck prickle. Something about this place gives him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, a feeling like he’s not supposed to have seen the mine shaft at all. He swallows hard.
“Where are we?”
“The old mine,” Otter says, as if that part wasn’t self-evident. “It got shut down after a cave-in back in the 60’s, but they never really bothered to rope it off.”
The description rings a bell. Austin knows he’s been told this before, but has to rack his brain to think of who he heard it from first. Mac, maybe? While we were in the cellar, with the ghost girl...she mentioned something about a gold mine collapse, some big disaster that killed people. I don’t think she mentioned that the mines weren’t totally closed off. Seems like a huge oversight for the town to make.
“It’s actually pretty safe to explore, since you can only go in so far,” Otter explains, like he read Austin’s mind. “Most of it got blocked off during the cave-in. All the town officials try and discourage it, but when I was in high school, people used to come and party out here.”
“Kind of morbid,” Austin says. Even so, he can’t help but nod approvingly at the idea of it. If only there had been cooler abandoned places in Havenwood to have parties at.
“Can we go in?” Rabbit asks.
“Yeah.” Otter unzips his backpack and pulls out three flashlights, tossing two to Rabbit and Austin. “Just stick close together, okay? And try not to fall and break your ankle or anything, because I didn’t bring a lot of first aid stuff, and it’s a long drive back to the hospital.”
Rabbit sticks his tongue out. “Speak for yourself, clutz.”
Austin laughs. It sounds more genuine, this time, but still doesn’t do a lot to disguise the fact that he’s nervous. He shines his flashlight into the black mouth of the mineshaft, hoping that lighting it up will make it seem a little more friendly. It almost works. He contemplates it for a moment longer before realizing that Otter is already inside, walking slowly up the middle of the mine cart tracks. Rabbit isn’t far behind, switching his own flashlight on as he passes over the threshold.
Austin takes a deep breath and follows them. He still can’t shake the feeling that he isn’t supposed to be here, that he’s submerging himself in something totally out of his depth, but he knows Otter would never steer him wrong. Not when they both know there’s an evil entity still out there somewhere, just waiting for an opening.