Otter peels himself off the wall, his joints audibly cracking and popping. The noise makes Landis wince - it sounds painful, but Otter is smiling with his teeth bared. One of his eyes is rolled all the way back in his head, exposing only the white, and the other is jittering, pupil and iris jumping erratically from place to place.
“What was that?” Grace hisses from somewhere behind Landis.
“Stay back, Mr. Rivers,” Sheriff Maxwell warns, and Landis can hear the sound of a gun safety clicking off.
“Don’t worry about me, kids,” Walker says, holding an arm out to stop anyone else from coming past him, into the lit area of the tunnel. “I can handle this one.”
He laughs. A chill runs down Landis’s spine. Is he actually enjoying this? Is this just the kind of thing Department agents do all the time? Or is he not worried because he’s fought something worse than this?
“Nice trick,” Otter growls. His voice doesn’t even sound like Otter anymore. It’s something more gutteral, something that comes from deep in his stomach. “I gotta say, I wasn’t expecting anyone like you to come down here. Landis and the bitch who helped him at the lake house, maybe, but no one actually strong.”
On the ground, Austin coughs and wheezes. He was dropped when Otter was thrown backwards, and tries to pick himself up. Landis can see the pain on his face as he puts his weight on both hands - one bleeding, the other one with the wrist Otter snapped. Austin bites his lip and tries again, more slowly.
Come on, Landis thinks silently, reluctant to open his mouth. Come on, Austin. Please.
“Shut up,” Walker says to Otter. “You don’t get to talk anymore.”
“Don’t hurt him,” Grace says sharply.
There’s an edge of panic to her voice that makes Landis look away from Austin for a moment. His eyes don’t really register what he’s looking at for a second, but then it clicks into place. Otter is floating about a foot off the ground, arms bent up behind his back. Walker is in front of him, making subtle little motions with his hands, like he’s manipulating the strings of a puppet.
“Don’t,” Austin croaks. It sounds like a huge effort on his part just to get one syllable out. Landis can see dark purple bruises in the shape of Otter’s fingers already starting to form on his throat.
Landis’s hands are balled into fists at his sides, fingernails digging into his palms. He feels helpless - Walker and the lake are the only ones with any real power here, and everyone else is just caught in the middle. The kid who Landis assumes Otter’s brother is still lying on the ground, unmoving, maybe not even breathing. Austin keeps wincing and grunting as he scrambles to stand, blood running down his chin. Otter’s body is looking more and more worse for wear the longer Walker keeps him in the air.
Walker looks back over his shoulder - it’s brief, but Landis sees him flick his eyes expectantly towards Austin and Otter’s brother. Grace must see it too, because she tries to shove past Landis, towards the back wall of the tunnel. Landis follows her, grateful for some way to help. He kneels next to Austin, gently taking one of Austin’s arms and slinging it around his shoulders, letting Austin lean on him like a crutch as they both stand up slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Grace doing the same with Otter’s brother, breathing heavily with effort as she drags his unconscious body back towards Monty.
“Don’t,” Austin mutters again, trying to tug his arm away from Landis.
“Austin, shut up,” Landis tells him frankly, grabbing him around the waist as he tries to break away and walk on his own. “Christ, you,” he lowers his voice, so Otter and Walker won’t hear, “you could have died down here, you know?”
Austin, miraculously, shuts up. Landis’s vision swims as his eyes fill up with tears. Don’t you fucking cry, Landis Holliday, he thinks, don’t you dare. But it’s not enough to stop the tears from sliding down his cheeks, dripping into his mouth and off his chin.
“I thought you were going to be dead when we found you,” he says, his voice breaking.
“I’m fine,” Austin says. His voice is a little less raspy now, and he squeezes Landis’s shoulder. “Promise.”
Landis’s heart hammers against his ribcage, and he feels a sudden warmth spread out over his entire face. He swallows past the lump in his throat, and tries to come up with more words to say, but finds absolutely nothing. For a second, everything else falls away, and the whole world is just him and Austin, holding on to each other.
And then Grace screams.
Landis is so startled that he almost drops Austin. His head snaps up sharply, and he sees Otter holding onto Grace by her ponytail, dragging her up into the air by it. She tries to hold on to Otter’s brother, but loses her grip, still screaming as she’s yanked upwards. Landis is about to lunge for Otter’s brother, but Walker is faster, using his powers to save the kid’s body before it hits the floor and floating it well away from Otter.
“I can’t keep this up forever,” Walker growls, “so somebody better think of something.”
“Duck,” Sheriff Maxwell orders him.
For a brief, crazy second, Landis is sure that the gunshot that rings out through the tunnel and the way the whole place starts to shake has to be related. But no - it’s another earthquake, more violent than the last, like a giant fist has grabbed the mine shaft and is rattling the people around inside like coins in a jar. The sheriff’s bullet misses its mark entirely. Landis can’t even tell where it went, but no one in the tunnel looks like they’ve been shot.
Otter cackles. “Looks like someone’s getting desperate! You’d really -”
The sheriff shoots again. This time, the bullet grazes Otter’s shoulder, and something about his face changes. It’s subtle, but it’s there - his eyes shift back into place, and his expression rearranges into something more horrified. He lets go of Grace’s ponytail, and she cries out as she drops back to the ground, stumbling to try and keep her footing.
“Now,” someone says. It sounds like Richard, but more authoritative than Landis has ever heard him, barking out an order.
Something cold passes through Landis’s body. It’s not until it comes out the other side that he can see it’s Danton, speeding towards Otter and colliding with him, disappearing inside of him. And then, almost imperceptibly at first, Otter’s body begins to shake. It starts as shivering. Landis can hear his teeth chattering wildly inside of his head, see Otter’s arms breaking out into goosebumps as he warily guides Austin past. Once Landis and Austin reach Sheriff Maxwell, who’s turned her flashlight back on, Otter is heaving with full-body convulsions. It’s somewhere between a seizure and the body language of someone who’s about to throw up.
“What are you doing?” the sheriff shouts at Walker.
“I’m not doing that!” he shouts back. “Swear to God!”
Otter makes a gagging noise, reaches up, and slowly starts to draw something out of his throat. It’s thin and light gray, and reminds Landis of a medical illustration he saw once, of a tapeworm being drawn out of someone’s body. As Otter keeps tugging on it, retching, the gray ectoplasm starts to settle into a more humanoid shape, lingering in the air. Eventually, there’s enough to form an entire person.
“Kill Landis,” the gray shape begs, backing away from Otter. “He’s the one who caused all of this. He’s the one who killed you.”
“You made him do it,” Otter says, only it’s Otter and Danton’s voices, layered over one another, talking in harmony. Landis feels Austin jolt sharply next to him, and knows he must hear it too.
“But he’s the one who chose you,” the gray shape says. “He could have chosen anyone, and he chose to kill his closest friends. Aren’t you angry about that?”
“Of course I am,” Otter-Danton says, reaching out and grabbing the gray shape by its loosely defined throat. “But he thought he was protecting people. He thought he was doing the right thing. Landis was one of the nicest people I ever knew and you screwed up his fucking life! I don’t want to kill him, because the Landis I knew might as well be dead already! So why don’t you! Just! Shut! Up!”
Otter-Danton wraps their other hand around the gray shape’s throat and presses inwards, hard, with both thumbs. Landis’s stomach flips over, and he has to squeeze his eyes shut, but he can still hear everything. He can hear the gray shape pleading, begging, breathing in shallow gasps, and then - and then, nothing.
“It’s done,” Austin says softly, after a moment, squeezing Landis’s shoulder again. “Hey, Landis. It’s okay. It’s over.”
Landis opens his eyes. The gray shape is unmoving in the air. As he watches it, it breaks apart, fragments of it drifting away slowly until there’s nothing left at all.
“I want to go home,” Otter says in a very small voice, and this time it’s Otter, not Otter and Danton together. Landis looks, and sees that Danton is floating next to him. Both are wearing identical, numb expressions, their eyes wide.
“I want to go home,” Otter says again, and his eyes roll back in his head, only this time he’s not possessed, only fainting.
incapable of thinking of a funny joke comment for this one, folks. just jesus fucking christ