4.9
Even with the flashlights, the mine shaft is oppressive. Landis has to struggle to keep his breathing even as they progress further in, has to wrench his thoughts away from what happens if there’s another earthquake and the ceiling collapses on top of them, what happens if whatever’s in the mine wakes up and the tunnel starts to constrict, crushing the whole group all at once. His heart is hammering almost painfully in his chest - he can hear his pulse in his ears, and it’s so loud that Landis is sure it’s echoing throughout the whole mine shaft. He’s just as sure that he can feel the walls breathing around him, in and out, ready to tighten and squeeze him until his organs pop.
He doesn’t notice the toe of his shoe catch against the mine car tracks, not until he’s already sprawled on the ground, the flashlight rolling away out of his grasp. There’s a dull ache in his ankle that can’t be good. Landis stays down for a moment, breathing in quiet gulps, trying his best not to react to the unexpected shock. Don’t fucking cry. That’s not going to help anyone, and you’re definitely not in the right company for it.
“Are you okay?” Danton asks from above.
Landis manages a small nod, wiping the dirt away from his body, swallowing hard. His mouth tastes like pennies, and there’s a sharp, familiar pain in his tongue. He must have bit it when his chin smashed into the ground. Lucky my teeth didn’t go all the way through. Lucky I didn’t break anything against the metal mine cart tracks.
“Christ, you’re just a mess, aren’t you,” Walker says bemusedly.
The flashlight, a yard away on the ground, bobs clumsily up into the air, and slowly begins to float back to the group as if Walker is reeling it in on a fishing line. Landis feels something similar happen to himself - he’s suddenly tugged off the ground by what feels like a pair of rough, invisible hands, and set back on his feet.
“Thank you,” Landis says. a little dazed.
“Yeah, yeah,” Walker says. “I’m keeping the flashlight from now on. Clearly you can’t handle the responsibility.”
“Did you hurt yourself?” Grace asks, catching up to Landis and gently touching his arm as the rescue party starts to move forwards again. He shakes his head, then thinks better of it.
“My tongue’s bleeding, I think.”
“Imagine that,” he hears Sheriff Maxwell say dryly, from behind them. It’s met with a giggle from Danton that Landis does his best not to acknowledge.
“Well, I’m glad you’re okay,” Grace says. Landis can’t tell whether she heard the sheriff’s comment or not. She still has a loose grasp on his arm, and she squeezes it in a way he assumes is meant to be comforting. “And it’s okay to be scared. I am too.”
“Are you?” Landis asks, lowering his voice a little, so only she can hear.
“Landis, the last time we met this…spirit, it almost killed both of us. If you hadn’t figured something out so quickly -”
“Well, if you hadn’t thought to bring the knives -”
“No, it was you. You saved my life.” Grace looks up at him. “You’re not as bad as you think you are, you know.”
Landis opens his mouth and promptly shuts it again without saying anything.
“We’re getting close,” Grace says, louder than before, addressing the whole group, “I can feel it. There’s something evil up ahead.”
Walker turns to look over his shoulder at Landis, raising an eyebrow. “We still on the right track, Sixth Sense? What’re your ghost pals saying?”
Ghost pals? Landis suppresses the urge to roll his eyes. Instead, he looks towards Richard, who nods and gestures a few feet down the shaft, at an entryway to a tunnel that looks even smaller than the one they’ve been walking down. Landis’s stomach lurches. He points in the same direction as Richard, grateful for the gentle pressure of Grace’s fingers on his arm grounding him firmly in his body.
“Down there.”
“Are you serious?” Walker swings the flashlight beam at the tunnel entrance. The light bounces off the remains of destroyed boards and red earth. “That looks like somewhere people in horror movies go to get murdered.”
“If Austin and whoever - whatever - is with him is down there,” Sheriff Maxwell says, “we need to be quiet.”
Again, it’s an order, not a suggestion. The rescue party falls into a dead silence once they pass through the threshold of the new tunnel, their gently shuffling footsteps the only sound amplified around them. Landis can feel the ground start to slope down underneath of them, gradually at first, then with a steepness so surprising that he has to catch himself before he barrels into Walker’s back.
The sheriff turns her flashlight off after another minute of walking. Walker does the same. Landis blinks, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness, and finds he can see some other distant light source flickering below them. He can hear the sound of a scuffle too, drawing nearer the farther into the tunnel the group goes.
It’s like we’re walking into Hell. He doesn’t say it out loud.
The scene ahead of them becomes clearer as they draw closer to it. Landis can see a small figure lying prone on the ground, unmoving, in front of a rock wall dead-end. In front of the prone form are two men - Otter and Austin - grappling with each other. Otter is laughing, in loud, high animal noises that send a chill down Landis’s spine and make Grace dig her fingers into his arm the first time they hear it. Austin is silent, coming at Otter again and again with something in his hand. A knife, maybe. His other hand is dangling down near his side limply, like there’s something wrong with it.
Walker stops abruptly just before the light of the area ahead can find the rescue party, leaving them hidden in the shadows. He throws out an arm to stop Landis, Grace, and the sheriff from going any further, looking back towards them and pressing a finger to his lips. Landis nods at him. Austin looks like he’s holding his own. If we get in the middle, it might give the lake an opening to kill him, or go for one of us instead.
“I know you’re here,” Otter sing-songs. He looks away from Austin, pointing his gaze sharply at the group hidden in the shadows. Grace gives a little gasp, and Landis feels her shrink behind him, pulling her hand away from his arm.
“No one’s here,” Austin growls, swiping at Otter again with the knife.
“Au contraire,” Otter says cheerfully.
He grabs Austin by the wrist in a quick blur of motion, and twists - Landis is sure he hears something crack - in a way that makes Austin cry out in pain and drop his knife. In another quick, fluid movement, Otter has his hand around Austin’s throat, lifting him up off the ground effortlessly. As his arm comes up, Landis can see that his shirt is torn, his side drenched in blood.
“I can feel you standing there, Landis,” Otter says, his eyes narrowing in glee. Landis instinctively takes a step backwards. “There’s no use in hiding now. Come on out and say hello. I’m a little offended that you haven’t already.”
“Landis,” Austin coughs, squirming like a hooked fish in Otter’s grip. “Don’t.”
“Shut up,” Otter snaps. He uses his free hand to twist Austin’s wrist again, eliciting a low moan of pain from the other man’s throat. Landis feels Walker go rigid next to him. Otter smiles broadly, turning his attention back onto the shadows. “Come out, Landis. I won’t hurt you. Not very much, at least. You’ve been useful enough that I think I can afford you a quick death. Your friends, however -”
“Hey, asshole,” Walker says. His voice is pure vitriol. He steps out of the shadows, and from the split-second glimpse Landis gets of his face as he does so, it almost looks like he’s grinning. “Didn’t anyone ever teach you to introduce yourself before you go around making threats on someone’s life? Because I don’t think we’ve met.”
Otter laughs. “I don’t make a habit of introducing myself to inconsequential humans.”
“Might want to watch who you’re calling inconsequential, fucko.”
Walker takes another step forwards, and Otter goes flying back into the rock wall.