7.2
Landis pulls his feet up onto the couch, hugging one knee against his chest as he flips through channels on the television. For once, he’s alone - Otter and Austin both off to early shifts, the ghosts mostly dispersed to find something better to do. Even Richard is off on his own today. Summer is starting to wind down in Antlers, but there’s no shortage of abandoned shops to visit, or strange things to find in the woods.
Landis, on the other hand, has learned not to take a quiet apartment for granted. Knowing how crazy things can get at the drop of a hat, it’s nice to be able to sit around and do absolutely nothing for a few hours before work. But just as he settles on a local channel with some early morning cooking show, and starts to think about grabbing a snack, there’s a knock on the door. It’s as though the universe has read his mind and decided he doesn’t deserve a respite - or Otter forgot his keys again and came back for them. Landis turns the TV volume down a few notches, and listens for another knock, or a voice through the door. Neither comes.
“It’s Walker,” Jeremy announces, floating through the wall just to the left of the door, and startling Landis badly enough to make him drop the remote.
“Jesus,” Landis breathes, bending over with one hand braced against the arm of the couch. “You scared me. I thought you all headed out already.”
Jeremy shrugs. “I was planning on sticking around.”
He doesn’t offer any more in the way of explanation, and Landis doesn’t ask. Jeremy has never out-and-out expressed any ill will against him, but it’s easy to spot the resentment bubbling just under the surface, especially after living with him for six-odd years, and being in a band together for longer than that. He’s the only one in Paper Museum who seems largely devoted to giving Landis the silent treatment, only speaking to him when strictly necessary.
And yet, Jeremy’s still lingering in the living room, watching Landis with some small amount of interest. Landis gives him a quizzical look on the way to the door, but Jeremy, as per usual, says nothing. On the other side of the door, Walker knocks again, though it’s more of a pounding this time.
“Austin, I swear to God, I’ll tear it off the hinges -” He stops short as Landis unlocks the door and opens it, blinking for a moment in surprise. “Oh. Hey. Is Austin home?”
“Nobody’s home,” Landis says.
“Then who were you just talking to?”
“One of the ghosts.” Landis gives Walker a once-over. He looks sweaty and panicked, like he ran all the way here for some reason. An emergency that he needs Austin for? Landis’s stomach clenches with impending anxiety, but he tries not to let it show. “Austin’s at work.”
“He’s at work?” Walker asks, his voice raising and cracking.
“Maybe you should come in,” Landis suggests, a little too late, as Walker is already pushing past him into the apartment. He locks the door behind Walker, following him across the living room into the kitchen where Walker begins to pace, chairs scooting out of his way as though a force field around him is repelling them.
“Okay,” Walker mutters, “okay, this is bad. Not as bad as it could be, obviously, because everyone’s still alive, but we probably missed our window to get to Austin before they do.”
They? Who’s they? The sick feeling in Landis’s stomach deepens as he considers the full implication of what Walker is talking about. Someone - someone capable of murder, apparently - is after Austin. And it’s not like that’s anything new, but the fact that Walker is panicking about it is almost certainly cause for alarm.
“Is Austin…” Landis says haltingly, unsure if he even wants to finish the question. He feels a sudden chill in the kitchen and looks to one side to see Jeremy floating through the wall, spectating with mild interest. “Is he - you know -”
“No, no, he’s not dead,” Walker says, waving off the idea with broad sweeps of his arm. “Well, probably not. He should be more valuable to them alive, but I don’t exactly relish the idea of him being stuffed in a car with a bunch of mercenaries on their way to God knows where. Can you - you’ve got his work number, right? Can you call?”
He pulls one of the kitchen chairs up behind him and throws himself down onto it, sprawling his legs out and slinging his arms over the back. His chest rises and falls heavily, locks of hair plastered across his face with sweat.
“Do you want some water?” Landis asks. Walker waves him off again.
“I’ll get it. Call the library.”
“Okay,” Landis says, hesitantly turning towards the phone. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see one of the cabinets opening, a glass bobbing unsteadily out of it in midair.
Austin’s work number - the main number for the library - is scrawled on a note attached to the fridge, just underneath the number for St. Sithney. Landis brings the phone across the room to scrutinize the number, carefully punching it in on the keypad. He twists the cord nervously around a finger as he waits for someone to pick up, running through scenarios in his head of how the conversation might go. Just don’t let them know there’s an emergency. Austin might still be there, and if you can give him enough warning, maybe nothing bad will happen. Or maybe he’s not there, and -
“You’ve reached the Antlers Public Library,” a voice on the other end chirps, after only two rings. “This is Channery Cantwell-Miller speaking, how can I help you?”
“Um,” Landis says, and swallows hard, trying to keep his throat from tightening with anxiety. “Is, uh, is Austin Jones there? I’m his boyf- his roommate. He left his wallet here, I thought I could come down and give it to him on my way to work.”
“You know, I haven’t seen him today,” Channery says thoughtfully. “He usually doesn’t come in until the afternoon.”
Landis swallows again. He stares at the note on the fridge, tracing the pen strokes with his eyes, trying to keep himself grounded. “Yeah, I know. He left about two hours ago, said he was covering someone’s shift.”
“No one told me they needed their shift covered today.” Channery sounds perplexed, and Landis can hear her shuffling papers and tapping keys on the other end, probably checking to see if she missed any word from an employee that they weren’t coming in.
“He said he was working nine to five,” Landis says, in case it’s any help.
Channery hums to herself. “No, I don’t see anything from anyone about that. But Bryan Henley was supposed to work nine to five today, and he hasn’t been in either. It’s possible Austin agreed to cover for him, and was going to let me know when he got here.”
“And he’s not there.”
“No, he hasn’t come in.” There’s a twinge of worry in Channery’s voice. “Has everything been alright with him? He was a little moodier than usual back at the beginning of the summer, and I thought maybe -”
“Oh, he’s fine,” Landis says, maybe a little too quickly. “I’ll try his cell phone. Thank you!”
He flies across the room and slams the phone down into the receiver before Channery can say anything else. His intestines feel heavy and knotted, his pulse too loud in his ears as he takes a seat at the kitchen table.
“Don’t bother with his cell phone,” Walker says. His glass of water sits empty on the table in front of him. “I tried it three times on my way over. He’s not picking up.”
“So he’s already gone,” Landis says.
“Yeah. They must have got him on his way to -” Walker cuts himself off, jumping up out of his chair and starting to pace again. “Fuck! They must have already had him when Jenny was talking to me at the diner! That’s why she was so fucking smug - I knew there was something up with her - god damn it!”
Landis runs his hands through his hair, trying to unravel the situation in his mind. “Wait. How’d you know Austin was gone in the first place?”
“One of the people sent here for him is…she used to be a friend of mine.” Walker exhales loudly, still pacing. It’s clear that it’s something he’d rather not talk about. “We ran into each other at the diner, and there’s no way she’d be in a backwoods place like this unless someone was paying her to be. I figured she was either here for me or Austin, and she left without me, so, process of elimination.”
“Why would she be here for Austin?”
“Are you kidding?” Walker asks. “You know who his brother is, right? They could probably ransom him off for, like, tens of thousands of dollars. Or threaten to kill him to make Jacob do whatever they want. Think about it.”
“Isn’t it your job to make sure that doesn’t happen?” Landis asks pointedly.
“Look,” Walker says, “I wasn’t exactly expecting a bunch of mercs to come into town and just scoop him up off the street. But, point is, it’s also my job to get him back safe and sound. So if you don’t have any leads, I’ll start looking somewhere else.”
“He should try the motel,” Jeremy says, still hovering in the air, trying his best to stay out of Walker’s way.
“You should try the motel,” Landis repeats. Walker gives him a look.
“Why? They’re long gone, by now.”
“It’s worth a shot, though,” Landis admits. He’s a little surprised that Jeremy is helping out, but it’s best not to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Maybe they left something behind, or told the desk worker where they were headed. Maybe someone saw something, I don’t know. You can’t expect to just pick up their trail out of the blue.”
“Fine,” Walker says. “Okay. Fine. Motel it is.”
“And I’m coming with you,” Landis says, standing and crossing back into the living room to put on his shoes. He’s still in his uniform for the diner, but that doesn’t matter. He’ll call in sick on the way to the motel.
“Like Hell you are,” Walker says. “These people are mercenaries. They kill for a living.”
“I used to kill for a living,” Landis comments dryly. “I think we’ll get along just fine.”
Walker makes a choked noise, but no retort. He doesn’t protest when Landis follows him out of the apartment, locking the door behind the two of them on the way. Landis, similarly, says nothing when Jeremy silently drifts out to the parking lot with him, then leads the way to his car. There’s no room to complain - the more of them there are, the more of a non-zero chance they stand against the people who kidnapped Austin.