Bored, Josie moved a bullet scarred flute case with her foot and picked up the crumpled child's drawing beneath it. "'My day at the NEW Freddy Fazbears'..." she murmured. Something rumbled overhead, dirt sifting down from the ceiling.
"What's THAT?" Josie yelped, cowering, arms over her head protectively, scribble forgotten.
"Tank. 1916. Battle of the Ss-s-s-omme." Tommy's voice rasped from behind the curtain, "Safety cupboard, it leaks. You all right, Miss?"
"I'm fine!" Nervous, because, well, TANK, Josie distracted herself by studying the childish scribble of what might have been a large yellow bear in a top hat leering bug-eyed at a blank-faced audience— like something Clawdeen's little brothers might draw on the wall when Clawdeen's mother was too busy braiding Clawdeen's hair to notice. Something that would end in discovery, and then whoever did the dirty deed sternly being handed a bottle of Goo-B-Gone and one of Mr. Wolf's worn-out undershirts along with the instructions, "You made it? You clean it!"
So, what was a child's drawing doing here?
In no mood for a mystery, Josie rose, brushing dirt from her knees. What was taking Tommy so long? Dropping the drawing, she sidled toward the curtain, close enough to hear that her rescuer was talking, well, arguing.
With himself?
Frowning, Josie leaned closer, ears straining.
"...Shan't!" Tommy exclaimed. Followed by a child-like wail: "No, no… please don't take them away! I'll be good! I'll be good!"
There was a soft murmur, almost a coo, Josie squinted. Who the Hell was he talking to?
Tommy interrupted the soft voice, wheezing. "Nobody's been this nice to me before…"
She carefully parted the curtain with a finger. Tommy Andrews knelt in front of a large, cracked mirror leaning haphazardly against the dugout wall. Instead of his reflection, she saw a wizened little green man and a tall, thin, inhumanly beautiful man in black who stood behind him, whispering into what was left of an ear.
"...No, I won't… I can't… It's not right…" The diseased-looking reflection moaned, wringing it's long, greenish bony hands. "Y-you sa-said you'd changed your mind...?"
Josie held her breath.
"S-s-s-she's n-not m-m-m-m-mean, she's NICE, she gave me THESE!" Tommy Andrews and his pop-eyed green reflection reached into their pockets and held out the handful of plastic beads shaped like a herd of candy-colored ponies with bright manes and tails, "They're Horace's children. I like how they feel on my tips, like Horace."
The tall man in black slapped the beads out of Tommy Andrews' hand, making the beads scatter everywhere. Wailing, the green creature fell forward into a rocking fetal crouch, Tommy echoing him, blown out helmet rolling away from them both. "I-I-I really wish you wouldn't do that." They both moaned, "Tis not nice! You're not nice!"
The tall man in black kicked the emaciated creature in the mirror.
Hard.
Tommy Andrews' and his mismatched reflection jerked, gasping, the green creature Joker-mouthed, forced to smile even on the verge of tears rolled over, as both it and Tommy sobbed, scrabbling against the packed dirt of the floor after the little plastic ponies scattered around them as Josie felt something touch her foot. Absently she picked up Tommy's unwanted crown and hugged it to her, sharp metal points digging into her chest and hands as she suddenly made eye contact his reflection's tormentor.
Who suddenly looked up from his victim and made eye contact with Josie.
Right through the dark, wavery glass.
His eyes were beautiful, and terrible, a dark red, candles from a Jack-O'-Lantern far away, and they pinned her to the ground where she stood.
Josie's ears roared and she dropped the helmet, which rolled behind her unheeded, it was like looking down a well, or straight up into the midnight sky, bottomless, dark, hungry… run, scream, do both, just do SOMETHING!
The tall man in black smiled down at her from the mirror, Oh little nephilium, at last we meet.
The static of pure terror in Josie's head sent his voice coming and going in waves so she only clearly heard, "Bring her to me, you worthless nothing, or lose your silly toys forever."
Tommy, or the thing that was his reflection crouched weeping, chewing on his hands with yellow, rotted teeth, dark blood dribbling down his chin, rocking back and forth barefoot.
"Stop wasting my time, spider-fingers, or I'll do worse to you than your waste of a cousin ever did, whom I can't touch because of our contract!"
"NoooOOOOooooooo, don't want to! Don't want to! She is kind, unnnnnghgggghhhh!" Tommy and the thing cried out, staggering forward, propelled by another kick from the tall man in black who loomed over him. Tommy Andrews turned around, and stumbled towards Josie, the snags of his teeth red. "S-s-s-s-ssorrrrryyyyyyyyy Mmmmmm-m-m-m-iss-s-s-S-s-s!"
"M-m-Mr. Andrews? Private Tommy?" Josie dropped the helmet, "We need to talk—"
"Don't listen to her, Salad Fingers." the tall man in black in the mirror snapped, "Don't you know a bribe when you see one?"
Barefoot, uniform in burnt tatters, Tommy Andrews keened through his Glasgow smile, holding his bleeding hands out to Josie, looking imploringly over his shoulder at the mirror and what it held.
What ARE you? Josie backed away in terrified disgust.
Tommy Andrews of his Majesty's army and a Private in my cousin's p-p-p-platoon. Tommy glanced down at his bare, dirty feet, the leering, weeping creature in the mirror echoing him perfectly. Once.
How could he hear her? She wasn't even shining at him, but at the tall man in black behind him! Josie took another blind step back, foot slipping on her discarded gas mask, and then what felt like crayons, crumpled drawings of the yellow bear in a top hat drifting around her, crayons, scissors, Elmer's glue, the sounds of a busy classroom full of small children coloring in a worksheet… Staggering, Josie regained her balance, grabbed the bag, and flung it at Tommy as he advanced on her, rotted teeth yellow and stained with blood in David Bowie's face
He slapped it aside with a giggle.
Josie screamed and fled, erupting through the hidden door of the Safety Cupboard, gas swirling around her feet, bodies underfoot as somewhere in the stinking darkness artillery rumbled like thunder. She found a ladder and scrambled upwards, ignoring the rattle of machine gun fire – anything was better than what was behind her!
Only to jerk to a halt in the stinking dark, yanked downwards off the ladder, landing face down in filth, silver wires tangled around her ankles, digging into her flesh as Tommy Andrews mechanically dragged her backwards towards him by the snare he'd set for her.
The dark gold voice of the tall man in black came out of the night, "That's more like it. Now give her to me, and go get the rest."
Blank-eyed in the moonlight, saucer-eyes weeping blood, Tommy Andrews dragged her upright, jerking her hands behind her back and up between her shoulder blades. Josie screamed, Tommy clapped a hand over her mouth, cutting her off.
Josie bit down on Tommy's spidery hand. He let go of her mouth with a screech. Spitting, Josie pulled away, trying to get enough leverage to knee him in the groin and then head butt him the way Aunt Raina taught her to, only to gasp in pain as Tommy's long thin hands swung her around so that she faced the mirror, which stood propped up in the mud by what was left of two soldiers, one which gaped in silent wonder at the moon overhead.
Tommy Andrew's rested her chin on her shoulder, murmuring, "Please, just puh-play along, M -Miss?" His breath stank.
What?
He dragged Josie closer to the mirror, the greenish creature huddled rocking at the tall man in black's feet.
"Goooooood dog, Salad Fingers."
Tommy Andrews' voice was a flat, emotionless chirp, "Always was, right?"
"How boring. Now, hand her over!" The tall man in black snapped, ignoring Tommy's offhand remark.
Maintaining his grip, Tommy Andrews took a step back from Josie, eyes locked on the tall man in black's hands.
"No." he said, voice deeper than Josie thought possible.
And then Tommy Andrews shoved her through the looking glass.
Which shattered into a million moonstruck pieces, a million violin strings snapping, bringing with it the sound of the wind between the worlds.
"You disobedient son of a whore!" The tall man in black's voice came disdainfully through the darkness as the membrane between Josie and the Liminal warped around her and a terrified Tommy Andrews was roughly yanked backwards by the tall man in black in a cloud of bedraggled feathers.
Thank you. She whispered even as the screams of Tommy Andrews, and the creature known as Salad Fingers rippled and faded behind her.
"...But I set fire! To the rain! Watch it burn as I touch your face!"
Reeling Josie turned, finding herself outside Bekka's house in the snow next to a realtor's sign, more sifting down all around her and sticking to her locs.
"JoJo!" Marlene hollered down from by the jacuzzi, "Get your ass up her, gurrrrrrrrrl!"
"Well, it burned while I cried 'cause I heard it screamin' out your name, your name!" Adele wailed, letting the world know her heart was breaking as Josie ran up the stairs, the Safety Cupboard and all that it held dissipating into the dream it was.
"Aw jeez, about time you stopped being a party pooper," Maggie splashed at Josie, laughing, "C'mon, get IN!"
"Do I have to?" Josie studied the perfumed water, feeling sick, "Pass me one of those "Evian" with lime" things. I'm thirsty!"
Remembering what Mama did the last time they went on a family vacation, Josie shivered, settling for the sidelines.
"Lame!" Bekka honked, passing Josie a drink.
Somewere in the fetid darkness of the Safety Cupboard, Tommy Andrews (Or was it Salad Fingers?) took a long, sobbing breath, hands and ribs shattered but already healing, unable to die.
It had been a long time since he'd been disobedient.
Disobedience felt good, even if the Glassmother disapproved of things that felt good.
Fuck the Glassmother.
And fuck the tall man in black doubly so.