Monday, January 1, 2001, 1:15 PM
It annoyed Mike how early school started in the spring semester. He was expected to be in class the day after New Year's Day? Some people (not him) slept off copious amounts of alcohol and were in no shape for academics. He'd prefer if they didn't begin for another week or two, even if that meant time getting eaten from summer vacation.
Maybe it'd also be a little warmer, he thought, pulling his coat tighter around him as he trudged through knee-deep snowbanks to reach his vehicle. That was probably a fantasy, yet he figured it couldn't be much chillier. If it were possible, the mercury in a thermometer would have broken the bottom of the bulb and gone down. His teeth chattered. Felt as cold as Mike ever remembered. Didn't portend a great start to the year, to be honest.
Still, he couldn't complain too much. He'd spent plenty of time with Foxy and his friends over the break, even if too much of it involved being roped into a life-threatening adventure. Then he spent the last few days with his family. Realized he'd neglected them for too long, and he tried to rectify that by spending the last portion of the break with them.
Didn't know the next time he'd see his parents again for more than an afternoon. Next summer? Depended on if they took another road trip to see their hippie friends. Regardless, he, Foxy and his other friends decided that destroying all the evidence at BRIAR HQ could wait a few more days, so he'd go there to help them do that during the school year – the drive would be much shorter from campus, too.
He kicked the snow off his boots and wiped some from off the roof of his car – so much on the vehicle that it looked like a sheep waiting to be sheared. He cringed, feeling sympathy for the machine. It'd been bruised by Mike breaking the land speed record of a Honda Civic, but June fixed it up over a couple of days. She didn't have much else to do. Nobody brought cars or other large machines to be fixed at a time like this, and she'd already visited her family in Portland. And she said my snow tires looked good. He'd never get down the hill without them; too much to shovel, and the roads in Whitewater being plowed wasn't guaranteed.
Syl emerged from the house as he threw his backpack into the trunk and made sure everything else was inside. Yeah, looks like I have everything. Easy to pack when most of his belongings stayed safely in his apartment.
"How are you doing?" his sister asked. Sounded like the question Mike should ask her, given how tired and flat her voice was. She was still tired.
After returning from their adventure (though he was sure she would use a less flattering word), Syl came up with an excuse for their absence: one of Mike's friends suddenly fell ill, but he lacked health insurance, so going to urgent care or the ER would cost a lot of money. Sylvia volunteered her time and medical expertise, and now all was well. Given that their parents possessed a deep-seated grudge against the American healthcare system, they seemed to buy it… and even if not, they didn't press the issue. Honestly, it worked better than Mike expected.
Then she stayed in bed for a couple of days, not feeling so great herself. Maybe she caught whatever his friend had been sick with, their parents suggested. In actuality, she was morose and grim from finding out everything she believed in – the fundamental rules of reality – were not what she thought.
"Uh, I'm OK," he replied, trying not to sound too concerned. Which I am. But Syl didn't need him to take pity on her (at least not without her permission). She was tough in her own right; the last couple days proved that… though he already knew. Had to put up with him for her whole life, after all. "How about you?"
Sylvia shrugged. They'd gotten chances to briefly talk the last couple days, but they didn't dare to for long with their parents so close. This was their first chance to really connect after what happened… and the last opportunity they'd have for in-person contact with him departing in hours. They could (and surely would) talk more over the phone, but something about being physically present made such discussions more comfortable. He shivered. Speaking of comfort, arctic temperatures did not particularly soothe him.
"Do you want to talk in the car?" she suggested, a possibility that didn't even cross his mind. This was why she got into medical school. Probably a good idea to run his car for a few minutes to prevent his battery from freezing, anyway. Mike nodded, him sitting in the driver's seat while she plopped into the shotgun. He put his key in the ignition, relieved when the Civic started. Didn't need to get June out here with jumper cables… or Foxy. Didn't know if he'd ever get his head around her reviving a dead motorcycle with the electricity in her own body!
"To answer your question, I'm… better. Better than yesterday, anyway," his sister answered while cranking up the heat. It'd be several minutes before they'd be take off their jackets, though. "At least I don't feel like I'm trapped in an existential nightmare anymore. Still, it'd be nice to speak with them. Just to make sure it was real."
Mike had that same reaction at the beginning. Waking up in a cold sweat every morning, wondering if what he remembered happened or if it was an elaborate fantasy. "Uh, I know it'll be difficult to see them soon, given that, you know, we'll both be in school, but, like, I'm sure any of them w-would be happy to talk." Before or after business hours, of course; the kids came first. "They're human on the inside… though you know that better than I do."
Mike cringed when he realized that he had actually "opened up" one of the animatronics in a way Syl never would. "Opened up"? Really, Mike? Phrasing aside, there would never be a better time to tell his sister the other bombshell he'd kept from her. Arguably, it was none of her business, but she still deserved to know. His mouth, already parched from the dry winter air, chapped further. "Speaking of which, I have something else to confess…"
"You and Foxy."
His head shot to Syl so quickly that he nearly snapped his own neck. She looked at him with a knowing smirk. Mortified as he was, at least he didn't have to say, "I'm extralegally married to a sentient restaurant animatronic."
"How did you know?"
"One skill I've learned in medical school that most people don't associate with doctors is paying attention to subtle reactions. Patients are sometimes too embarrassed by what landed them in a hospital to tell the truth." Sure, he understood that; it'd embarrass him to admit he'd wasted a good chunk of time and money by, say, burning himself on the stove. "I saw the way you and Foxy looked at each other. How you wouldn't leave each other's sides." She raised an eyebrow and teased, "Seriously, it was like you stopped just short of PDA and making out in front of me." Mike giggled, hoping she exaggerated a little. "Besides, you and June didn't seem to have very much chemistry – romantic chemistry, anyway – when I went bowling with you guys. You just seemed like friends."
"Um, and you're OK with that?" Sylvia didn't sound at all judgmental, yet he wanted to be sure. The air blowing from the vents also started to warm above 32 degrees Fahrenheit, so that was another welcome development.
"Of course I am. You're an adult, even if I still think of you as my little brother; you're smart and responsible enough to make that decision. What kind of sibling would I be if I didn't have your back in something like this?" The weight lifted off his back made him feel hundreds of pounds lighter – like he could walk on air. The fact that she trusted him, especially after he kept the truth from her, elated him. "Considering you've never dated anyone before, she must be very special. Especially because of all the unique, um, 'challenges' you two must face." Those difficulties didn't even account for Foxy killing James, but Syl seemed uninterested in wading into that topic.
"It's true, there are a lot. We've, like, gotten used to them, though." He didn't need to discuss the specifics. She was smart enough to guess the details, and this conversation already spent too long on his taboo romance. He ended with saying, "I love Foxy. I want to spend the rest of my life with her."
"You picked the right major, then. That was smart." He cocked his head, unsure of what she meant. How would majoring in business management help him and Foxy stay together? His bafflement made Syl's jaw drop, stupefied by his, well, stupidity. "Don't tell me it was accidental!"
"What are you t-talking about?" he said, ready to be hit with the obvious.
"Fazbear's, dummy!" she exclaimed, lightly slapping the back of his head for emphasis. "Once you graduate, you'll be qualified to take over!"
"You really think Helen would give up everything?" he blurted back. Seemed like one Hell of an assumption to expect the woman to just give him her job on a silver platter. Maybe she only usurped the position out of necessity, yet it was still hers!
"Why wouldn't she? You'd be doing her an enormous favor, since as far as I can tell, there's literally nobody else she trusts who's willing, let alone able, to take that responsibility." Well, no, but – "I don't know her as well as you, but I worked with her for several hours on triage, and I can tell she doesn't want to spend the rest of her life stuck behind a desk. The only reason she's doing this is because they need a human pulling the strings to operate."
"OK, I know that, at least," he interrupted, trying to save face. Of course they needed a human to be their agent. Despite having free reign over the restaurant, they had no power beyond its walls. Mike scratched his chin and took a moment to think about what Syl said now that the irritation cooled… though the car's interior was warm and toasty. Enough for him to throw his coat into the back.
Mike didn't have any ulterior motives when he decided to major in business. Chose it because the skills he'd learned as a night guard were surprisingly relevant to the field and because, frankly, he needed to pick something after being undeclared freshman year. Assumed he'd nab some pencil-pushing position somewhere, hopefully in Whitewater. Sylvia was right, though, and the stars aligned too perfectly to ignore. If he got Helen's job, he wouldn't want anything for the rest of his life. Even if the pay was bad and the hours long, he'd be the happiest man in the world. He'd get to work with his friends and the woman of his dreams every day. The mere thought made him misty-eyed.
"You should talk to Helen, anyway. There might be something I missed." Mike appreciated the attempt to be diplomatic, but Helen probably assumed the same thing Syl did because, as his sister pointed out, it was the clear next step.
"Uh, all right. Anyway, this h-has been too much about my problems," Mike said with a shake of the head. There was more to talk about, too. Auric, Phil, every individual thing he'd done since getting his "job". Whatever she wanted to know. "But before we move on, I wanted to say that I'm sorry. For, um, keeping this from you."
"I forgive you," she said without a moment of hesitation. "Would've liked to know earlier, but I guess there never would have been a good time to hit me with this. At least the Band-Aid's ripped off and I'll never be this confused again." If Mike ever got abducted by aliens or travelled through time, Sylvia would be the first person to know.
He felt himself grin a goofy grin. I'm lucky to have a sister who's so understanding. Knew that this would make their relationship stronger than ever; there was no way they'd slip back into the antipathy that defined their interactions throughout last spring and summer when it became clear that Mike would be the one stuck at the house for several months.
With that, he sat back and prepared for the bizarre conversation that'd occupy at least the next hour, hoping that the time brother and sister spent bonding in a piping-hot car would also melt the ice beneath them.
Wednesday, January 24, 2001, 4:00 AM
Phil spent the last two weeks of frozen Hell trudging through snowdrifts as deep as his chest. Two weeks, and at least eight or nine more to go until the mountains around him thawed. A world of difference between seeing this kind of weather, knowing it occurred outside the comfort of one's cozy home, and being in the thick of it. After a relatively mild December (or so it seemed to him, for he didn't get outside very often), January of 2001 struck with the force of a locomotive. Within days, the Cascades had been plunged back into the ice age.
Not a great time to be thrown out, yet he had no choice. The moment he recovered enough from surgery to walk, he was given a few supplies and shoved out the door for the rest of his life… which, according to Auric, would be several hundred more years unless interrupted.
He craned his head and looked around at starlight glinting off the frozen landscape. Hadn't seen another person for so long; he may as well have been the last "human" on Earth. Though bunnies weren't nocturnal, he found it difficult to sleep – that was the only reason he kept walking at an infernal hour. Walking nowhere. He had a map of the Pacific Northwest with him, but there was nowhere to go. Wherever his feet took him was destination enough, he decided as his breath congealed in front of his face.
The only thing which surprised him more than the sudden onset of bitter cold was the fact he survived it. Not through skill or cunning; by all rights, he should've frozen into a popsicle (probably what the other animatronics counted on). No, he only lived because his body wouldn't let him die so easily.
He learned that when he woke up one morning a week into this experience and found that his fur turned from green to as white as the snow stretching in every direction. Ran a finger through it for good measure, for it also thickened enough to be a good buffer from the biting cold. Now it was merely uncomfortable instead of agonizing.
Somehow, his biology adapted to the environment. The animatronics didn't have DNA – they (and now he)weren't life as anyone knew it – but they still had remnants and imprints based on what Auric knew about the animals they represented. The monster was no more a zoologist than Phil, but he'd been on the planet for thousands of years – he knew how rabbits of many species operated, and that information had been distilled into him, regardless of whether Auric realized it or not.
For example, Bonnie was naturally twitchy, much like regular rabbits, and Phil's temperament changed in a similar way when he became this. While he expected that to be the end of the story, it turned out to only be the tip of the iceberg. In the absence of civilization, his body reverted to that of a wild animal.
Much like the snowshoe hare that populated these mountains, he traded his regular pelt in favor of one suitable for winter. It'd be harder for predators (humans, in this case), to see him. If anyone did spot him, he would no longer be a mossy Bigfoot, but a Yeti.
He wondered and worried how far these changes would go. Would he start walking on all fours? Would he dig himself a burrow? Would his mind decay until he was no more intelligent than a real rabbit? That he asked these questions scared him, let alone the potential answers. Now that he thought about it, his feet might have gotten bigger, making it easier to walk in snow… but it could also have been his imagination.
For all the invasive research BRIAR performed on his former family, putting them outside for long periods of time was not such an experiment. It couldn't be, for good research was based on comparing a control group to those exposed to myriad variables. There were only four animatronics, and Auric either could not or would not create more than he needed – too few for one to be even more of a guinea pig than the others already were (though Afton raised the prospect several times). No telling what'd happen next, for he swam in uncharted waters.
His stomach rumbled, and hunger pangs suddenly overtook him. Wasn't sure whether his metabolism changed, too… but his diet certainly did. He dropped his backpack, the sole article of clothing he wore, into the powder. Greedily tore it open, grabbing some bark and shoving the wood into his mouth – the granola bars ran out a few days ago.
His rabbit instincts then kicked into overdrive along with what his stomach could digest, for he felt compelled to scarf down timber. Though it tasted awful, it hadn't caused any negative reactions, so he fully adopted the diet of a woodland creature a fraction of his size. It was either that or finding a town to live on the outskirts of and raid dumpsters. Maybe he'd reach that point one day, but for now, he was content to be alone.
Hey, don't rabbits eat their own feces to absorb all possible nutrients? Pretty sure he heard that on Animal Planet. Looked at the twig sticking out of his mouth. Didn't spit it out, but he chewed more reluctantly than before. He decided that was the line he wouldn't cross – he needed to retain enough humanity to not eat his own shit. Sort of an arbitrary boundary, yet he hoped the prospect would be embarrassing enough to hold himself accountable.
As he was about to zip the rucksack closed, he caught a glimpse of violet underneath the rest of the dross. Almost forgot about it, since he didn't wear clothes anymore, even in subzero temperatures. Something within compelled him to fish out the cloth and hold it up to the light of bright stars, for the moon was new. The purple coat was exactly as he remembered, each wrinkle and rip imprinted upon his memory.
His father whispered into his bunny ears: I want you to have that. Something to remind you of how far you'll go. Oh, he went so far since that final interaction. Just not in the way anyone could have imagined. He sniffled and felt an oily tear roll down his fur, probably freezing in a matter of seconds. Unless his fluids had antifreeze in them. Then he gently folded it and put it back where it belonged. It'd have to be taken from his cold, dead hands.
As he slung his backpack over his shoulders, still gnawing on bark, Phil wondered if it all meant something. Was there a moral to his story or a lesson to be learned? Supposed it didn't matter; he'd never interact with anyone again, and nobody would ever hear his tale. An ignoble, lingering end to a wasted life.
That was OK, though, he thought, trudging along the cliffside. He deserved worse.
…
The woman hunched over the desk, her face buried in a microphone attached to a beat-up tape recorder – the only adornments except for a lamp, the bulb of which hummed with heat. She'd occupied this position for minutes, though it felt like longer. Couldn't muster the strength to start the process she'd spent over a decade trying to set in motion.
All her plans and preparations suddenly seemed flaccid. How could she possibly reach out to someone who had been so badly hurt by the man she once loved? What incentive did he have to listen to her?
Because Auric will kill even more people if something isn't done. We both know that.
Though pithy, it was the most she had. Auric would bring misery in ways great and small until the end of forever unless he was stopped – permanently. She'd spent the last part of her life concocting a way to do that. She smacked her parched lips and sat up straight as she pressed the "record" button.
"Hello, Mike. My name is Henrietta Emily… though for several years, I was Henrietta Afton. And I want to help you kill a monster."
…
With that, we have reached the end of A Winter at Freddy's. It's been a journey – not a journey as long as some of my previous stories, but a journey, nevertheless. I want to sincerely thank everyone who reviewed in that time, whether gushing or critical; your feedback helped me mature as a writer, and I'm grateful for that.
With that out of the way, I'll get into what I enjoy talking about most: what I'm planning my upcoming slate of stories to be, and their order of release.
The sequel to Dead Space: Ascetic and the third entry in my Dead Space series will be next. I don't believe I'll be able to release the first chapter before The Callisto Protocol (the spiritual sequel to Dead Space spearheaded by Glen Schofield, the co-creator of the franchise) releases on December 2, since I'll need to take a sabbatical from writing to reread my previous DS stories. However, I'll try my hardest to get it out before the remake of Dead Space comes out on January 27 of next year.
The next story in my "Seasons at Freddy's" saga will also be the last. I said way back in the final Author's Note of A Summer at Freddy's that I expected this to be a five-part series, but I decided to cut that to four. Why? Because the final entry will take place after a massive time jump. The Mike we'll catch up with will be older and, hopefully, wiser. The end is in sight for the series that got me into writing… but still quite a ways off. As you were probably able to glean from the "post-credits scene", it's going to incorporate elements from Pizza Simulator (though with Emily being Afton's former "partner" in a very different way), as well as FNaF 3.
I also mentioned at the end of Ordination that I have stories for Marvel and Halo in the pipeline, and I've intermittently developed those concepts (I post about them on my Discord server from time to time). They're not going to come out until I finish my FNaF and Dead Space sagas, but hey, that's closer now than ever before! I am not currently planning to release any short stories like the D&D and Carnage ones soon, but that's liable to change if an idea pops into my head that won't go away. That about covers it on the story front.
Finally, a couple extra updates on my life and other things I have going on. I've mentioned before that I'm in grad school and working on getting a teaching certificate. That's still happening, and next semester looks like it'll be quite a bit busier than this one. My updates may slow down because of this, but I'm not sure. I used to think that how much I wrote depended on my free time, yet now I think it has more to do with how "engaged" I am with a particular project. But yeah, that's my big announcement about my personal life – more of the same.
The Discord server that I mentioned early has gotten to be quite a force, too. I'm a lot more approachable on there, and I occasionally release exclusive content there, host monthly AMAs, even stream from time to time. I'll include the invite link below (be sure to remove the spaces and asterisks):
www*.discord*.gg / HPcMTpxVsH