The Red Hand

Anthony

14th of June, 2000

One curved line...Two curved lines...Three...Four...

The image was front and center in his mind, and yet he couldn't get the lines to flow properly. One would arc too high, another too low. One would cross at the wrong point, another just never looked right.

Soon, however, each pencil stroke would be perfected, and the image began to project onto the page, finally taking shape. What were once just lines became eyes, a mouth, fins and a tail.

Anthony set the pencil on his desk and looked down at his newest sketch: a whale, swimming through a sea of grey smudges, erased lines, and messy handiwork. It wasn't perfect, far from it, but soon it would be. Soon each line would be perfect each time, and his creations would be surrounded by nothing but pure, blinding white.

He closed his sketchbook and looked up at the clock on his wall. 4:02 it told him. It was about time for him to get going. He glanced around at the guest room he called his own. The fawn-colored walls with a few sketches taped on that passed as decoration, the spare mattress on its cheap frame, the old walnut nightstand topped with a small lamp. He always could've asked for more stuff to make the room more interesting, but he never bothered making any requests, or even just buying something himself. It was good enough as it was, even if it was all hardly anything to him. Nevertheless, he had a feeling he would come to miss it in the coming days, just like he'd missed everything else.

He left the room and continued down the short hallway into the living room. His older cousin Elliot was the only one home right now, as to be expected with his aunt and uncle both working during the day. Elliot laid on the couch, staring at the ceiling with his eyes half-shut. He sat up and turned to Anthony when he walked in.

"Make yourself late drawing again?" He asked tiredly.

"I've got plenty of time" Anthony answered.

"I wouldn't keep your friend waiting too long if I were you." Elliot shrugged. "What're your guys' plans for the week?"

"Isaac decided we should go bowling first thing after I get there. Anything after that's up for debate."

"Be sure and do something stupid, I'll wanna here that story when you get back." Elliot told him, getting up from the couch.

"You're the one that's always doing stupid shit." Anthony reminded Elliot, thinking back to the time he'd tried to vault over the metal railing of a small ramp and ended up scarring his shin, as well as the time he fell out of a tree in his girlfriend's backyard. "I don't plan on taking your thing."

"You will." Elliot assured him while giving him a pat on the shoulder. "You will."

Anthony rolled his eyes, half grinning, and picked up his duffel bag that was waiting by the front door.

"Alright, I'll see you in a week." He said, walking out the front door.

"Yeah, see ya." Elliot said before shutting the door.

The plan was simple, drive back to St. George and see Isaac again, get a hotel room, and stay there for a week. It would be Anthony's first time away from home in a couple years, which was something he would've been too afraid to do back then.

Granted, he didn't consider home to be much safer back then either.

He tossed his bag into the backseat of his dad's old car, a 1993 Ford Thunderbird, before hopping into the driver's seat. It was a four-hour drive, which intimidated Anthony, as he'd only gotten his license a couple months ago, and he hadn't really been driving much since sophomore year ended. As he backed out of the driveway and made his way out of the neighborhood, he prayed that he wouldn't die on the way there.

8:21 PM

Anthony didn't die on the way there. By now he'd booked a hotel room, and he was taking a moment to stretch his legs in the parking lot of the bowling alley. The sun had set by now, and the moon shined brightly on the canyons surrounding the small city, something Anthony had missed seeing. After taking another moment to appreciate the view, he started towards the alley to look for Isaac.

Anthony and Isaac had met in seventh grade. At first, they seemed like complete opposites. Anthony was the quiet, artistic intellectual, while Isaac was more athletic and outgoing. But after the two got used to each other's company, they'd become almost inseparable. Even after Anthony left to live with his aunt and uncle, he and Isaac talked over the phone regularly, mainly just about art or golf, anything to stay in contact.

He quickly spotted Isaac waiting by the door. He was slightly taller and more toned than Anthony with slicked back dark hair and blue eyes, and he was wearing a navy blue polo shirt with grayish blue jeans and white tennis shoes. He spotted Anthony and walked over to meet him by the curb.

"Well, fancy seeing you here." Isaac said jokingly.

Anthony played along. "Yeah, what a coincidence that we'd go to the same bowling alley on the same night, especially since I don't even live here anymore."

The two of them chuckled and gave each other a half-handshake, half-hug.

"It's good seeing you in person again." Isaac said.

"Likewise." Anthony replied. They spoke as they walked inside.

"So how've things been with you lately?" Isaac asked.

"Better than I was expecting." Anthony admitted. He talked about what it was like living with his aunt and uncle, how they were often busy with cook or carpentry work respectively, but that they were nice when they were around. He talked about his last couple years of school, his drawings, and his time with his therapist. All as they were getting their shoes and sitting down.

"What about you."

"Well, I've started playing the cello." Isaac said.

Anthony was a bit surprised that he hadn't heard about this before. "When did that start?"

"You remember my dad's a jazz musician, right? Well, a few months ago he very strongly suggested that I learn to play some kind of instrument. I just picked the cello at random, and I wasn't expecting to get really into it, but goddamnit, it won me over!"

"Did you get into a school orchestra?" Anthony asked.

"No, but I'm considering it next year." Isaac told him.

"Your dad's not gonna give you a choice, is he?" Anthony said.

Isaac laughed. "Nah, he's probably not. I'm just lucky I'm actually interested."

There was a clear skill gap between the two boys as they started bowling. Isaac would get strikes and spares almost every time, meanwhile Anthony was just glad to have finally gotten a spare on his fifth turn. Isaac did his best to give advice. Things like "Stand further to the side if it keeps curving." And "Pay attention to the arrows." And eventually Anthony knocked more pins down at once with every turn. On his last turn, he'd knocked down all but one of the pins, which stayed stood up, even after another pin nearly tipped it over with it. He had full confidence when he sent his ball rolling, only for it to curve into the gutter. He could swear that last pin was laughing at him as it rolled past.

With his time up, he took a seat and watched Isaac get his last strike of the night.

"You're just a natural at anything with a swinging motion, aren't you?" Anthony said.

"Between golf and stuff like this, trust me, my arms are always on fire." Isaac stated proudly.

"Is that really why those scars are there?" Anthony joked.

That was another thing about Isaac. He had burn scars that ran down both of his forearms. Isaac said that he got them from messing around with his dad's flare gun when he twelve.

As the two walked out of the bowling alley, Anthony turned to Isaac. "Is there anything else you wanna do, or do you wanna call it a night?"

Isaac seemed to hesitate for a moment. "Well...there's one thing I was thinking of doing, but I don't know if you'd want to..."

"And what would that be?"

Isaac tried to find the right way to explain what he was thinking. "Have you ever heard of Freddy Fazbear's Pizza?"

That wasn't what Anthony was expecting at all. "Yeah?"

Practically everybody this side of the state knew about Freddy's, it was a tragedy. Five children go missing at a pizzeria, the animatronics start acting strange, and the killer isn't found for ten years before he dies as well. It was all a local legend at this point.

"You know how there was a mall built over it, and then a lot of it was torn down by police, and then a big storm came by and damaged it even more?"

Anthony nodded.

"Well...there's a rumor going around that someone rebuilt it."

Anthony raised an eyebrow. "The entire mall?!"

Isaac shook his head. "No, just the pizzeria."

"Okay, but still, why would anyone bother doing that?"

"I don't know. That's why I want to go there and see if it's true."

Anthony kept his eyebrow raised. "What does it matter to you if it is or isn't?"

"I...uhhh..." was all Isaac said before staring at the ground, which only piqued Anthony's interest even more. He was never this nervous.

Anthony shrugged. "Why the hell not. It's only a twenty-minute drive, and exploring an abandoned building sounds potentially interesting."

Isaac looked up and sighed. "What's the condition?"

Anthony smirked. "You're gonna have to tell me why this matters to you at some point while we're there."

Isaac stopped and thought for a moment, then looked up at Anthony again. "Alright. It's a deal."

As the two walked back to their cars. Anthony was lost in thought.

Why would someone rebuild a pizzeria crime scene? Why would Isaac care about it? These questions lingered in Anthony's mind as got back in his car. Of course, these questions were the reason he was going, it was all too unusual for him to not see the answers. He turned the keys, and next thing he knew he was off with Isaac to Hurricane.