"Kyle!" Jessica called as she caught up to him near the front door. There was less light coming through the window now. It was getting late.
He turned to her. "Yes?"
"I'm coming with you," she said.
"You sure?" he asked. "We might run into that thing, you know."
"Look who's talking," she said. "I would've thought you'd be the one to be scared. Between the two of us, I'm the one who's actually dealt with these things before."
"And that's why you've been hesitant about coming here in the first place. With all due respect, what happened to Jessica the fearless leader I've heard about who helped save the kids?"
"They were kids," Jessica argued. "The stakes were different."
"And what about Sam? He's here, somewhere. If this were Charlie, you would've been the one relentlessly trying to find her. But because it's not her, you're suddenly not sure about this rescue mission anymore?"
It was a bold statement, one that might earn him a hit...or at least a verbal outlash. Kyle knew that, and while part of him felt satisfied to say it, he couldn't help but picture Sam's warning face. Jessica said nothing. Judging by the look on her face, she wanted to say something but couldn't find the words.
"I'm sorry," Kyle said with a sigh. "I didn't mean to say it like that. Look, you're right. I am scared. I can't tell you how much I hate having to do this. But I can't leave Sam here. He needs help more than we do. You saw what happened last night. Like I said, that's not like Sam at all. I'm afraid that finding out the truth about his sister has really messed up his mind, even before coming here. Even if that thing really isn't dangerous, which I doubt, I think he's more in danger of himself right now."
"We'll find him," said Jessica assuringly, her tone softening as well. "Don't worry. John's a good lookout. He's got our backs. And I'm sorry, too. I'm just so tired of all this, you know? I just want to move on. But you're right. We can't...not until we find Sam. For his mom...and for you."
Kyle nodded. "And for Charlie." Jessica smiled.
Suddenly the alarms began blaring. Kyle and Jessica both flinched at the sudden noise.
"That's getting really annoying!" she said.
"Tell me about it," said Kyle. "Wonder why it keeps going off like that."
"This building's old," said Jessica. "It's probably malfunctioning. John will take of it."
"I hope so," said Kyle, "cause that's gonna get real irritating soon!"
"It already is," said Jessica, rolling her eyes. "Now where's Sam?"
"The only other way we can go is down this hallway," said Kyle pointing away from the door. A sign hung above them welcoming them.
"Fazbear's Fright?" said Jessica. "It's like he was trying to showcase it as an attraction!"
"Hey, you were the one who said he was insane!" said Kyle. "Come on, let's go."
John quickly reset the ventilation and began skimming through the cameras. Sure enough, Kyle and Jessica were standing near the entrance. He moved to the next camera, which appeared to be a small room that contained boxes stacked everywhere. It looked like another supply or storage closet of some kind.
Before he had the chance to thoroughly scan the room, Kyle and Jessica entered the room onscreen. They stopped and began looking around, their mouths moving. He wondered what they were saying, but his question was answered when Kyle put a finger to his lips and pointed ahead of them. John switched over to the next camera, or what he hoped was the next camera. The diagram in the corner of the screen was a partial diagram, by the looks of it. It was hard to tell which camera went to which room, exactly. Fortunately, he was proven correct when, in the next room containing three doors, the giant animatronic nightmare was lumbering around slowly.
It's odd, John thought. For an animatronic, it moves much more fluidly than any of the others. It almost looks like a person.
His heart sank when, as if aware of the intrusive thoughts, the creature stopped and looked up at the camera. John shivered. As Jessica mentioned, it had the appearance of a wolf-like creature. His mind flashed back to those moments when he, Jessica, Charlie, and Clay were running through dark hallways in an attempt to escape from Afton's demonic-looking animatronics that he was so proud of. This definitely seemed to fit that description. It was no doubt another one of his creations simply because it had that off-look about it. Not to mention its face seemed to grow more terrifying by the second.
It stared at the camera, eyes locked with John's. He wondered whether or not the creature knew he was there as its lifeless eyes gazed into John's soul. After what felt like several minutes, it tilted its head slightly, as though curious. John's fingers drummed the desk anxiously, waiting for its next move.
Suddenly, its head snapped away from the camera. Judging by the direction and the diagram, he guessed it was looking at the direction of Kyle and Jessica. His stomach sank when it began moving menacingly slow over to the door. Thinking quick, John pulled up another nearby camera and activated the audio.
"Hello?" The boy's voice echoed through the speaker. Before John could switch back to the previous camera, light flooded the new room as the door disappeared within a fraction of a second and the tall creature burst in, glancing around aggressively for the source of the noise. After a few moments, it stopped and turned back the way it came. John switched back to the previous camera and saw the figure standing in front of the three doors. It had gone through the one on the left, from the looks of it. John quickly switched to the room leading from the middle door. It was a slightly larger room with arcade games. He activated the noise, and the beast appeared seconds later. After taking another look around, it wandered through another door offscreen.
Exactly how aggressive is this thing? he wondered. Remembering Kyle and Jessica, he switched back to the monitor of the room they were in. They had moved forward closer to the door leading to the room with three doors. Kyle turned to the camera and gave a thumbs-up as they passed through.
So far, so good. John switched back to the room with three doors. He saw Jessica throw up her arms and say something that he couldn't hear. Kyle silenced her by holding up his hand and began scanning the doors, obviously trying to pick which one to take. John quickly scanned the nearby cameras. The rooms nearby all appeared to be empty. Where did it go?
"John?"
John froze. A very familiar voice came from the door. He turned his head slowly. Standing in the doorway, hand on the frame, was Charlie...or so he thought.
"Charlie?"
She smiled and nodded. He opened his mouth, but closed it and frowned.
"You're not real," he said, turning back to the screen.
"Of course I'm real, John!" she said, flustered. "I told you before. I'm real, John!"
He sighed and looked back at her, examining her details. If he was seeing correctly, it definitely looked like her and not Elizabeth. Her face, her mouth, her nose, her brown eyes, her hair. She was even wearing the exact same clothing she was last time he saw her in the cemetery, assuming that was indeed her. As he silently studied her, her smile dropped.
"You don't believe me?" she asked in that voice she always used when she was concerned or frustrated. John's mouth quivered.
"I...I'm not sure. I...don't really know what to believe anymore."
"Because I'm supposed to be dead? Because I was never actually real?"
"Well…" John pondered his answer for a moment. Once again, thoughts flooded back to him about the past month. Those feelings of helplessness, of anger, of betrayal. He remembered watching his Charlie's robotic remains burn away as though, like drinking endless shots of whiskey, it would help kill the pain. Instead, it only brought more tears to his eyes as he stood staring at the lifeless mechanical body that had once been his best friend and childhood crush. He remembered driving away ready to face the world, a world that seemed to hate him, and he hated it in return. Life wasn't fair. Everyone had lost something, and his loss was dear to him, and it was all because of the sadistic will of one man beginning some fifteen years ago.
"John?" Charlie was still staring at him, her concern even more evident.
John shook his head. "I just don't know, Charlie. I have no idea how you've even been alive but dead all of these years, so sophisticatedly alive but fake and no one knew, how you could possibly still be alive now after everything."
"Maybe if you hadn't burned my corpse, I could have still been alive," she said bitterly.
That struck a nerve. He glanced down at the floor miserably. How much more impactful it was given that he just had that thought. It was as if she was reading his mind. Unless...he thought. Unless she is a part of my mind.
When he looked up, Charlie was gone. He shook his head violently and turned back to the screen. Focus, John, he thought assertively. Don't let this place get in your head.
As he began searching the rooms ahead of Kyle and Jessica, a noise from outside caught his attention. He turned to the door, frozen, as a shuffling sound echoed from the other side of the wall. After a few seconds, a dark figure shuffled its way into view outside the small window just above the monitors. It was too dark to see what it was, but as it shuffled its way closer to the window, John could make out a large jaw and teeth with the shape of a bowtie underneath and even a small hat on its head.
"F-Freddy?" he mumbled.
As soon as its name slipped from his lips, the figured disappeared below the window pane. John moved to push himself up but was interrupted by the ghostly black face and glowing eyes of Freddy Fazbear as it suddenly leaped into his face screaming a horrible noise that cannoned against his eardrums.
He stood in a concrete room, the same one where he and Charlie had discovered one of Afton's twisted animatronics. Behind him, Jessica and Clay were waiting for them. Ahead of him, Charlie stood staring at a wall which she had just discovered was a door. His heart began to sink as he questioned what she was thinking. He moved forward and grabbed her, turning her to face him.
"Charlie! Look at me. I'm not leaving you here."
"I have to stay," was all she said.
His heart sank further. He might have cried had he not felt so desperate.
"No, you have to come with us! You have to come with me."
"No, I…" Charlie protested, her eyes starting to wander back to the door.
And then, with no forethought, he felt it slip from his lips.
"I love you."
She turned her gaze back to him and locked eye contact. He could've gone on, but instead, adrenaline still pumping, he told her she was coming with him, and she agreed. They turned to climb out of the room, his heart beating faster every minute. He was going to get her out. He would see to it no matter what, and it nearly paralyzed him with fear when he felt her hand slip from his and he heard her scream as the twisted animatronic tailing them finally caught up to her.*
"Warning. Ventilation offline."
John rolled his head forward. Somehow he had stayed in the desk chair, though he had slid himself across the room. His neck ached severely from being painfully laid over the back of the chair. He moved back over to the desk and quickly reset the ventilation once more.
When he looked at the screen, he noticed it was all static. In the corner a new error message: "Video error." He hit the video reset button, but nothing happened. He glanced back and forth between the two monitors, but no change occurred.
"What?!" he said in a panic, hitting the reset button again. This time, another error message appeared on the screen.
ERROR: RESET FUNCTIONS NOT RESPONDING. CHECK CONNECTION AND TRY AGAIN.
John shook his head in bewilderment. Well, this is just great! What am I gonna do now? He checked beneath the desk. No loose wires. No wires at all, for that matter. Confused, he rechecked the monitors for any signs of troubleshooting options. In the corner of the video monitor was what looked like the icon of a folder.
"Maybe…" he said, tapping it. It opened into an assortment of options. He quickly began scrolling down the list. Audio files, video files, troubleshooting. John skimmed the troubleshooting options. Frequency, temperature, connections. He clicked the connection option and attempted to reboot the system. After about fifteen seconds of loading, a message appeared on-screen in bright red letters:
"UNABLE TO RE-CONNECT AT THIS TIME. SOURCE NOT FOUND. TRY REBOOTING SYSTEM. IF PROBLEM PERSISTS, CHECK INDIVIDUAL CONNECTIONS MANUALLY."
John let out a groan of frustration. Kyle and Jessica, wherever they were at this point, were depending on him to keep their pursuer away from them and he was already letting them down due to technical difficulties.
He looked up at the camera in the corner. It was an average camera, looking no different than a standard security camera. He examined it closer. There was a wire running from the base and into the wall. Could one of those have been loose?
That wouldn't explain the multi-system failure, he reminded himself miserably. Nothing's working, not just the cameras.
He was about to turn away when he noticed something odd. There was a flashing red light next to the camera's lens. With how much of a fuss his mother always made about capturing every important moment of his life onto video, one thought came to his mind.
Am I being recorded?
He turned back to the monitor with the options and selected the video files. There was a list of featured files that appeared onscreen, the top of which had today's date with the word LIVE written next to it. He tapped the screen and a view of the office filled the screen with him sitting in the chair exactly as he was. He turned to the camera. The light continued to flash. He raised a hand and turned back to the screen. His hand was raised on-screen now as well.
"What's the meaning of this?" he asked himself. How long has this been recording?
He noticed a progress bar on the bottom of the screen. He skimmed it back to the beginning. The screen went black with the message MOVEMENT DETECTED in light red letters. Suddenly, the screen lit up. The office was empty. The screens were exactly where they had been before: nestled into their compartments. The sound of movement echoed from outside. He saw a shadow through the window out in the hallway. A loud crash came from the room, causing him to jump. Unlike the live views from the other cameras, this one had sound. An arm came through the window and unlocked the door on the inside. The door opened and in came none other than himself and Kyle.
"Wow, it's damp in here," said Kyle on the video.
John hit the pause button and looked back up at the security camera. Why does this one record? He racked his brain. It didn't make sense. It was a psychotic building meant to mentally torment his victims into losing their minds. Why would Afton care about recording himself?
Experimenting, he thought. Afton had been working on something. Jessica and Carlton said he'd been working on something. Jessica had tried her best to explain how he had been trying to transfer himself into an animatronic as if that could somehow make him more powerful and live forever, or something like that. But why kids? Wanting to avoid death is one thing, but the kidnappings and killings? What was he trying to accomplish? Why was he so miserable? What made him want to go after kids to do this? Unless… His eyes widened. What if this was part of his experiment? To study the reactions and behavior of children for future use? He shook his head in disbelief. He wanted to know how children would react to him. This is how he lured them all away, including Michael.
He skimmed the list of videos quickly. They were all labeled by their date and time, all recorded upon presumably upon sensing movement in the office. Most were from years ago, as expected, though he noticed the second most-recent, listed directly beneath the video from today, was dated only a few months ago. His heart jolted in his chest.
Was someone else here?
After a few moments of pondering, he started the video.
"Through here," said Kyle.
They entered the next room right off the front hallway, which contained stacks of boxes, some of which looked like they had been searched through recently.
"Well, looks like Sam was definitely here," said Kyle. "This place is a real mess! And I thought our apartment was bad!"
"What could he have even been looking for?" asked Jessica, walking over and peeking into one of the boxes. "This is mostly just scraps."
"Beats me. I have a hard time understanding his train of thought on normal days sometimes."
"He had to have been looking for something, though," Jessica argued. "This can't be the work of-"
"Shh!" said Kyle suddenly, putting a finger to his lips. "Do you hear that?" He pointed at the door ahead of them. Jessica listened closely.
"No, I don't-" But then it became clear. The faint sound of thudding in the distance, the sound of something heavy coming toward them. She looked at him, eyes full of panic.
"Come on," he said, leading her over to the door to listen.
They slowly approached the door to the next room, keeping their breathing under control as best they could as though that would give them away, which it just might. Kyle put his ear to the door while Jessica watched him.
"What do you hear?"
Kyle said nothing.
"What is it?"
"Shh!" said Kyle in a hushed voice, taking note of the annoyed look on her face. "Sorry, but I think I can hear a thudding noise."
She opened her mouth to say something but was cut off by the sudden sound of a bang. They both jumped. Jessica let out a small shriek. Kyle put his hand over her mouth.
"Quiet! It might hear us!"
She said something unintelligible and muffled. Another heavy thud echoed from behind the door. This one sounded closer...much closer. Jessica's breathing became intense as she began to hyperventilate. Despite his own fear, Kyle couldn't help but groan.
How is that I'm scared enough of these things when they're not hunting me and yet I'm the one keeping myself together here?
He glanced around the room nervously, desperate for anything that could be used as a weapon. Unfortunately, boxes of old papers didn't sound promising.
Unless I wanted to bore it to death with schematics, thought Kyle as he glanced up at the security camera in the corner of the room, noticeable only by the reflecting light on the lens. Come on, John. Don't let us down, here.
As if in direct answer, he heard the faint voice of the kid echo from a few rooms over.
"Hello?"
With no time to fully register the saving grace, they heard loud thudding footsteps immediately pounding away over in that direction. Kyle let out a sigh of relief and looked at Jessica, whose face was contorted slightly in agony. He realized his hand was still over her mouth and he had been increasing his pressure.
"Sorry!" he cried, removing it. "Didn't mean to suffocate you. Kind of panicked, too, you know?"
"It's not that," she said, annoyed. "Your hand smells like dirty feet, and I should know!"
"Well, sorry for doing some crawling around on the ground. Can't imagine you'd smell any better."
There was a loud crack from a few rooms over. They both jumped again.
"What is it doing in there?" Jessica cried.
"Beats me," said Kyle. "Not literally, though," he added in a small attempt to lighten the tension. Jessica said nothing.
After a few more seconds, the footsteps returned to the room ahead of them. Both held their breath as they waited for the next signal from John, which came moments later. Jessica let out a sigh of relief and Kyle turned to the camera and gave a thumbs-up.
"Come on," said Kyle. "Let's go."
He stood up and offered a hand, which she took. As she got to her feet, her arm brushed against his side and she felt something against his hip.
"What is that?" she asked.
"What?"
She pointed to his hip.
"Flare gun," he said.
"Where did you get a flare gun?" she asked.
"The plane. My dad told me that if you ever land in the middle of nowhere, always take it with you in case you need to signal your position. It's kind of old, but it looks to be in good shape and it's got two flares in it."
She said nothing, not knowing what to say, but nodded.
They slowly opened the door and entered the next room warily. There were three doors, each branching in a different direction. They heard the thumping of the creature in the distance.
"Which way did it go?" Kyle asked.
"No idea," said Jessica, "though I'm guessing it wasn't the door on the right."
She was right. The other two doors were wide open and slightly bent, indicating that they had been forced open by something. The door on the right was still shut and in place.
"How do you feel about splitting up?" said Kyle.
"Against it," said Jessica immediately.
"Same. I wish we had some kind of light source. These lights aren't doing much!"
"I know. I didn't see Charlie's flashlight in her car. Sam must've taken it."
"Which way do you reckon?"
"Well, since it obviously hasn't gone right, yet…"
"Yeah. I agree. Hopefully, Sam's not down one of those other two corridors."
They approached the door on the right. They noticed the doorknob was rusty. Jessica used her sleeve to turn it.
"Is it that dirty?" Kyle asked with a raised eyebrow.
"I don't want to know," she told him.
"Hello?" a voice broke the tension. They turned their heads and saw no one. They flinched once more as the alarm suddenly began blaring even louder than before.
"Warning. Ventilation offline."
"What happened?" Jessica shouted over the voice, hands covering her ears.
"No idea!" Kyle shouted back. "Did that voice sound familiar?"
"What?" she cried back.
"Did that voice sound different?"
"I can't-!"
Suddenly the alarm stopped.
"About time, John," she said.
"But that voice! It didn't sound like a robotic or a child's voice. It sounded like-"
"Sammy!" said Jessica, eyes wide with realization.
"Kyle? Jessica?" the voice came again through the dim light. "Is that you?"
"Where are you, dude?" Kyle asked.
"In here!" came Sam's voice. "I'm hiding from that thing!"
"This way!" Kyle led Jessica through the middle door into a room with arcade games.
"In here," came his voice again from the next room. Kyle made to follow but Jessica grabbed his arm.
"Wait."
He looked at her like she'd gone insane. "What?"
"How do we know it's really him?"
"He just-"
"This place messes with your head. I came here in the first place because I thought I saw Charlie. How do we know it's really him?"
"How do we know it's not? We're here to find him. What if it is him but we don't go help him? It seems kind of counterproductive, don't you think?"
"He's smart. If it was him, wouldn't he have come out of hiding by now? Sounds like that thing left the area. Why would he still be hiding from us?"
Kyle said nothing. That was actually a good point. When they played hide-and-seek as kids, they would try and coerce each other into coming out prematurely. When they got older, it became laser tag, which Sam excelled at much more than he did. Sam always moved from cover to cover seamlessly while Kyle seemed to get shot either way. But this was different. This wasn't a friendly game of hide-and-seek or laser tag. This was a game of get-out-or-die. He knew that Sam wouldn't want to risk staying in any area too long with danger around. He was always the brave one taking the chance and knowing just the right moments to hide and move. It was one of the ways Kyle had always looked up to him.
"Kyle, look!" Jessica pointed.
On the floor, near the doorway, was a large cylindrical object. Kyle reached down and picked it up.
"That's Charlie's flashlight!" exclaimed Jessica. "Sam must've dropped it."
"So he did come through this way," said Kyle. "That means-"
"I hear you."
They froze. Jessica cupped a hand to her mouth. Kyle glanced at her nervously.
"Is that-?"
"There you are!"
Jessica screamed. Kyle turned to find himself staring at a large shadow in the doorway.
"RUN!" she cried, pulling at his hand to signal him out. Kyle turned to follow but lost his balance and fell to the floor with a thud. Before he could move, he felt weight suddenly press itself down on his back.
"You can't run from me!"
"NO!" Kyle cried desperately as he tried squirming away. It was too strong. "DON'T TOUCH ME!"
Flailing around wildly, his hand found the flashlight and tossed it behind him in a blind panic at the creature. He heard a clunk and the weight let up as he heard the sound of mechanisms whirring. Taking his chance, Kyle forced the mechanical hand off of his back and got to his feet running back to the room with three doors. Jessica was nowhere to be seen.
"Jessica?" he called out. "Where are you?"
He heard the familiar heavy thudding behind him. It was running. Without a second thought, he took off for the room on his right. He was immediately greeted by a psychotic clown face hanging down from the ceiling in front of the door. Kyle quickly brushed past it and toward the door. The room was crowded with more parts, some of which were partially assembled into torsos and limbs. He didn't have time to investigate. He kept running forward past all of the hanging arms that felt like they were grabbing him as he ran by.
"Get off of me!" he cried, tears beginning to fall from his eyes as he pushed a large arm away from his chest. "Get away!"
He finally reached the door only to discover to his sheer horror that it was blocked by a shelf that had fallen over. He tried squeezing past it, but the space was too small.
He heard a heavy thud behind him. He slowly turned to see the large animatronic endoskeleton towering over him, staring at him blankly with large, bright eyes.
"I found you!"
Sam crawled through the vent the best he could despite his limited movement. Now that he was on his hands and knees, his arm was really starting to hurt. The pain was becoming more intense with each movement. He'd been so focused on trying to find Charlie in this house of terror that he had completely forgotten about the injury he'd sustained from crashing Charlie's car earlier.
It feels like so long ago now, he thought as he began nearing the light at the other end of the vent. As the pain continued, he stopped for a moment, clutching his arm. He glanced back nervously. The monstrous creature wasn't there anymore. But what was that other voice? Who was it talking to me in my head? He shook his head. Maybe it's the building. Maybe these jumpscares are getting to me.
Out of nowhere, there was another dark laugh, the same one from before. Sam glanced back and forth, terror rising within him now.
I'm sorry, Charlie, he thought as he began crawling forward again. I really am, but I need to get outta here. I can't stay here anymore. I'm so sorry I've failed you. He felt tears coming from his eyes as he continued forward.
He emerged in what looked like another hallway. To the right was a door that was chained with a large padlock. To the left, the hallway curved out of sight. Sam struggled to his knees as best as he could. His arm protested again with sharper pain.
"Why am I here?" he said.
To find Charlie. Isn't it obvious? came that dark voice again. Sam shook his head fearfully and staggered to his feet. He approached the corner and turned back, dreading to see something there. But there was nothing. With his good arm, he smacked himself in his forehead a few times.
What is wrong with me?! He turned and rounded the corner only to find, to his great disappointment, that this hallway ended as well. He found himself staring at another door locked with a chain and padlock. What, was this an employee-only area or something?
From a distance, he heard banging echoing down a hallway and breathed a sigh of relief. At least that thing's away from me, now, and it's not like anyone else is in here.
His heart, still beating rapidly from his adrenaline rush, wouldn't slow down. His vision had begun to fade slightly. His entire body was now crying out.
"I can't stop," he told himself. "I have to get out of here. But how?"
Feeling more fatigued by the minute, he leaned back and rested himself against the wall, still breathing heavily. His vision was beginning to tunnel more intensely.
Is this it? Is this how I die? In some old building in the middle of nowhere? If only I had some more air.
Air. He glanced up at the ceiling. There was a vent directly above him with a metal grate in the center.
That's it! That's my way outta here! Sam thought excitedly.
He moved to push himself forward, part of the wall behind his left hand sunk inward and he found himself falling backward, landing hard on the ground. Before he could fully register what had happened, the opening slid closed behind him and the light from the hallway to gather himself and grunting in pain, he slowly got to his feet. In the dim light, he could vaguely make out a mechanism on the wall he had accidentally come through. There was a pulley system, gears, and a handle. He tried to pull the handle, but it wouldn't budge. It looked and felt too rusty to move.
Great. Now I'm stuck in the weird room the secret door in the wall led me into. With a groan, he turned to the rest of the room.
The room was dark. He could see the silhouettes of objects placed here and there, but he couldn't make out anything. What he could feel, however, was the strong pulsing sensation in his brain that he had been feeling since he'd arrived, only now it was significantly intensified. His brain began to ache badly. He put a hand to his head as he fought the urge to vomit. His stomach felt close to the point of no return. Using as much energy as he could muster, he continued forward.
As he took a few steps closer, there was a loud crack followed by a whirring sound. Bright lights of several colors flickered on all around the room and illuminated his surroundings.
It was a dining room. Booths and tables were scattered around the room and along the walls. The floor was made of fresh, sturdy wood. Near the end of the room was a slightly-elevated stage. On it was two dancing animatronic figures, a golden bear and a golden rabbit. He recognized a familiar carnival tune. His mind went numb as he slowly made his way to the stage, legs getting weaker with every step.
As he approached the stage, the two animatronics looked down at him but did not stop their performance. If anything, they appeared to love the new company. In the midst of his other rising emotions, he couldn't help but smile. It was home, the place he had come to call his second home those short first few years of his life. As he studied the dancing animatronics, he realized that they weren't moving mechanically. They were dancing like people. He studied the bear and, for the faintest moment, he could've sworn he saw his father's eyes behind the mask head.
"D-Daddy?"
The bear stopped dancing and looked at him. It was hard to tell, but he could feel a smile from behind the mask.
"Son."
His heart sank in his chest when he turned to the rabbit and saw that it had stopped moving, though the feel from it wasn't anywhere near as pleasant. He glanced nervously at the eyes, and to his horror, they were bloodshot and angry, staring him down, completely dead and void of life or happiness. It reached up at hand toward him.
He stared at him for a long moment. He reached for him until his sister screamed in protest. Before he knew it, they were both gone.
"NO!" Sam cried, burying his face in his hands and nearly falling backward. His breathing was rampant. He tried to remember where he was, what he was doing, but all he could see in his mind was the closet.
It's a memory, Sam, he thought desperately. Just a memory. Nothing more.
Finally regaining his composure, he glanced back up at the stage nervously. To his relief, the rabbit was now gone, but so was the bear as well. He could still see the booths and tables in his peripheral vision, but the animatronics and carnival music were now gone and the lights were dimmed. It was like they were closed for the evening.
Look familiar?
His eyes widened. It was back, that voice that had been haunting him.
Don't tell me you don't recognize this place. It's your favorite place in the whole wide world! Or...at least it was. Seems this place still believes it to be your favorite memory. Do I detect a hint of nostalgia?
"Leave me alone," he managed to say.
Another laugh. Leave you alone where? I couldn't leave you even if I wanted to.
"I don't care. Just leave me alone."
Is that any way to talk to your subconscious?
"My subconscious isn't you."
But I can influence it, the same way I have been from the beginning.
Sam said nothing. The voice was stronger now as if it had gained power. His breathing quickened as he realized he was now having a full conversation with something he couldn't see. He remembered Eric once telling him during a video game battle that the best way to turn the tables on the opponent is to even the odds, no matter what it takes.
Granted, it said, reading his thoughts. Turn around.
His eyes widened in fear. He slowly turned, fear pulsing through his veins.
Standing in the center of the room about six feet in front of him, tall and bulky, was the black figure he'd been seeing. He cringed. He had only glimpsed it in the visions he'd been having, but seeing it in the flesh, or whatever it was, was downright terrifying. Its previously-silhouetted figure was now revealed to have dark, matted fur like a wild wolf's. Speaking of the wolf, its long snout looked even more menacing in the low light. Its pointed crooked teeth protruded from its mouth like daggers. Despite its wolf-like face, its feet and hands contained long claws. Its eyes, brighter than ever before, stared back at him without blinking.
"What are you?" he asked.
I told you. I'm part of you, the part that always gets what it wants, it said without moving its mouth, which curled up into a smile.
"I still don't understand."
You still don't understand what?
"What you are?"
I am whatever you want me to be, or don't. I can go either way.
"And what do you want?"
I want you, and I will take you.
"Like hell you will," Sam said, taking a step back. "I'm not going anywhere with you."
You don't listen well, do you? I'm part of you, young fool. You can't escape from me no matter where you run.
"If you're part of me, why are you against me?"
Because being part of you is how I take control. When I'm in your mind, I can do anything. I can appear as anything, show up whenever I want, even feed my emotions and desires into you.
"So what, you possess me?" Sam asked, absolutely bewildered.
It smiled, or so it appeared to. With its beastly mouth, it was hard to tell.
Why would I have to? I may be there at every moment, but I'm still part of you, which means you can't escape from me.
Sam took a step back.
"Is this what you've always looked like?"
Oh no. I can take whatever shape I want. Whatever I feel you need to see at the moment.
"Why a wolf?"
Because that's what your imagination thinks it should be seeing after hearing the stories. I can take whatever shape I want to. For instance… With a blur, it dissolved into a black mass. After a few seconds, it reappeared as a bear, a familiar bear. But this was different than the bear he knew. It was burned black with a yellow bowtie and hat, piercing white eyes with red irises, and an even more deranged mouth. Sam shook his head.
"You're not Fredbear."
You're right, it chuckled. Fredbear would be too pleasant a sight for you right now.
"Who are you?" asked Sam. "If you're a part of everyone, what do people call you, then?"
I go by many names. It depends entirely on what the person wants to call me. What do I look like to you?
"A nightmare," said Sam.
Then, so be it. To you, I am Nightmare.
"I still don't get it," said Sam. "If you're part of me, why now? Why here?"
Why not now? Why not here?
Sam took another step back, growing more unnerved by Nightmare's appearance and answers by the second. His helplessness was reaching its peak. "Just...leave me alone."
Why would I do that when I'm so close to having you?
"What do you mean?"
Nightmare smiled again. Do you remember last night?
John's breathing slowed to a crawl as the video began.
On the screen was the office, almost exactly as it appeared now. Obviously, this wasn't too long ago. After a few seconds, the door opened, and a pair of people entered. One was a very frail-looking man in a wheelchair. Recognizing the face, one name came to John's mind. William Afton.
Jessica and Carlton were right: Afton couldn't have looked worse. Wheelchair-bound, bags under his one remaining eye, face more sulky than ever, more scars than ever before, and even a small piece of metal protruding from his head. Well done, Charlie, he thought with pride, remembering how she activated the spring locks in his suit that had supposedly killed him. Speaking of Charlie, pushing the wheelchair behind Afton was none other than the beautiful version of her that John recognized immediately as the doppelganger, that sweet-talking imposter who nearly lulled everyone, including him, into her trap. He felt his face flush in anger just seeing her again on the screen.
"What are we doing here, again?" not-Charlie asked as she pushed the fragile man up to the desk. Even with the grainy audio, it was obvious that she wasn't thrilled to be here.
"I told you, I need some parts for the restaurant," said Afton. "I know I kept some extras here."
"Isn't there anywhere else we could go instead?" not-Charlie protested. "I don't want to run the risk of anyone following us out here."
"Who would find and follow us all the way out here?" Afton replied. "That is exactly why I had this place built here, complete with solar-powered energy and discreet from all public radio broadcasts. It was never built to be found by any random prying eyes, only those I brought here. I assure you, Elizabeth, no one else has ever been here before. No one else has ever set foot in here even after all these years. Even time itself seems to have forgotten it, judging by the unsightly mildew." He frowned and turned to Charlie's imposter. "In fact, why are you still in disguise?"
It was hard to tell from the camera, but John was certain he saw not-Charlie's mouth curl and eyebrows lower in hesitation. After a few seconds, the video signal was interrupted very briefly. When it cleared, standing in her place was the robot he and his Charlie had encountered that day at her Aunt Jen's. She looked generally the same as when he had seen her in person, shiny body and glistening face, only not as dirty. Must be before she started terrorizing everyone, John thought.
"I still don't see why we need to be here," she said, still sounding very reluctant as she watched Afton turn back to the desk and start checking the panels. "Anything we need, we can get from your old pizzeria."
"No, we can't," said Afton. "It's gone, burned and destroyed during my last little adventure with your counterpart and her friends," he added in a mocking tone, his fists clenching. "But no matter. Fortunately, I kept spare parts of everything here. Now stop worrying and help me, Elizabeth. This won't take long."
She slowly approached the desk, her movements a bit rough and robotic. Perhaps she was still adjusting to the different feelings of her body. As she approached, a figure appeared in the corner. Despite the grainy video quality, it appeared to be a small, black robotic child wearing a small hat and grinning widely.
"Hi!" it said.
The voice was familiar, and so was the appearance. John was certain he'd seen these before.
They look like those robot kids in Afton's pizzeria under Charlie's house, he thought.
Suddenly, on the screen, the figure opened its mouth and let out an ear-piercingly loud screech. With a flash of light, it was gone.
"What exactly are those?" Elizabeth asked, twitching slightly as she recovered from the noise.
"Memory and fear stimulants," said Afton. "They were meant to help accomplish my goal of scaring the children into seeing me as their savior from the fresh hell they go through in this place. Each time one is activated, they induce the victim with a trip back down memory lane, a rather unpleasant trip, for that matter. I even managed to add a stimulus that messes with their mind and helps enhance their mental nightmare with other fear factors, so it's like they're reliving their worst or most painful memories with other elements sometimes added in, like whatever they're afraid of most." He turned to Elizabeth, a large, proud smile on his face of his work, which faltered slightly. "Unfortunately, there was one gag. I was never able to maintain such power and effects within a normal electrical output. Every time it happens, it screws up the ventilation system, which must be manually reset. But no matter." He turned back to his desk. "The past is the past, and so is this place. It's a pity. All that time and energy and I only ever used it on one test subject, and I'm sure you know whom I'm referring to."
"Yes," said Elizabeth. "It's why I'm here, isn't it?"
"Good girl," said Afton. "I considered using this place again, but I can't. I don't want to risk another...incident. Now, head out into the rooms and collect those parts I told you about. I want to make sure our new mangled friend doesn't have any more unfriendly mishaps before we open. I also want to make sure your new parts are operational so the abductions will go off smoothly."
"Head out? You mean...out there?" said Elizabeth, clearly shocked. "What about-?"
"Relax, Elizabeth," said Afton, growing impatient. "It's only programmed to go after people. As long as you don't activate your disguise, you have nothing to worry about. Besides, as menacing as it looks, it was never designed to actually harm, only frighten, though with how long it's been since the last time it's been used, I am not entirely certain that safeguard is still operational. Just go!"
She gave him a look of uncertainty before turning and walking out the office door.
Afton sighed. "Just like your mother, you are, Elizabeth," he muttered. "It's a miracle she lasted as long as she did before she left." He put a hand up to his forehead, rubbing it. He looked up at the ceiling, an unusual glint of sadness in his eyes obvious even from the video's poor quality. "Oh Laura, if only you were here, hon."
John stopped the video there, blinking as his hands lifted nervously off of the table. Despite Afton and Elizabeth being gone, it made him feel uneasy that just recently they had both been in this room discussing their next kidnapping plot. He looked down at the desk, which surely had once been Afton's mastermind control center, with everything he ever needed literally at his fingertips on two separate monitors. He found himself lifting his hands away from the desk, as though some of Afton's essence were still attached to it. He felt sick in a way he hadn't since that fateful day in Aunt Jen's house when he found Charlie and her counterpart's bodies connected together via the same knife that killed her father.
His eyes drifted toward another other recorded video on file that had caught his attention. It was the oldest video at the bottom of the list. It was dated October 31, 1982.
I was there, you know, Nightmare said with a grin.
"You were where?" asked Sam nervously.
I was with you last night. Nightmare laughed, a horrible demonic sound. Don't you remember?
Sam thought back. As he skimmed through the events of the previous day, he did recall seeing it at some point. That ugly face had become so familiar to him now, and he certainly remembered seeing it sometime last night. But where? Was it at the remains of Henry's house with Jessica? Was it at the cemetery at Charlie and Henry's graves? Was it at Fredbear's in the closet?
Fredbear's. He remembered. It was standing behind Afton, grinning widely as the rabbit-suited Afton ripped his sister from him. It was there when poor Sam ran after them trying to catch them, but it was following him. It charged at him in that restaurant. But did it? No, it didn't. At least not really. It was all gone when I opened my eyes.
"You were in my dream," he said quietly.
Nightmare's mouth curled into a smirk. Only your dream?
Sam held its gaze, trying his best to stomach its appearance, which seemed to only continue to grow more and more repulsive by the minute.
"W-what do you mean?" he stammered.
Nightmare laughed a delirious, psychotic noise, all without actually moving its mouth or head. Next thing he knew, Sam was standing back in Clay's living room with Kyle, his mother, and all the others.
"Was Charlie really that special?" he said furiously. They had been talking about Henry's neglect of him and his mother.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Kyle's. "Sam…"
He brushed it off angrily, glaring at him with more venom than he ever had before.
"Don't start, Kyle. You don't understand. You never did!"
"You're not thinking clearly. You're...changing," said Kyle.
"I'm fine. Just-"
"Sam," said Kyle, his voice growing noticeably more concerned, "You're being too emotional. I don't…"
"I'm fine!"
"You don't sound fine."
He turned away, fury burning within him like an inferno.
"Sam, look at me!"
He felt himself be pulled toward his best friend. He felt his own fist strike flesh. He heard his mother's voice. He saw Kyle back away, his hands raised as though surrendering. As he did, Sam could swear he detected a glint of sadness and betrayal in his eyes.
He shook his head. He remembered the conversation from the previous night, but he couldn't do anything about it. What does this have to do with anything?
There was another demonic-sounding laugh, and suddenly he found himself standing a few feet away from the scene, watching his own self saying it again from third-person.
"Don't start, Kyle. You don't understand. You never did!"
Sam was taken aback at how vicious and almost psychotic he looked. His eyes were dark and grim. If he didn't know himself any better, he could've sworn he was about to murder something.
And then something else hit him. He remembered seeing in one of his earlier jumpscare flashbacks a very similar look. It was in his own father's eyes right after he had smacked his son for getting too close to his new creation.
Like father, like son. Don't you think? the voice teased with a dark chuckle.
"No, that's not what-"
It doesn't matter what you think your intentions were, the voice said. All that matters is you're becoming your father. You're following in his footsteps, just as I planned. The same way I got your father to waste his life crying over his daughter and neglecting his family, I now got you to leave all of your friends behind to come on this foolish mission. And this where you will die.
"No," Sam said, grabbing his forehead which had begun to throb painfully, his breathing becoming more intense. "No, that's not true. That's-"
There was a small flash.
He found himself standing back in the doorway of Henry's shed, his young toddler arm reaching toward the small unfinished creature with a doll's head on it. It was an interesting doll, not like the animals from the restaurant. This looked like a girl. In fact, it almost looked a lot like-
Before he could touch it, his father's hand smacked him hard across the face. He fell to the ground with a cry, tears forming in his eyes. What had happened? Was Daddy upset about something?
He turned up to his father's furious face, that same vicious, almost unfamiliar face that terrified him. And standing behind this man who'd once been a loving father was none other than it, its white piercing eyes, matted fur, and dark smile clear as day. It had one had firmly clamped on Henry's shoulder.
"What are you?" Sam asked.
I told you. I'm part of you. I'm part of everyone...in various ways. And I've been following you your entire life. I was there last night.
Another flash and he once again saw himself from third-person.
"I'm fine!" His own voice sounded like thunder. He watched himself strike Kyle in the face with his fist. Standing behind him, more menacing than ever, was its dark shape, its bony, furry, matted hand clamped onto his shoulder.
"No," was all he managed to say.
Face it. Like it or not, you're mine now, Nightmare said with another laugh.
Kyle stared at the creature in front of him, which only stared back at him without movement. Kyle wasn't sure if this was better or worse than the chasing. Just looking at it up close in low light was nauseating. It looked like an unfinished mess as though someone had given up halfway through. There were loose wires and bits of metal sticking out of the body here and there. The head looked loose like it might fall off. He would have wished that would happen if it meant that it would die and he wouldn't vomit at the sight.
He took a step back as the creature mimicked his move with a step forward. It tilted its head, gazing down at the young man before him.
"Come to me, little boy," it said in a creepy voice.
Does it recognize me as not being a kid? Kyle thought.
Its eyes flashed a glow of yellow and its mechanisms whirred. It took another step forward. Kyle moved back.
It looked so tall, so lifelike, so friendly.
Another step forward. Another step back.
Its ears were long and curved. Its eyes were bright. Its one-colorful cheeks were rusted and gray. Its smile was wide. Its buck teeth evenly protruded from its mouth. Its face was happy.
Another step forward, eyes glowing brighter. He took another step back. His foot bumped into the wall behind him.
It moved robotically as it sang to the crowd that wasn't there. There was never any crowd at the Ridge Mall. It was so old people were used to it. They walked by, minding their own business, not sparing a glance at the rusted animatronic rabbit that, rumor had it, would be put out of its misery within the month.
His hands touched the cold wall behind him. He was now trapped as the tangled mess of an animatronic continued moving toward him. His breath was running rampant. His mind began to go numb as the creature's appearance began to alter. He could've sworn he saw long ears and buck teeth. He was about to pass out.
He walked over to see the rabbit. He'd seen other children giggling as they watched it earlier. He didn't share their joy. Something about it unnerved him, the way it looked like an old toy but moved on its own like it was alive. As he stood staring at it towering over him, it glanced down at him. Immediately, it stopped moving and singing with a loud click. It held his gaze for a few moments, and he found himself frozen to the spot. His legs wanted to run, but they forgot how. A crack sounded, and the rabbit moved toward him seamlessly. He tried to call for help, but it was suddenly upon him, pinning him to the floor. His arms were stuck, as were his feet. He couldn't move. He called for his parents, for anybody. He heard a rush of footsteps and a scream. He turned his head and felt a piece of metal dig into his skin making him cry out in pain. He turned it back to see that the rabbit's head had split open, revealing a featureless robotic face and wide eyes staring back at him, making him scream. Suddenly, he felt the weight lift off of him and his mother was there, shushing him while his father's loud, angry voice erupted from feet away as he argued with a man in a suit. His father screamed about something called a lawsuit while the man in the suit apologized and said something about the leg supports rusting out. He buried his young, tear-soaked face into his mother's shoulder as the world around him faded away.
A loud bang and a bright flash made him flinch. The large monstrous endoskeleton in front of him twitched and disappeared from view. From elsewhere in the room, through a tangle of disembodied parts, came a bright, orange glow. Confused, Kyle glanced down.
His arm was outstretched ahead of him, and in his hand was the flare gun.
REFERENCES
*The Twisted Ones, p. 279-280.