Chapter Five
June sixteenth for most people would just be a normal day. For kids and teens, it was a day that fell within summer vacation. For adults, even with full-time jobs, it meant family vacations, lots of sunshine, and endless opportunities. For Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria it meant crowded and overbooked locations filled with screaming kids and buildings that smelled of body odor, old cooling systems, and pizza. But this particular June sixteenth was special in its own way. It was the tenth anniversary of one of the biggest unsolved crimes in the small town of Hurricane, Utah. By now, most if not all of the locations had become deserted long ago.
At the time of the disappearances, only three locations had been open and running. Two different restaurants, and then a rental studio that rented out animatronics for private parties. William Afton had created the latter as a sort of out-of-home business to bring in some extra cash. Not that the old geezer needed any more. He was rolling in money. Well, not anymore. Now he was rotting in a jail cell somewhere while his money laid waste in the bank.
In the beginning, the local bars became accustomed to seeing the same man come in multiple times a week, drowning his sorrows in booze. He had no story to tell, or at least none he was willing to share. Should anyone attempt small talk, he would silently leave money to cover his tab plus a generous tip on the bar and leave with his drink, all the while keeping his mouth tightly shut. As weeks turned into months and then turned into years, the visits became fewer and farther between with visits only happening on the anniversary. But eventually over the years, he began to open up. He realized that talking to people helped keep the monsters at bay. Sure, the alcohol helped, but community was even better.
The night was still young. Cheyenne, one of the bar tenders, kept an eye on the door, knowing that at some point tonight, said returnee would saunter in the door and drink himself into a tizzy before stumbling back out the door hopefully to a vehicle operated by a designated driver where he would survive until the next anniversary rolled around. Cheyenne hadn't been working at the bar long enough to know who the gentleman was personally or for that matter why he was so upset. But living inside of a small town meant being exposed to small-town gossip, and over the years, she had heard plenty. Including who the man was. Apparently he was the father of one of the missing kids from the pizzeria incident. Cheyenne had no children of her own, but she could only imagine what the poor fellow was going through.
Before he showed up though, the door swung open to show a handsome young man in his thirties. He kept to himself and sat down at the bar next to the seat Cheyenne was saving. In all her life, Cheyenne had never seen eyes so blue. Piercingly so, but also tantalizingly alluring. She most definitely knew she had never looked into those eyes before, meaning this guy was from out of town. He had no wedding band on his finger, but that didn't matter. She wasn't looking for a suitor.
"What can I get you, hun?" She leaned across the bar on her forearms.
The man avoided eye contact. "Bourbon on the rocks. Keep 'em coming."
"Whatever you want, babe." Turning, she scooped ice into a glass. "Welcome to Hurricane." She winked at him over her shoulder.
"Thanks." He pulled the drink closer to him and took a long sip. The alcohol burned all the way down, but the feeling was comforting. He downed the drink in another draught and pushed it back across the counter for a refill. Over the years, his alcohol tolerance had increased, slowly requiring more and more alcohol for him to get wasted. But no matter. Any price was worth it as long as it kept the visions and nightmares at bay.
As the bar tender—geez she was still flirting with him—poured him another drink, he tried thinking about what would have happened if he had been born to different parents. He didn't remember much about his mom. She had died of a drug overdose when he was only two, but his dad wasn't any better. The man hadn't wanted him. The two of them never got along.
"Hey, hun." He looked up to see another man had sat down to his left, and the bar tender's attention, thankfully, was now turned to the newcomer. "How's it going?" she continued.
"Hey, Cheyenne. As good as it can go, I guess." The guy was holding back tears. "Just the usual. Thanks."
Cheyenne reached across the bar, patted his hand, and smiled empathetically at him. As she slid a Budweiser over to him, he continued, "Today's the ten-year anniversary. Did you know that?" He offered an awkward chuckle as silent tears streamed down his cheeks before he took his first sip of the night.
Ten-year anniversary? What are the odds? Surprisingly, his attention was now tuned in to the conversation. He slowed down on the drinks. Although he wasn't even close to being tipsy, he wanted to make sure he had full clarity to be able to hear what was going on next to him.
The guy took another sip and sniffed hard. "He would have been nineteen in August." He pulled a worn photo from his wallet and held it out for Cheyenne to see. "Do you have any kids?"
The conversation stopped, and he could feel eyes on him. Crap, he's talking to me. He raised his eyes and looked over at the guy next to him, the picture still clutched in his fist like he was afraid it was going to blow away.
"No, I don't," he muttered. "What was his name?"
The man smiled sadly. "Felix." He held out the picture. "What's your name?"
"Dave," he found himself saying. He took a long drink without even thinking about it.
Please don't hurt him!
Dave shook his head. The alcohol was churning in his gut, but he needed more. The ghosts were still taunting him. Bile burned the back of his throat, and he jumped down from his bar stool and ran out the door, barely making it to the parking lot before all of his precious bourbon came back up and spewed out all over the pavement. A group of college kids standing outside enjoying each other's company laughed at him.
"Guess he can't hold his alcohol," one of them joked to his friends.
After wiping his mouth and catching his breath, Dave wiped his hands on his pants, straightened, and returned to his stool. A lot of people were staring when he came back in. He made it back over to his seat and tossed a fifty on the bar. "Keep the change."
"Are you alright, Dave?" Felix's dad looked genuinely concerned. "Do you want me to call you a cab?"
"I'm fine," he mumbled thickly.
Cheyenne picked up the money and pocketed it. Quickly she glanced up into Dave's eyes and saw a darkness in them that wasn't there before. They were menacing. "Please let us call a ride for you, Sir. You don't look well…"
"I said I'm fine!" he snapped. His eyes flashed.
He still felt as sober as he had when he walked in the door. Frustrated, he stormed out of the door and ran into a girl who was on the way in. Her blonde hair and blue eyes reminded him of…He shook his head. No! The whole reason for drinking was so that he wouldn't remember that night. Wouldn't remember the kids…how they begged for their lives. And that stupid kid that wouldn't shut up. Why wouldn't she shut up? He had warned her multiple times, and she had paid the price.
A pounding headache started behind his eyes, and he squeezed them shut. The girl was starting towards him, but he held up a hand. "Im fine, I swear. I just need to get home." He stumbled towards his rental car, started it, and drove to the closest motel where he checked in.
An hour after getting to his room and laying on the bed hoping the headache would subside, his bedside phone started ringing. With a groan and a grunt, he rolled into a sitting position and answered the phone. What the operator said on the other end of the line surprised him.
"Would you like to accept a collect call from Ohio State Penitentiary?"
His heart pounded inside his chest at the name of the prison. How did he find me? He gripped the earpiece so hard his knuckles turned white. Through gritted teeth, he grumbled, "Yes." The line rattled off details about the phone call being monitored and then went silent until the call transferred.
"Hello?"
Just the sound of Afton's voice made Dave's blood run cold. "How did you find me?" he snapped.
Afton's laugh sounded across the line. "You think I forgot what day it is? You're trying to drown your demons in booze, and the alcohol where you live just doesn't do it justice. There's something about being back at the place of the crime that does the trick, isn't there?...There's only one bar you like, and I called the closest motels. Didn't find you on the first try, but it was the second. I do have to admit I'm pretty proud of myself.
"I did try your house first, but you didn't answer."
"Stop rambling. What do you want?"
"How much did you drink? You sound pretty sober to me."
Dave rubbed his eyes. The headache was coming back tenfold. "I had about three or four glasses of bourbon, but it didn't agree with me. It's all in the parking lot. But what do you care?"
"I don't. I just wanted to make sure you were sober enough to talk to me. This is important, but I want to be able to talk about it in person. I know I'm probably the last person you want to see right now, but frankly I don't care. We need to talk. Could you come see me in a few weeks? You'll have to swing by here to pick up some visitation paperwork, and then it'll take time to process."
"What's in it for me?"
"A clean slate. For real this time."
A heavy sigh escaped through Dave's pursed lips. "Fine. I'll fill out the paperwork next week, and they'll keep you informed on when everything is resolved. But Afton, I'm warning you, if this is some other form of blackmail, I'll run, and you'll never be able to find me."
"That seems a bit extreme. Get those forms filled out."
The line clicked as the call disconnected.
Nikki woke the next morning anxious about seeing the teens. Charlotte had tried to assure her that once 6 AM rolled around, the kids would all be back to "normal." Or at least as normal as they could be. Still, given the circumstances of yesterday, she had to take a deep breath to settle her pounding heart as she crept outside of her room to go downstairs.
She tiptoed down the stairs and tried to sneak into the kitchen, but she ran into Frederick in the process. She froze and looked up into his warm brown eyes. The same eyes that yesterday were so glassy and saggy.
"Hey," he said with a smile. "How's it going?"
"Good," she squeaked around the lump in her throat. She struggled to keep eye contact. All she could see was the bloody remains of his teeth, but then she blinked, and his teeth were perfectly straight and white, just like they should be. She glanced down at his knee. It seemed to be back to normal, just like Charlotte had said. "How's your knee?"
A look of confusion passed over his face. "Fine," he replied slowly. "Why do you ask?"
Nikki shrugged, "Oh, nothing. You just mentioned yesterday that it was bothering you." The color drained out of her face and her eyes widened as she realized what she had just said.
"I did? Huh. I don't remember that." He flexed both of his knees. "Did we have a party yesterday? For my birthday? I don't really remember anything-"
"I have to go," Nikki quickly interrupted. She squeezed her way past him into the kitchen.
"What was that all about?" Felix joined Frederick in the hallway.
Looking past his brother into the kitchen, Frederick shrugged. "No idea." He shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Hey, what happened yesterday? I don't really remember anything. Did anything special happen?"
"Just the usual," Felix assured him. "Lizzie helped Amy with a cake, like you asked for, and then we all had cake and ice cream after dinner. You didn't get any presents, but none of us ever do, so that's normal."
"Well, I remember that bit, but Nikki mentioned something about me saying my knee was bothering me. Do you remember if I said anything about my knee?"
Felix shrugged. "I don't think so. We were all together all day, and I don't remember you ever mentioning it. Was it bothering you?"
"Not that I remember. But that's another thing. When I saw her a few minutes ago, Nikki wouldn't look me in the eye. I don't know what the problem was, but she seemed really distant. I'm not sure what I did, but I think she's upset with me."
"Maybe she's just having an off day," Felix offered. "She wouldn't look at me or Goldie either. But look, man, I wouldn't worry about it. Girls are like that. They're weird. Hey," he continued with a smile, "how about we play Mario Kart? You still haven't beaten my time yet. I'll race you to the game room." His good eye twinkled.
"You're on," Frederick grinned. The two boys raced across the living room, the morning's events forgotten.
Yesterday went pretty well. Looks like everyone enjoyed themselves.
A chuckle. Yeah, even Charlotte. It's about time she let loose a little. What are they even playing?
I have no idea. Some driving game with some…peculiar looking characters. Frederick sighed involuntarily. It kind of reminds me of Midnight Motorist.
A pause. Where's Nikki? She was acting weird at breakfast, but given what happened yesterday, she handled it pretty well.
A new voice joined the conversation. Seriously? She totally freaked. Amy settled into a beanbag chair next to Frederick and Felix.
I mean, yeah, sure, she freaked, but after the initial scare, she did okay. This is the first time we've ever had to deal with anyone, so we were bound to hit some bumps in the road.
The Puppet said she can read minds. We need to be careful around her. Felix growled in frustration as he bumped another driver off the road.
Frederick shifted in his seat. Really? Well, that's new. But we've got everything under control. She knows now. I saw Shaddid talking to her yesterday. We just have to make sure she doesn't say anything to—
Shh! Amy's head swung around to the door of the gaming room where Nikki was coming in. All of the animatronics grew silent. Nikki smiled at Amy and settled down in an armchair.
"Did you say something, Frederick?" Nikki asked.
Neither boy responded. Nikki almost asked again, but Amy leaned forward and muttered, "They're sucked in. Neither of them is going to hear you."
"I thought I just heard him say something."
Amy chuckled and rolled her eyes. "Probably just muttering gibberish. They both kind of talk to themselves when they're engrossed in a game. Trust me." She turned her attention to a magazine from the coffee table.
Charlotte poked her head in as she walked past. "Hey, guys," she started. "Guys? Guys!"
"What?" Frederick snapped. "We're in the middle of a race!"
"Don't play for too long. You'll rot your brains out."
"I think they're already past that point," Amy chuckled.
"Well, there's only so much we can do locked up here at the house. Our brains are rotting from boredom." Frederick finished second place and tossed the Wii remote onto the empty couch cushion next to him. "We could go out and explore the city…"
"Nice try," Charlotte quipped. "Not happening."
Frederick groaned angrily. "Why not?"
"Read a book or something. I'm sure Lizzie has one you can borrow."
"You know what, Charlotte?" Frederick stood up from the couch. "Older siblings get such a bad rap for being jerks. But you're the worst! Go stick your head in a spring lock!"
Charlotte whirled around, tears and fire flashing in her eyes. "That's it! Go to your room!"
Frederick stormed out of the room, leaving Nikki, Amy, and Felix sitting there awkwardly.
"Charlotte, are you okay?" Nikki ventured slowly.
"I'm fine." Charlotte sniffed and swiped angrily at the tears now streaming down her cheeks.
She knew she probably should leave it alone, but curiosity got the better of her. "What's a spring lock?" She regretted it as soon as she asked.
Charlotte heaved a shaky sigh before quietly replying, "It's a piece of machinery in the Golden animatronics. They allow the animatronic to also function as a suit." She sniffed before continuing quietly, "My brother was killed by Golden Freddy. The spring locks snapped shut, and Freddy's jaws crushed his skull. He was in a coma for five days, but they couldn't save him. He was only eight."
"Oh." Nikki replied quietly. "So when Frederick said to go put your head in a spring lock, he meant…?"
"Yeah, basically." She shrugged. "Normally I'm used to his outbursts, and I ignore them, but that one was a little too close to home. He's never lashed out like that before."
Amy chimed in softly, "Charlotte, you never told us you had a brother."
"Yeah, um, I had a couple actually. And a sister. But they're all dead. Different times and different ways."
"Why haven't you ever mentioned them before?"
"I don't know, Amy." Charlotte answered wearily. "I guess because it hurts to talk about, and because it eventually led to my parents splitting up. I haven't seen my mom since I was nine, so fourteen years ago."
Amy tucked a loose piece of hair behind Charlotte's ear. "You've been through a lot. I know we all have, and I know it sucks. Believe me. But the great thing about it is if that shooter hadn't come in, and you hadn't saved us, you wouldn't be our big sister, and honestly, you're the best thing that's ever happened. To all of us." She smiled and wiped a tear from Charlotte's cheek. "Ignore Frederick. He's full of it. He'll get off of his high horse eventually." Gently, she pulled Charlotte into a hug.
It seems that you've forgotten that you saved them. Without you finding them and saving them, they wouldn't be here. He'll understand some day.
Nikki pretended like she couldn't hear the voices again.
"Thanks, Amy." And thank you, Chica.
Nikki frowned and looked away. She hadn't heard anything. Just pretend it didn't happen. Walk away. She started to leave until she heard Amy and the voice labeled Chica answer at the same time.
"You're welcome."
You're welcome.
In Zardan, Sheila was enjoying a nice walk in the market. She had to pick up a few things for dinner. Mother and Father were coming over, and Sheila wanted to make something special. She didn't have any ideas and was hoping and trusting that a walk through the market would spark some inspiration. Slowly she browsed the produce stands, picking up various vegetables and turning them for inspection.
Upon deciding what to make for dinner, she gathered her purchases and made her way back home. On the way, she stopped by the post office to check for any mail. It had been a while since she had last heard from Shaddid and Lizzie. A couple months ago, the whole family had sent letters to them through the special journal Nicole had printed for them. So far, they hadn't sent anything back. But then again, back and forth correspondence did take a while.
To her delight, there was a letter for her, but it was from Nicole instead of her brother and sister-in-law. Back at the house, Sheila put the groceries away and opened the letter. The letter started off with Nicole updating her on some changes to her professional life, including making some new cover changes for their book series, which sounded exciting.
The latter half of the letter switched gears to talk about a new book that she had started. The book would include a story about a family, and there was a song that the eldest sister sang to some of her siblings. Nicole included the lyrics to the song, along with the tone of the song. There was an introduction note too:
"Hey, Sheila! So, this song is sung by Charlotte. She's a thirteen-year-old, the second oldest of her siblings, who lives in a pizzeria, kind of like Chuck E. Cheese's. She uses this song to comfort her younger siblings. Other than that, the only thing I'll say is that the song is meant to be melancholy. You would know the musical terminology for that. Ha ha ha!"
Sheila chuckled at her friend's sense of humor before reading on.
"Anyway, I know that anything you come up with will be amazing! I'm not on any kind of time crunch right now (I'm still in the beginning stages), so take as much time as you need. Thank you so much for doing this!"
There was a separate page for the song lyrics, which Sheila took to her music room. Probably the thing that she missed the most about the world she had been born in was the instruments, particularly her piano. When she sang, she didn't need it, but she still missed having the option to play it.
Taking the lyrics page in her hands, she stepped into the center of the room and read the lyrics through aloud once. No tune came to mind either as she read or after she was finished. A second read-through proved pointless as well.
Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaled slowly through puffed cheeks and closed her eyes. "Alright, Charlotte," she whispered, "you know the tune to this song because you sang it. I don't know if you wrote it, but you've sung it before. I really need your help. Will you show me?"
She inhaled slowly again and opened her eyes. The room hadn't changed. "Please, Charlotte," she whispered. For a second time, she closed her eyes. Before she opened them again, she sensed a change in the temperature and smell of the room. There was a faint smell of pizza, and the air felt heavy and warm. Her heart thumped quickly in her chest.
Sheila opened her eyes to a small room. There was a giant red and white gift box to her left, bunches of balloons tied in various places around the room, and children's drawings tacked up all over the walls. She wanted to stay and explore, but there was a sense of urgency ushering her out the door. She stepped out from behind the counter and took a right through a larger room with a stage. On the stage there were three large animatronics. From this point of view she couldn't see them very well, but it looked like a rabbit, a bear, and either a duck or a chicken.
Still seeing through Charlotte's eyes, Sheila walked through the show area into a smaller room and turned right. On the door there was a sign that said Employees Only. Charlotte took a small key out of her pocket and unlocked the door. Sheila couldn't tell if it was her heart or Charlotte's heart that was beating so quickly. Either way, Charlotte was struggling to keep her hands from shaking.
Once inside, Sheila's heart leaped into her throat. There were five children lying deathly still in pools of blood on the floor. She immediately threw up whatever Charlotte had eaten for dinner, but thankfully, Charlotte took charge and stayed calm, checking each child for a pulse. Tears burned the backs of Sheila's eyes, but Charlotte sniffed hard, choosing instead to focus on finding a way to save the kids rather than cry.
She began to sing, and Sheila's voice poured out a melody she had neither sang nor heard before. The melody was hauntingly beautiful but sad.
Your bodies laid in foul grave,
There left to rot and die.
Taken from your family's fold
No mortal would deny.
So hereby rise again anew
To your immortal life.
Awake from death's foul grip at last,
Your souls to rest from strife.
Midway through the second verse, Sheila's focus was broken by a second voice. It sounded distant and wordless. Someone, whoever it was, was humming the song somewhere else. In dizzying speed, Sheila was ripped out of Charlotte's mind and thrown into the mind of a complete stranger.
Cautiously she tried to back out of whoever's mind she had stumbled into, but she seemed stuck. The stranger was driving down a long-deserted road presumably in the middle of the night while snow flurries blew against the windshield.
The driver was wearing a heavy coat, mittens, and a ski mask. It didn't take Sheila long to notice that the driver was a male. She didn't like portraying male singers very often. Being inside of a male's mind was something she had always found awkward. That and the added plumbing situation was enough to make any woman blush.
His thoughts were…empty. Strange. After several minutes of reading nothing from his mind, his thoughts turned towards a conversation. Sheila didn't want to barge in on the guy's private thoughts, but she had no other choice. She still couldn't escape his head.
He conjured a mental image of what looked like a prison. Sitting on the other side of the glass in an orange jumpsuit was an older gentleman who looked like he was in his early sixties. Sheila lost herself in the conversation.
"You've looked better," Afton said with a smug smile. He held the telephone on his side of the glass up to his ear.
"Speak for yourself," Dave mumbled into his phone. "At least I'm not in prison."
Afton shrugged. "They know I'm innocent. They won't admit it, but they do. They'll catch the real killer…eventually." Even through the glass, Dave could see the hatred in Afton's eyes.
"Get to the point, Afton. Why am I here?"
"I've had a lot of time to think while being locked up in here. I've been thinking a lot about Elizabeth. She was taken too soon. She and Charlotte…and Danny. If I had known how to bring people back when Elizabeth and Danny had died, I would have done it. My kids are the most important people in the world to me, and they were all taken from me. It's too late for Danny, but I think there's a way to bring Elizabeth back."
"You're more nuts than I thought you were," Dave snarled. "She's been dead for fifteen years. Bringing her back is impossible."
Afton nodded. "It's true I haven't tested the theory yet, but I think she will be able to do what you seemingly were incapable of doing as an employee. Of all of my employees at the different locations, you were the worst. Lazy, ignorant, a slob."
Dave gripped the phone until his knuckles turned white. His lip trembled with rage, but he kept his mouth shut.
"I've asked one of the guards to give you a letter. Inside you will find your next set of instructions..."
The conversation faded from the stranger's mind as he turned off the car engine. Sheila noticed for the first time that they had stopped in a deserted parking lot. There was an old, unlit neon sign above the front door that read "Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria." Stranger guy sighed and grabbed a backpack from the passenger seat.
The first thing that Sheila noticed after the giant bear's head on the sign—presumably, Freddy Fazbear's—was the rundown state of the building itself. All of the lights were turned off, trash littered the parking lot, and most of the windows around the building that she could see had been knocked out or cracked.
At the front door, the guy pulled a flashlight from his backpack and shone it into the restaurant. There were two doors inside the entryway. The door to the left looked like the front door of a home complete with a bronzed house number and matching knocker. The door on the right was a swinging glass door that immediately opened to a set of stairs leading to an upper level.
A fleeting thought passed through the guy's mind about possibly checking upstairs, but it was quickly dismissed. No, I need backup.
He pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket and scanned it quickly. The handwriting was scrawled and seemed hastily written. There were also doodles and random strings of numbers around the edges. The ramblings of a madman.
Sheila stayed as alert as she could. She still had no idea who this guy was, but the Afton guy in prison had mentioned Charlotte's name. From the conversation she could safely assume that Afton was Charlotte's father and that whoever this guy was, he had been an employee of Afton's. A terrible employee at that, and Afton hated him for it. But Sheila could also safely assume that the feeling was mutual. Regardless of the backstory, this was becoming increasingly more interesting as time went on.
Glass crunched under their feet as they stepped towards the door on the left and opened it. The inside of the building was just about as cold as the temperature outside. Snow drifts had collected in the corners where the windows had been knocked out.
The light from the flashlight illuminated a living room with an adjoining kitchen and dining room. As they walked into the kitchen, they passed a hallway with bedrooms. A lump formed in the guy's throat, but he swallowed it and pushed forward into the kitchen. Behind the dining room table there was a door that when opened, led down a set of rickety stairs.
After some maneuvering around the basement, the guy opened a hidden door to an elevator that only went one direction at this level. Inside the elevator, he opened a panel and turned an emergency hand crank that slowly moved the elevator down the shaft to a lower level of the basement.
Sheila was amazed by how far down the elevator shaft went. They had to be hundreds of feet below ground level by now. The guy seemed pretty calm aside from sweaty palms that he repeatedly wiped on his pants.
When the elevator doors opened, Sheila saw a crawlspace in front of them, and she could immediately feel the guy tense up. Of course it had to be a crawlspace. He audibly groaned and got down on his hands and knees to crawl forward. He crawled as quickly as he could which was fine with Sheila. She wasn't too keen on the tight spaces either.
At the end of the crawlspace, the room opened up into a control room, with two large glass enclosures, one on the left and one on the right. There were control panels on both sides. The guy studied both of the enclosures—which each had their own crawlspaces—and a crawlspace in the wall directly in front of where they were standing before consulting the note again.
The part he was looking for read, "Take the crawl space directly in front of you." This is the last one. At the end of the second crawlspace, there was a bigger glass enclosure with a bigger control panel than the other two in the first room. Instead of fiddling with the control panel, he knelt on the floor and pushed open a sliding door under the desk. On the floor under the desk, there was a wooden trapdoor with a metal handle. Leaving the sliding door open, he pulled up on the trapdoor and started to carefully descend a newly revealed spiral stairway.
Sheila felt the most relaxed that she had felt since breaking in. The ceilings were much higher, and there was a lot more room to move around. She imagined if she turned around and looked up that she would be able to see the control room that they had just left. But instead, the guy's attention was directed to the left.
Within the beam of the flashlight, Sheila could see pieces of what looked like giant robots. Similar to what she had seen at the other pizzeria, but different. She thought she could see the head of a bear, colored silver and purple, and then a woman's head. Her colors were silver and blue. Beside the heads she thought she could see strewn arm and leg segments.
The room they were in was a perfect square except for one side. It seemed shorter than the other three sides. This one wall was brick instead of concrete blocks. If Sheila's eyes could have widened, they would have. It's a secret room!
Inside the wall, there was a seven-foot metal door with a numerical keypad. They walked up to the door, and the stranger punched 395248 into the keypad. The door beeped slightly as the lock popped open.
Again, his pulse quickened, and he wiped his slick hands on his pants to rid them of excess moisture. Sheila could only wait impatiently until she could see through his eyes what the door had revealed. Hidden behind the secret wall was a clown animatronic around seven feet tall with white and red face paint, a red dress and shoes, and red-orange hair pulled back into two pigtails.
Sheila's nervousness returned. Something about the clown wasn't entirely calming. The animatronic looked child-like, as if it were made for young children. That wasn't the problem. It was the idea that perhaps this animatronic had multiple purposes, and some of the other purposes were maybe not so child friendly.
With nervous curiosity, Sheila watched as the stranger—who she now felt strangely attached to in this unfamiliar space—took a moment to size up the animatronic in front of them. She could feel his heart pounding and hands shaking. Through a complicated series of steps, he opened up the clown's faceplates and chest cavity, took a large disc-shaped battery from his pack, and replaced a similar disc in her chest with the new one. As soon as the battery was in place and all of the chest and faceplates had been replaced, Sheila felt the guy relax and realized he had been holding his breath.
He pulled the note again from his back pocket and consulted it again. This time, he read through the same lyrics that Nicole had sent Sheila not that long ago and began to sing.
Your body laid in foul grave,
There left to rot and die.
Taken from your family's fold
No mortal would deny.
So hereby rise again anew
To your immortal life.
Awake from death's foul grip at last,
Your soul to rest from strife.
Sheila expected the song to end, but she was surprised to see that Afton had added two more verses. They were versing that Nicole had definitely not included in her letter. There had been some changes made to the third verse. A couple words in the first line had been scribbled through and changed above in the margins in different handwriting than the rest of the letter. She couldn't quite make out what the original word or words had been, but regardless, he sang the revised lyrics instead:
Awake, sleeping child, time has come
To take back what was lost.
Avenge the life taken from you
No matter what the cost.
So take up now this body that
Has since been laid to rest.
And use it then to wipe out those
Whose lives we both detest.
His voice echoed in the large room and then faded to silence. Although Sheila was anxious to see what exactly singing the song would do, she wanted more than anything for nothing to happen. Because in her mind, she couldn't see this thing coming to life as being anything positive.
Nothing happened for several minutes—to Sheila's relief—but then all at once, the clown's eyes opened, and her head lifted. At her full height, the clown was at least a foot taller than Sheila and her counterpart.
"Baby—Elizabeth…can you hear me?" he ventured softly. Her animatronic form faded in and out of sight until it disappeared completely. His eyes widened, and he whirled around, shining the light all around. A few seconds later, a woman's form appeared in the closet. She was much smaller than the clown, but her hair was in the same two pigtails, and her dress looked similar as well, aside from the fact that it was torn and looked much too small for her.
A sound similar to a woman's voice but one very hoarse and raspy tried to talk. She said something that he seemed to be able to distinguish, but Sheila couldn't make it out.
"Is it really you?" Elizabeth asked, tears in her eyes. Her voice began to sound clearer.
"Yeah, it's really me," he said with a smile. He ventured forward and pulled her into a hug, which she returned warmly.
He pulled away and unzipped his coat. "Here, I brought this for you. It's blowing snow outside, and you're not exactly dressed for winter."
As the two kept talking, Sheila noticed that both of their voices were getting softer, and the room was starting to fade. The musky smell of the basement that she had been smelling for the last thirty minutes or so began to fade away as well. She grasped at anything she could, trying to stay, but in an instant, she snapped back to her music room in Zardan. Her return was so quick that it knocked her to the floor. She noticed with great surprise that the sun had nearly set. She looked around her to see Mother and Father standing in the living room looking more worried than she had ever seen them.
"Oh, thank goodness! Sheila, are you okay?" Mother wrapped her in a hug.
"Yes, Mother, I'm fine." She looked between both of her parents. "How long have you two been here? What happened?"
Her parents looked at each other, and her father explained, "We came over for dinner, and you did not answer the door. Your mother tried to reach into your thoughts to tell you we were outside, but she could not reach you."
"That has never happened before. With anyone," Mother said softly.
"We thought you might be hurt, so we came in the back door. It was unlocked. You were frozen in place and unresponsive. And your eyes…" He couldn't continue.
Sheila searched her parents' faces. "What was wrong with my eyes?"
Mother took her hands. "There is a rare power that some people are able to channel. You received part of it, but your powers developed into more common abilities. The rarer powers allow someone to enter another's subconscious and control their thoughts and movements. The two people's powers and minds eventually meld into one, and the stronger of the two becomes the dominant host. Those who have the ability are known as Soul Travelers."
"What does this have to do with my eyes?"
Father stroked Sheila's cheek. "Your eyes have always been blue, but when we came in, your eyes were a much deeper blue than yours normally are. The eyes of the more dominant personality can be seen in the body of the host, and there was a darkness in your eyes that we've never seen before. Sometimes the host's voice can change as well, and your voice was much deeper than normal. You were rambling about taking someone to see their father. Do you remember what you saw or who you were talking to?"
Sheila tried as best as she could to remember what she had seen, but the harder she tried, the more the memories slipped from her grasp. Within minutes, she didn't remember anything she had heard or seen after Charlotte's song with the kids.
It had been a while since Nicole had sat down and worked on her new book. She had gotten through the main outlines and character breakdowns, but so far she had only been able to work on the prologue and the beginning of the first chapter. A few months ago, before the kids arrived in New York, she had sent Charlotte's song lyrics to Sheila so she could come up with a tune. So far she hadn't heard back from Sheila, but Charlotte was here now, so if she really wanted to hear it that bad, she could just ask Charlotte to sing it for her.
Before picking up where she left off on the first chapter, she opened up her character breakdowns and notes to read through them for a refresher. At the end of the breakdowns, she found some notes that she didn't remember writing down. There was a name with a single word next to it for his description. Despite the fact that it was so short, Nicole read it through multiple times so she could triple check to make sure her eyes weren't playing tricks on her. The new line of the character bio simply read "Dave: Killer."
Quickly she scanned back through her notes. The name Dave didn't appear anywhere else, which made the appearance of this random guy that much more confusing. Still, it was a lead. At this point, a lead was better than nothing. She grabbed her phone and dialed Lizzie's number and then asked for Charlotte. She could hear the phone being transferred, and then Charlotte's voice came through over the line.
"Hello?"
"Charlotte! Do you know anyone by the name of Dave? Maybe someone who worked for your dad?"
Charlotte paused before answering. "No, I don't think so. That name doesn't ring a bell. Why?"
"Are you absolutely sure you don't know who he is?" Nicole's hands were shaking with nervous excitement.
"I mean…I think so. Why? Nicole, what's going on?"
"I have a lead! All I have is a name, but he's the one who killed the kids!"
"Wait! How do you know that?"
"It's a shot in the dark. His name came up in my notes. I don't remember writing it in my notes, but I must have written it down without remembering. I already looked through all of my other notes, and I don't have anything else on the guy. But I swear that as soon as I figure something out, I'll let you know. Also, if you think of anything else, would you let me know? Maybe between the two of us we can figure it out."
"Of course! Thank you so much, Nicole! You have no idea how long I've been looking…well, I guess you…wrote my character…as weird as that sounds, so you know that this is very important to me."
"You're welcome! As soon as I find out anything else, I'll let you know! Bye."
Nicole hung up and decided to read through her notes again more slowly to pick it apart piece by piece in case she had missed anything.
"So where's Dad? Why didn't he come?" Elizabeth shrugged Dave's coat over her bare arms and zipped it up. The fleece lining was very welcoming in the cold basement.
Dave was pulling some extra gloves out of his backpack. He handed them over to her before answering. "You'll need these if you want to be able to feel your fingers later." With a sigh, he continued, "There's no way to put this lightly, so I'll just say it. Your dad is in prison."
"What? Why?" Elizabeth cried.
Dave zipped up his backpack and shouldered it. "You wouldn't remember him because you were too young and anyway he worked at a different location, but there was this employee named Jeremy Fitzgerald. He worked the night shift, and around the time he was working, your dad and his business partner Henry Emily were trying to come up with this new technology for the animatronics that could recognize potential predators as a safety precaution for the kids. It was the same facial recognition technology that Henry tried putting in…Baby."
Elizabeth could see where the story was heading and nodded. "So Jeremy, he died?"
"Yeah." Dave kicked at a loose bolt, sending it skittering across the concrete floor. "That's one way to put it. There was some…other stuff he should have been arrested for, but there was no evidence to prove he did it, so no one ever found out-"
"Evidence for what?" They were climbing the stairs to the Circus Baby Auditorium control room.
"Henry's kid—he was a little bit younger than you—had his birthday party at the restaurant, and to get back at him for killing you, your dad wanted Henry to experience the pain he had experienced. So he hired someone to get Frederick and his friends into the safe room at the back of the restaurant and then kill them."
Dave's voice trailed off as he opened up the elevator for the final ascent to the upper level of the basement. He didn't want to continue with the story, but he knew that he needed to explain to her exactly what Afton had brought her back for. When he had detailed the story of the kids and how they died, Elizabeth stared at him.
"So what possessed him to make you do this?"
Dave sighed wearily. "That's enough for now. I don't want to talk about it. But you should know that he doesn't think I'm capable of carrying it out completely and because of that, I need your help. There's a chance that Charlotte could have brought the kids back the same way that I brought you back. She would know how to do that because thirteen years ago Henry killed her, and your dad used the same song to tie her soul to the Puppet from the Prize Corner, just like you're tied to Baby." He paused for a moment. "I know this is a lot to take in-"
"So he only brought me back to cover your sorry butt because you're incapable of following instructions?"
"No! It's not like that at all! He would have brought you back earlier if he thought it was possible. It's just that…Baby completely tore you to pieces. There wasn't enough of you left for you to be able to function normally during the day." Elizabeth wasn't listening to him. They had made it back up to the kitchen, and she had started to storm off in the opposite direction down the hallway. "Elizabeth, come on! It's not my fault! If anything, be pissed off at your dad, not me. I'm not the one who left you buried alive for fifteen years."
His final sentence finally caught her attention. "Fifteen years? That's how long it's been?" She looked herself over as best as she could. "That makes sense. So, I would be twenty-one?" She sighed. "I knew it was a long time, but I didn't know it was that long. Everything just melded together into one long, unending nightmare." She continued down the hallway and inspected the rooms. "I remember this one was mine, and this one was Danny's. This one was Charlotte's. And this last one was-"
Dave poked his head in and looked around. "We should go," he interrupted.
"Where's Danny? I know you said Charlotte died, but what happened to Danny and Mom?"
With a sigh, Dave beckoned Elizabeth back out into the hallway and shut the door behind them. "Last piece of family history, and then that's enough for now. Danny died in an accident involving one of your dad's animatronics, and your mom didn't want to see her final child die at the hands of your dad, so before Charlotte died, and after you and Danny died, she left and never came back."
"And he still brought her back before me…" Elizabeth muttered under her breath.
Dave didn't hear her. He was already at the front door with his ski mask pulled back over his face. "Come on, let's get out of here. This place gives me the creeps, and I'm freezing my butt off."
Elizabeth cautiously stepped out of the house into the entryway. The wind howled through the broken glass, making her pull Dave's jacket tighter around herself. "I want to see Dad as soon as possible."
Shielding her from the snow and wind, Dave and Elizabeth slowly made their way to the rental car where they climbed inside and turned on the heat. Once his vocal cords had thawed out, Dave answered her. "Your dad wants to see you too. That was one of the first things he mentioned when I talked to him last. There's some paperwork you'll have to sign before they'll let you see him though, and once you sign it it'll take a while to process. But I promise as soon as it clears, I'll take you to see him."
Once the car had warmed up, the two started down the road towards the closest motel. The dashboard clock read 3:47. Dave wasn't sure how much Elizabeth would feel like sleeping, but his adrenaline was starting to wear off, and pretty soon he would start to crash. In the morning, they would make a stop by the prison and pick up the necessary paperwork so he could cross the first thing off his long checklist. Next to him in the front seat, Elizabeth was already starting to nod off. This entire process would take a while to complete, and both of them would need all the rest they could get.
As soon as Elizabeth saw Afton, they would go back to the restaurant and look for Charlotte. They could've gotten a head start tonight, but Elizabeth had been through enough changes in the last three hours. She should probably build up her energy before any confrontation happened. There was no telling what they would encounter. And if he was being completely honest with himself, Dave wasn't entirely prepared for a confrontation with a bunch of pissed off animatronics either.
He pulled into the motel parking lot and turned off the engine. One thing at a time.
Just like they had been doing for the last few weeks, Frederick picked up his glass of milk to drink right before he went to bed. Everyone else had drunk theirs and gone upstairs already. He sat in the kitchen and stared at his glass. What's the deal with making us drink something before going to bed every night? Charlotte never made us do this until we got here. He turned the glass around in his hand, studying it. He smelled it. Nothing about it seemed out of the ordinary. The milk smelled fresh, and there was nothing in the glass…or was there?
Carefully, Frederick took a spoon and scooped out something that was floating on the top of his milk. It looked like a piece of a pill that had been cut up and dropped inside. It hadn't dissolved yet. He carefully turned the pill over and over in his palm, investigating it.
Don't drink it. Dump it down the sink.
He lifted the glass to his lips, but before he started to drink, he had a strong intuition again that he shouldn't. He set the glass back down on the counter, finally deciding to dump it. Everyone was in bed, so only he would know he hadn't drunk it. He dumped the milk down the drain, made sure there wasn't any milk residue in the glass or in the sink, and then went to bed.
Within minutes he was asleep like everyone else.
Lizzie was sleeping soundly just down the hall from the kids when she heard a loud crash coming from the kitchen downstairs. The bedside clock read 2:46. Alarmed, she shook Shaddid awake. "Shaddid! Shaddid! Wake up! I think someone broke in. I heard something in the kitchen."
Shaddid sat up and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. He almost asked her to repeat what she had said, but then he heard something clanging downstairs. Quietly he slid his feet out of bed.
"Shaddid—" Lizzie whispered.
He held out his hand and motioned for her to keep quiet. "Stay here. I'll be right back. Don't call the police yet." Without another word, he slipped out of the room into the hallway and ventured downstairs. He noticed that one of the kids had left their door open, but he left it cracked, not wanting to risk the chance of accidentally waking one of them up.
At the bottom of the stairs, Shaddid paused to listen for any more noises coming from the kitchen. At first, he didn't hear anything, but the silence was soon broken by the sound of shattering glass. Whoever had broken in was definitely an amateur. Getting him or her under control shouldn't be too hard. Then Lizzie could call the police, the trespasser could get a chauffeured ride to the police station, and everything would go back to normal. Lizzie could easily draw and replace anything that had been broken.
With a plan in place, Shaddid stepped into the kitchen, hoping that the thief's back would be turned. Having the element of surprise would be the most beneficial plan of action. But what met his eyes was definitely not what he expected. His plan shattered into a million pieces the second he laid eyes on the "trespasser."
Shaddid had always thought the nine-foot ceilings of the house were more than high enough, but he was sure that the contractors hadn't planned on a seven-foot bear wandering around the house. Freddy's hat kept bumping against the hanging lights above the island, while his gangling arms brushed against the pots and pans hanging on the walls, accounting for all of the noise. On the floor laid the remains of a smashed glass.
Quickly deciding that having some backup would be helpful, Shaddid quietly started to back out of the kitchen, but before he could leave, Freddy started to turn around. Shaddid froze in place, unsure of what to do. Should he run or stand his ground? Underneath the suit, Shaddid knew that the kids—in this case, Frederick—were somewhere in there. Maybe he could reason with Frederick.
"Hey, Frederick, let's get you back to bed," he started softly. He stayed put where he stood, prepared to run if necessary.
Freddy didn't move at first; he just stared. His eyes took in Shaddid head to toe, and then he charged. Shaddid spun and started to run, but Freddy was quicker. He grabbed Shaddid by the throat, pinned him up against the wall, and squeezed.
Shaddid tried everything he could to pry Freddy's fingers open enough to where he had enough wiggle room to free himself, only to remember that Nicole had said that his powers wouldn't work on any of the animatronics. Mentally he made a note to lecture her about that later, but for now, he needed to think of something to break loose. His vision was starting to get spotty.
He kicked and pried to no avail until he finally managed to get his arm around Freddy's side and pull the china cabinet from the dining room. As it moved, he could hear plates and bowls breaking inside the case. No matter. Those could be replaced. Him, not so easily.
Shaddid doubted that even if he could slam the china cabinet full force into Freddy that it would be strong enough to knock him out, but hopefully it would distract Freddy enough to make him loosen his grip. With a hope and a prayer, he jerked the china cabinet with his powers as hard as he could. The cabinet smashed into Freddy's back, glass and china crashing inside it. Just as Shaddid had hoped, Freddy turned around in confusion and let go of Shaddid's throat. Shaddid dropped to the floor and gasped for breath, turning to Freddy for a final confrontation.
Freddy looked like he was getting angrier by the minute. Any second now, if Shaddid didn't do something, he could easily see himself lying dead on the kitchen floor. For a second time, Freddy charged, but this time, Shaddid was prepared.
Gathering as much of his powers as he could muster, Shaddid drew his hand back and thrust it forward quickly, palm splayed. Thankfully, it stopped Freddy in his tracks and threw him backwards into the stove. His head snapped back as Shaddid's powers collided with his left eye, and once he contacted the stove, he slumped forward onto the floor and didn't move.
Relief flooded Shaddid's entire being. Now all he had to do was get a giant bear upstairs and put back into his room without waking up the rest of the circus animals. Shaddid's arms felt weak, almost all of his energy having just been used to get Freddy under control. All he wanted was to go to bed, but he needed to get Freddy back upstairs. Otherwise Charlotte and Frederick would have a bunch of questions in the morning. Questions that right now he didn't feel comfortable answering.
He grabbed the material on Freddy's shoulders and pulled. The bear was really heavy, but thankfully he slid pretty easily across the hardwood floors. He could probably use some of his powers to get Freddy upstairs, but it wouldn't be much. He had never used this much of his powers at one time before that he could remember, and he knew that in the morning he would be exhausted. But for now he just had to push through it. With a grunt, he dragged Freddy out of the kitchen, through the dining room into the front room, and started to pull him up the stairs. Evenly distributing what was left of his energy, he used his powers to lift Freddy enough to help get him up the stairs, and then pulled him quietly into the kids' room. Thankfully, everyone was still asleep, even Charlotte.
After getting Freddy back into bed and pulling the sheets over him, Shaddid slipped out of the kids' bedroom and entered his own. Lizzie was still sitting up in bed, and her face was as white as the bedsheets. When she saw the finger marks around her husband's throat, she jumped to his aid.
"Honey, I was so worried! What happened? Are you okay?"
Shaddid nodded gently. "Yeah, I'm fine," he croaked. "It was just Freddy. I got him back to bed." He smiled weakly. "He's fine, I'm fine. Let's get back to sleep. I'm exhausted."
Lizzie crawled back under the covers and snuggled up next to Shaddid. Before she drifted back off to sleep, Shaddid mumbled sleepily, "Oh, by the way, we're going to need a new stove."
"Seriously?" She sat up and stared wide-eyed at him. "You said you were both okay!" she whisper-shouted.
"Go to sleep, babe. We'll worry about it in the morning." He gently pushed her down next to him and pulled her close. Seconds later, he was snoring.
The next morning, Charlotte went downstairs early to start a pot of coffee. It was nice to get some time to herself before the kids woke up. She woke up before six o'clock and glided downstairs, hoping that she wouldn't encounter Shaddid, Lizzie, or Nikki. Not that she was afraid of them seeing her in her midnight form, but she wouldn't really be able to hold a conversation with anyone but Nikki. Even then, she didn't particularly like people seeing her like this.
Slowly she glided into the kitchen and then stopped mid-step when she saw that Lizzie was already up. Charlotte lifted a hand and wiggled her fingers in greeting, and Lizzie raised her eyebrows in surprise.
"Charlotte? You're up early," Lizzie said with a smile. "Did you want some coffee? Can you even drink coffee?"
Charlotte chuckled, and the Puppet shook it's head. Instead, they sat down at the table.
"I guess you can't talk either, can you?"
Another head shake.
"Are you able to write?"
The Puppet nodded in a so-so kind of way.
Lizzie grabbed a notepad and pencil from the counter and handed it to her. "Why are you up so early?"
With slow careful strokes, The Puppet wrote, "Alone time, before kids are awake." They slid the note over to Lizzie.
"I completely understand," Lizzie said with a chuckle. She considered her next question before asking, "Sorry if it's too personal, and if it is, it's fine, you don't have to answer. But does it feel any different being…you? Like this?"
The Puppet shrugged and then took several minutes to write, "Not really. I've gotten used to it. Sometimes if I get something stuck in my eye socket in this form, it can really bother me as a human, and I can't do anything about it until that night. That's annoying." She added an unhappy stick figure to the end of the line.
"That does sound annoying," Lizzie admitted with a cringe. She glanced over at the clock on the microwave. "The kids should be waking up soon. It's 5:55. Will you be changed by the time they get down here?"
Again, the Puppet nodded and then wrote, "We all change at the same time. They've never seen me like this, and hopefully they won't have to until they're ready."
Sure enough at 6:00, The Puppet faded in and out of existence until Charlotte was sitting in her place at the table. Once she had completely transfigured, she rolled her neck and told Lizzie, "Now that I can actually drink it, I think I'll get myself a cup of coffee." She stood up from the table and poured herself a cup. It was then that she noticed the stove looked different. Instead of the white one she could have sworn had been there yesterday, there was a black one in its place. "Hey, Lizzie," she called into the dining room, "did you guys get a new stove this morning?"
From the dining room, Lizzie replied, "Yeah, uh, we were having some issues with the other one. The oven part wasn't working correctly."
Charlotte was studying the new stove when Frederick walked into the kitchen. He was shuffling his feet and yawning. When he sat down at the table, he laid his head down and closed his eyes.
"You okay, Frederick?" Charlotte asked.
With another yawn, he said, "Yeah, I'm just really tired. And my eye hurts. I can't open it."
"What do you mean?" Charlotte asked, alarmed. "What's wrong with your eye?"
"I don't know," Frederick grumbled. He lifted his head from the table and looked at Charlotte for the first time. His left eye was swollen shut and purple and blue.
"What happened?!" Charlotte took his head in her hands and turned his head so she could get a better look.
"I said I don't know. Don't poke it!" he continued as she gently felt it with her fingers. "I did have a weird dream though. I was in the kitchen back home, and there was this guy standing in the kitchen with me. He grabbed me and was trying to kill me. But I got away. It kind of creeped me out though."
Eventually the rest of the kids all filed into the dining room one-by-one, with Nikki bringing up the rear. Everyone in turn asked Frederick what he had done to his eye. Frederick soon folded his arms on the table and hid his face so they would stop asking about it.
Shaddid entered the kitchen not long afterward, looking more tired than Charlotte had ever seen him. Lizzie greeted him with a kiss and told him to get all the rest he needed today. Panic rose in Charlotte's chest when she saw the color of his shirt. It was purple.
"Shaddid, could I talk to you in the living room for a second?" Charlotte asked.
He wearily looked up at her over his cup of coffee. "Sure."
When they were alone in the living room, Charlotte checked to make sure that no one had followed them before asking, "Would you mind changing your shirt? I'm sorry, I told Lizzie and Nicole the first day we got here, but I guess I forgot to tell you: the kids don't like the color purple. I don't know why, but they've always reacted negatively around it. They can get aggressive. I don't want anything to happen, and I especially don't want anyone to get hurt."
He chuckled dryly. "Sure, yeah, I'll go change. I guess that explains last night."
"What happened last night?" Charlotte asked, alarmed.
Shaddid turned on the stairs. "I didn't mean to hurt him, but he attacked me. I didn't think it would affect Frederick." He paused and realized Charlotte looked even more confused. "Freddy woke up last night. I didn't know it was him until I was already downstairs. He attacked me and started to choke me, I guess because of the shirt. Anyway, I managed to knock him into the stove. That's why we had to get a new one."
Charlotte was speechless.
"I'll go change. If he asks, tell him it was my fault; that he was sleepwalking, and I tried to help him back up to his room, but he tripped, and before I could catch him, he fell into the corner of the table. That's at least partially true." He headed upstairs to change.
Once Shaddid was inside his and Lizzie's room, Charlotte returned to the dining room and sat down at the table. Freddy, did you tell Frederick not to take his medicine last night?
Frederick was devouring a stack of pancakes. I have to protect them. He was here last night.
Freddy, that was Shaddid. He didn't know about the purple. If he knew about it, he wouldn't have worn that shirt to bed. The man who killed them isn't here. They're safe.
You know who killed them, don't you?
Charlotte didn't react outwardly. Not entirely. Unless you can tell me who Dave is. That's what his name was. No last name. Nicole said his name was in her notes.
No idea.
Freddy, be honest with me: if you or Bonnie or Chica or Foxy or Golden Freddy knew who killed the kids, you would tell me, right?
Frederick paused on his stack of pancakes to take a sip of orange juice. At the same time, Freddy took a pause. You know we've told you we didn't see anything that night. If we had seen anything, we would have told you.
Charlotte felt like she wasn't being told the whole truth, but she knew that for now that was the best answer she was going to get. She pushed back her chair from the table.
You know who killed the kids? Dad said you didn't know! Nikki made eye contact with her across the table.
Charlotte's eyes widened. Nikki, sorry, you weren't supposed to overhear that. I forgot that you could overhear us.
Nikki broke eye contact as Charlotte stood. But you still know who killed them! That's awesome!
Well, we're still working on it. We don't have a lot of information.
You'll figure it out eventually!
Thanks, Nikki. Charlotte looked over at her and smiled.
Since we're acknowledging that Nikki can hear us now, I don't think it's necessary or relevant to try and hide conversations from her, so I'll continue, Freddy said. Something in his voice conveyed humor, though Frederick's face remained emotionless.
Nikki carefully glanced over at Frederick and then quickly looked down at her plate.
Freddy continued. Poor Frederick is so blind that he can't hardly see the fork in front of his face. I've lost count of the number of times he's poked himself on the chin.
Charlotte and Nikki both stifled their laughter.
Frederick looked up at them through his eye that wasn't swollen shut. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," Nikki managed, covering her laughter with a cough.
Charlotte patted him on the back. "You just look very handsome this morning."
Nikki choked on her orange juice and burst out laughing. Around her, she could hear the filtered laughter from the surrounding animatronics, although all of the kids looked just as confused as their brother.