Some Things Are Better Left Buried

By: Miss-DNL

Chapter 30: Closing Time

The day had come and gone, the sky had grown dark, and currently dayshift crew was getting things squared away. The kitchen workers were cleaning up the daily mess left behind from a day of cooking, the waiters and clerks were cleaning the party tables, and the janitor handled the floors. The pizzeria's catchy droning music had been, to some's relief, finally shut off, leaving only the background noise of people busily moving around. The manager's office, on the other hand, was nearly silent aside from the subtle hum of the computer.

Without warning the phone on the desk let out its loud cry, subsequently it was picked up a moment later.

"Freddy Fazbear's head of security Gregor Scott speaking, what is-"

"Oh, Gregor it-it's Bethany, Herald's wife. Remember?" Her words were quick, rushed, leaving her stumbling over her own words. She sounded like she was verge of crying, her breathes frantic and unsteady.

"Yes, I remember you." The tone changed a little, sounding vaguely uncertain, "What's the matter? You sound upset. Is-" A short pause, words stalled before continuing, "has something happened to Herald?"

"Ye-yes…" She was definitely crying now. Her sobs came through the phone clearly. Several times she tried to explain what happened but could barely get any words out before breaking down. Any words she did managed were choked and garbled to the point of barely being understandable.

"Bethany, I need you to try and steady yourself. Tell me what happened, is Herald okay?"

"No, no…no he-he isn't…" Bethany managed, still sobbing between words, through the phone. There soft rustling, possibly a tissue being pulled from a box, before she continued, "I-I came downstairs after I heard some-something b-banging in the kitchen," she whimpered softly to herself, "I-I thought someone'd had-had broken in! I…I even had grabbed one of H-Herald's golf clubs…"

"I'm guessing it wasn't a burglar."

Bethany simpered something that sounded like no. After that she became frantic again, her tone raising to hysterics, "Herald! He-he was trying to kill himself!"

"What?"

"We-we don't have any guns in the home. So…so, he-he wa-was trying to c-cu-" She was reduced to a sobbing mess again. Words became a garble mess between choked sobs. Undoubtedly her eyes were red and puffy from crying, face flush, stained with streaks of tears, nose probably running.

"He was trying to cut his own throat!" Bethany exclaimed in a shrill shriek of hysteria.

Halls that she'd lived in for decades suddenly were unfamiliar. Once predictable corners could hold more than just the kitchen she'd cleaned earlier that day. A dissonant clattering, of what she could guess was the silver wear being shoved around in the drawer, caused Bethany to jump. She bit down on her lower lip, inwardly telling herself to be ready for whatever hid around the corner.

Her hands tightened around the stainless-steel golf club she had herself wielding like a sword. She wasn't about to play hapless victim, not when Herald was in no state to handle a burglar. Bethany stalled. Where was her husband? He hadn't been in the bedroom. Had he stumbled into the intruder? It didn't sound like a fight was going on. Something wasn't right.

Another sound from the kitchen urged her out of her hiding spot. The golf club was tossed to the ground when she was met with the sight of her husband readying to slit his own throat. She'd worried about this ever since his mental health began deteriorating. Now her nightmare was a reality.

The struggle happened so fast. She pleaded, begged, for him to put the kitchen knife down, but his hand was clamped around that thing like his life depended on it. Somehow during the struggle she'd been tossed to the ground. Bethany would never, ever, be able to see the look of complete terror on her husband's face. He spoke to her but his eyes, so distant, stared at the entrance way behind her. Eyes hollow and full of panic-stricken fear.

"H-he's coming for me. I-I can't, I can't let him get me." Herald shook his head. Face streaked with tears, he whimpered like a kicked dog, "This-this is all my fault, all my fault. Vargas was right-I should have left this alone…" An expression of grave defeat overcame his face. A face of resignation. "It's all my fault, I've woken up a monster…"

Bethany pleaded, verging on getting on her knees to beg her husband to calm down. The knife was too close to his throat, its sharp point hardly a hair's length away from the skin, for her to be willing to risk trying to take it from him. Hours from now she'd barely remember what she said aside from, "Herald, dear, please! Please put that down! We-we can get help for you! Everything will be okay, I-I promise! Just, please, please-"

"Nothing will be okay."

The strong tone of certainty in her husband's voice made Bethany's words come to a halt. She was stunned. For a moment, she found herself believing him, but her rationality quickly took the wheel again. She'd knock him out if that's what it'd take to save his life, but she wouldn't get a chance to.

"I'm sorry. I'm so, so, sorry." The grief in his eyes was genuine before he cut a red ribbon around his neck with one clean slice.

Silence.

Then a heavy thud followed by a scream.

"Th-the ambulance came a while after. I-I don't know how long it took but it seemed like ages!" Bethany continued, voice still distraught and cracking in places. "I…I should've taken him to a clinic when he-he started going on about that decaying rabbit…But-but I couldn't bring myself to even bring it up…" Her words slurred together as she began to weep once more. The only intelligible words that could be made out were, "My fault, all my fault."

The response she got over the phone was silence. Bethany only registered this once her sobbing petered out again. In fact, Gregor had been completely silent during her retelling of what'd happened. She waited a while, thinking he was simply waiting for her calm down. Still she only received silence. Carefully she spoke up, surely, he hadn't just up and left, "Gregor…? Are you still there?"

"So sorry to hear this. Don't worry. I'll take care of everything."

The tone of the call ending cut in before Bethany could even question the response. Immediately she dialed the restaurant's number.

"We're sorry; you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service. If you feel you have reached this recording in error, please check the number and try your call again."

The air in the parts and service's room was still chilly as Clifton had gotten used to it being. Since the day shift guard, Leroy, had asked him to hook Puppet back up to his pulley system the mechanic/technician had been left alone to his own devices, but he didn't feel alone. The air held the weight of another, unseen, presence. Clifton didn't know if it was the children, or someone else, or if it was just his paranoia. At this point all three had equal chances of being correct, though Clifton would prefer two over another. Though, as much as he'd wished it was just him paranoid he knew that was, unfortunately, not the case.

Clifton stopped working on his current project when he felt a pang of hunger hit the pit of his stomach. Upon feeling that, Clifton realized he didn't know how much time had passed. He turned himself around to where his cellphone was sitting on the metal shelf. With a press of the home button the screen lit up. Clifton utter a swear under his breath when he saw it was a few minutes after ten thirty pm. His shift was nearly over. It felt like only a few minutes ago he'd just gotten back from hooking Puppet back up. He grabbed a dingy blue rag that hung out of one of his pockets and wiped off his forehead. How worn down and sweaty he was finally sinking in. Between him and the rag, the rag was probably in better condition. Clifton felt like he hadn't taken a break all day, and now that he thought about it…he hadn't. With a slight turn of his head he saw his lunch bag still sitting on the shelf under the work bench.

"No wonder I'm starving…" Clifton said to himself as he rubbed one of his eyes. Sleep had been difficult this week, he blamed it on his guilt. He helped trap the children, with their killer. It was his fault. He had to do what he could to fix this. His stomach would have to wait, he had to go talk to Gregor before he left for the day. No way was Gregor going to risk having another run in with the angry spirits.

Clifton was just about to leave when he realized that his phone was still playing music. He blinked his eyes and shook his head, trying to regain focus. A sensation of tiny insects skittered across the forefront of his mind. Clifton wiped the rag across his forehead once more in attempt to dispel the phantasmal feeling. He exited his phone from its music app, silencing the noise, before he exited his workroom. The cool air of the pizzeria was more prominent as he moved, like gentle cold breaths. Faintly he wished the costumers were still here, their movement kept the air warmer.

The pizzeria outside of the parts and services room was quiet. It seemed to Clifton that he was possibly the only one present. The rest of the staff had all clocked out for the day. He hoped he hadn't missed Gregor. If he did, he'd have to wait till tomorrow to tell him what he'd come up with. Inwardly he scolded himself for not getting his phone number. Trouble sleeping and anger towards the selfish security head had clouded his judgement. Clifton put his troubled thought aside and continued to the staff lounge, no reason to get worked up until he confirmed for sure that Gregor had left.

The relief was slight, tempered by his disdain, when he saw Gregor Scott sitting at the managers desk. Clifton's tired expression soured with a stiff frown at how comfortable the guard looked at the manager's desk. How could he be comfortable with their situation? Using poor hapless people, who only wanted a decent job, as sacrificial lambs just to keep angry, suffering, ghosts of children occupied? They had the murderer's corpse hidden in a sealed off room! The thoughts alone were ruining his physical and mental health, how could any sane person be okay with this? Let alone sleep at night!

"Gregor." The guard turned his attention away from the computer monitor and looked at him inquiringly. "I want to talk to you and show you something I developed."

Gregor gave the monitor a glance then nodded. He pulled himself up from the desk chair, stretched his back briefly, and popped his neck. Clifton found this sudden aloofness both aggravating and strange. All week Gregor had been like a coiled spring, just waiting for something to jump out at him.

"Alright, I'm guessing it's in parts and services right?" Gregor asked with a quirk of his brow, sounding genuinely curious.

Clifton only nodded and lead the shorter man to his work room. Gregor looked around the room once they arrived, presumably to try and pick out what Clifton had created. Initially his eyes landed on a completed animatronic endoskeleton that laid on the main work table. His attention switched over to Clifton as he picked up what looked to be a remote off a thinner work bench that was up against a wall.

"A remote?" Gregor mused aloud. He moved over to Clifton's side and eyed it with intrigue. Unable to figure what it was for, off the face of it, Gregor asked, "How will it help the night guard? Will it turn the animatronics off?"

"No." The head of security looked vaguely surprised. "I figured if their haunted, turning them off wouldn't do much. Instead, I configured this to wirelessly lock their joints. All of them, at the same time. Took some doing but I got this hooked up to the animatronic's wireless connection. Programed the joint lock into the remote then added the command to the animatronics over the week."

"Are you sure that the ghosts won't just," Gregor held a pause to find the right way of putting what he had to ask, "override? The joint locks?"

Clifton's uncertainty was clear as day. He shook his head. "No, I'm not certain of that. There wasn't any real way to test if they could undo the command, but I can show you that it works."

He switched the remote on, which pulled Gregor's attention right back to it, then pressed the sole button at was at the center of the remote. Gregor's attention snapped over to the endoskeleton that laid on the table as a series of simultaneous metal snaps occurred. Clifton set down the remote down then attempted to move on of the animatronic's arms. The joints effectively locked, the nudge did little more than cause the whole metal form to shift slightly. Arms tucked behind his back Gregor leaned over the table and examined the animatronic. After a moment of checking that the animatronic was indeed immobile, by prodding several of the joints, Gregor stood back up.

"Seems locked down tight to me." He noted. Gregor turned to Clifton, hand held out, "I'll just let the night guard know to test it right when they begin to move."

To Gregor's confusion Clifton held it out of reach. Clifton finally allowed his disdain for the man show, his tone seething with bitter dislike that verged on loathing, "I'm only handing this over on one condition."

Clifton was nearly half a foot taller than Gregor, who was average height for a man, and had the body of a well worked mechanic. In every way he was more intimidating than the security head. Frustratingly enough though, Gregor seemed more annoyed than intimidated. He eyed Clifton in a critical manner, lowered his hand, and tucked it back behind himself.

"And what's that, Schwartz?" He asked. There was a bite to the way he said the surname.

"You swear to me that we look for a way to put the kids to rest." Gregor gave him a questioning look. Clifton pushed onward, "I know we have no clue about how, but-please," He practically pleaded. "Just look at it this way. If we put them to rest. Then there'll be nothing to worry about! No more dead guards, no more haunting. You want this business to move forward, right? Then work with me to find a way to give them peace."

Gregor's eyes light up and he went still. "I…" His eyes glazed over with a thousand-yard stare. Whatever he was looking at now, it wasn't Clifton. It didn't look like he was looking at anything anymore. He was just staring, eyes seemingly empty of any thought.

As seconds, then minutes slipped by Clifton's dislike towards his coworker turned into concern. He was starting to look lifeless as a mannequin. Unsettled Clifton decided it was time to incite a response from him. "Gregor?" Nothing. Unease made its home in his gut. Clifton gathered his nerves and decided to yank the metaphorical Band-Aid off, roughly he shook the man's shoulder. This time Gregor did snap from his daze.

"Are you alright? You zoned out…" Clifton stated as Gregor shook off whatever it was that'd overcome him.

"Huh? Oh, heh." Gregor, seemingly amused, gave him a small grin, "I'm fine. Just tired is all, Schwartz. Thanks for the concern though." Clifton eyed him a little. Now, Gregor was just acting odd. Almost like he was trying to be, friendly? Despite saying he was tired he didn't act it, but he did look it. Clifton refocused as Gregor held his hand out for the remote again, "But, your right, there is no downside to your "condition"." When Clifton didn't hand over the remote Gregor added, "I'll help."

Now satisfied Clifton handed over the remote, which Gregor graciously took. He eyed it over while asking, "You have any ideas?"

Clifton, deflated from his stiff as stone glare, admittedly shrugged and shook his head, "Nothing for sure. A proper burial, maybe?" His guilt towards helping renew the victims torment welled up inside. Anxious he turned back towards the endoskeleton, hands gripping the end of the table. Vaguely he wondered if this endoskeleton he'd built was also haunted. A pour, tormented, victim, trapped and forced to entertain the living with no way out. No wonder they were so angry. Full of shame everything became dismal, perhaps he deserved everything that was heading his way…

"Of course, we'd need to find the bodies. To do that we'd need to solve a three-decade old unsolved crime…" Clifton stated dully as he looked down at the bare animatronic.

"Yeah, it's been so long…" Mutely Clifton nodded to this. In three decades the location the bodies were hidden would look completely different. Landmarks could've been lost to time. Behind him Gregor sighed, "I don't even remember where I put them."

It took a moment for Clifton to properly register what Gregor had said. In that same moment an explosion of pain blossomed on the back of his head. He crumpled up against the metal table for support, his consciousness fading quickly. Before everything faded to black he heard a familiar sound, whistling of a catchy jingle. Another blossom of pain sprouted from the back of his head and his sight gave into darkness.

Author's Note:

Originally I was going to post more for this chapter, but, as usual, the chapter ended up going on longer than I'd like. At least we're basically done with the day shift finally. But! I've been very eager to get to get to this part! Also, I've got around half of the next chapter written up and I'm excited to finish it and post it! Next chapter is going to be a "fun" one. We also got to see how Herald was doing. So. That happened. First time writing a scene like that, hope it went over well. For the first draft of this I wasn't wasn't going to write that scene out, but showing is has more impact than tell. I felt if I didn't include it his character would be glossed over and not be a good way to cap off his character. Because of that though, I feel I might need to up the maturity rating on this. Let me know what you think about that.

As always hope you enjoyed, and please let me know what you think!