Connecticut Airport: 9:28 p.m.
As the plane landed at the Hartford airport after about four and a half hours in the air, the pilot waited for all the packages to get loaded off before walking toward the cabinet where she had set her coffee. The sound of something falling over from behind her frightened the woman. She turned around quickly and spilled a bit of coffee on her sleeve.
"Shit!" She cursed and bent down to dry her pants. The woman reached over to the tag. The barcode was stained in coffee and was now impossible to read. She read the name written on the box. But a name wasn't enough to go on.
"What should I do with you?" she muttered aloud. "I suppose the person who ordered it can just get a refund. It'd be impossible to find out who it was supposed to ship to. I guess I'll just take you home with me."
She grabbed the box and made her way out of the plane, relishing in the fact that she was finally able to rest for a while. She'd have to stay in a hotel overnight until morning, but at least she'd be off the plane. It was easy enough to get a cab, which took her to the hotel right near the airport, that way she wouldn't have a ways to go the next morning. There wasn't a line at all once she got there and already had a room ready thanks to the perks of being a Pilot. The moment she got into her room she threw her luggage down, including the box she had carried with her. She began to unwrap it as curiosity overtook her. The yellow cardboard box showed through the tears as she ripped the packaging paper away. Red letters were revealed. Good, and then Guys. Until all of the paper was scattered on the floor.
She saw the doll behind a cellophane window and it's face, a smiling Good Guy face.
She stared back at it. Then the face suddenly scowled and two tiny hands grabbed at the cellophane. With a blurring fast rip, Chucky let out a battle cry as he broke through the yellow box. Leaving a cardboard mess behind him. The woman screamed as she fell back on her butt. It was like a bug crawling out of an egg. Chucky looked up, not who he expected to see.
"Who the fuck are you?"
The doll stood in front of her. She scooted back more until the bed made her stop. The doll is talking to me. Dolls can't talk, or move or curse. The woman opened her mouth.
"W-what kind of doll are you!?" It was a stupid question but she could hardly process what was in front of her.
Chucky moved his arms as if stretching them.
"I'm new and improved."
I'm talking to a doll! That's impossible! What the hell was in that coffee!? Is there a computer inside it? A tiny computer? The doll spoke again.
"Alright toots, fun's over. Where the hell's Andy?"
She drew a blank on the name.
"Andy?" She asked. Chucky leaned over and grabbed some of the torn paper.
"Can't ya read?" He said holding up a label from Play Pals toys. "It says ship to Andy Barclay. He was supposed to get this package."
The doll raised its finger.
"Tampering with the mail is a federal offense." The woman still was shaking in awe of this abomination in front of her. Then the doll reached inside it's overalls and pulled out a knife.
He crept toward the phone in the room he dialed the front desk number.
"Uh, yes, hello, this is your customer from room…" he checked the number on the room key. "231 And I was just wondering what city am I in?"
"Um…you're in Hartford, sir," the voice responded from the other end.
"Thank you," he said, hanging up. "Hartford…and Andy's in Guilford…how am I going to get there?"
Chucky turned around and grinned as he tapped the knife in his hand.
"My flight wasn't very enjoyable," Chucky said, sneering as the woman cowered and whimpered. "Perhaps you can make it up to me. Let's take a drive."
The woman looked like she was about to cry but Chucky pointed the knife toward her even as she stood up slowly.
"You're going to carry me out of here, got it?"
The woman took in a shaky breath and nodded fearfully, very slowly bending down to lift him up. Chucky made sure to keep the knife hidden between his body and hers but made sure she felt it against her skin.
"C-can't I g-get dressed?" she stammered.
"What for? After all, we'll have our own car," Chucky laughed cruelly. "And don't forget your cell phone."
The woman whimpered but did as she was told, grabbing her cell phone and carrying him out of the room and into the lobby. Chucky whispered for her to go outside into the parking lot. She knew she was getting some stares but couldn't do anything about it. As they came to the parking lot Chucky noticed a small fat man no, a very small fat man getting out of his car.
"Go up to that man and tell him you need help," Chucky demanded quietly.
The woman glanced up at the man, gulped and shakily approached him.
"Ah shit!" the man cursed as he dropped his keys on the ground.
When he stood up he noticed her approaching and stared back, obviously staring at her state of dress.
"I-I need help," she stammered.
The man looked concerned. "What? Do you need to go to a hospital?" he asked, approaching very close to her.
"No, but you will," Chucky said. Before the man could blink, Chucky slashed his throat with the knife.
Blood oozed out and the man gagged, unable to scream or make anything except gurgling sounds. The woman began crying and shaking her head and Chucky just sneered as the man fell down, his eyes rolling in the back of his head.
"Now, lift him up and stuff him in the trunk. And make sure no one's close by!"
The woman's tears were streaming down her face, but she set Chucky down and lifted the man as best as she could. Chucky pressed the button on the keys and the trunk opened. She stuffed him inside after looking around to make sure no one else was in the parking lot or nearby. Still crying, she stuffed the man inside head first. Surprisingly, he fit just fine when his legs were bent. The woman shakily closed the trunk looking down at her hands which were covered in blood.
"Now get in and start driving," Chucky said as he held the bloody knife toward her until she got inside the driver's seat.
Then he climbed over her into the passenger's seat. She closed the door, trembling violently, and Chucky searched around for a map in the glove compartment. He found one and searched it for Guilford. He turned the map around so she could see it.
"This is where we're heading," he said, pointing at the map. "You're going to follow this freeway and take the second exit, got it?"
The woman nodded, more tears leaking out of her eyes. Trembling, she started up the car and drove out of the parking lot. She headed toward the freeway, still trembling, but able to keep the car steady.
"Good. Keep going this way. We'll be on the freeway for about forty or so minutes before we see the exit for Guilford. Then it should be only about a fifteen minute drive to the orphanage."
The woman sniffled and licked her lips. "W-why are you going to an orphanage?"
Chucky sneered at her. "None of your fucking business! Now keep driving!"
The woman turned back to the road too frightened to say more. Chucky watched her carefully and kept the knife pointed at her at all times. Just as he predicted, they were on the freeway for about forty-three minutes before they saw an exit. She pulled off on the exit and Chucky told her which way to go. When they got onto Fox Run road, Chucky told her to pull off to the side of the road.
"Why are we stopping?" she asked fearfully. "We're on the right road."
"Yes…we are," Chucky sneered.
With one, quick hit into the back of her head, her face slammed into the steering wheel. Instantly, she was knocked out and collapsed in the seat. He then took the knife and slashed her throat, then placed the knife by her hand to make it look like a suicide. The police would no doubt think she killed herself. There were some good things about being a doll—he couldn't leave fingerprints. At least not at this stage.
"You should be thanking me. I normally don't kill people while they're unconscious," Chucky laughed aloud. "But I didn't want you to scream, not when the pigs are on their nightly patrols."
Chucky grabbed her cell phone and dialed information.
"Yes, can you direct me to the Foxrun orphanage?"
He waited as it clicked and the phone rang again. After about two rings someone answered.
"Hello, this is Mrs. Malkum of the Fox Run children's orphanage. How can I help you?" the voice from the other line answered.
"Yes, hi, I'm calling for Andy Barclay. This is his Uncle Charles."
"Andy? I'm sorry he's no longer here. I didn't realize he had any relatives close by. We were told the only relative he really had was his mother."
"Uh, yes, I've been ill for the past several years but I've gotten much better. I haven't seen him in years so I was hoping to track him down and see him," Chucky answered, thinking up a quick excuse.
"I see. Well, I'm sorry sir but Andy is no longer here. He's been adopted."
"Really? That's great. Could you possibly tell me where he's staying?"
"I'm sorry, sir, we're not allowed to give that information without legal proof that you are his relative. You could come by the orphanage if you'd like."
"That's not necessary ma'am. I was just in town and thought I'd stop by and see him real quick. I'm not in town for long. Is there any other way I could see him, like at school or someplace?"
"Well, actually, I believe he starts his first day on Monday at the private Catholic school on Meadowbrook road."
"Thank you so much. I'll stop by and visit him."
"You're welcome."
Chucky hung up, sneering to himself. "Monday and I can finally put all this doll shit behind me."
Pocketing the cell phone in his overalls, Chucky opened the car door and glanced back at the woman who was rapidly losing blood and soon would die without even realizing it.
"Thanks for the ride toots"