CHAPTER TWO:
CONVERSATIONS.

Mitch reaches up into the overhead cupboard, producing two small white coffee mugs. He sets them down on the counter, grabbing two paper coffee filters.

"You know, I hate to do this to you, man- but we've got about fifteen minutes of chat time before I head to bed. Gotta be up bright and early for the day shift, you know?"

Dave sits at the table, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly.

"Yeah, I get it man- don't sweat it. I wouldn't keep you from your job." Dave drums his fingertips on the table. "So, uh, day shift, huh? Where do you work?"

Mitch chuckles lightly.

"Proud employee of Freddy's my man. I'm a day guard, myself. Watching over the kiddies, cleaning up puke- all that fun stuff."

Dave quirked an eyebrow, cocking his head slightly.

"Freddy's...?"

Mitch snorts a bit. "Uh, yeah man- Freddy Fazbear's Pizza."

Dave thinks for a moment.

"I, uh, I don't think I've ever heard of it."

Mitch stares at him like that was the most radically offensive- jaw-droppingly baffling thing he's ever heard.

"Dude, WHAT? You've never heard of FREDDY'S?"

"I take it it's uh- a popular spot?"

Mitch finally makes the effort of shutting his big dumb jaw. "Popular- dude, it's the most popular brand in Utah right now! There's locations all over Hurricane!" Mitch takes a sip of his coffee, handing the second mug to Dave. "Seriously man, Freddy's a big deal here."

Dave nods, unable to keep himself from cracking a smile, as he accepts the mug of coffee. "Noted."

Dave looks down at the deep brown coffee in his mug. It looks relatively delicious, and he'd be damned if it didn't smell divine, too. He raised the mug to his lips and took a tentative sip.

The coffee tasted like shit.

But it was all he had. So, he took another sip, choking it down.

Mitch continues. "But yeah. It's a decent job, if a bit tiring. Some stupid teenagers came after hours- a few months, give or take, ago. Long story short- they totally trashed the damn place. Took up until last week for the company to get the location back open for business- so there's a ton of open positions, and stuff." He takes another sip, continuing. "It's been a lot, recently. On top of the usual day guard stuff, I've had to deal with training all these new employees, you know? I love people, but sometimes people get a bit much."

Dave chuckles over his coffee. "Tell me about it."

Mitch leans back in his chair, smiling. "So, Dave- what do you do for work? Now that I've had my rant, I think it's only fair you return the favor."

Dave swallows. He knew this question was coming eventually, now, it's just a manner of playing his cards right- so as to not look like a complete and utter failure. He sets his coffee down.

"I'm uh...kind of...in-between jobs, uhm- right now-" "But I'm on the job hunt, nonstop- I'll find a way to pay my share when it comes time for rent payments, i swear." Dave quickly saves, wringing his hands a bit.

Mitch looks at Dave for a moment, with an unreadable expression. The silence is unbearable.

Mitch furrows his brow a bit. "Well shit man, why didn't you say something before?" He grins. "I can totally help you get a job, man- no sweat."

Dave blinks. Is he serious? That's it? No frustration, nothing? Evidently, his confusion showed, because Mitch continued.

"What? I trust your word- you'll be on top of rent when it gets to it. And plus-" He pauses to sip his coffee. "I just finished saying that my workplace is hiring. It'd be shitty if I didn't offer you a job."

Dave shakes his head, sighing with relief. "Jesus, sorry- just- I kind of thought you'd be, uh- you'd be angry, you know? All blank-faced and everything."

"My bad, man. Couldn't resist scaring you a little." Mitch laughs, setting his coffee mug down. "But, yeah- for real, as long as you're good with whatever position they offer you, they'll take you pretty much no matter what. We're uh...really desperate for new employees."

Dave leans forward in his seat a bit. He's reasonably interested now. This could be a really good thing for him. "Shit- when can I come in? I'll have to edit my resume, too-"

Mitch cuts him off. "B-ah, pssh. Don't worry about it. When I say we're desperate, I mean we're desperate. Just come in tomorrow, anytime- and tell em you need a job."

"Just...come in? No calling beforehand, nothing? You mean to tell me, that if I just show up, I'll be magically handed a job?" Dave scoffed. Even considering who he was talking to- it felt utterly ridiculous.

"Well, I wouldn't say magically. But considering some of the people we've hired before? You've got a damn good shot."

Dave couldn't believe what he was hearing. It sounded far too good to be true- it was absolutely too good to be true.

But what choice did he have?

"Fine. I'll come in tomorrow, fuckin'...seven in the morning? Better to get it over with sooner, right?"

"Sounds good to me, brother. That's about when my shift starts, anyway, so I'll drive you."

An irritating repetitive beep came from Mitch's watch.

"And that-" Mitch rose from his seat. "-would be my cue. I'm gonna go and hit the hay, so uh, just do whatever, yeah? Watch some TV, get some sleep in yourself- whatever you like. Just don't burn the house down, okay?" And with that, Mitch slapped the wall, and headed down the hallway, disappearing into the door at the end of the hall.

Despite Dave's best efforts, there wasn't much to do in his newfound home.

He tried watching some television, like Mitch suggested- but that wasn't very intriguing, as all that was on, were the news, and some stupid alien-hunting TV show re-runs. Even flipping through the TV guide proved fruitless, as Mitch appeared to have lost his English copy, and the only one he had left was in damn Mandarin. Why Mitch even owned a Mandarin copy of the TV guide was beyond Dave, but still, there it was, regardless. Another cup of coffee, some time spent sitting around, and an oddly uncharacteristic errant copy of The Art of War later, Dave decided it was pointless, and headed off to bed himself.

Making an educated guess, Dave deduced that the only other room left in the house - the door on the right wall of the hallway - must be his room. He pushed the door open, and stepped inside to see that, indeed, inside, was a small bedroom. There was a small set of shelving, a bed, a little bedside table- and what looked like even a shitty, tiny little closet, too. Dave set his bag down on the ground, and stepped a little further into the room. Looking closer, he could see little pin-prick holes in the wall- and the errant jutting-out nail or two - suggesting that this room was once inhabited by someone who hung a lot of things on their walls. He walked over, and took a seat on the edge of the bed. Comfy enough. A little firm, for his tastes- but it would have to do. He laid down under the covers, and shut his eyes. He didn't have any trouble falling asleep that night.

Dave was sitting down on the cold, tile floor, leaned against a hard surface. He clutched a flashlight in his hand with a vice grip. An acrid stench hit him like a brick wall. It was suffocating- pungent. His entire surroundings reeked of rot, vomit, and ammonia.

He tried desperately to keep his breathing low. He was hiding.

What was he hiding from?

The lights hum-buzz continued overhead. It was loud. Overbearingly so. He couldn't hear himself think- he needed quiet, he needed everything to be quiet, he-

His breath felt stale, and he could feel it hitting him, warm, in the cheeks. He had something over his face. A mask?

He heard the creaking of footsteps behind him.

This was it. He was done for.

They would get him. They would finally get him.

Dave.

Dave.