Everything was groggy. Cathryn had never had such a terrible night's rest. Her bones ached, her throat felt like the Sahara Desert, but worst of all, her head! Hands brushed across her limbs, and Cathryn blinked the grime out of her eyes.
She squealed into an enormous palm.
She was flat on her back, returning the stare of a giant, yellow animatronic with magenta eyes. Chica's face was inches from hers.
"Wake up," the bird demanded, mouth closed. She pulled her hand and rotten stench away.
Cathryn raised her own hand, her wrist sore and colored red. "What happened?" she croaked, her words slow.
"We need to go."
Yellow fingers gripped her shoulder and forced Cathryn to sit, though she quickly realized she'd preferred lying down. Lights spun around her head and her eyelids shut before she could go blind. She dug her fingers deep into her temples. "Where . . . are we?"
"We need to go," was the chicken's urgent response.
Cathryn swallowed, and gave her second attempt at looking around. Her thoughts were fuzzy, but once her gaze landed on the silver lining of the inside of a supplies truck, she nearly jumped out of her skin. She whipped towards Chica so fast her insides jumbled. "How did you get here?"
"All will be explained, now let's move." Chica took Cathryn's wrist and gently tugged her forward, prompting her to stand.
She slipped from the hard table to the ground, wobbling on the boiled noodles that'd replaced her legs while she was sleeping. Noodles. Her mind instantly crawled with thoughts of spaghetti, and her stomach rumbled with pain. "How long have I been asleep?"
"Move."
Chica dragged her into taking a few steps, and as Cathryn composed herself, she found her body growing wearier and wearier. She hobbled alongside the animatronic.
What had happened? She remembered Freddy – who was nowhere in sight – throwing her on the table, and the strong man with a gun, and the thing on her face . . . but now that she was waking up, her memories all felt like pieces of one of Markus' conspiracy theories!
Cathryn paused for a moment to catch her breath, her lungs hurting as if they'd never expanded before. She glanced at the cabinets lining the back wall, each certainly bolted to the floor. To her side rested a large computer on top of more cabinets, a strip of metal stretched across them all and connected to a lock. The ones along the back reminded Cathryn of the cabinets at home in their kitchen, but the rows beneath the computer were more office-like. She wanted to touch them.
Before she could consider it, she noticed the blot of red decorating the wall behind the table . . .
And below it, the familiar, burly man lying unconscious in a small puddle of blood.
"Ch-Chica . . ."
"I told you, all will be explained, but right now–"
"No. I think this needs explaining now." She blinked at the body, as if that would make it disappear. The only thing keeping Cathryn together was the slow rise and fall of the man's chest. But really, would she have hated if Chica had killed him?
She glanced at the bird, who refused to look at the man. Chica only stared forward at a size-able, ragged gap torn through the closed ramp. A soft light filtered inside the truck.
"Did you do this?" Cathryn asked, pointing towards the hole.
"Yes."
She gestured over her shoulder at the table and the splattered wall. "I thought you said you didn't kill people."
YOU ARE READING
Alone With Them
Fanfiction"As anxiety pooled in her stomach, it was all she could do to keep from throwing up on his leg and giving away her position. Yet she knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that Freddy could sense where she was hiding. There was nowhere she could go in t...
