Finding The Five || FNAF Movie

25 || Wake Up Call

(Unedited, Not Proofread, 3261 words)
Trigger Warnings: Mentions of death, gore, blood, etc. 

How am I going to do this?

"Josie, please don't go into this blind," Mike begs, his voice far away even though he's standing right behind me as I examine Foxy from my crouched position. I glance back over my shoulder, my eyes downcast towards his shoes rather than up at his face. Even though I know he's right, I can't admit it just yet.

I still have to try, regardless of whether I know what I'm doing or not. If I don't, how will I be able to when I have to break the attachments? How will I be able to call myself a medium at all? Not everything will be spelt out for me.

But these are real souls. Not some practice set or no-penalty game. Their souls are in danger. Our lives are in danger. Abby's, Jonah's, Mike's, Makaylen's, and mine. If I can't figure this out, we'll be losing more than just the spirits.

Just as I'm about to speak to Mike, a name comes to me.

Spirits have names that follow them. Strong mediums can identify spirits by just the name associated with the energy, even before the spirit is found. Ghosts don't have names, but they can be rehabilitated— in a sense— if they are reminded of it. Entities are self-named, and their names are often associated with death or the darker side of the afterlife. Most name themselves after the Devil and his demons, and they typically gravitate towards those who believe in the religion they're associated with.

But that's entities. I'm getting a name from a spirit. And that spirit is Fritz.

And that means there's enough of him here for me to connect with.

But how?

The room has grown unnaturally hot since we first walked in, which— if I remember correctly— is a sign of high paranormal activity. Annabeth said it gets cold before it gets hot, so we must've crossed the cold threshold at some point.

Just another indicator that this room is filled to the brim with energy.

It's odd, then, that I can't actually feel it.

"Fritz?" I ask, softly, my eyes shifting around the animatronic as if its appearance can give me any indication about why I can't find him.

The animatronic is sitting on the ground with its metal legs outstretched and its arms pin-straight, both at an oddly satisfying forty-five degree angle from its shoulders to its paws. Almost all the fur plates have been ripped away, revealing metal framing and a mess of internal wires and a broken endoskeleton. The jaw lays open, having been unhooked from the latch mechanism that open and closes it. The teeth have been chipped out or worn down by decades of stagnation and metal deterioration. The feet are wide, contrasting the thin pole legs. It would've stabilized the animatronic in its working days, but now it just looks a little ridiculous.

It's a cage, in a sense, both to the wires and to the spirit of the boy trapped within them. For some reason, both here and— from what Mike tells me— in the other location, the animatronics act as the cage. Their attachments are curses, not blessings.

The spirits aren't happy to be stuck in them. That's why Jeremy detests Bonnie. That's why Sam was so happy to get out.

But Sam was stuck because of Charlie, who maintained the attachment. These animatronics... these spirits... I don't know why they're stuck. I don't know who is maintaining their attachment. It can't be Charlie, or Jeremy wouldn't be free. It has to be someone who would've overlooked Jeremy, or thought he was too much to try and contain.

But I'm not focusing on Jeremy right now. I'm focusing on Fritz. And right now, I need a way past the cage.

"Fritz, can you hear me?" I ask, reaching out to touch one of the plates that sits between the left shoulder and the chest. My fingers glide lightly over the broken piece, and I note how the fur feels compacted and damp beneath my fingers. "I'm here to help. I promise."