Chapter 40: Night Seven: 12-2 a.m.

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Calum

"Hi, you've reached the Hemmings residence. We can't come to the phone-!"

"Yo, this is Michael. Leave a message-."

I angrily hang up the phone after many failed attempts. The knot of worry in my stomach double knots itself after the last call. Where are they?

I glance up at the clock. It's 10:30 at night. They should have been home last night let alone today. I bite my lip and dial Ashton, glancing around my kitchen.

It rings a few times before Ashton's gruff voice answers.

"Hello?"

"Ashton, you need to come over, now." I say without hesitation, "Please, it's Luke and Michael. You have to just go with me on this."

There's a long pause on the other end before a long sigh.

"Alright. I'll be right over."

"Ash?" I add, hoping he hasn't hung up yet.

"Yes?" He asks somewhat impatiently.

"Bring an extra baseball bat if you have one."

-

"You think they were attacked?" Ashton repeats my words with a cocked eyebrow.

"Ash, look at what we know. They didn't come home last night, and they promised they would call if they could. Something happened at Freddy's last night." My arms are folded over my chest. Ashton will not convince me that "everything is fine" this time.

"So what do you suggest we do, Calum? Break in?" He scoffs, still in denial.

"Yes."

He blinks, raising his other brow. He then shakes his head and rubs his temple.

"Okay...and then do what exactly?" He demands, sighing out in annoyance.

"You remember what Gabe said? Golden Freddy I mean..." I swallow, hoping Ashton will agree with me.

"What? The puppet?" His eyes grow big, blinking again.

"Yeah, that thing."

"Why would that help?!" He demands.

"Because, Ashton, if Vincent did hurt them, Gabe said the puppet is a sure fire way to beat him..."

Ashton takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and shaking his head. After a minute he looks up again and shrugs.

"You're crazy, Calum. Totally crazy. But, since you really think our friends are in trouble, I'm in. When are we going?" He asks, reaching for the bat he brought over.

"Now." I state, grabbing a jacket before leafing him out the door, my dad's hunting knife in my pocket, "Grab your stuff."

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