It’s been a little more than a week and all four are still with us and doing well. We took them back to the vet today for a follow-up and more shots, and all four have doubled in weight, so yay! They still need a little weight and some medication before they are stable and old enough to find their forever-homes, but in the meantime, they are getting lots of round-the-clock attention and cuddles. We were going to name them Cat 1, 2, 3, and 4, but that sort of fell by the wayside, and somehow they ended up named Markimoo (the big floofy redhead), Arin the Grump and Danny Sexkitten (who is not so grump, and is the snuggliest), and little Jackaboy with the septic eye, which is being treated and well on the road to recovery.
In other news, my father has written a blurb and put a cover together for his second book in the Children of Omm series, so you will quite possibly see a sneak peek of that in the coming weeks! Stay tuned!
Anyhoo, on to the story stuff! Today is Saturday and as I sit here with Danny Sexkitten purring on my chest, I am ready to upload the next chapter of my FNAFiction, Everything Is All Right, Part Two: Mike Schmidt and the Long Night. So if you are reading along, head on over to fanfiction.net or archiveofourown.org and check it out. And if you’re still trying to decide whether a serial fanfiction written about animatronic animals from a video game is really worth reading, please enjoy this small sample!
Bonnie never heard the car pull in. His first clue that anything was wrong was when Freddy abruptly stopped his act, right in the middle of pulling a ratty old silk-flower bouquet out of his hat. His head turned slowly, as if tracking the movement of a winged insect only he could see. His round ears swiveled slightly on their pins as he listened, picking up sounds that Bonnie, with his ears forward and aimed out into the dining room, could not hear. But there must have been something, all right, because Freddy folded the flowers up with a brisk tug through his fist and tucked them away in his wrist, then put his hat back on and said, “BE. STILL. BE. QUIET. THAT’S AN ORDER.”
The convulsion that took him when this command overrode his programmed routine was quick and almost painless. When it was over, Bonnie’s arms were locked in the playing position on his guitar, his ears flopped low over his shut eyes, listening as hard as he could to Freddy’s footsteps as he left the stage and then the room.
The minutes crawled by, quiet enough that Bonnie could hear all the little sounds that so often escaped his attention: his and Chica’s fans humming, the steady wheeze as hot air blew out through the joints and cracks of their casings, the slow plink-plink-plonk of water dripping, the wind on the roof…and then the car.
It came from the back of the building—a lighter engine than that of Ana’s truck, with a loose fan belt and squealing brakes—circled around to the front and slowly faded out of hearing, only to return a few minutes later. Bonnie tracked its slow progress as best he could without moving his ears, and when it reached the north side of the restaurant, it parked. Not good. Sure enough, a short time later, he heard car doors opening and shutting, then the indistinct clamor of voices, followed by the inevitable muted clunk of something heavy hitting one of the gymnasium’s windows.
It didn’t break. The tinted safety glass that made up the gymnasium wall made a tempting target for trespassers, but even if it wasn’t four inches of solid Lucite, it was still pretty durable by human standards. After a few more whacks with the rock or the crowbar or whatever they were using, they gave up.
But although the sound was not repeated, Bonnie doubted whoever was out there had just left. And sure enough, a few minutes later, he heard the loading dock door banging as they tried to raise it, then a pounding on the man-sized door beside it. When that lock also proved to have more muscle than they did, they moved on and once more, there was silence.
He waited, but he didn’t hear the noisy engine come on. He wasn’t sure what they were doing out there—they’d had enough time to have walked around the building by now—but they weren’t leaving. And they wouldn’t have to look too hard to find a way in, thanks to him.
The thought gave him a guilty twinge, but he felt worse about the fact that Ana wouldn’t come if she saw a car in the parking lot. After all, this wasn’t the first time someone had tried to break in and it wouldn’t be the last. There was nothing to do here and nothing left to steal. Odds were good, whoever was out there would come in, look around, maybe light their silly candles and try to summon up the ghost of Billy Blaylock, and then leave.
Freddy’s footsteps were coming back and with them, Foxy’s. No sooner had Bonnie recognized this—his hearing was terrible when the microphones were fixed in place like this—than he heard Foxy’s voice in a gruff rumble, too distant to make out words.
“I DON’T KNOW. BUT. THEY. WOULD. HAVE. LEFT. BY. NOW. IF. THEY. WEREN’T,” Freddy replied. “THEY’RE. COMING. IN. THEY. JUST. HAVE. TO. WORK. UP. TO. IT. FIRST.”
“That’s never a g-g-g—GREAT DAY TO BE A PIRATE—good sign,” Foxy said, closer now.
“So where d-d-do ye want me?”
“THE. KITCHEN. FOR. NOW,” Freddy said with a grumble. “IF. THEY. GO. ANY. FURTHER. CIRCLE. AROUND. THROUGH. THE. BREAK. ROOM. WE’LL. CUT. THEM. OFF. AT. THE. PIG.”
“Easier to p-p-pick ‘em off before they get their bearings,” Foxy said. “They’ll rattle a few d-d-doors, all right, but they’ll c-c-come in by the West Hall.”
“It ain’t-t-t too late for me to d-d-d—DOUBLOONS!—double back and wait for ‘em in the C-Cove. Once they’re all in, I c-c-come out and c-c-c—CUTTHROATS AND THIEVES—cut off their escape. Ye move in from here and-d-d we’ll meet in the middle and mop up the blood.”
“ONCE. THEY. SEE. US. MOVE. WE. HAVE. TO. K-K-KILL. THEM.” Freddy’s slow, dragging stride briefly turned to splashes as he navigated through the deepest remaining puddle. “I. WANT. TO. GIVE. THEM. THE.” A long pause. He settled on, “BEEN. A. FIT. OF. THE. OUT.”
“Rather g-g-give ‘em a slice up the middle and p-p-pitch ‘em in the p-p-pit,” Foxy remarked, already moving away at a light, easy run Bonnie genuinely envied. “They lost the rights to me d-d-doubts when they broke in. And d-d-don’t tell me Ana b-br-broke in. One thing ain’t-t-t nothing to the other.”
“IT. FEELS. THAT. WAY. SOMETIMES. DOESN’T. IT.” Freddy climbed the stairs to the stage and took up his place in the center. “BONNIE. CHICA. WAKE UP. BUT. DON’T. MOVE.”