Chapter Text
By this point, Michael Afton was very used to seedy living spaces. He had slept in his car more times than he would like to admit, with one eye open to make sure no one with a rattling voice and a body made of wires was sneaking up on him, determined to use his skin as a costume.
He just hadn’t expected to find Charlotte Emily in such similar circumstances.
He had tracked her down to a tiny apartment complex a few hours east of Hurricane County, though he hadn’t been able to find Henry. It was two stories, the bricks cracking dangerously along the wall and faded call buttons announcing each person’s name. It smelled strongly of gasoline, and it made Michael’s headache worse.
He spotted the call button with faded writing that announced that a C. Emily lived in apartment 1C. He pressed it, hearing a shrill buzz that made him wince.
“Hello?” He asked.
Silence on the other end, other than the static.
“Hello?” Michael asked again, and swallowed. “Charlie? Are you there?”
“Go away.” A crackling voice responded.
“Charlie, it’s me,” He swallowed. “Michael. Michael Afton.”
The static somehow managed to sound stunned.
“...how did you find me?” The crackling voice asked slowly.
“It wasn’t easy,” Michael admitted. “Look, can we just-”
“Go away,” The voice ordered harshly. “I don’t want to see you.”
“Charlie, please,” Michael said desperately. “I didn’t…I didn’t know where else to go.”
There was a beat of silence, and for a second, Michael worried that he had chased her away. “...why now?” The voice asked. “After all this time?”
“I’ll explain, I promise,” Michael said. “Just let me in. Please.”
More silence, this time more stretched out than before. Michael looked over his shoulder nervously, though logically he knew he had nothing to fear during the daytime. “Charlie-”
The door clicked. “Don’t take up too much time,” Charlie ordered him as he pushed the door open. “And don’t stare.”
Michael blinked. “Stare at what?”
*** *** ***
Charlie’s arm was missing.
Logically, Michael had known that for years. He had known for years that Charlie had been attacked when she was very young and barely survived, and Henry Emily left town soon after with very little fanfare. His father had never allowed him and his siblings to visit Charlie in the hospital, and while he had thought it odd at the time, he knew why that was now. Even so, he heard through whispers that Charlie had only barely survived, horribly scarred and missing her left arm.
It wasn’t quite as bad as his childhood self had imagined. Charlie had scars, of course, long gouges going down her face as though a furious bear had taken out its frustrations on her, but the brunt of the scars were aimed at her heart, thus hidden by her clothes. Her hair was shorter than he remembered, but was still dark and frizzy, just like it had been when they were kids. Her eyes were still the color of amber, though now they were ringed with dark circles. He supposed they matched there.
But her sweater didn’t cover her metal hand, and he could see by the left arm’s stiffness that it wasn’t her own. A rather clunky prosthetic that he wasn’t sure even worked.
Charlie’s eyes narrowed when Michael’s gaze was immediately drawn to her hand. “I told you not to stare.”
“Sorry.” Michael said quickly, forcing himself to look at her scarred face.
She frowned. “You look like hell.”
“Have you looked in a mirror, lately?” Michael said before he could stop himself. “You’re one to talk.”
Charlie’s lips quirked into an almost-smile, and Michael shuffled. “Can…can I come in?”
Charlie stepped aside, and Michael quickly walked in, trying not to look to jumpy as he looked behind him. The apartment itself was just as tiny as it looked, dusty and unkempt, with dishes piled around the sink and various items strewn across the floor as if Charlie had moved in, scattered her belongings around, and then decided that was good enough.
“This is…” Michael shuffled. “This is nice.”
“Don’t lie to my face.” Charlie said.
“How’s your dad?” Michael asked. “Is he close?”
Charlie’s face twisted oddly, and Michael knew what she was going to say a second before she said it.
“He’s dead.”
Michael couldn’t stifle his gasp, and his hands flew to his mouth. “Oh my God.”
Charlie looked away, shutting the door, and Michael winced. “I…oh my God. I’m so sorry. I didn’t…I didn’t know.”
“Obviously not,” Charlie said roughly. “Or you wouldn’t have asked. What about your dad?”
Michael swallowed. “Dead too.”
“Good.” Charlie said.
Michael blinked in surprise. “Pardon?”
Charlie huffed. “You didn’t think I’d blank on who attacked me forever, did you?”
“I was told you just…blocked it out. Who attacked you, I mean.” Michael said cautiously.
“I did. For years. For years it was just…a blank void whenever I tried to picture it. Well, that and a lot of red,” Her eyes grew distant, and she frowned. “I’d…I’d wake up from awful nightmares, screaming my head off, but I never…I never remembered them.”
She swallowed hard, leaning against the wall. “And then when my dad…” She waved vaguely. “It just…it just clicked. It was him. It’s always been him. He was behind it all, wasn’t he? The other kids in the restaurant…it’s him, right?”
Michael stared at the ground, slightly dizzy. He heard Charlie sigh. “Goddammit.” She muttered, and Michael thought it was strange to hear her say that. She had been the one to take crass language seriously when they were children.
But then, they hadn’t been kids in a long time.
“What happened to Henry?” Michael asked, unable to stop himself. Henry had always had good health, and he wouldn’t be nearly old enough for natural causes to take him.
“Why are you here?” Charlie asked, glaring at him, but she mostly looked exhausted.
Michael swallowed. “I need your help.”
Charlie chuckled with no humor. “Of course you do.”
“It’s back,” Michael said. “The murders. Have you been watching the news? They rebuilt the pizzeria. Except this time it’s some kind of mall…they call it the Pizzaplex.”
“The Pizzaplex?” Charlie raised her eyebrows. “What kind of name is that?”
“Look, I didn’t come up with it,” Michael said. “But I need to stop it. A bunch of kids have already gone missing, and no one’s doing anything about it-”
“No, hold on, hold on,” Charlie held her hand up for him to stop, suddenly looking furious. “You come here after, what, how many years? It doesn’t matter. But you slink here, not to check up, not to talk, none of that. You just need my help with a new nightmare.”
“I don’t have anyone else to go to,” Michael pleaded. “Charlie-”
“And who’s fault is that?!” Charlie demanded, nearly snarling. “I’ve lived my nightmare-no, scratch that, I’m still living with it.” She gestured to her false arm.
“And you have the balls to beg for my help?! After all this time?! Fuck you!” She snapped, and opened the door. “Get out of my apartment.”
“Charlie-” Michael said, but she flipped him off.
“GET OUT!” She shouted. “Go ask Evan, not me!”
Michael flinched as though she had struck him, grief and vague confusion suddenly flooding his senses. “Evan…wait, you don’t-oh shit.”
“I don’t what?!” Charlie demanded.
Michael swallowed hard, his eyes burning. “Charlie, I…Evan died. Years ago.”
The fury left Charlie’s expression so suddenly it was jarring. “No.” She breathed out, her face deathly pale. She shook her head, frantic. “No, no no no. Not…not Evan.”
Michael swallowed. “I…I thought you knew.”
Charlie made an awful choked noise, covering her mouth. “First Lizzie and then…oh my God. Oh my God…” She took a shuddering breath. “What…what happened?”
Michael flinched again, staring at the ground. He knew the truth.
But no one else did.
“The same thing that happened to all those other kids,” He lied. “The same thing that happened to you.”
Charlie shook her head again. “No.” This time, her voice shook dangerously.
“The same thing that’s gonna keep happening to kids,” Michael said. “Unless we do something about it. No more brothers or sisters dead. No more best friends gone. We can end it, Charlie. We’re the only ones left. We’re the only ones who can stop it.”
Charlie took a shuddering breath, dragging her good hand down her face. “What…” She swallowed. “What is your plan?”
“I’ll tell you in the car,” Michael said, nodding at her. “Grab a bag. If we start driving now we can hit Hurricane County before morning.”
“Morning-?” Charlie blinked. “Mike, just spend the night here. It’s already almost midnight.”
Michael shook his head. “We wanna get going as soon as possible. Don’t worry, I’ll drive, and I just had a massive coffee.”
Charlie looked at him sideways. “What? Why?”
Michael swallowed, hearing metal click in his mind, and the whoosh of a Scooper he had just barely dodged. He heard a squeaky wire body and glitching voice, far too close and right in his ear even as he ran, promising to find him and use him.
“You won’t get away this time, we will always find you, we will track you to the ends of the earth, leaping through shadows, you can never escape us-”
“Mike?” Charlie asked. “You zoned out there.”
“I just don’t want to lose any time,” Michael lied again, forcing himself to look up. “Are you in?”
Charlie sighed deeply, looked up, and looked down. She pinched the bridge of her nose like she had a headache and winced. “Goddammit.” She muttered.
She looked back up at Michael. “You’re driving?”
Michael nodded, hope rising in his chest. “My car is surprisingly nice.”
“Don’t lie to my face, I see that ugly Honda Civic parked outside,” Charlie said, looking out the window. “How old is it?”
“Doesn’t matter,” Michael said. “It works, and you’re not driving it anyway.”
“I can’t drive, Mike,” Charlie rolled her eyes. “One of my arms is metal.”
“Shit. Sorry.”