Step Closer

by Scott Cawthon

  “It’s the only way to win. Want to play with me?”

  “Sure.”

  Chuck’s eyes lit up as he grabbed the other controller. “You can be my apprentice.”

  “Why am I the apprentice? Why can’t I be the mage and you be the sidekick?”

  Chuck shook his head. “You have a lot to learn.”

  Pete turned to their mom, who was leaning in the doorway. She was smiling.

  “Hey, Mom,” Pete said.

  “You guys need anything? How about some popcorn?”

  “Could use some popcorn, thanks.”

  “And a juice box for me,” Chuck said.

  Pete played the game for a couple of hours and then went back to bed. He had to admit it was nice to get along with his little brother again. After shaking hands and calling a truce, it was almost like it used to be when they were little. When they didn’t have a care in the world. Before the resentments, the name calling, the divorce. He had to admit he missed those days.

  Before Pete knew it, Sunday night rolled around and he started getting ready to go back to school. To his relief, the swelling in his face had gone down. He’d removed the bandage from his arm, exposing a fresh scab on the wound right above his wrist. It made him think of his dad accusing him of hurting himself. Sure, thoughts of escaping his parents crossed his mind sometimes, but not the way his dad was thinking.

  Pete had spent most of the day binge-watching TV. He hadn’t dared to leave the house, afraid he’d have another freak accident. Not that his mom would have let him leave, anyway. She’d kept a close eye on him all weekend, really stepped up for him. Maybe he’d cut her some slack when she started piling on a bunch of stuff for him to do again.

  If all these freak accidents had been some weird karma thing, he’d apologized to Chuck, hadn’t he? So that meant he should be free and clear of whatever it was. But he still had a feeling that lingered in his gut like a sickness. He worried that everything might not be over.

  That it might never be.

  Then there was a knock on his door.

  “Come in,” he called out, and Chuck stuck his head in. Normally, he’d yell at him to get the heck out of his room, but things were different with the truce. Picking on his little brother didn’t seem as much fun anymore. Not that he’d tell him that.

  “Yeah?” Pete said.

  His brother stepped in with a notebook in one hand and closed the door behind him. He fished his inhaler out of his shorts pocket, took a puff, then slipped it back in.

  “How you doing?” he asked Pete.

  “Okay, I guess.”

  “You ready to go back to school tomorrow?”

  “Yeah, right.”

  Chuck flashed his braces and ran a hand through his hair. “Just checking.”

  “What’s up with the notebook?”

  “Something I’ve been working on this weekend since you told me about the accidents.” Chuck walked over to Pete, flipped open his notebook, and showed him some sort of handwritten chart. There were five boxes arranged in a circle, with arrows pointing between them. On the top of the chart was a box labeled: FOXY THE PIRATE. The following boxes read: BIO CLASS, BUTCHER SHOP, CONSTRUCTION SITE, and LAKE. The final arrow pointed back to FOXY THE PIRATE.

  “What’s this mean?” Pete wanted to know.

  “It means, I think the point of origin—where this all started—was in the maintenance room with Foxy.”

  “Yeah, we already talked about that.”

  “From there, each freak accident led to the next and now in order for this to be all over, you have to go back and fix whatever you did in the first place.”

  “I did. I apologized for the stupid prank, okay? Everything should be good now. You forgive me, right?”

  “Yeah, we’re brothers. Of course I forgive you,” Chuck said. “But in all the games I play you have to face the ultimate bad guy. The villain. Just like with the game we played last night. The mage had to fight the evil wizard in the end in order to set the village free with the potion.”

  Pete forced a laugh as his stomach curdled in dread. “Bad guy? Who? Foxy, the animatronic?”

  “Maybe … but … what exactly happened after I ran out of there that day?”

  Pete looked back at his TV, glimpsing an action movie. “Nothing, Foxy sang a song and then I left. No big deal.”

  You can be a pirate, but first you’ll have to lose an eye and an arm! Yarg!

  Pete’s pulse picked up as he heard the words in his head.

  “What was the song, Pete?”

  He shook his head. “Just a stupid song about being a pirate.”

  “What were the words exactly?”

  “Who cares what the words were?”

  “I do. Please, Pete, it’s important.”

  “Fine. Something about how if you want to be a pirate … you’ll have to lose an eye and an arm. See? Stupid!”

  Chuck licked his dry lips. Then he grabbed a pencil from Pete’s cluttered desk and started writing.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Hold on a sec.”

  After a minute, he shoved the notebook into Pete’s hands. Chuck had written additional notes under the boxes:

  FOXY THE PIRATE: Pirate song. Lose eye. Lose arm.

  BIO CLASS: Nearly lost eye.

  BUTCHER SHOP: Nearly lost arm.

  CONSTUCTION SITE: Nearly lost arm.

  LAKE: Nearly lost eye.

  Pete shook his head in denial. “No,” he muttered as he started to shake. “You’re wrong.”

  “You can’t ignore the facts, Pete. Foxy wants you to become a pirate, and the accidents are getting more dangerous.”

  “No!” he yelled. “Foxy is a damn robot! He’s made of metal and gears.” He ripped out the page of the notebook and started to shred it. “This is all made up in your messed-up gamer brain. It’s fantasy! Not real!”

  “Pete, stop!”

  “Shut up! Just get out of my room!” He shoved his brother and threw his notebook at him.

  Chuck stumbled back in shock, his face turning red. “I’m trying to help you!”

  Pete jammed a finger in the air toward Chuck. “No, you’re trying to scare me for the all times I’ve scared you! It’s always winning with you, right? Well, this isn’t some game for you to win!”

  “I know that. I’m not trying to win. I’m trying to figure this out!”

  Mom appeared at the door. “Boys, what’s all the yelling? What’s going on?”

  “Tell Chuck the Chump to get out of my room!”

  “Don’t call me that, Frankenstein Face!”

  Pete’s face scrunched up. “Oh, you’ve been waiting to use that one, haven’t you? You’re going to pay for that! Truce is officially over!”

  “Fine by me! You can take your stupid truce and jam it up your nose!”

  “Boys, calm down!” Mom yelled.

  “I said, GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

  “I AM!” Chuck scooped up his notebook and ran out.

  Pete turned his back to his mom. After a moment, with an exaggerated sigh, she closed the door.

  Pete was so freaking angry, he started to cry.

  Pete tossed and turned in bed, since his mind was wide awake. His pajamas felt too warm, his blankets too heavy. His bedroom was dark except for the moonlight that filtered through the curtain on his window. As he stared at the curtain, he thought he saw something dark flash behind the fabric.

  Pete got to his feet and walked to the window, pushing the curtain aside. The front yard was quiet. A car was parked at the curb. A row of trees lined the street. Nothing out of the ordinary. He rolled his shoulders to release his tension, then went back to bed. He hit his pillow a couple of times to get comfortable. Then he stared at the ceiling and stared some more.

  No use, he still couldn’t fall asleep.

  A moment passed as he found his eyes lured back to the window.

  Don’t get up. Don’t look.

  But he couldn’t help himself—s
omething felt strange. He was alone in his room, but he felt like he was being watched. Which was completely stupid. Sighing, he stood and walked back to the window, again pushing the curtain aside. He was about to step away when he caught a movement behind the trees. Was someone there?

  Pete’s pulse raced.

  He rubbed his eyes, blinked, and searched for more movement—but nothing was there. His mind was messing with him. He was freaking paranoid! He took a breath and released it. It was probably just the wind blowing the branches. He scrubbed his hands down his face and lay back down in bed. The wind howled, and somehow that calmed him a little.

  Then the backyard gate creaked.

  The gate must have come unlatched in the wind … right? Just to be certain, Pete listened carefully. An owl hooted. A door creaked. A second later, he jerked upright, his heart pounding. Was that creaking inside the house? He crept to his bedroom door, and slowly opened it. He searched the empty hallway. No one was lurking around.

  He was starting to really freak himself out. Mom and Chuck were asleep. No one else was in the house. Just go to sleep! he told himself. He stomped to his bed, threw himself down, and squeezed his eyes shut.

  He thought he heard a footstep.

  Just go to sleep.

  The floor creaked outside his door and a chill crept down his spine.

  No one else is here.

  He told himself it was just his imagination, but the air seemed to shift around him. The hairs on his arms stood up and he couldn’t deny his unease anymore.

  When he opened his eyes, Foxy stood above him!

  Terror sucked the air from Pete’s lungs. He couldn’t move. Couldn’t speak.

  Foxy’s yellow eyes glowed in the darkness of the room. His jaw hung open, flashing sharp teeth. Foxy lifted his hook and slashed the sharp tip in front of Pete’s face, the metal whizzing by his nose. Pete shoved himself off the bed, his body shaking, but he couldn’t get off the floor. Foxy pivoted, looming over him. The shifting of gears filled the room as Foxy swung up with his hook.

  You can be a pirate, but first you’ll have to lose an eye and an arm.

  “No,” Pete breathed.

  Foxy slammed his hook into Pete’s eye, and there was an audible pop. Blood poured from his eye socket as Pete screamed. Foxy’s mechanical foot slammed onto his right arm, crushing muscle and grinding against bone. Pete convulsed in agony. He tried to push Foxy off of him. Too heavy. Too strong.

  Pete’s heart pounded. Tears and blood ran down his face.

  Foxy hacked down, his hook tearing into Pete’s hand, splintering bone and tearing muscle until it was ripped off completely. Foxy lifted his hook and watched Pete’s hand dangle, blood spilling down.

  Pete screamed.

  He woke up screaming into his pillow. Since he was finding it hard to breathe, he bolted up, gasping for air. Sweat stuck his shirt to his skin. Sunlight was beaming through his window. He was home. In his bedroom. Alone. He spread his hands out—fingers wide—and saw that they were attached. He reached for his eyes, and both were still there. He was alive and he could see. All body parts were intact.

  He took a deep breath of relief.

  Just a nightmare.

  Why did it have to seem so real?

  Pete swallowed hard as his stomach turned and he started to tremble.

  He felt as if he’d had a version of the same dream before, but this time he remembered every detail.

  With a hood pulled over his head, Pete walked into North Hillside High School on Monday morning and gaped at the huge sign hanging in the hallway: FIND YOUR TREASURE ON THE HIGH SEAS—HOMECOMING CARNIVAL TODAY AT LUNCH. A pirate head was drawn under the slogan saying, “Aye, Matey!” while flashing a hook for a hand. Pete nearly turned around and walked home. But he knew how nervous his mom had been when she’d dropped him off at school.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Pete,” she’d said, like she was trying to convince herself.

  “Yeah, Mom, everything will be fine,” he’d reassured her. “Mom?”

  “Yes, honey?”

  “You’re a good mom.”

  She blinked rapidly and smiled. “Thank you, son, you make me very happy.”

  The truth was, he hoped everything would be fine. He realized that all he wanted was to have everything back to normal—with boring classes and unnecessary tests and even taking care of his little brother. He was ready for it all to be over, and now he could see that he had an okay life even if his parents weren’t together. His parents loved him and Chuck, even though they were often wrapped up in their own worries and obligations. He had a nice and comfortable home. A few friends. He wasn’t one of those kids to make the best out of high school, but he’d get through it like everybody else. He walked farther down the hall, taking in the posters on the walls. There were pirate ships, parrots, skulls and crossbones, and pirate heads everywhere he turned. The student council always went all out for Homecoming week.

  He could feel people gaping at the mess on his face, but he tried not to pay attention as they whispered and pointed. He walked to his locker and spun the combo, taking care to avoid a kid in a pirate’s costume and an eyepatch. He unloaded some overdue homework from his pack, then pulled out his biology book for his first class.

  “Dude, what happened to your face?” Duncan Thompson asked him. Duncan was Pete’s locker neighbor, a short and stocky dude with a buzzed head—they used to play football together. For his version of school spirit, he had skulls and crossbones painted on both of his cheeks.

  Pete shrugged as he shut his locker. “Fishing accident. No big deal.”

  “Like, how? You get cut with a knife or something?”

  Pete didn’t want to go into the details. “Something like that.”

  “Makes you look so gnarly, though. Like nobody should mess with you. You know what I mean?”

  Pete cracked a smile. “Cool.”

  “Gonna miss you at the Homecoming game this week, dude. You would have looked pretty intimidating on the field, sporting a fresh scar on your face.”

  “Yeah, thanks,” Pete said.

  Duncan smiled and held up his fist. Pete bumped it.

  He walked away from his locker feeling a little better. He held his head high as people watched him, ignoring the stupid pirate decorations and costumes. Yeah, he had the “don’t mess with me” vibe going on and he liked it.

  Pete’s morning classes went smoothly. He didn’t dare get up from his seat during class, and he stayed far away from any sharp objects. When the lunch bell rang, he felt surprisingly good, as if he really did end his streak of freak accidents. Now he just needed to make amends with his little brother …

  The worst part was that he had made amends before he’d blown it again by yelling at Chuck and kicking him out of his room. He just didn’t want to believe what Chuck believed—that it all wasn’t over yet. That he had to go back to face Foxy.

  Pete shivered. He’d apologize to Chuck and reinstate their truce. And Chuck would understand, he was pretty sure. His little brother seemed to forgive him easily. Pete was really ready to start fresh, as his mom would say sometimes. It would be like a new beginning. He never really understood what she meant by that until now.

  The sun was out as he stepped out into the school courtyard where the carnival was happening. Food booths and games were set up and spread about. Kids roamed around eating cotton candy and junk food. There was a water dunk tank with their vice principal, Mr. Sanchez, waiting to be dunked. A pie-eating contest was set up, along with an arm-wrestling table, water-gun races, and more. A DJ was playing music and giving away T-shirts. Pete pulled off his hood and walked around hoping to find something good to eat. Not long after he started browsing, he ran into Maria.

  She was working in a booth. “Oh, hi, Pete!” she said. She was wearing a red scarf around her head and big, round earrings. “Whoa, what happened to you?” She pointed to her own cheek.

  “Hey, Maria.” Pete shrugged. “It was a dumb fis
hing accident.”

  “Ouch, that sucks. Seems like you haven’t been around that much.”

  Pete’s eyebrows raised. She had noticed? “Uh, yeah, some stuff going on. Everything’s cool, though.”

  She nodded as if she understood. “So, you want to win something? All you have to do is stick your hand in this box and see what you get.” She nodded at a large table with a hole in the center.

  Pete stuck his hands in his jean pockets. “No, it’s cool. I’m good.”

  She smiled. “Come on, it’s just for fun. Don’t you want a prize?”

  Pete’s stomach quivered as he pulled out his right hand, closing his grip into a fist. All the freaky stuff was over, he assured himself. He was safe now.

  “Sure, I guess.” Hesitantly, he stuck his hand in the hole, and after a few seconds it was surrounded by something. “What the heck?”

  Maria let out a small laugh. “What’d you get?”

  He tugged his hand back but it was stuck. He pulled harder and the grip on his hand tightened. Unease rippled through him. Sweat sprouted on his forehead. Pete planted his feet and tugged so hard the table started to lift.

  “Pete, stop! You’re going to break the table!” Maria said.

  “My hand’s stuck!”

  “I know, Pete, calm down.” Maria knocked on the table really hard. “Okay, stop! I said to stop!”

  Suddenly, Pete got his hand out and it was attached to something that looked like a Chinese finger trap, except it was big enough to cover his entire hand. Pete stared at it in disbelief. The stronger he had pulled, the tighter the trap had gripped his hand.

  Maria looked guilty. “I’m sorry, Pete, it’s just a joke we’ve been playing on the students. You know, just a little fun for Homecoming. Everyone else thought it was funny.”

  “I’m not everyone else,” he snapped.

  A kid popped his head out of the hole in the table. His hair was spiky and he had an earring in his nose “Dude, relax. Take a joke, why don’t you?”

  Pete didn’t even know what to say, he was that freaked out. “Not cool!” he stammered, trying to pull the trap off his hand. Somehow it just gripped tighter, squeezing off his circulation. He swallowed hard. It felt like tiny knives poking under his skin. “Get this off of me!”