Patience: Chapter 9. Sweet Dreams

Walking past each of the lost souls in turn, Mike began his descent down the final path of the hellish dreamscape. He felt the gaze of the befouled puppets follow him as he passed them by. Bonnie, Foxy, Chica, Freddy... Nothing more than containers for their revenants. He would've pressed on to whatever waiting door was beyond the path, were it not for a prickling, slimy sensation gripping his arm.

D O N 'T  L E A V E  U S. . .
I T  H U R T S. . .  N E V E R  S T O P S. . .
S A V E  T H E M . . . P L E A S E. . .
W E  C O U L D  B E  H A P P Y  M I K E. . .

Four voices rang out from behind, desperate but synthetic in nature. When Mike turned around, the melting black shadows above the robots had disappeared, alongside the animatronics' heads. A quiet shuffling of feet pattering across the cobble stone rang out without direction. Mike knew before he turned what would be awaiting him on the path.

Four shadowy enigmas, fighting to maintain a shape as they stood across from him. The top of their fluctuating forms brandished the heads of their respective mascot, with the pale white eyes still in working condition as they trained themselves on Mike's form. The fox, James, stepped forward first, failing and spilling itself into a small puddle of it's pale, smokey, viscous fluid. Apparently undettered, the fox's eyes remained on Mike as it began it raise itself best it could into a wide angle. Almost like a wall to keep him out...though it had spread itself so thin that it's form barely managed to raise itself two inches high before wavering. The other three heads tore their gaze from Mike long enough to notice the fourth's plight. With each one taking a side, the three surrounded the Fox head and lent a tendril to pull it's form back to an appropriate, standing position.

Mike watched without interest as the things did what the did, and came to a decision that they looked like candle smoke that was bogged down by a tar. Constantly melting off, dissipating, and resurfacing anew from the being's source. They looked unstable, wobbly, as they moved. The four entities sat and wordlessly collaborated before turning back to Mike. Joining each other in what could only be their hands, the four shakily stood there hand-in hand, watching Mike.

"I... I have to go..."

Mike said in a meek and disheveled voice of desperation. he pointed a finger beyond them to emphasize and articulate his point. The group must've taken this under consideration, as the four heads turned into each other to, again, speak without speaking. Having apparently reached a consensus, the four turned back to stare at Mike some more. The head of Bonnie moved closer to Mike with several uncertain steps. Steadying itself with the help of the others, it did it's best to stabilize on par with Mike's uneasy person. Looking up at Mike with it's lifeless retinas, the form extended a length of white smoke that probably constituted as the thing's free hand.

It was quivering.

The four masks were staring back at Mike as he watched the things 'hand' shake. Mike came to the realization; these things were scared. He raised a hand toward the plume of ethereal material, and felt a pang of guilt as the thing flinched when his hand came near. His own hand was shaking too, but not as badly as the ashen being before him. There was an uncanny feeling in the air, an oppressive, alien feeling of curiosity and fear that both parties could feel. Neither could answer the 'where' and 'why' questions, but both were stuck in this place. A forced, uneasy kinship that only one of the gathered five would give the benefit of trust.

Mike took the frail being's hand into his own and felt a sweeping cold wash over him. The familiar pain that'd been clawing at the back of his mind resurfaced as his eyes went out of focus. Wincing with gritted teeth, Mike groaned through the pain, and squinted his eyes back into focus. When the blurry world subsided, the clouded figures had gone. Instead, three pale white kids wearing animal party masks stared back at him with general trepidation about their body language.

The scene itself had changed too, a familiar, dimly lit corridor of sterile white walls with the occasional iron door breaking up it's continual pattern. Mike looked down what seemed to be the endless corridor, the one he remembered. He was running in circles this entire time, playing a game. He wanted to ask the kids what was going on, to scream about this place, to cry about everything that's happened. But he couldn't. His lips weren't working, his mouth wouldn't open. He thought briefly that the events had finally fried his brain, when a far worse discovery was made. Touching his face left didn't elicit a sensation. He could tap it, slap it, even whack his face on the wall. He couldn't feel it anymore. Despite his panicked hysteria, there was no sound aside from the scuffling of his feet on the floor.

As he tried to pry whatever was laying on his face off, Mike noticed his hands. Pale, segmented. He fell backwards as he stared at his hands, open and close mechanically. His outfit, once a symbol of pride and hope, had now became plating. Segmented and decorated to mimic the real thing. He could even feel a large bit that had been welded onto his head, a security hat no doubt. Every detail, down to the wrinkles of the sleeves. Realistic, yet lacking it's humanity. The uncanny valley effect was in full swing, right beside despair.

Though he had long since collapsed and curled himself into the fetal position as the situation sank in, Mike still flinched when he felt a soft weight level itself on his shoulder. He wished, in what little psyche he had left that wasn't praying for deliverance from this insanity, that his mother had found him. Suffering from a heroin overdose, or a stroke, or anything that could justify what was going on. He prayed that she'd finally forgiven him, and that she'd come to wake him from this dreadful nightmare. But he'd been over this hadn't he? He was too far gone for dreams and 'what ifs', and he had only himself to blame.

When he looked up at the presence, he found a fox mask looking down at him with sad eyes. Standing behind him, were the other three children, still locked together by the hand. After watching a mechanical man bash his head into the wall and curl up into a sorry heap of itself, this kid got closer to try and comfort it despite barely knowing it... Perhaps they had gone through the same thing at some point?

Mike didn't care. He didn't feel like he knew what caring was anymore. He shook his head and brushed the kid's hand off of his shoulder before curling up again. The soft patter on feet on tile, followed by a tapping above him, (probably on his head), let Mike know that they weren't so easily dismissed, he looked to again to find the bear mask, the largest of the kids, sitting there expectantly. Two of the kids grabbed onto Mike's arm and began hoisting him up, while the bear pushed him upright by pushing on the side of the head. With their meager strength combined, they managed to right Mike into a kneeling position where his head hung solemnly. once he was upright, moments passed meaninglessly through the nightmare before the kids interrupted the nothingness of the horrid place.

One by one, each of the kids moved in to embrace Mike. No words could be passed between the ceramic faces, but they weren't needed anyway.  Mike's head rose only slightly as he took in the gesture. He raised his arms, and hugged back without strength. He hadn't any left to spare.

The group stayed there, in each others embrace, for a time before the kids reluctantly peeled themselves off of Mike's crestfallen form. The four worked in pairs, two to each arm, as they coaxed Mike to his feet. Another wave of helplessness washed over him as he heard the distinctive clang of metallic feet hitting the ground as he stood up. Standing with borrowed strength from the children, Mike watched them as they moved to his sides. The chicken masked girl, who'd taken his right hand firmly into her grasp, pointed down the halls and tugged once to get her point across. As they began walking, the others joined hands too. A fence of people making their way down the sanitarium halls, with Mike at it's center. United through clasped hands, but intertwined through their wretched fate.
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The walking continued for what felt like hours through those featureless halls. A one-way maze with no indication of any progress being made. The only thing that changed between those times was the group's pace. Slowing to a crawl until one of the kids finally gave way. The rabbit masked child collapsed briefly, but looked back up to find her three friends had quickly swarmed her to bring her back to her feet. Mike had a better idea, and swept the girl off of her feet to carry her. He didn't feel tired anymore anyway. After a moment of silent dismay and confusion, the other children caught on. Moments later, Mike had both the chicken and rabbit in either arms, with the fox sitting on his shoulders like a lookout. The bear had politely, but firmly refused. He must've looked quite a sight, hauling three kids around while a fourth kept beside him. The kids, at least, were besides themselves. Despite the situation, they seemed to be having plenty of fun simply roaming the halls with Mike. This must've been an everyday thing for them...how long had they been here?

The crew had some time to enjoy themselves before the rooms finally began to show change. Though it was still far off, there was an ending of the hall in front of them. A detail that apparently didn't go unnoticed, as all four of the children tapped on Mike and pointed to the door with excitement. He felt happy to watch them as they pointed at the door and at each other, each one making sure the other was brought into the fold. Which was strange, because that was the first thing he'd felt aside from terror since he'd wound up in this place. Strange how kids could find something like that, in a place like this. He thought he'd lost it forever.
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Approaching the door, Mike recognized it as being similar to the one in the waiting room he was wheeled to the first time he'd...'visited' this place. This was was more ornate, but similar in style. It had to lead somewhere. Sitting just outside of it, Mike took a moment to kneel down and let the kids back onto their feet. Clumping up with the fox taking the lead, the four nodded in unison to show Mike that they were ready. Nodding back, Mike collected himself and set his metallic hand onto the door's handle and pulled it open. The crew passed the door's threshold together, though only one of them were surprised with what they found. The familiar form of the overworked nurse in her clean uniform and messy makeup sat politely beside the bed with another child inside it. This one's mask was similar to the bears, except golden.

"Hello again Mr. Schmidt. I see you've met with some of the others. Did you come to tell another story?"

Mike's porcelain face didn't make a sound. The other kid's heads were poking around Mike's waist, making sure to keep him between them and her. The child in the bed was sat upright, but hadn't moved since they'd entered the room. His eyes were shrouded with the same peculiar darkness that had obscured the nurse's face during their first encounter.

"No. I didn't think so."

The nurse said, turning away from the group to pull a rag from the bedside and began wiping down the corners of the golden mask's mouth. She ran a hand lovingly through the child's hair before she spoke again.

"...you can't blame him for wanting to make it all last. As long as it will."

Putting down the rag and standing again, the nurse turned to face Mike's party.

"There wasn't much left of him, he could breathe, but he couldn't live. Without what was taken from him, he was little more than a decoration, a robot."

Taking a breath at her noticeably poor choice of words, the nurse continued on.

"He found us, one way or another. Brought us in to replace what was lost. It sounds selfish, but he was only a child Mike. He's had so little time to be alive."

As if on cue, the four kids sheepishly moved to the kids bedside, watching Mike expectantly to do the same. His crashing footfalls echoed throughout the silent room, until he too was standing beside the bed frame staring down at the frail child. The nurse moved to the chair in the corner of the room and began to sing in her usual, tired voice.

"Joshua. You have visitors."

The boy didn't stir, he barely looked to be breathing, but the atmosphere of the room changed. The silent stillness of it all felt more alert. Like the walls were watching him. The kids sat on the side of the bed opposing Mike and the nurse, and were watching Mike closely as though he was supposed to perform some kind of trick that he didn't know. Just like the majority of his life, Mike felt lost. Like there was something missing. He was looking the kid over for a sign, but neither knew what he was looking for. Mike reached out and began to stroke the kid's hair in a similar fashion that the nurse had done. Immediately, he felt a huge patch of scar tissue and a divot in the skull along the front half of the child's head...

More damage. More pain. This place had a knack for attracting people like that. Apparently that was due in part to the child before him, but Mike couldn't bring himself to be angry at the tiny thing. He was so small, smaller than any of the others by a good margin. He placed his hands onto the frail boy's, and looked to the other children. In turn, each one also laid their hands at his side. Much like before, the five gathered around the kid and did their best to hug him together. The silence was broken but the Nurse, who had apparently moved to the bedside to run her fingers through the kid's hair again.

"I know it's tough, to say goodbye."

The woman said, with the first real emotion in her voice that Mike had ever heard. He trusted her when she said that she knew.

"But it might be time Joshua. We've been here a long time, and the others need to go home now. Okay?"

Mike and the kids sat up from their awkward hugging position to see the golden mask crying a black liquid from it's pitch dark eyes. The nurse reflexively began to dry them with the rag.

"It's okay dear, Mother's here. And I'll always be there for you, you know that."

Placing her hand onto the pile where the other five rested on the frail boy's body, the Nurse spoke in a whisper.

"...but you have to choose my dear. Will you let it end? Or do you need just a little more time...?"

. . .

>Let it end. (https://pastebin.com/UsqqSu2P)

>Dream for awhile longer. (http://pastebin.com/fryFnrQ9)