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DogDay’s sleep was often disturbed. At least, whatever catatonic stasis qualified as sleep for him was often disturbed. Every chittering squeal from the little toys usually meant another small piece of him got eaten away. Nearly seven years he’d been in the same cell, strung up and left to suffer for as long as CatNap’s god saw fit.
Still, he counted what blessings he had. He wasn’t dead. The feeling in his arms had long since dulled to a faded tingle. The tight belt around his waist kept his lifeblood contained.
Even better, Poppy had been released! She promised an angel would come and help those who remained. The angel would end all this suffering and bring down the Prototype. Maybe the angel would save him…?
No. DogDay was optimistic, sure, but not unreasonable. He was useless to an angel, too broken, too empty. He couldn’t fight the Prototype—much less stand up to CatNap—ten years ago during that horrible Hour; no reason for him to think he could face that “god” now.
Hah. Stand up. Ironic. He couldn’t stand up then and he never would again, torn down to forever grovel at the feet of whoever decided to end or prolong his suffering.
If nothing else, hopefully the angel would offer some friendly companionship, at least for a few moments. The little toys would be after the angel, but a respite from the loneliness, no matter how brief, would be worth it.
The door at the far end of the cell block creaked open. DogDay kept his head down and ears strained. What he called a heart skipped a beat. Was the angel here already?
Slow footsteps passed down the tile floor. They stopped at CatNap’s cell and the sound of a GrabPack led to the door opening. The footsteps got farther away.
DogDay stayed very still. He didn’t recognize the footsteps, but they were definitely bipedal and not made of plastic. Could it be the angel? Dare he hoped?
The footsteps returned and then came closer, pausing at each cell. Finally, their source—a human woman!—came into view. She was focused on the cell across from DogDay. He figured he should speak up before she turned around and startled herself.
“You.”
The woman startled anyway, spinning around so fast the GrabPack’s hands rattled.
“You’re Poppy’s angel. Come to save us.”
The woman fired a flare into the cell’s floor, illuminating DogDay’s sorry state and revealing how pale her face became.
“Nothing left to save, not here. You’re in CatNap’s home, angel.”
She threw a wary look down the hall. DogDay kept talking, telling the angel everything he thought she should know as succinctly as possible. She had to understand the danger she was in so she wouldn’t linger here.
DogDay also took the time to get a good look at Poppy’s angel. She was plain, but not ugly, middle aged, and looked tense. Her eyes were wide and darted around, checking corners and shadows. It was hard to make out details in the gloom. But as she looked at DogDay, there was clear pity. She kept looking at the belts holding him aloft, likely thinking of some way to get him down.
“Listen to me,” DogDay pleaded. “You need to get out of this place.” The angel couldn’t be wasting precious time with him. She had more important things to do.
Then he heard them, the little toys in the tunnels. There were so many more than the handful that usually came. “Leave me, please!” DogDay begged the angel.
She shot flares at the little toys emerging by the swarm from the tunnels but it didn’t stop them.
“Just go!”
He felt them. All of them. They squirmed and squished past his organs, settling between his bones and hooking plastic claws into his musculature. One circled around his head and peered into his left eye.
The angel was still there, standing dumbstruck.
“RUN!!”
The toy pecked its way through his eye and joined others taking their places in his head and neck. The pain overwhelmed him and he voiced his agony, finally breaking the angel from her stupor.
Paws and bodies clogged DogDay’s mouth and throat. He tried to cough them out but they dug in. The ones near his hands cut through his skin from inside and severed the belts holding him up.
He felt the floor for the first time in nearly a decade. He couldn’t see, but he could still hear over the hungry chitters and felt every awful claw and shifting plastic body.
What happened to the angel? Was she okay?
Something broke near the floor and the angel fell. Scrambling footsteps stayed out of DogDay’s reach as the toys sloppily contorted and dragged him onward. Whenever he heard the angel’s steps getting close enough to touch, he fought with every remaining fiber he had, if not to stop, then to slow himself long enough for the angel to put distance between them again.
After what felt like an eternity, DogDay heard the GrabPack deploy and something heavy fell in front of him. The toys drove him headlong into something metal, then their combined voices funneled through him in a chorus of squealing outrage.
The angel escaped. She was safe from them. From him. He wouldn’t hurt her.
One by one, the little toys extracted themselves from DogDay’s skin, leaving him sprawled face down on the thinly padded floor. One of them chittered to be careful and not break him more. The great cat wanted him alive after all.
DogDay croaked. His voice still worked. He gasped, then exhaled a quiet laugh. “You… didn’t catch… the angel. She got away. Safe from you. Your master will be… so disappointed.”
One of them climbed onto DogDay’s back and set a paw on the tourniquet belt. It squealed that it was hungry after the chase, and they deserved a snack after all that energy wasted.
Yes, wasted, chittered the first. They didn’t catch the blasphemer, so they didn’t deserve a reward.
However, more and more echoed their hunger.
DogDay kept his face to the floor. He couldn’t see, his voice hardly worked, and every strand of fur felt like a needle straight to his cobbled-together nervous system.
He didn’t care. The angel was safe. She would move on and forget him to focus on killing the Prototype and avenging the tormented.
The little chittering leader relented his horde to their greed. Two of them tugged on the belt strap, tightening it. Teeth and claws grabbed the raw and bloody exposed organ, pulling it from DogDay’s body.
He thought he’d be used to that kind of pain, but he wasn’t. No one could be.
He writhed and wailed, crying as fire engulfed his senses and the belt closed almost entirely.
The little toys let out squeals of triumph, followed by the nauseating sound of noisy, bloody chewing.
They hadn’t fastened the belt. It was tight, but it wasn’t stemming the blood. The fiery pain gave way to blurry cold.
He felt the false sleep encroaching without his control. Maybe he wouldn’t be disturbed from it again.
Senses returned. He felt something warm and ticklish on his back. There was a pressure on his open wound. He heard someone crying.
“Hello?” he asked timidly.
A soft, womanly voice gasped. Slender fingers grasped at his chest.
“Angel?”
The woman made a stifled sound.
“They blinded me, I can’t—... wh-what happened? Are the little toys after you?”
A two-tone noise, high then low. They must be safe, then. The hand on his chest lifted and the belt buckle clinked. DogDay felt mostly numb, but the oozing warmth told him enough. “L-let… let me guess. I’m bleeding a-and it won’t s-stop?” Another noise from the angel. “I can… I can tell.”
The angel stifled a sob. Why was she crying for him? Better question, why did she come back for him? Would she even answer?
She kept pulling the belt tighter and trying to stem the blood.
“A-angel…” DogDay dragged his hand toward her. His hand was almost immediately caught in hers. She lifted his hand and held it to her chest.
“It’s okay,” DogDay assured her. “I got to see you, and you’ve proven you want to help us. That’s all I needed.”
The angel cradled his hand under her chin. He could feel her warmth, her pulse, and drops of moisture falling from her face.
“Aw, chin up, angel,” he said. He gently took his hand back and laid it on the belt. Even he was a bit disturbed at the amount of blood that soaked through his fingers. The angel gasped and tried to keep his hand away.
“Please, angel.” DogDay let his exhaustion show in his voice. “Neither of us can stop this.”
He felt the angel’s hands shake, then slowly release him. A sudden anxiety shot his hand out and grabbed for the angel’s arm. “But… c-could you stay with me? I don’t want to… to be alone.”
The angel paused, just for a moment, then removed his hand from her arm. She shuffled around to his head, then, with a gentleness he’d never felt before, lifted his head and shoulders into her lap, tenting her knees around his ribs and penning him in.
He didn’t remember the last time, if ever, he felt safe. But there, in the angel’s arms, his head against her heart and her hand over his, a calm and peace washed over him.
Even when the angel’s nimble fingers released the belt. Even when the last of his lifeblood soaked the floor. Even still when the angel held his hands and bowed her head over him, invisible wings shielding them from the world.
Even then, he smiled.
He blinked his eyes open. His body felt… strange. And the light was so bright.
A boy wearing a yellow tank top appeared above him. “Waitin’ on you, leader!”
“C’mon! Hop to it!” cheered a girl with a green headband.
He sat up. Fluffy orange hair fell across his eyes. He pushed his hair back, then stared down at himself. There was a soft brown hoodie tied around his waist, and below that was….
He wiggled his legs. Why was he so happy about his legs? He leaned forward and grabbed his sneakered foot.
The girl with a green headband crouched next to him. “That. Is your foot,” she pointed out.
“I know, I just… like it.”
The girl laughed. “You’ve clearly been asleep too long!” She hopped up, scooped the boy under the arms, and tossed him to his feet. “Upsy-daisy!”
Then the boy noticed the others. His friends were here!
The girl with paint on her hands held up a camera. “Take a picture, take a picture!”
A girl with pigtails came up to him and held out a cereal bar. “Need a snack?”
A girl with a heart locket squished everyone in arm’s length into a hug. “Ohhh I love you guys!”
“I just know this’ll be a day to remember!” said a boy with blue glasses.
The boy in the yellow tank top pumped his fist in the air. “Take the lead, fearless leader!”
“Wait,” said the girl with the heart locket. “What about Theo? He hasn’t woken up yet.”
The boy with fluffy orange hair looked behind him. Another boy with short dark hair and a purple t-shirt lay curled on the grass, fast asleep despite the midday sunshine.
The boy with fluffy orange hair sighed patiently and untied the brown hoodie from his waist, gently laying it over his friend like a blanket. “He’ll wake up soon, I’m sure,” he said. “We just have to wait for him.”
So they waited. An eternity passed and no time at all.
Then, just like he said, Theo stirred. He sat up and the hoodie over his shoulders fell into his lap as he rubbed his eyes.
The group of friends rushed forward, but the boy with fluffy orange hair stepped in front of them with his hands out.
“Woah woah! Don’t crowd him! I’ll check on him.”
He walked over and crouched in front of Theo, keeping a good bubble of personal space between them. Theo blinked in the bright light and turned to his friend. The boy with fluffy orange hair smiled. “Good morning! You sleep good?”
“Uh…” Theo’s hand drifted to his throat, then he rubbed the back of his head. “I think I… had a nightmare.”
Wide-eyed concern replaced the boy’s smile. “Oh no! Are you okay?”
Theo smiled a smile that squinted his eyes closed. “Yeah, I don’t even remember it!” Theo handed the hoodie back. His friend stood to tie it around his waist again. As he did so, he kept chatting, “That’s great! Hey, we’re ready to go on our best adventure yet and there’s enough room for one more. You in?” He held out a hand to Theo.
A mischievous, catlike grin crossed Theo’s face as he took his friend’s hand. “Always.”