Work Text:
It was night.
Darkness settled over the neighborhood, distorting forms and blurring silhouettes. Night made it hard to see, and the harder it was to see, the harder it was to realize anything was out of the ordinary.
William knew this. It was why he liked the night.
The sliver of moon hanging low in the sky provided little illumination, drenching most of Hatchet County in shadow. Stars sparkled in the sky. There was not a single cloud in sight. It was a lovely night, and William ignored it. He was not here for the view.
Hatchet County was a small place, just off the side of Hurricane. It went unnoticed on maps; most people called it a suburb of Hurricane, though Hurricane had never been large enough to have suburbs. It was only a ten-minute walk from where William lived.
Loud, sharp barking sent a strike of surprise through William, forcing him to jerk back. A dog, brown and fluffy, came barreling over, yelping and bouncing around his heels.
“Shh, be quiet, be quiet,” William whispered, sinking to his heels in an attempt to placate the dog. “Be quiet… you're a very good dog. A very good dog. There you go.” The dog's stumpy tail vibrated, shaking its entire frame, but it quieted down and remained silent. William checked the tag; it belonged to one Susie Martin. There had been “Missing Dog” posters pasted on telephone poles across both Hurricane and Hatchet County. He remembered the dog from the posters.
He should take the dog back to the owners. He should return it to its home. That would be the right thing to do.
“Come here, little dog,” William said softly, rising and clicking his fingers to keep the dog's attention. It looked up at him with all the love a dog could possibly possess in its large, dark eyes. It had no reason to fear him. No reason at all.
William led the dog back to his house. It did not take long, even with the dog's occasional distractions. Clara would be asleep; there was little chance of her finding out.
There was a shed behind William's house, small and dark-colored. He kept his projects there, half-formed animatronics and twisted amalgamations of robotic parts, many of which would never see the light of day.
The dog hung back as William started for the shed, whimpering and tucking its tail between its legs.
William hissed a sigh through his teeth. Dammit, dog. He was starting to get impatient; he had only kept the dog happy because that kept the dog quiet. But it took time, time he would like to use elsewhere.
He grabbed the dog by the back of the neck and raised it up, looking it in the eyes. “Be a good dog and don't get loud,” he muttered. “Damn nuisance… you're a good dog, aren't you? Now be quiet.”
The dog continued whimpering fearfully, but did not bark. William brought it to the shed and dropped it on the floor, closing and locking the door quietly behind him. When he flicked on the light, the dog was cowering away from him, its dark eyes flickering frantically from William to the demented skeletons of metal scattered about the room.
“Don't be afraid, little dog,” William said, taking a long knife from the worktable. “I'm not going to hurt you much.”
- - - -
The dog was motionless. William's hands were slick and stained red; it was starting to get tacky the longer it stayed on his skin. He needed to clean up.
Before he did, William hesitated. Then he pulled off the dog's collar and slid it into his pocket.
- - - -
Susie was the only one awake when there was a knock on her door early in the morning. At only six years old, she had learned that adults answered doors, not her. But new people rarely came to Hatchet County, so whoever it was, they must need something, she reasoned. She dashed to her mother's room to prod her awake. “Door,” Susie notified her.
Susie's mother rose with a weary sigh, going down to the door. Susie trailed behind, curious in that childlike, exploratory way that led children to eat crayons or talk to strangers. She could only see the old cardboard box the newcomer held from her place at the bottom of the stairs.
“I'm sorry,” the man said. His voice was familiar in a way that Susie associated with special events, like birthdays or outings. “I found it on the street. It must have been hit by a car… or something. I saw the posters. I thought you'd like to know.”
Susie's mother opened the box a fraction; Susie could not see what was in the box, but her mother gasped and shut the box abruptly, shifting back as though trying to get away from the sight. There was a beat of silence before she could speak. “Why does he… look like that?”
Susie could see the man now. He was looking at her, his gray eyes flat but uncomfortably intense. “Birds,” he said, his gaze not wavering. “The birds must have gotten it.”
- - - -
Lights of bright colors flashed cheerily about the room, some popular rock song blaring from the speakers. The children loved it. William could not care less. He never liked that sort of chaos.
There was a girl in the midst of the crowd. Her parents were nowhere to be seen, and she was crying. William could recognize her through the gaps in his springlock suit; the owner of the dog. She was small, just like it. They had been a good match.
“Hello, little girl.”
Susie turned, her eyes red with tears. “Bonnie?” she sniffled shakily.
“Have you lost something?” William asked her. Her crying did not stop, but she managed a nod. “What is it?”
“My… dog,” Susie said with some difficulty. “Sparky. He ran away and Daddy says he's dead.”
William tilted his head, considering the girl. “I know where he is.”
Susie's eyes widened hopefully. “You do?” Her face, still wet with tears, brightened. William smiled slightly.
“I can take you to him,” he told her. “Follow me.”
William extended his hand to her, hidden inside the furry, padded paw of the springlock suit. Susie blinked up at him, tears no longer streaming down her cheeks.
Then she took his hand and followed.