Felix the Shark Read online

  He booted up his ancient computer and ran a search of the Better Business Bureau’s record of Fazbear Entertainment. These resources gave him a list of every Fazbear Entertainment venue—restaurant locations and manufacturing and distributing locations—but they didn’t reveal what attractions or animatronics were at those locations.

  Dirk turned his attention to online forum posts by former employees of the company, to see if any could remember which franchise had an animatronic shark, but he only found a handful of posts, and none of them mentioned Felix. Thanks for nothing.

  He really only had one option left—retrace his parents’ steps. Thankfully, he had a way to do that.

  This whole thing felt like the worst rejection of his life. Dirk was telling the truth, and he knew he remembered correctly what had happened. It infuriated him to be disbelieved.

  He had to prove that he was right.

  Using his mom’s performance records combined with the research he’d done on Fazbear Entertainment, Dirk was able to confine his search area to a handful of towns. It was a matter of overlapping the bubbles. The towns that had a Fazbear franchise were in one bubble. His mom’s performance dates were in another. Thankfully, only seven towns were in the overlap.

  Today marked the eleventh day Dirk had been on the road, and he was heading in to his sixth town.

  Because he had just two towns left to visit, Dirk was getting a little nervous about his overlapping bubble theory. It would only work if he had complete lists. If he didn’t have all the Freddy’s locations or his mom had left a stop off her list, he was screwed.

  His spirits were a little low.

  But that might not have had anything to do with his search. It might have had to do with the depressing places he was visiting. Take the town he was closing in on now, for instance.

  Forkstop—which amazingly wasn’t on the list of worst town names ever (Dirk had checked)—was once a booming community built around the manufacture and sale of farming equipment. Although it sat in the middle of the country, surrounded for endless miles by nothing but farmland and empty fields, it apparently used to have one claim to fame: It had been the birthplace of an infamous outlaw who had terrorized the Midwest in the late 1800s. The guy, Floyd Crawberry, had been no Billy the Kid, but he’d apparently done some heinous things. So, the town had tried to create a tourism industry based on him when demand for Forkstop’s farming equipment dwindled. This had worked to an extent, but developers tried to go too far, too fast. Driving through, most of the Crawberry attractions were as defunct as the manufacturing plants.

  However, knowing the history hadn’t prepared him for how much despair radiated from Forkstop. He started feeling it before he even got to the city limits.

  Forkstop was unlike the last few towns Dirk had driven through. Those had been surrounded by sprawling farms preparing for the fast-approaching winter, their rolling dry hills dotted with tidy small homes and barns of various sizes. Forkstop didn’t have any farmland close to its boundaries, just empty buildings.

  Dirk dutifully let up on the accelerator as he passed a low building with a caved-in roof and a REDUCE SPEED AHEAD sign by the road. He was a stickler for speed limits. The cost of fines for speeding wasn’t in his budget.

  As he slowed to the limit set on the next sign, he noticed that the dilapidated buildings had a sort of phalanx feel to them. Three rows of abandoned buildings flanked the road leading in to town, as if they were set up in formation to protect the town from invaders. As he passed the weathered, graffiti-covered structures, he half expected an army of android troops to start pouring out of them. He could picture the lurching, robotic soldiers descending on his poor little sedan, ripping off its doors, and pulling him out on to the pavement.

  Dirk shivered. “Get a grip,” he told himself. “You’ve been listening to too many of Gordon’s stupid theories.”

  Maybe it’s the weather, he thought. Today, in addition to heading in to a dying town, Dirk was feeling crushed by a gray sky that seemed so low, he could actually feel it pressing down on him. Or at least, he thought he could.

  On top of the intrusive heavy gray above, a stiff wind was blowing. Leaves and twigs and trash blew across the roadway at regular intervals. The wind buffeted Dirk’s little car, and the gusts’ high-pitched whistle slithered in around the door seals, giving Dirk the willies. He couldn’t wait to find a motel and get inside a nice quiet room, away from his car and the melancholy weather. In the last two towns, Dirk had slept in his car, just outside of town, because the motel rates had been too high. He wanted to sleep in a real bed tonight, and he needed a shower. He hoped a run-down town like this would have some old place with cheap rates.

  Dirk reached Forkstop’s city limits and passed by a faded WELCOME TO FORKSTOP, POPULATION 4,251 sign and began looking around. Usually budget motels are right on the outskirts of these old towns—

  Dirk hit the brakes and took an abrupt right turn.

  Tucked in behind what looked like an empty warehouse, a neon sign with a blinking arrow announced, otel cancy. Figuring that a hotel with a broken neon sign wasn’t going to charge big bucks, Dirk aimed his sedan toward the sign and saw that the arrow pointed to a small roadside motel called CRAWBERRY CRADLE ROADSIDE INN. It had maybe a dozen units in a building that appeared to be in dire need of renovation. This was Dirk’s kind of place.

  A half hour later, Dirk—freshly showered and a little less morose—pushed open the dirty glass door at the Crawberry Café. “It’s not really a café,” the owner of his motel had told him. She was so old, she looked in danger of taking her last breath at any second. “It’s a fifties-style diner. The owner has delusions of grandeur, but it’s where all the young folk like you hang out. This time of day, there’s usually a rush, but the food’s worth the wait.”

  “Thanks!” Dirk said.

  “You’re very welcome, young man.” The wrinkled, skeletal woman tapped her concave chest. “Name’s Maude. You need anything, let me know.”

  “Thank you, Maude.”

  In the eleven days he’d been on his road trip, Dirk had discovered that local diners were his best source of information about old Freddy’s locations. In the first town, he’d tried the county clerk’s office first, but he’d gotten bogged down in administrative red tape. He’d stumbled on to what he’d needed to know when, dejected, he’d crossed the street to get a burger. Now he knew to go to the burger joints first.

  The wind attempted to shove Dirk across Crawberry Café’s lobby before the door fell shut behind him. He stumbled in to a SEAT YOURSELF sign. Its metal stand clattered at its base on the lime-green linoleum floor, but he managed to catch it before it fell. He heard a giggle, and he flushed, assuming it was directed at his klutziness. He didn’t turn to check. He just headed for an open spot at the bright-red counter rimmed in shining chrome.

  Even without looking around, Dirk got an instant feel for the place. The smells of grilling meat and onions, the clatter of plates, and the chatter of three dozen or so voices filled the diner’s interior. A pop hit from two decades ago played on a gleaming jukebox squatting in the lobby. The diners he could see at the counter and those in the booths within his peripheral vision appeared to be about his age.

  Padded, round, swiveling stools sat in front of the counter, and Dirk took a seat on an empty one, spinning himself inward to pick up a sticky laminated menu. Before he’d had more than ten seconds to look at it, a large woman in a tight lime-green server uniform slid a glass of ice water across the counter to him. “Whatcha want?” she sang in a cheerful voice.

  Dirk smiled at her and noticed her name was Wendy. “Hi, Wendy,” he said.

  Wendy smiled back. When she smiled, she tucked in her double chin, turning it in to a triple chin. She was pretty in her bright-red lipstick and hooded brown eyes.

  Dirk dropped his gaze and skimmed the menu quickly. He confirmed what he’d assumed would be there. “Double cheeseburger, mayo, no ketchup or mustard. Fries. Whatever
cola you have.”

  “You got it!” Wendy gave him a thumbs-up—flashing a red-painted nail. Dirk felt ridiculously pleased with himself, as if he’d just ordered the perfect thing.

  As soon as Wendy turned toward the kitchen ahead, Dirk reached to get napkins from the dispenser at the back of the counter. He pulled out four and placed them neatly to the left of his narrow space.

  “Moving here, or you a tourist?” someone asked in a nasally voice.

  Dirk looked to his right. A frizzy-haired woman maybe a year or two younger than him sat on the next stool over. She pushed round-rimmed glasses up on to her little bulb-shaped nose.

  “How do you know I don’t live here already?” he asked. Dirk didn’t think everyone would know everyone, even in a town this size.

  The woman squished up her face. “Intuition. I just know things.”

  Dirk raised an eyebrow. Is she some kind of kook? Inwardly, he shrugged. Who cares? She was a local, and he needed to talk to a local.

  “Well, you’re right,” he said. “I’m … well, I’m not sure what you’d call me. I’m not moving here, and I’m not a tourist like you probably mean.”

  “What do you think I mean?” the woman asked.

  “Oh, leave him alone, Agnes,” another woman said. This one leaned around Agnes and stared at Dirk with huge blue eyes. She had limp brown hair and a long face dominated by a toothy smile. “I’m Dawn.” She stuck out a bony hand.

  “Dirk,” he said, shaking her hand.

  “I don’t shake hands,” Agnes said.

  “Oh, sorry.”

  “So, what are you doing here?” Agnes asked.

  Wendy set a fizzy cola down in front of Dirk. Its bubbles sprayed above the glass’s rim. A red paper straw bobbed above the rim as well.

  “Well, actually, I’m kind of on a hunt. I’m looking for a Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza.”

  “Oh, I remember those places. The pizzeria with the animatronics, right?” Dawn said.

  Dirk turned his stool to look at her more directly. “Right. You had one here?”

  “Sure. We used to go there when we were kids—remember, Agnes?”

  Agnes picked up the milkshake that sat in front of her. She sucked noisily through the straw. “Yeah. I didn’t like that place. It was creepy.”

  Dawn laughed at her friend. “Remember Bonnie? He was my favorite.”

  “I thought he was a she,” Agnes said. “Bonnie’s not a boy’s name.”

  Dawn sighed. “Well, Bonnie was a boy rabbit.”

  Before Agnes could respond to that, Wendy reappeared and put Dirk’s plate in front of him. She placed similar plates in front of Agnes and Dawn. She stuck a check under each plate.

  “Thanks,” Dirk said.

  For the next few minutes, the only talk was focused on passing salt, ketchup, and extra napkins. Dirk nearly inhaled most of his burger in just a few bites. It was the best one he’d had yet on this trip. The meat was seared just right, perfectly juicy. The cheese was extra sharp, and the pickles were tangy. For a few minutes, he forgot his quest and just chowed down, but then he remembered why he was here. He turned toward the woman at the counter next to him. “So do either of you remember where Freddy’s was?”

  “That place shut down forever ago,” Dawn said. “I don’t even remember what part of town it was in. Maybe out on the west edge? No. That was the other pizza place.” She shrugged.

  Agnes frowned. “I think Freddy’s was on the north end of town. Remember, Dawn? You had to go by that biker’s tavern to get to it. The bikers always made me nervous.”

  “You might be right,” Dawn said. “But if it was out there, it’s not there now.”

  Agnes nodded. “I don’t think there’s a building in this town that could have been a Freddy’s. I’ve been to a couple Freddy’s pizzerias in other places, and they had a certain look about them. I can’t think of an abandoned building here that looks like that. Maybe it got torn down?”

  Dirk’s stomach flipped over, but he figured before he got upset, he’d determine whether the Freddy’s in this town was even the one he was looking for.

  Dirk wiped his mouth and took a big swallow of cola to wash down the food he’d just shoveled in. “I have a question about your Freddy’s.”

  Both Agnes and Dawn looked at him. He thought he saw Dawn wink at him. Was she flirting? He didn’t know. He’d never been flirted with.

  He cleared his throat. “Do either of you remember an animatronic shark? It was—”

  “Felix,” Agnes breathed. She hugged herself. “You’re talking about Felix.”

  “Yes!” Dirk shouted, triumphant.

  For an instant, the buzz of chatter in the diner died down to practically nothing. Dirk felt his face blaze red. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

  “What’re you looking at?” Agnes snapped at a blonde woman staring from a nearby booth.

  The woman rolled her eyes and looked away.

  “I’m sorry,” Dirk said to Agnes and Dawn. “I got excited. See, I’ve been looking for Felix, I mean, the Freddy’s that had Felix, and—”

  “Why?” Agnes gasped. “Why would you want to find that monster? It was horrible!” She looked at Dawn. “Remember him? That terrifying shark thing in the tube?”

  Dawn gave an elaborate shudder. “I do remember it now that you mention it. Wow. I’d blocked that out. But yeah, I got in that tube when I was little. Maybe five or six years old? I had nightmares about it for weeks after that.” She turned to Agnes. “We swam together that day.”

  Agnes took a long noisy suck from her straw. Then she punched Dirk in the upper arm. “Thanks a lot, jerk!”

  Dirk rubbed his arm and stared at her. What is wrong with this crazy woman?

  Agnes rubbed her nose, which had turned red, and she reached under her glasses to wipe her eyes. “I never told you,” she said to Dawn, “but Mom actually took me to a therapist a few times because of that horrible shark. I wasn’t just having nightmares. I got, like, sick, every time I thought about it.” She glared at Dirk. “It’s been years since I thought about all that. And you had to go and bring it up.”

  Dirk couldn’t figure out what was going on. Was there more than one shark at Freddy’s? Felix wasn’t horrible. He said so out loud. “I liked Felix,” he said. “I didn’t think he was scary. He was kind of sad actually, like he wished he could be out in the restaurant with the others instead of in a tube by himself. He loved having kids swim with him. He was friendly.”

  “He was an animatronic, dude,” Dawn said. “He didn’t wish anything. And I never thought he seemed sad … or friendly. He was actually kind of hungry-looking.” She gave Agnes a half smile. “I totally get why he freaked you out. When that thing swam toward you, it was pretty scary.”

  Agnes pushed her plate away, her burger half-eaten. “I had nightmares for a long time. Not just about Felix, but about the tank, too. I used to dream about getting trapped in that tank with him. I remember going around and around and around, trying to scream, but not able to because of the mask. Then I’d wake up, choking.”

  Dirk frowned at Agnes. “Are you sure we’re talking about the same place? The Felix I remember was in an enclosed tube that circled the whole restaurant. Maybe there was a different Felix at another Freddy’s.”

  “In a town this size? Two Freddy’s?” Dawn said. “No. We just had the one, and yeah, Felix was in an enclosed tube that went around the whole place. I’m not sure why, but I think your memory of that shark is a little skewed. If you thought he was friendly, you’re imagining things.”

  “I’m not imagining things!” Dirk yelled.

  Once again, the restaurant went quiet. This time, someone hollered back, “Take a chill pill, dude!”

  Dirk clenched his fists, and he noticed both Agnes and Dawn were leaning away from him.

  Fine.

  He couldn’t believe what was happening here. He’d been so elated when Dawn had said she remembered Felix. He’d done it! All his research and his travel
had gotten him to where he needed to be!

  But now it was all going wrong. Why didn’t they remember the Felix he remembered?

  Dirk stood and grabbed his check. “I think you’re both delusional. Felix wasn’t a monster, and I’m going to find him.”

  Dirk stomped away from the table, ignoring the looks that were thrown his way. He hurried to the cash register and barely looked up when Wendy stepped up to take his money.

  “I couldn’t help but overhear.” Wendy kept her hand on his when he handed her a twenty.

  Dirk lifted his head and met her gaze.

  “About Freddy’s,” Wendy said. “I know something that might help you.”

  Up close, Wendy gave off an odd scent of grease and lavender. Dirk noticed she’d smudged her lipstick.

  She removed her hand and began making change. “Freddy’s was condemned after a kid almost drowned in that tube you were talking about. I remember reading about it in the paper. My husband was a contractor, and he worked on the building after Freddy’s closed down. He claimed that the owner of Freddy’s had made a secret deal with a land developer. He sold the land on the condition that the developer’s project be built to keep Freddy’s intact. It must still be there.”

  “Really? Where?” The words came out in a high-pitched squeak. Dirk was so excited he was practically bouncing.

  Wendy grinned at him. “The place matters that much to you, huh?”

  Dirk flushed. “Well, It’s one of my best childhood memories.”

  Wendy nodded, then leaned over the counter and lowered her voice. “Well, I’m sorry … I remember it was out on the west side, like the girls said, but I don’t know what was built around it. The town didn’t need the bad press, so it was all hush-hush. Forkstop was going crazy then. We had all kinds of things going up … the big mall on the other side of town, the resort, the theater, a bunch of restaurants, the water park. All closed down now.”

  “So your husband wouldn’t—”

  “Know anything?” Wendy finished for Dirk. She shook her head. “I’m sorry. No. He passed several months ago.”