Side by side, we continued on our path, skirting through the lower section of the factory. After my initial shock, my heart rate had slowed to a healthier pace again. Frankie had assured me that his old boss most likely hadn’t heard us (“She used to have her earbuds in all the time with the volume cranked way up—you couldn’t have gotten her attention if you’d tried”), but we still considered it prude to move forward at a more hurried pace.
We soon came to the conclusion that we would have to go up one of the outside staircases. Frankie admitted in humiliation that his memories of the factory weren’t as accurate as he’d thought—either that or FunFlair had made a few changes to the building. The upper floor containers all had glass doors, presenting us with a sticky problem. If we were to go up there directly, we’d probably be spotted immediately.
“This warrants a change of plans,” I declared soberly, keeping my voice low. “We’ll have to knock her out, then.”
Frankie whimpered.
“Wouldn’t you like that?” I prompted. “I’d be the one to do it, of course.”
“Ye-es.” He shuddered. “It’d be satisfactory for sure, but that’s only assuming nothing goes wrong.”
“She can hardly be stronger than I am.”
“No. I guess not. She, uh… yeah.”
“Let’s go, then.” I offered an encouraging smile as I started leading the way back outside.
We rounded the container with the lights on inside, ascending the metal grate staircase connected to it. Every step carried us closer towards the light. Just before the door fully came into view, I turned to Frankie one last time. “Are you alright? This’ll be it in a moment.”
He made another chew-toy sound.
“Fran, what is it? If you know something I don’t about what might happen in there…”
“She shouldn’t see me,” he squeaked out. “I can’t control myself around her.”
“I don’t understand; did you two use to be an item?”
“No! No, no, no. I can’t explain it any other way. She can make me do things I don’t want,” he told me, his tone growing in desperation.
“How?”
“It’d take too long to explain now, it’s… it’s really very complicated. Please, can you do it without me? I can’t go up there after all, I’m so sorry but I can’t…”
I sighed, leaning in to put my arms around him. “It’s okay,” I whispered into his hair. “I’ll do it. Wait here.”
“I’m so, so sorry, Eva. I swear I’ll make it up to you. This is the last time I’ll ask something like this of you.”
“I doubt it,” I replied. “But it’s okay.” I drew back, reluctantly letting go of him. “For now, it’s okay.” I continued marching up the stairs. Behind the glass door, a feminine figure in a black rubber apron came into view. She seemed to be nimbly skirting around another operating table, this one occupied by a fully formed, petite doll. Now or never. I reached for the doorhandle, pushed it down and crossed the threshold in a single, large step. I slammed the door shut behind my back, drawing the attention of the woman.
She looked up at me, her eyes widening in shock behind her thick glasses. With a swipe of her slender fingers, she removed her earbuds, dropping them into her pocket.
“Are you Philomena Wallis?” I asked.
For a split second, she appeared to be too stunned to speak. Her pale face was framed by messy strands of jet-black hair that had worked their way out of her long ponytail. When she broke from her silence, she spoke with an irritatingly pearly voice. “Who’s asking?”
“A former delivery girl. Well, are you?”
“I am. I don’t understand; I-I’ve never seen you before… How did you end up here? What do you want?”
I took in a deep breath. I glanced over at the door, inwardly cursing myself for what I was about to ask her. “I need to know what you did to Frankie Preston.”
For a couple seconds, silence reigned. The other woman was staring at me with knotted brows. “I don’t know who you’re talking about,” she said finally.
“About yay high—,” I raised my hand above my head, “slightly built, blond curly hair, dreamy smile…”
Philomena narrowed her eyes. I cleared my throat, holding her gaze. Then a look of cold comprehension settled on her features. “Oh my god,” she muttered. “Holy shit… hold on.” She turned around, pulling up a photo on her computer. “Is that him?”
I cautiously stepped closer to get a better look, only to shrink back slightly. It was, indeed, a picture of Fran. He was entirely naked in it, lying on a table similar to the one I was standing in front of now, his wrists and ankles locked in restraints. His neck was craned, his face averted. The camera had caught him mid-motion, a blur around his head visually conveying a kind of violence in the movement. I couldn’t bear to look at it any longer. Instead, I moved closer to the doll on Philomena’s table, taking her in fully. Another blonde—her hair was straight, though. Her body was exaggeratedly curvy, her face delicate and fawn. Speechless, I locked eyes with Philomena from across the room again. She gave me a light shrug. “You look like you need some time for this to sink in,” she remarked, drawing out the words. “I take it you didn’t have all the information previously.”
“That’s okay,” I replied. “I think I get it now.” My head felt empty, my own voice seemingly echoing back and forth between my ears.
“So, you know my prototype,” she stated, confusion and disbelief mixing in her tone. “He told you how to get here, then?”
“In a way.”
“And you came here to find out,” she concluded. “There’s not much I can tell you that you haven’t figured out by now. We wanted to create the most detailed doll there was. He was our first attempt. I started developing him back in the late nineties as just a hopeful pet project. I kept adding more functions as time went on, though, and he turned into an insanely lucrative prospect. I wanted him to be able to move and dance and mimic an airflow, and it worked out better than I’d ever expected. So he can do a lot of things, but I never intended for him to have any sensory awareness or to talk… I have no idea how that happened. It just did. One day, I turned him on and he simply looked at me. There was something different about his eyes, and I knew right away he wasn’t the same as before. And then of course he spoke.”
A shudder ran through her entire upper body at the memory. “I have no idea how. None of us did at the time. He had no recorded voice lines or anything of the sort. And yet, he opened up his mouth and there was just… words coming out, like.” She shook her head in bewilderment at the memory. “After I got over the initial shock, I realized how big of a problem this was. He was telling me to stay away from him; he wouldn’t do a thing I told him anymore. There was my best invention in the entire field yet, rebelling like a teenager. When I tried to get him back in line, he got physical, too. Thrashed around like crazy. One of my assistants ended up concussed because that thing threw him down a flight of stairs. So we had to put an end to that, as well.”
A faint feeling of nausea seeped into the pit of my stomach, strengthening by the second. “What did you do?”
“Well, we had to take him apart, of course! And put him back together. Wash, rinse, repeat. We kept trying to figure out what was wrong with him, or at least to find a way to stop his babbling and hitting people. We didn’t, though. We managed to control his outbursts, though. He was made to react to voice commands, but obviously, that wasn’t working anymore. So after the umpteenth time we rebuilt him, we managed to make it so he couldn’t physically attack people. Don’t ask me about the finer details of his programming; the process was beyond tedious. Anyways, he kept talking and moving around on his own even afterwards. He’d only listen to what we told him occasionally and even then, he’d mouth off. We didn’t want to discard all the progress we’d made, though. He was still an incredibly well-made doll, even if he was… apparently possessed and sentient.
“We built two more like him. We tried harder with their faces seeing as that of the prototype had fallen very far into the uncanny valley. They turned out great, perfectly shaped and working smoothly. Their development took a lot less time than that of the prototype. Once we were sure they were all good, we started talking about destroying the first one. We’d kept him locked up in the meantime, but the little fucker kept on breaking out. We’d literally cuff him to the wall and moments later, he’d come up behind me and scare me half to death. He was becoming a bigger nuisance every day. We were set on taking him apart a final time, but before we could, he disappeared. He’d destroyed all our equipment he’d gotten his hands on, stolen unnameable sums from our online banking accounts—Lord knows how he did that—and worst of all, he somehow managed to… activate the two new builds. He destroyed most of the cameras, but the footage that was left clearly showed them walking around with him. And that’s that.” She palmed her forehead. “How did he get away from the people I sent after him?”
“Largely with my help.”
“Huh. So who are you?”
“Still just a former delivery girl.” Shrugging off my jacket, I made room for my extra limbs to breach my skin, simultaneously opening my mouth as my teeth morphed into fangs.
Philomena watched my transformation almost disaffectedly. Her steps as she carried herself over to her operating table however nearly faltered. Before I could advance on her, she’d cupped the sleeping dolls cheeks, causing the limp body to spring to life. The mannequin’s head jerked up along with her torso. In several clipped, mechanical movements, she slid off the surface, placing her naked feet on the floor. Her eyes flew open, fixing me with an empty glare.
“I don’t know what the fuck you are or what you want from me,” Philomena began, “but I’ve got weak nerd arms. So have fun dealing with this instead.”
I shrank back a step, the memory of Frankie picking me up like I weighed nothing fresh in my mind. Phil pressed her lips to the side of the puppet’s face, whispering something I couldn’t make out before quickly drawing aside. Before I could do so much as blink, the doll was upon me, crossing the distance between us in one impressive leap. She toppled me over, instantly reaching for my throat. I batted her cold, rubbery hands away, then pried her off of me with all my might. Using two of my tentacles, I flung her aside, sending her crashing into a shelf in the corner. Not wasting another second, I lunged at Wallis, delivering a blow to her head that sent her staggering. She sank back against her desk and I lashed out at her once more, briefly shutting my eyes to spare myself the sight of her face connecting squarely with the wooden surface as I bashed her down on against it.
She fell limp, and while I wasn’t sure if she was still breathing or not, I didn’t take the time to check. Her puppet was rising to her feet again, striding towards me in a vacantly determined fashion. I whirled around, bursting through the door and taking two steps at once. Frankie was waiting for me at the bottom of the metal staircase, his face falling when he caught my expression.
“Knocked her out,” I gasped. “We have a problem, though.”
Fran looked up at the glass door, the hinges of which were already groaning under the pressure of the mannequin throwing herself against it from the inside. With a sharp crack, a tear began to grow on the thick pane, and Frankie cursed loudly. “Get away from here!” he hollered, nudging me into the general direction of the woods. “I doused everything I could find down here,” he explained quickly. “If Phil’s out, I’ll do her room, too.”
“What about the—”
“Never you mind that! I can hold her off no problem.”
“I won’t—”
“You literally took out the one thing holding me back,” he insisted. “I’m not letting you get hurt out here. Just wait for me over by the trees.”
I still wouldn’t budge, so he grabbed a bunch of my tentacles and used them to turn me around. “Get your cute-ass face out of here, Sunshine!”
I started running, albeit reluctantly. A loud crashing noise rang out from behind me as the door burst under Phil’s puppet’s onslaught, but I forced myself to keep from turning around. Ignoring the searing hot feeling of panic raging inside my chest, I carried myself further and further away from the scene, only stopping when I reached the treeline. There, pressing myself up against the rough bark of the nearest trunk just to ground myself, I resigned to staring at the containers. I couldn’t see the waiter from where I was standing, but my eyes remained trained on the factory. They were gradually drying out, but despite the pain, I kept them wide open. I didn’t dare to blink.
For several minutes, all was still. The only sound I could hear was the frantic beating of my own heart and my pulse thrumming in my ears. Then, all of a sudden, inferno broke loose. Bright flames started to spread from around the sides of the building, quickly rising high into the sky. Crackling and roaring, they soon enveloped the entire site, lighting up the rooms behind the formerly dark windows. And emerging from the fire like a bird of myth came Frankie Preston. He was running, but with a light spring in his step that almost made it look like he was dancing.
He came to a halt in front of me, lifting his head to meet my gaze. His expression was difficult to read. It still looked empty, but in a different way. In a good way. “Hi,” he began.
“Hi.”
The firelight was bouncing off his curls and playing on his thick lashes, putting a reddish glint into his eyes. “You’re beautiful,” I added.
He drew in a little closer. No gasp preceded his smile. “Thanks.”
“How are you feeling?”
“I, uh… I don’t know yet.” He glanced between me and the burning containers.
“Okay. Take your time.” I stretched my arms and rolled my shoulders, shrugging my additional limbs back into the inside of my body.
“Say, where do they go when you don’t have them out?” Frankie asked with a raised brow.
“I never know.”
“Hm.” He turned to stand at my side. At first, his knuckles merely grazed mine, then he flipped his hand to link his fingers with mine. I briefly smiled at his profile, then went back to admiring the flames.
“Do you think the whole woods are gonna burn down?”
“Probably not,” he replied, shrugging. “Though that would be pretty cool…” He trailed off when I shot him a reprimanding look. “Yeah, yeah, we can call the fire fighters or whatever. Later, though, alright?”
I rested my head against the side of his arm. “Sure. Later.”
For a couple minutes, neither of us spoke. The only sound was the steady crackling and occasional thump as bit by bit, the structure collapsed. “So, um… this is pretty amazing,” Fran said in a low voice. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never been happy before; my life’s kind of had its ups and downs, it’s just that this is better than any up there’s been so far. I guess I’m just really grateful and you ought to know that.”
“Don’t worry, I know.” I paused. “Can we get out of here? The place is starting to stink.”
He nodded agreeably and we turned our backs on the scene, only for our retreat to be abruptly stopped by a garbled, drawn-out screech. We spun around in perfect synchronicity. I couldn’t stop myself from letting out a sharp cry of shock. From the burning wreckage, a figure dragged itself forth on her hands. Philomena’s puppet had suffered immense damage in the fire. Her skin, obviously not made to withstand extreme heat, was melting off her face like molten candle wax. The wires that were bared beneath gave off angry sparks. She couldn’t seem to get up anymore, her legs were beyond repair and her movements overall were getting more and more arduous. She dug her fingers into the ground, pulling her body across the forest floor in slow, pained jerks.
“What the fuck? I thought I switched her off,” Frankie uttered beside me, sounding just as terrified as I felt.
“What do we do?” I exhaled the words in a single quick breath, unable to take my eyes off the doll.
“I got no idea… I-I don’t wanna deal with this…”
“We need to help her or something, she’s—she’s awake!” Before I could say anything else, the doll had emerged from the blaze. Rolling around, she managed to quench the remaining flames, pressing the dirt and leaves into her own dripping, melting body. Finally, she started trying to push herself up into a sitting position, only to fail miserably. I took a slow, tentative step towards her twitching form. Her face was contorted into a nightmarish grimace, and she let out an incomprehensible gurgle upon noticing me approaching. She reached out a mangled hand and I stumbled backwards before she could grab my ankle.
Despite the heat, beads of cold, fearful sweat were running down my face. I had no idea what to do. “We can’t leave her,” I said, my throat bone-dry. “There’s something in there, she’s not like before.”
Fran let out an exasperated, long-suffering sigh. “Is there any use in arguing?”
“Don’t be so cold.”
“Aren’t you used to it by now?”
I turned to look at him over my shoulder. He met my gaze and I could see something in his features change or perhaps even soften. He threw his head back, then pulled out his phone. “This is gonna ruin my night, but fine. I’m calling that insufferable news lady.”