“You have to watch,” the girl said, her voice chilling, a human voice stripped of human intonation. Jessica jerked her head up; the animatronic’s eyes were on her. “He wants to see you watch,” she repeated, the pleasant veneer cloaking her voice once more. Jessica gulped, and nodded, fixing her eyes on the scene before her. “I don’t think you understand,” the girl said. “Go wash your hands.”

Shakily, Jessica got to her feet and went to the sink, feeling as if she might pass out at any moment. She turned the sink on and watched the water spiral down the drain, the shiny stainless steel gleaming through in the bright light.

“Wash your hands.” Jessica obeyed, pushing up her sleeves above her elbows and washing her hands all the way up the forearms, foaming up the soap over and over as she had seen doctors do on TV. She rinsed them finally and turned to the animatronic girl.

“What am I doing?” she asked. The girl ripped open a plastic package and took out a towel. She held it out to Jessica.

“You’re going to help.”

Jessica took the towel and dried her hands, then put on gloves from the box the animatronic girl directed her to. “You know this thing isn’t sterile, right?” she muttered, glancing at the mass on the table.

“Wait.” Jessica gasped and took a step toward the table. From this angle, she could see more of its form. It was a melted mess, but she could recognize certain elements in the mass of fused scrap on the table. A leg. A finger. An … eye socket.

“I—I recognize these parts,” Jessica said, but there was no answer. “These look like … endoskeletons, from Freddy’s, the original Freddy’s.” Jessica began calculating in her head, measuring to herself how much this mass must weigh, and its size relative to the size of the endoskeletons she remembered. Before she could think further, the creature on the table attempted to lift its leg, the makeshift knee bending partially. There was no mechanical device that she could make out—it seemed to be moving of its own will. After a second, it dropped back to the table.

“Where did you find these?” Jessica stepped back. “Where did you find these? What did you do? Why did you … melt them all together?”

“Hand me the scalpel,” the girl said patiently. The surgical implements were laid out in a neat row on the rolling table, on a piece of paper, along with a set of curved needles, already threaded, and a small, kitchen-size propylene torch. The creature on the table tried again to lift its leg, and suddenly Jessica understood how it was able to move.

“They’re still in there!” Jessica screamed. “The children—Michael!” The creature writhed pitifully, as if responding to her voice, and Jessica’s heart wrenched. They’re in there, and they’re in pain.