Is it working?” Marla asked, nervously tapping the device in her ear. Carlton sped up the car.

“Mine worked,” he said brusquely. He glanced at her; she was kneading her hands together, her knuckles going white. “I mean, you can’t really tell if it’s working until …”

“Until what?” Marla said.

“Well, until you’re in danger, and …”

“And what?” Marla seemed impatient.

“And you don’t die.” Carlton nodded reassuringly.

“So how do we know if they’re not working?” Marla’s voice had lost its energy.

“Well, if it doesn’t work, you won’t have to worry about it for long.” He smiled.

“Right.” Marla stopped fidgeting with the device and put her hand in her lap.

“It will work. I rewired yours exactly like mine.”

“I’m not usually in the thick of this stuff,” Marla said. “I come in afterward with hugs and Band-Aids. If this were a movie, I’d be the lame babysitter, not the action hero.” There was a hint of bitterness in her voice, and Carlton looked at her, surprised.

“Carlton, the road!”

He snapped his attention back to what he was doing and gave the wheel a controlled jerk.

“Marla, I’ve seen you in the thick of this stuff—remember Freddy’s?”

She gave a halfhearted nod.

“And don’t dismiss the power of hugs and Band-Aids,” he added, slowing the car as the restaurant’s sign came into view: CIRCUS BABY’S PIZZA blazed out over the night, casting half the block in garish red light. “Can’t miss this,” Carlton remarked as they pulled into the parking lot. As soon as they were past the neon sign, its brilliant, witchy light faded into the background: the lot was stark and bare.

“No one’s here. Are you sure about this?” Marla said urgently.

“No, but I know what I saw.” Carlton drove slowly toward the entrance, pointing toward the clown girl mascot leaning over the entryway sign. “And that is who attacked me.”

They parked close to the building. Carlton stopped to rummage around in the trunk for a minute, coming up with two small flashlights. He flicked one on and off experimentally, then handed it to Marla.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

They started around the side of the building and Carlton swept his light along the wall, illuminating a row of tall, rectangular windows. The window surfaces were tinted so dark they could not see in, and the frames were smooth black metal, with nowhere to force an opening. Carlton shook his head, and gestured toward the back of the building. Marla nodded, gripping her flashlight like a lifeline.

There was more parking behind the building, and the back wall was lined with trash cans, two Dumpsters sticking out on either side of a metal door. The only light came from a single, flickering orange bulb, set above the plain door like a decoration.

“Looks like this is our way in,” Carlton whispered.

“Look.” Marla shone her light down onto fresh prints in the mud, tracking close to the wall and leading up to the door. “Jessica?” Marla looked to Carlton.

“Maybe.”

Marla grabbed the door handle and pulled hard, but it didn’t budge.

“I don’t think we’ll find another way in,” she whispered, and he grinned.

“You think I didn’t come prepared?” Carlton said, slipping a flat leather case from his pocket. He held it out to her. “Hold this,” he said, and selected several thin strips of metal as she balanced the case for him.

“Are those lockpicks?” Marla hissed.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from watching my dad, it’s that lockpicking can be used for good,” Carlton said solemnly. He bent over the lock, trying to keep his head out of the way of the light, and slowly began to wriggle the lock picks into place.

“Oh, whatever. You can’t pick a lock … can you? Is it even legal to own these?” Marla asked. He looked back at her; she was holding the kit away from her body as if trying to disassociate herself from it.

“It’s legal as long as you don’t pick any locks,” he said. “Now be quiet so I can pick this lock.” Marla looked around nervously, but didn’t say anything. He turned his attention back to the door, listening for the telltale clicks of the tumblers falling into place as he carefully made his way through the mechanism.

“This is taking forever,” Marla whined.

“I didn’t say I was good at this,” he said absently. “Got it!” He grinned, triumphant.

The door opened with a creak, revealing a wide hallway with a gentle upward slope. The hall itself was dark, but a few yards ahead, they could see the dim glow of florescent lights. Marla pulled the door closed behind them, cushioning it with her hand so that it wouldn’t slam. The light was coming from an open door on the left side of the hall: they waited, but no sound came from its direction, and they started to move, hugging the wall. As they got closer, Carlton sniffed the air. “Shh,” Marla hissed, and he jerked his head toward the door.

“Pizza,” he whispered. “Can’t you smell it?” Marla nodded, and impatiently waved him forward.

“Of all the smells in this place, that’s the one that catches your attention?” The open door proved to be the kitchen, and they glanced around briefly, then Carlton went to a large refrigerator and pulled it open.

“Carlton, forget the pizza!” Marla said in dismay, but the refrigerator held only racks of ingredients. Carlton closed the door.

“You never know who could have been hiding in there,” he said quietly as they exited the kitchen. At the end of the hall was a swinging double door, with small windows just at Carlton’s eye height, and he surveyed what he could see of the next room, then pushed the door open. Marla gasped.

“Creepy,” Carlton said mildly. The dining room in front of them was lit with the same dim, florescent light, giving the brand-new place an odd dullness. There were tables and chairs at the center, and arcade games and play areas along all the walls, but their eyes were drawn immediately to the small stage at the back corner. Its purple curtain was pulled open, and it was empty, except for a bright yellow rope strung across the front and a sign with a picture of a clock on it. NEXT SHOW: it read in neat, handwritten letters, but the clock had no hands. Marla shivered, and Carlton nudged her. “It’s not the same,” he whispered.

“It’s exactly the same,” she said. Carlton looked around at the rest of the room, his eyes lighting on a ball pit that stuck out from the front wall in a half circle, a round red plastic awning arcing over it, trimmed with white.

“Look at the monkey bars.” She pointed. Across the room, three small children steadily climbed the tangled structure of red and yellow bars. Carlton, startled, looked at Marla with surprise, then ran to them.

“Are you okay? Where are your parents?” he asked breathlessly, then his mouth went dry. The children were not human, or alive. Their animatronic faces were painted like clowns, their features absurdly exaggerated: One had a round, red nose that covered half its face and a white wig of synthetic curls; another had a molded smile on its face and a painted red grimace. The third, a red-cheeked, smiling clown with a rainbow-colored wig, looked almost cute, except for the gigantic spring that replaced the middle of its torso, boinging up and down each time it moved. All of them had black eyes, with no iris or pupil, and they did not appear to see Carlton. He waved his hands, but they did not turn their heads, just kept grasping the bars with their pudgy hands, and pulling themselves along the structure with uncanny precision. All of them emitted a loud whirring sound, as if they were wind-up toys that had been set loose to climb. The child with the spring suddenly flung its top half over the top of the bars, the spring extending into a long, wavy wire, then it grabbed a bar, and its feet shot into the air wildly, and came snapping back into place on the other side.

“My mistake, you’re not the kids we’re looking for, carry on,” Carlton whispered shakily, as the creatures continued, weaving over and under, back and forth through the structure. “They don’t see us,” Marla whispered, and it took him a moment to register her voice.

“What?” he said, his eyes still on the clown-children.

“They don’t see us,” she repeated. “These little things are working.” She tapped her ear.

“Right, good,” Carlton said, pulling himself away from the scene. Marla was smiling with relief. “We still have to be careful, though,” he warned. “I can’t guarantee it works on everything, and it definitely won’t work on people.”

Marla shivered, then nodded quickly. “There’s a room past the stage,” she said.

“Looks like an arcade,” Carlton said grimly.

Marla slowed by the stage, her hand drifting toward the curtain as if she might try to look behind it. “No.” Carlton grabbed Marla’s hand. “The last thing we want to do is call any attention to ourselves.” Marla nodded in agreement.

The arcade smelled overpoweringly of new plastic, the games gleaming and scarcely played. There were a dozen or so freestanding arcade cabinets, and two pinball machines, one—predictably, by now—clown-themed, and the other painted with cartoonish snake charmers. Carlton gave them a wide berth. Marla caught his sleeve and gestured to a closed door on the wall to their left, an EXIT sign glowing red above it, and he nodded. They headed for it, creeping past a “test your strength” game, governed by an adult-size clown with a face made of jagged metal plates who nodded continuously, its painted smile maniacal. As they passed Carlton watched it carefully, but its eyes did not seem to track their movements. When they reached the door, Carlton took a deep breath, then gently pushed on the bar. It gave way immediately, and Marla sighed with relief. Carlton pushed the door open, holding it out for her, then froze as the unmistakable clack of servos broke the silence behind them.

They both spun around; Carlton braced his arm in front of Marla’s chest protectively, his heart racing, but nothing was moving. He scanned the room, then saw it: the clown standing over the game was staring at them, its head cocked to the side. Carlton glanced at Marla, and she nodded minutely: she had seen it, too. Slowly, she backed through the door, as Carlton watched the animatronic, but it showed no further signs of movement. When Marla was safely through the door, Carlton waved his arms, hoping desperately that it would not see him. The clown remained motionless, having apparently returned to stasis. Carlton slipped out of the room and closed the door carefully behind him. He turned, and almost fell over Marla, who was backed up almost to the wall. “Watch it,” he whispered good-naturedly, catching her shoulder for balance.

Then he looked up, and swayed on his feet, disoriented by a dozen distorted, menacing figures. He took a breath, and the room fell into place: mirrors. Before them was an array of funhouse mirrors, each one distorting the images it reflected. Carlton’s eyes flitted from one to the next—one showed him and Marla as tall as the ceiling; in the next they were blown up like balloons, crowding each other out of the frame; in the next their bodies looked normal, but their heads shrank to stalks an inch wide.

“Okay, then,” he whispered. “How do we get out of here?”

As if in answer to his question, two mirrors slowly began to swivel, turning toward each other until they had made a narrow door in the wall of close-set panels. Beyond the small opening lay more mirrors, but Carlton could not tell how many there were, or which way they were directed, as one mirror caught another, doubling the reflections until it was impossible to see what was real and what was not. Marla stepped through the gap and beckoned: there was a gleam in her eye, but Carlton couldn’t tell if it was excitement, or the strange, dim light. He followed her, and as soon as he was through the gap the panels began to pivot again, closing them inside. Carlton glanced around, growing nervous now that their exit had been blocked off. They seemed to be in a narrow corridor that branched off in two directions, the walls made of more floor-to-ceiling mirror panels.

“It’s a maze,” Marla whispered, and gave him a smile when she saw the look on his face. “Don’t worry,” she added. “I’m good at mazes.”

“You’re good at mazes?” Carlton said with irritation. “What is that supposed to mean? I’m good at mazes.”

“What’s wrong with saying that? I’ve always been good with mazes.” Marla shook her head.

“What, like the hay maze? When we were five? Is that what you’re talking about?”

“I got through it before anyone else did.”

“You climbed over the top of the bales. You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Oh, you’re right.” Marla’s face flushed. “I’m not good at mazes.”

“We will get through this together.” Carlton took her hand, long enough to stop her from having a panic attack, then released it.

She looked in both directions, thoughtful, then pointed decisively. “Let’s try that way,” she said. They started down the path she had chosen, and Carlton followed, keeping his eyes on her feet in front of him. After only a few steps he heard her sharp intake of breath, and snapped his head up: they were at a dead end.

“Dead end already?” he said, surprised.

“No, the panel closed,” she hissed.

“This way, hay maze,” Carlton said with a hint of amusement. “Back this way.”

They started back the way they had come, and this time Carlton saw the panels move: as they moved back to the spot where they had come in, a panel swung toward them, cutting off their path. A second later, another panel swung away, opening a new corridor. Marla hesitated, and Carlton stepped up beside her. “No choice, let’s go,” he said. She nodded, and they walked deeper into the maze.

As soon as they had crossed the new threshold, the panel swung shut. They looked around for the new opening, but there was none: they were enclosed on all sides by mirrors. Carlton walked the small perimeter quickly, beginning to panic.

“Carlton, just wait, another one will open,” Marla whispered.

“I kn-ow you’re in h-ere.” An unfamiliar voice rang out. It seemed to come from everywhere at once, echoing like it was bouncing from panel to panel. The sound was mechanical, glitching out midword. They exchanged a glance: Marla’s face was pale with fear.

“There!” Carlton pointed. A panel had opened while they were distracted. He rushed for it, and walked into a mirror, smacking his head on the glass. “Ow.”

“It’s there,” Marla hissed, pointing to the opposite side of the enclosure.

The panel began to swing shut, closing the room off again.

“I’ll f-ind you …” The glitching voice had a strange, unsteady tone.

“Carlton!” Marla stood in the gap, holding out a hand, and he ran for her, both of them making it through just as the panel rotated back to its position.

“What were you going to do, stand there and let it crush you?” Carlton hissed.

“I hadn’t considered we could get caught between the panels. This place is just asking for a lawsuit.” Marla straightened herself. “It’s been a lovely evening, but I think I’d like you to take me home now,” she said calmly.

“Take you home? Take me home!” Carlton said before pausing to listen.

“I know j-ust where you a-re …”

They were in a hallway again, this one with two corners to choose from. They exchanged a grim look and turned to the left, moving slowly. Carlton kept his eyes on Marla’s shoes ahead of him, trying not to look at the walls on either side, where ranks of their duplicates marched silently beside them, misshapen and warped in the mirrors, then, occasionally, appearing normal. When they reached the corner, something flashed in the corner of his eye, a reflection of a reflection of giant eyes, staring at them. Carlton grabbed Marla’s shoulder.

“Over there!” She shuddered.

“I saw it, too.”

“Come on, go, go, go,” Marla whispered. “Just follow me. Stay calm; remember, nothing can see us.”

“I’m getting clo-ser …” The mechanical voice echoed through the chamber.

“It’s just a recording,” Carlton whispered. “It’s coming from everywhere, I don’t think there is anything actually in here with us.” Marla nodded, looking unconvinced. A few steps ahead of them, panels began to pivot again, closing off their path: Carlton glanced behind them—the other end of the hall had closed, too. Marla inched closer to him.

“I see you …”

“Shut up,” Carlton whispered. He tried to slow his breathing so it made no sound, imagining the air going in and out, filling his lungs without touching the sides. The panel to their right began to swing open slowly, and they backed out of its way. Marla gasped, and Carlton grabbed her arm, seeing it: there was something behind the slowly opening mirror, though he couldn’t make out what. They backed up farther, taking small, cautious steps. Carlton searched the mirrored panels for an exit, but saw only his own face, bulging and deformed.

“There you are …”

The panel opened, revealing a kaleidoscope of purple, white, and silver, glancing off every mirror disjointedly. Carlton blinked, trying to make sense of the reflections, then a figure at the center stepped into the makeshift room.

He was a bear, built like Freddy Fazbear, and yet entirely unlike him: his metal body was gleaming white, accented with vibrant purple. He held a microphone in his hand, the top sparkling like a disco ball, and on his chest, at the center of a purple metal shirtfront, was a small, round speaker. Only a few feet from them, the new Freddy turned his massive head from side to side, his eyes passing over them. Carlton glanced at Marla, who tapped her ear and nodded. He put his finger to his lips. Freddy took two steps forward, and they stepped back, pressing against the wall. Freddy looked from side to side again.

“I kn-ow just wh-ere you are …” The sound was earsplitting, rattling Carlton’s teeth, but Freddy’s mouth did not move—the voice was projecting from the speaker in his chest.

Carlton held his breath as the bear’s eyes passed over him, reminding himself that he was masked, but the bear’s eyes hesitated on him before moving away. Carlton could feel the sweat beading on his forehead.

The wall behind them repositioned, and Carlton shifted his weight just in time not to fall, Marla moving just behind him. The panel swung open slowly, and they edged away as Freddy walked slowly in their direction, heading for the new exit—where they were now standing. Marla touched Carlton’s arm, guiding him to the side just as Freddy lumbered past them, his shiny surface almost brushing against Carlton’s nose.

“I’m get-ing closer,” Freddy stuttered menacingly as he disappeared around a corner. The panel began to swing shut, and Marla pointed urgently to the door Freddy had come in. They raced for it, making it through just before the mirrors closed.

Carlton and Marla stared at each other, gasping as if they’d run miles. “Was that Freddy?” she whispered. He shook his head.

“I don’t know, but he was different,” Carlton said.

“What? Different from what?”

“The other animatronics we’ve seen so far. He was … looking at me,” Carlton said uncomfortably.

“They’re all looking at us.”

“No, he was looking at me.”

“I can hear you; come on out!” Freddy called out as if on cue. His voice echoed through the maze of mirrors, as impossible to locate as it had been before. Carlton took a deep, steadying breath.

“How are we supposed to get out of here?” he whispered, trying to sound calmer than he felt. “Where even are we?”

“There, that light.” Marla pointed over their heads at the rafters above them, where a red stage light beamed down over the entirety of the maze.

“What?”

“I saw that light when we first came in, but it must have been at least twenty feet away, now it’s right over our heads. We just have to keep moving away from it now,” she said confidently. Carlton studied the ceiling for a moment, considering what she’d said.

“I told you; I’m good at mazes.” She winked. “We just have to wait for the right panels to open.” She pointed toward a specific panel.

“That could take ages,” Carlton said despairingly.

“It will take longer if we don’t keep track of what direction we’re going in,” Marla said. “Come on.” She set off down the path she had indicated, and Carlton followed close behind.

“I’m getting clo-ser …” Freddy’s voice resounded through the maze.

“That sounded like it was behind us again. He’s coming around,” Carlton whispered.

“Okay, okay. Then we go around, too.”

“Just get us out,” he said quietly. Marla nodded, and they walked cautiously onward, flanked by their various, distorted duplicates.

The pivoting panels forced them nearly in a circle before giving them a choice of direction, and Marla leaped on the chance, grabbing Carlton by the hand and almost running down the passage until they were stopped again, and made to turn.

“Shh,” Carlton hissed frantically.

Marla pushed experimentally on the side of one of the panels, but it didn’t budge; Carlton stepped up to help, throwing his full weight against the mirror, but even under their combined force, it would not turn. “I don’t know why I thought that would work,” Marla whispered.

“I’ve almost g-ot you …” Freddy intoned. Marla looked around uncertainly.

“I’ve got a really terrible idea,” Carlton said slowly. Marla gave him a warning look. “Are you still keeping track of where we are? Or at least, the direction that we should go?”

“I think so,” she said, scanning the rafters again, a look of comprehension dawning on her face.

“Close enough,” he said.

“What are you going to do?” Marla asked, sounding like she already regretted it. Carlton took the flashlight out of his pocket and made a fist around it, wound up his arm, and smashed the butt of the light into the mirror in front of them. The glass shattered with a high, clear noise, and a dull pain reverberated up his arm.

“I can h-ear you in th-ere …” Freddy’s voice sputtered from all around them.

“Does he just say that, or did he actually hear that?” Marla said.

The panel with the broken mirror swung open, but before they could move there was a rushing sound of heavy footsteps and crunching glass shards. Carlton held his breath, and nodded to Marla. Freddy stepped into the room with forceful steps, then immediately stopped in the center, his upper body slowly turning to scan the surroundings. Carlton and Marla crept around the glass shards, and snuck through the open panel behind the animatronic. In the corridor, Carlton looked questioningly at Marla, and she pointed. He nodded, strode to the farthest mirror, and smashed it.

In an instant, Freddy pivoted toward them. The wide-eyed face turned from side to side. After a moment, another panel began to open beyond the freshly broken mirror. Carlton and Marla ran for it, the glass breaking beneath their feet. “There!” Marla yelled.

Carlton looked up and could see an EXIT sign above a door, just a few yards from where they stood. Marla caught Carlton’s eye and mouthed, We’re almost there.

“Come back here!” said Freddy’s maniacal voice, and then they all stepped out into the last passage: a jauntily painted ticket booth was visible, and beyond that, an open wall. Marla and Carlton exchanged a glance, and cautiously sped up. “Got you,” Freddy said. The speaker was right behind Carlton’s head, and Carlton startled, tripping over his own feet.

He righted himself with a palm on the mirror, then took off after Marla, and ran straight into his own reflection, hitting his face on the glass. “Marla, wait!” he screamed: he could see her reflected in three mirrors, but was still unsure of where she had actually gone. “Wait.” He rubbed his forehead, and looked into the nearest mirror, trying to see if he was bleeding. He was not, but something was wrong. It took him a second to realize that his earpiece had been knocked loose. He looked around in panic, when suddenly Freddy loomed behind him in the mirror.

Carlton froze in place; the massive white-and-purple bear’s head was staring at him from the mirror, looming over his shoulder. He looked down and saw the earpiece at his feet, in one swift motion he leaned down to grab it. His hands were shaking, and he struggled to get it back into his ear. When he looked up, Freddy was standing over him, and Carlton was lifted off his feet with a sudden, painful force. Carlton jerked and dropped back to the ground, the earpiece falling beside him.

Freddy drew back and stared at Carlton for a moment, his eyes clicking back and forth, and his mouth opened just enough to reveal two long rows of perfectly polished white teeth. Carlton leaped toward the earpiece on the ground just as Freddy’s arm shot out and shattered another glass panel. Carlton hit the wall headfirst with a bang, and recoiled in pain.

Freddy turned his head, first from side to side, then all the way around to face backward, his eyes searching wildly. Carlton scanned the ground in a panic, and saw the earpiece again, but it was in three places, in three mirrors. The glass crunched again nearby, but Carlton kept his eyes on the earpieces, switching from one to another in a desperate attempt to see which one was real. Suddenly, a human hand reached down and grabbed the earpiece in each of the three panels.

“Carlton!” Marla called, and he turned toward the sound and saw her, not a reflection but the real Marla as she threw the earpiece to him. Carlton snatched the earpiece out of the air, and shoved it into his ear. Freddy stopped in place, his arms still outstretched. Carlton didn’t dare move, though the microphone was inches from his face. In his peripheral vision he could see Marla inching toward a door with EXIT over it. Freddy turned his head from side to side again as he slowly straightened from his attacking posture.

“I’ll f-ind you …” came the voice from his chest, and he lowered his arms. Marla turned the doorknob, and pushed the door slowly open, just enough to see that it was unlocked. Scarcely breathing, Carlton backed away from Freddy, keeping his eyes on the animatronic until he was beside Marla.

In one fluid motion, she eased open the door, they darted through it, then shoved it closed behind them. There was a deadbolt near the top, and Carlton flipped it, put his ear to the crack. There was nothing but silence from the other side, and he turned to Marla and heaved a sigh, light-headed with relief. They were in a dark hall, completely free of mirrors.

“Dark, scary hallway,” Marla muttered.

“It’s beautiful,” Carlton said.

A scream ripped through the air from somewhere nearby, and they both froze.

“Not finished yet,” Carlton said, and took off running toward the sound, Marla close at his heels.