A low, guttural click echoed from deep below. The sound of a massive jaw unhinging.
But it wasn't attacking. It was coloring.
"Remember coloring," it said, tilting its head. "Remember laughing. Then screaming. Then… quiet. For so long, quiet."
He didn't turn on his GrabPack. The blue and orange hands glowed with cheerful menace, a beacon for whatever still moved in the dark. Instead, he moved by memory, hugging the walls of the Innovation Wing.
The room was a horrifying diorama of childhood. Small, finger-painted murals of smiling Huggy Wuggys were splattered with old, brown stains. Tables held dried glue pots and safety scissors, now relics. And in the center, sitting at a tiny, doll-sized table, was a CatBee.
Leo lowered the GrabPack. "You… you remember?"
He sat on the dusty floor. "I'm not good at staying inside the lines."
Leo heard the skittering of dozens of limbs in the ventilation shafts. He turned and ran, his boots pounding on the tile. He didn't look back.