December 10th: The Animatronic Santa by Nicoltyler

In the dimly lit store, Hutch’s imagination played tricks on him. Every shadow seemed to shift; every creak of the building was potentially a deadly step approaching. He had to rely on his instincts, on the trust he had in Starsky, who was out there somewhere. Gasping for breath, Hutch propped himself against the tumbled Christmas display, desperately attempting to maintain absolute silence. Above him, the ceaseless holiday music tormentingly looped a high-pitched rendition of “Jingle Bells.”

Starsky, his ever-impulsive partner, had turned a simple holiday job into a harrowing adventure. What was meant to be a chance to make a few dollars now felt like a nightmare. Hutch wondered how they had ended up here, huddled amidst the toppled Christmas decorations, hunted by a murderous Santa Claus.

“It will be fun,” Starsky had promised him.

Hutch muttered under his breath, closing his eyes to discern the telltale sounds of the menacing animatronic Santa and his partner who had gone missing. “He said it’d be a breeze, just a few days as security guards to earn extra holiday cash.”

“Things couldn’t get any worse,” Hutch thought, feeling a chill run down his spine. As he mustered the courage to move, he heard a faint, ominous mechanical whir from behind a nearby aisle. His heart raced as he realized the animatronic Santa was on the move, and it was coming his way.

“Spoke too soon,” Hutch grunted with his eyes darting around. He searched for any possible escape route, but he was trapped. Hutch’s grip tightened on the flashlight he clutched like a lifeline, his other hand resting near his holstered weapon. He couldn’t afford to make a sound, not with the relentless “Jingle Bells” providing the killer Santa with a musical distraction. Hutch knew that, in this twisted holiday-themed battleground, it was a fight for survival.

Summoning all his courage, Hutch slowly inched away from the toppled Christmas display, keeping his flashlight’s beam low and his footsteps as soft as possible. The mechanical whirring grew louder as the crazed Santa drew nearer, and Hutch knew he couldn’t stay hidden for long.

He had to find Starsky and regroup.

Carefully, he peeked around the corner of an aisle, spotting the looming figure of the animatronic Santa, its glowing eyes casting an eerie red glow in the darkness. The holiday music still blared above, masking any sound of his approach.

Hutch held his breath and crept forward, sidestepping through the maze of holiday decorations, hoping to evade Santa’s attention. His heart raced with every step as he walked through the store.

Finally, he spotted a sliver of light ahead, revealing an open door. As he approached, he saw Starsky’s silhouette huddled on the other side. Relief washed over him, but he couldn’t let his guard down yet.

“Starsky,” he whispered urgently, keeping his voice low.

Starsky turned, his eyes wide with a mix of relief and fear.

Hutch moved further into the room, noticing it was an office. Looking at his partner, he noticed Starsky’s hand clutched his side, and Hutch’s concern was evident as he whispered, “You alright?”

Starsky winced and nodded, his breathing ragged. “Yeah, just a scratch, I think. One of its little helpers got me, but it’s not too bad.”

“It’s got helpers huh?”

“Ya, cheerful little elves. Only they ain’t filled with the Christmas cheer.”  He laughed, then groaned as the pain caused him to double over.

“Easy now.” Hutch caught him before he hit the floor, setting Starsky against the wall. “Let me look.” Hutch gently pulled Starsky’s shirt away from the injury. It was a nasty gash, about four inches long, with ragged edges, and it oozed a slow trickle of blood. Hutch quickly grabbed a clean cloth and pressed it against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Starsky winced in pain but kept silent.

“It’s bleeding, but I don’t think it hit anything vital,” Hutch said, hoping his voice didn’t betray his fear.

“You’re a terrible liar, Hutch.” Starsky coughed. “Always were.”

“Now you tell me.”

“Someone has to.”

Hutch let out a small laugh, remembering another backroom. “You know, Starsk,” Hutch said, still tending to the wound, “the next time you suggest a get-rich-quick scheme, you know what I’m gonna do?”

“What?” Starsky asked, his voice weak but curious.

Hutch smiled wryly. “I’m gonna say ‘no’ and mean it.”

Starsky let out a soft, raspy laugh, understanding the sentiment behind Hutch’s words. “Is that right up there with scrambled eggs and linguine with clam sauce?”

Hutch chuckled softly, his worry momentarily eased by the familiarity of their shared memories. He patted Starsky on the shoulder and then turned his attention to finding a way out of their predicament.

The search led him to a phone on a nearby shelf.

Hutch picked up the phone, hoping to call for help. However, as he dialed the number for emergency services, a cold shiver ran down his spine. Instead of the expected dial tone, he heard an eerie, distorted version of “Jingle Bells” playing on the line.

“What the…” Hutch muttered, his brow furrowing in confusion. Before he could react, a disturbing voice came across the line, a chilling blend of the animatronic Santa’s laughter and the sinister cackles of its murderous elves.

Hutch’s mind raced as he tried to make sense of the unnerving phone call. It was as though the holiday-themed nightmare was encroaching on their reality, blurring the lines between fantasy and their desperate situation.

Starsky, struggling to stay conscious, noticed Hutch’s expression and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Hutch quickly hung up the phone, his heart pounding. “Wrong number. We need to get out of here, Starsk,” Hutch said urgently. “That phone is useless, and I don’t want to find out what’s on the other end of it.”

Starsky nodded in agreement, momentarily forgetting his pain. With Hutch’s help, he pushed himself to his feet. Leaving the safety of the office, they continued their search for an exit, moving as quickly as Starsky’s injury allowed. The echoes of the animatronic Santa’s eerie laughter and the distorted “Jingle Bells” followed them, a constant reminder of their danger.

As they ventured into the store, they found themselves in a maze of narrow passageways lined with doors. The sounds of the animatronic Santa and its murderous elves seemed to grow louder.

They were also getting closer.

“We can’t stay here,” Starsky panted, his strength waning. “We’ve got to find a way out, Hutch.”

“I know,” Hutch replied tersely, although there was no point in getting angry with Starsky, even if this predicament was largely his fault. He ran a hand across his face to calm his nerves. “God, it’s sweltering in here,” he muttered, leaning against the wall.

“Hutch.”

He felt Starsky tug at his arm. “Starsky, give me a minute, will ya.”

“Don’t think we have a minute.”

Hutch opened his eyes and followed where Starsky was pointing.

At the end of the hall, Hutch saw a menacing silhouette slowly materializing. It was the animatronic Santa, its glowing eyes fixated on them, and the eerie jingle bells accompanying its advance.

With a surge of adrenaline, Hutch and Starsky knew they had no time to lose. They pushed off the wall and darted in the opposite direction, determined to evade the killer Santa’s pursuit and find a way out of the nightmarish store.

The passageway seemed to stretch before them, getting longer with each step. They kept going, testing the handles of each door they passed, searching for a way to escape the sinister Santa. Suddenly, they heard a loud crash behind them, and Starsky stumbled into Hutch, causing them both to fall in a tangle of limbs. Hutch disentangled himself, noticing that Starsky wasn’t moving; he was lying with his back towards Hutch.

Hutch ignored the Santa and his murderous horde. The sounds of machinery whirling and clanking grew louder. He pulled on his friend’s shoulder until Starsky turned over, his eyes vacant, staring at him. Hutch’s eyes widened in shock as Starsky’s pale hand reached out to him.

“Starsky…what,” Hutch called out, his voice tinged with fear and desperation, as Starsky’s soulless stare zeroed in on him, and his friend grabbed him, pulling him towards the approaching murderous horde. Hutch couldn’t comprehend why his partner was pulling him closer to the menacing animatronic Santa. It was as though Starsky had lost all sense of reason.

The machinery continued to whir and clank, the eerie laughter of the murderous elves echoing through the air. Hutch’s confusion and anxiety deepened, and he knew that they were running out of time.

He had to do something to break Starsky free from this surreal trance.

With all his strength, Hutch struggled to pull away from Starsky’s grasp. The animatronic Santa was just a few feet away, its glowing eyes and sinister smile giving it an eerie and menacing presence. In a final, desperate effort, Hutch managed to wrench himself free, stumbling backward to create distance between himself, Starsky, and the horde.

His heart raced, and he could hear the eerie chants of the animatronic Santa’s murderous horde growing louder and more rhythmic.

The chant, “Hutch, Hutch,” was unsettling, taking on a disturbingly synchronized pattern. It was as if the malevolent forces controlling the twisted holiday display were taunting him, using his name as a chilling chant to instill fear and confusion.

As Hutch tried to distance himself from the encroaching animatronic Santa and its eerie chants of “Hutch, Hutch,” he felt the darkness closing in as the dim passage became increasingly obscure. He felt like a trapped prey, pursued by the malevolent forces that had turned this festive place into a nightmarish labyrinth. With each step he took, the darkness deepened.

Until…there was nothing.

Hutch was in complete darkness; the eerie silence enveloped him, and the chaotic horrors that had pursued him seemed to have dissipated, leaving behind an unsettling emptiness. But then, in the darkness, he heard someone singing a Christmas song. It was different, though, from the menacing holiday music that had haunted him earlier. This was almost soothing, and it seemed to offer a strange, contrasting comfort amid the unknown.

Hutch felt a gentle touch on his arm, and as he tried to turn his head to see who it was, he realized that his body wasn’t responding as it should. Panic gripped him momentarily, and he tried to move, but his limbs remained unresponsive.

Then, a wave of familiarity washed over him as the touch continued, someone gently rubbing his arm up and down. He knew that touch; it was soothing, comforting. With great effort, he managed to turn his head, his eyes slowly opening.

Looking up, he saw Starsky’s face hovering over him, his partner’s eyes filled with worry and relief. Hutch tried to speak, but his voice was a weak, raspy whisper. “Starsk…”

Starsky’s expression shifted from concern to a warm, reassuring smile. “Hey, buddy, you’re finally awake. You gave us quite a scare.”

Hutch listened to Starsky’s voice, his partner’s words washing over him as he described the events of the past few days. The details began to fill in the gaps in Hutch’s memory of how he’d fallen ill, collapsing unexpectedly in the squad room, and the hospitalization.

As Starsky recounted the events, Hutch’s eyes wandered around the room. For the first time, he noticed the presence of Christmas decorations scattered throughout the hospital room. There was a small, decorated Christmas tree in one corner, and colorful ornaments dangled from the ceiling. It was a stark contrast to the eerie holiday-themed nightmare he had just experienced in his dreams.

“Do you like it?”

Hutch blinked and turned his attention back to Starsky. “Huh?”

Starsky smiled warmly, reaching over to turn down the small radio, playing Jingle Bells. “The decorations. It didn’t seem right, you missing out on Christmas, being cooped up in this bare room. So I thought I’d bring a little holiday spirit to you.”

Starsky’s genuine enthusiasm for Christmas and the holiday decorations he had brought into the hospital room worked like a balm for Hutch’s troubled mind. Hutch managed a weak but genuine smile, his usual holiday “humbug” temporarily set aside, not wanting to upset his partner. “I like it, Starsk. Thanks.”

Starsky’s eyes shone with appreciation, and he patted Hutch’s arm affectionately. “Anytime, partner. We’ll make sure you have a merry Christmas, even if it’s in this hospital room.”

“Merry Christmas,” Hutch replied.

“Merry Christmas, love,” Starsky whispered with a heartfelt smile.

In the corner of the room, on a table hidden amidst the branches of the small Christmas tree, stood a small animatronic Santa. Its arms moved with a click and a whirl of gears, and its eyes glowed slightly red as it watched the two men share a kiss, a silent observer of the love and joy that had replaced the earlier nightmares.

Fin….?

Author’s Note: Dedicated to my son, who suggested this story after we watched Five Nights at Freddie’s.

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