She walked right past the baby doll, not even tempted to pick it up for a cuddle. She was more grown up than infantile Jeffrie Phillips in that way.
She had to see for herself. The mother! Poor Katy Kidd. Another infant grown up too fast, thus the madness. She walked between the Big Boy legs, which probably wasn’t an error in this case. Just something she had to do to go inside.
She stops to ask a survivor if the beach was still straight ahead. The head nodded without sound. She wondered if this could even be All Orange in another guise. After all, a bloody dress was involved.
It was getting even creepier but Toddles kept moving forward toward the sea, the beach, the… explosion. A stick figure on a bike skirted her to the left without apology… a white doll boy in a tilted chair with slackened mouth also in that direction. Straight ahead: another survivor. One of the lucky ones that was able to receive a mask.
“Is this the way to the beach? Darn bike!”
Another silent affirmation. She kept walking, rounding the old boathouse to the right to meet up with The Librarian, still perusing that Octopus book from the last photo-novel. The stench was becoming overpowering for the little girl. “Where is she?” Toddles demanded, tired of looking and wanting to get the hell out of this hell. She just had to see for herself. I still don’t think it was an error to enter, but we’ll see.
The Librarian didn’t stop reading but tilted his head to the left, indicating that direction. And there she was, face down in the sand. Or Toddles assumed it was her. She inched forward, the awful smell thicker and thicker.
She stopped at the tire. She could get no closer without fear of passing out. But she knew it was her now.
Katy Kidd, a little more grown up than we’ve seen her before. But definitely not reaching adulthood now. Toddles could go to Picturetown with a type of closure.