Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(13)

Although the kitchen had been off limits to her friends, she’d spent a lot of time there, so much so that the chefs chased her out by name, or at least by the name they heard her father call her: Charlotte. John overheard someone calling her Charlotte one day when they were in kindergarten, and persisted in teasing her with it constantly. He could always get a rise out of her with that. It wasn’t that Charlie didn’t like her full name, but “Charlie” was who she was to the world. Her father called her Charlotte, and it was like a secret between them, something no one else was allowed to share. The day she left Hurricane for good, the day they said goodbye, John had hesitated.

“’Bye, Charlie,” he said. In their cards and letters, in phone calls, he had never called her Charlotte again. She never asked why, and he never told her.

The kitchen was still fully stocked with pots and pans, but it held little interest for Charlie in the midst of her memories. She headed back out into the open space of the dining room and John followed. At the same time, Jessica and Carlton stumbled out of the arcade, tripping into each other as they crossed the thresholds between rooms in the dark.

“Anything interesting?” John asked.

“Uh, a gum wrapper, thirty cents, and Jessica, so no, not really.” Carlton said. Jessica playfully gave him a punch in the shoulder.

“Oh, have we all forgotten?” Jessica gave an evil smile, pointing to another hallway on the opposite side of the dining room. She headed toward it swiftly before anyone could answer, and they followed her. The hallway was long and narrow, and the further they went, the less the flashlight seemed to illuminate. At last the passage opened out into a small room for private parties, set up with its own tables and chairs. As they entered, there was a collective hush. There in front of them was a small stage, the curtain drawn. A sign was strung across the front: “Out of Order,” it read in neat handwritten letters. They stood still for a minute, then Jessica went up to it, and poked the sign.

“Ten years later and it’s still out of order.” She said.

Don’t touch it, Charlie thought.

“I had one birthday back here.” John said. “It was out of order then too.” He took hold of the edge of the curtain and rubbed the glittered fabric between his fingers.

No, Charlie wanted to say again, but stopped. You’re being silly, she chided herself.

“Do you think he’s still back there?” Jessica said playfully, threatening to make the reveal with one giant swing on the curtain.

“I’m sure he is.” John gave a false smile, seeming uncomfortable for the first time.

Yes, he’s still there, Charlie thought. She stepped back cautiously, suddenly becoming aware of the drawings and posters surrounding them like spiders on the wall. Charlie’s flashlight carefully inched from picture to picture, all depicting different variations of the same character: a large and energetic pirate fox with a patch over one eye and a hook for a hand, usually swinging in to deliver a pizza to hungry children.

“This is the room where you were the one hiding under tables.” Jessica said to Charlie, trying to laugh.

“But you’re a big girl now, right?” Jessica climbed up on the stage unsteadily, almost losing her footing. John reached out a hand to steady her as she righted herself. She giggled nervously, looking down at the others as though for guidance, than grabbed hold of the tasseled edge of the fabric. She waved her other hand in front of her face as dust fell from the cloth.

“Maybe this isn’t a good idea?” She laughed, but there was an edge to her voice, like she really meant it, and she looked down at the stage for a moment, as though poised to climb back down. Still, she didn’t move, taking the edge of the curtain again.

“Wait,” John said. “Can you hear that?” They were all dead quiet, and in the silence Charlie could hear them all breathing. John’s breaths were deliberate and calm, Jessica’s quick and nervous. As she thought about it her own breathing began to feel odd, like she had forgotten how to do it.

“I don’t hear anything,” she said.

“Me neither,” Jessica echoed. “What is it?”

“Music, it’s coming from-” he gestured back the way they had come.

“From the stage?” Charlie cocked her head to the side. “I don’t hear it.”

“It’s like a music box,” he said. Charlie and Jessica listened carefully but their blank expressions didn’t change. “It stopped, I guess.” John returned his gaze forward.

“Maybe it was an ice cream truck.” Jessica whispered.

“Hey, that wouldn’t be so bad right now.” John appreciated the levity.

Jessica turned her attention back to the curtain, but John began to hum a tune to himself. “It reminded me of something,” he mumbled.

“Okay, here I go!” Jessica announced. She did not move. Charlie found her eyes drawn to Jessica’s hand on the curtain, her pink-manicured nails pale against the dark, glittery fabric. It was almost like the hushed moment in a theater crowd, when the lights go dark but the curtain has not yet risen. They were all still, all anticipating, but they were not watching a play, no longer playing a game. All the mirth had gone out of Jessica’s face; her cheekbones stood out stark in the shadows and her eyes looked grim, as though the simple thing she was about to do might be of terrible consequence. As Jessica hesitated, Charlie realized her hand hurt; she was making a fist so tight her nails dug into her flesh, but she could not force her grip to loosen.