Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(35)

There was a squeaky floorboard in the corner of the diner that Charlie liked to push on, making it sing as if it were music it was making. There was a picnic table out back where they used to sit in the sun, one leg of it sinking in the soft ground. There was the song her parents used to sing in the car whenever they came home from a trip; they would burst into it when they were a little way from home, then start laughing, as if they had done something clever.

“It’s nothing helpful,” Charlie said. “Just kid stuff.” She felt a little lightheaded. She had spent so many years avoiding these memories; her mind shied away as if from snakes. Having done it, she felt strange, and a little guilty, as if she had done something wrong. But she also felt something that might have been joy, in the things she never allowed herself to think of. The memories of that time were unsafe, there were traps and snares wrought into their very substance, but there were precious things among them.

“Sorry,” she said. “I can’t remember more.”

“No, that’s really impressive. I can’t believe you remember that far back at all,” he said. “I didn’t mean to push you,” he added a little sheepishly, then looked thoughtful. “What was the song?”

“I think it was the same one they dance to at Freddy’s,” Charlie said.

“No, the one your parents sang in the car.”

“Oh,” she said. “I don’t know if I remember it. It wasn’t really a song, you know? It was just a little line.” She closed her eyes, picturing the car, trying to envision the backs of her parents’ heads as though she were still in the back seat. She waited, trusting her mind to give it up, and after a moment, it did. She hummed it, just six notes.

“We’re back in harmony,” she sang. “And they’d, you know, harmonize,” she added, embarrassed by her parents even now. John’s expression was blank for a moment as the words at first seemed meaningless, but then his eyes lit with promise.

“Charlie, there’s a town north of here called New Harmony.”

“Huh,” was all she said for a moment. She listened to the words in her head, wanting them to set off an inspiration, trip a memory, but they did not.

“I feel like that should ring a bell, but it doesn’t,” she said. “Sorry. I mean, it doesn’t sound wrong, but it doesn’t sound right either.” She was disappointed, but John still had that thoughtful look on his face.

“Come on,” he said, extending his hand. Charlie wiped her cheek and took a shaky breath, then looked to him. She nodded with an exhausted smile and got to her feet.



“Should we wait for everyone to wake up?” John said as they emerged into the parking lot after a brisk walk back.

“No,” Charlie said, with unexpected vehemence. “I don’t want everyone there for this,” she added in softer tones. Just the thought of the whole group going along made her anxious. It was too risky, too private: she had no idea what they might find, or what it might do to her, and she couldn’t abide the thought of making those discoveries with an audience.

“Okay,” John said. “Just us, then.”

“Just us.”

Charlie went inside and grabbed her car keys, moving slowly so as not to disturb the others. As she was heading back to the door Jason stirred and opened his eyes, looking up at her like he wasn’t quite sure who she was. She put a finger to her lips.

He nodded sleepily and closed his eyes again, and she hurried out the door. She tossed the keys to John, and got in on the passenger’s side.

“There’s a map in here,” she said, jostling open the glove box door. The map fell out amidst a pile hand warmers and emergency food rations.

“Your aunt strikes again.” John smiled.

Charlie held the map just a few inches from her face. New Harmony was close, not even an hour away.

“Think you can navigate?” He asked.

“Aye, Cap’n!” Charlie said. “Turn left out of the lot.”

“Thanks,” he said wryly.

They drove back through the town, and out the other side, the houses farther and farther between as they went. Each one stood solitary, connected only by sagging power lines. Charlie watched the telephone poles and the dipping wires, repeating hypnotically as if they would go on forever, then blinked, breaking the spell. Ahead of them the mountains rose up ancient and dark against the clear blue sky; they looked more solid than anything else around them, more real, and maybe they were. They had been here, watching, long before the houses, long before the roads, and they would be here long after they were all gone.

“Nice day,” John said, and she looked at him, tearing her gaze from the view.

“Yeah,” Charlie said. “I kind of forgot how beautiful it is out here.”

“Yeah,” he said. He was quiet for a moment, then looked at her sideways, and Charlie couldn’t tell if he were being shy or just keeping his eyes on the road.

“It’s weird,” he said at last, “when I was a kid the mountains kind of scared me, especially when we were driving in the dark, they were like some monstrous beast looming over us.” He laughed a little, but Charlie did not.

“I know what you mean,” she said, then she grinned at him. “I think they’re pretty much just mountains, though. Hey,” she said suddenly, “you never told me what your story was about.”