Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(56)

“Yeah, and also because of the storm, and it’s not like we’re going to have fun knowing he’s missing,” Marla said.

“I guess you’re stuck with us.” Jessica flashed an anxious smile at Carlton’s mother, who did not seem to register it.

“Come on,” John said, before anyone else could speak, and he and Charlie hurried out of the house and got in the car.

Charlie heaved a sigh of relief as she started the engine.

“That was awful,” she said.

“Yeah.” He gave her a worried look. “What do you think? About Carlton?” Charlie didn’t answer until she was safely backed out of the driveway.

“I think his mom is right,” she said, pulling into gear. “I think last night we all let ourselves believe what we wanted to believe.”



Officer Dunn pulled to a stop in the mall parking lot, responding to Chief Burke’s order to return. In the light of day it was just an abandoned construction site, an ugly blemish on the flat desert landscape. You can’t tell from looking if it’s being built up, or torn down, Dunn thought. Can’t tell creation from destruction at a distance. He liked the phrase, and turned it over in his head for a moment, staring at the place. On impulse, he radioed dispatch.

“Hey Norah,” he said.

“Dunn,” she answered crisply. “What’s going on?”

“Back at the mall for another look,” he said.

“Ooh, bring me back a soft pretzel,” she teased, and he laughed, and broke the connection.

As he walked briskly through the mall, Dunn was at least grateful the children were not there this time. As the youngest member of the Hurricane Police Department, Dunn always took care to think of teenagers as children, even though he knew how small the gap between them was. If he could bring them to believe he was a responsible adult, hopefully at some point he would believe it, too.

Dunn flipped on his flashlight as he reached the entrance to the narrow alleyway that led to Freddy Fazbear’s. He swept the beam up and down the walls ahead of him, but the alley was empty of life, and he took a deep breath and went in. Dunn kept to the wall, his shoulder brushing lightly against the rough brick as he tried to avoid the puddles that pooled beneath leaky pipes. The bright beam of his flashlight illuminated the alley almost as well as overhead bulbs, but somehow the light was not comforting; it only made the place look stark and grim, the shelves of tools and rejected paint cans now woeful and exposed. As he moved toward the door to the restaurant something tiny and cold landed on his head, and he startled, swinging his light up like a weapon, and pressing his back against the wall as defense against the threat. Another cold drop of water landed on his cheek and he took deep breaths.

When at last he reached the outer door to the restaurant, the shelf that had blocked it was gone: the chains that had seemed so permanently fixed in place were hanging loose and the door was cracked open slightly. The immense, rusted padlock was lying in the dirt, its shackle hanging open. Dunn kicked it away from the door. He dug his fingers into the gap, prying until he could get a grip on it, then pulled at the door with both hands until it screeched open wide enough for him to enter. He crept down the inner passage with his light held out in front, hugging the wall tight to one side. The air seemed to change as he moved closer to the interior of the restaurant, and Dunn felt a crawling chill, penetrating his uniform and feeding his growing anxiety.

“Don’t freak out, Dunn,” he said out loud, then felt instantly foolish.

He reached the main dining area, and stopped, sweeping the light over each wall in turn. The light seemed dimmer inside, swallowed by the space. The room was empty, but it was just as he remembered from when he was a kid. He had been ten when the tragedies started, eleven when they ended. His birthday party was supposed to be at Freddy’s, but after the first disappearance, his mother had cancelled it, invited his friends to his house, and hired a clown which proved equally terrifying. Smart move, Mom, Dunn thought. The beam played over the little carousel, which he had never ridden, claiming he was too old for it. Just before the beam of light reached the stage, Dunn stopped, and swallowed. The rabbit took him, the kid had said. Dunn shook himself, and played the light across the stage.

The figures were there, just as he remembered, and unlike the carousel, they did not seem diminished in size. They were exactly as he recalled, and for a moment, an almost painful nostalgia swelled in his chest. As he gazed at them, remembering, he noticed that their eyes were all fixed oddly forward, as if they were watching something on the far side of the room. The flashlight trained in front of him, Dunn approached the stage until he was standing only a few feet from it, and he stared up at each of the animals in turn. Bonnie was holding his guitar jauntily, as if he might begin strumming whenever the mood struck him, and Chica and her cupcake seemed to be sharing some arcane secret. Freddy, with his microphone, stared out into the distance unblinking.

Something moved behind him, and Dunn whirled around, his heart racing. The flashlight found nothing, and he swept it nervously from side to side, revealing only empty tables. He glanced back nervously at Bonnie, but the rabbit was still frozen in his own inscrutable reverie.

Dunn took shallow breaths, holding himself completely still, and listened, his senses kicked into high gear with adrenaline. After a moment the noise came again, a shuffling sound, this time coming from off to the right. He swept the light instantly toward it: there was an open doorway, and beyond it, a hall. Crouching down, Dunn made his way down the hall, keeping to the side as though something might come running past. Why am I here alone? He knew the answer. His sergeant hadn’t taken the search seriously—in truth, neither had Dunn. After all, it was just the chief’s son again, making trouble. It’s probably just Carlton, Dunn reminded himself.