Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(68)
“Thanks,” she called back softly to Lamar, who was steadying the flashlight, trying to anticipate where Charlie would go.
“I don’t have anything else to do,” he whispered.
The crawlspace was wide; it should have felt spacious, but there were support beams and pipes strewn at random, intersecting the space or running across the roof below them so that it was a little like navigating a very cramped forest, ducking vines and climbing over felled trees. The roof of Freddy’s had a shallow upward slope; they would have to go down again once they reached the middle. The shingles beneath their hands and feet were soggy in a deep, swollen way that suggested they had not been truly dry in years, and a moldy smell rose from them. Every once in a while Charlie wiped her hands on her pants, knowing they would only be clean for a moment. From time to time she thought she heard something skitter by, sounds a little too far away to be coming from their group, but she ignored them. They have more right to be here than we do, she thought, though she was not certain what species “they” might be.
The roof above them followed a bizarre pattern, sloping up and down without regard to the roof beneath, so that at one point it opened four feet above their heads, then at another plunged downward, so close that it grazed their backs, forcing them to duck their heads and wriggle awkwardly through. Jessica was right behind Charlie, and from time to time she could hear her friend make soft, frightened noises, but every time she looked back, Jessica just nodded, stone-faced, and they continued, until they reached the edge of the roof, and the wall that marked it.
“Okay,” Charlie called, half-turning behind her. “It should be near here, let’s spread out and look.”
“No, wait, what’s that?” Marla said, pointing. Charlie could not see what Marla had spotted, but she followed the direction, until she came to it.
The skylight was a flat glass pane in the roof; it was framed like a small window, a single panel with no visible handles, hinges, or latches. They leaned over it, trying to see into the room below, but the glass was too covered in grime for anything to show through. John reached forward and tried to clean it with his sleeve; he came away with the arm of his shirt black, but it had done no good; at least half the dirt was on the other side, and the skylight was still opaque with filth.
“It’s just a closet, it’s ok.” Charlie said.
“But is anyone in the closet?” Lamar said.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Marla. “We don’t have a choice.”
Everyone looked at Charlie, who looked thoughtfully at the skylight.
“It swings in,” she said. “You pull down on this side,” she pointed, “and it swings. There’s a latch on the inside, right there.” She touched the side of the skylight, thinking. “Maybe if we—” She pushed on it, and it gave way almost instantly, jolting her with a sudden, panicked sense of falling, even though her weight was solidly on the roof.
“That’s kind of narrow,” John said. The skylight did not open all the way; the glass just tilted inward a little, barely enough for a person to slip through.
“I didn’t build it,” Charlie said, slightly irritated. “This is it, so if you’re going, go.”
Without waiting for a response, she swung her legs over the sill and lowered herself down, dangling for a moment in the dark. Closing her eyes and hoping the floor was not as far away as she remembered, she let go, and fell.
She landed, and the shock of impact ran through her legs, but it passed quickly.
“Bend your knees when you land!” She called up, and got out of the way. Marla dropped through, and Charlie went to the door, trying to find a light switch. Her fingers stumbled across the switch, and she flipped it up. The old fluorescent lights clicked and buzzed, then slowly a dim and unreliable glow filled the space.
“All right,” she whispered with a thrill of excitement. She turned around, and as something brushed her face she had a fleeting impression of big plastic eyes and broken yellow teeth. She screamed and leaped back, clutching for balance at shelves that swayed as she grabbed them. The head she had touched, an uncovered wire frame for a costume with nothing but eyes and teeth to decorate it, wobbled precariously on the shelf beside Charlie, then fell to the ground. Her heart still pounding, Charlie brushed at herself roughly as if she were covered in spider webs, her legs unsteady as she moved back and forth with agitation. The head rolled across the floor, then came to rest at her feet, looking up at her with its cheerful, sinister smile.
Charlie jerked back from the ghastly grin, and something grabbed her from behind. She tried to yank free, but she was stuck, a pair of metal arms wrapped around her. The bodiless limbs clung to her shirt, their hinges biting into the cloth, and as she tried to wrest herself away her hair was caught, too, tangling her deeper into the wire until she felt as if she would be consumed. Charlie screamed again and the arms reached out further, almost seeming to grow as she struggled against them. She fought back with all her strength, fueled by terror and a base, frantic fury that this thing would hurt her.
“Charlie, stop!” Marla cried, “Charlie!”
Marla grabbed her arm, trying to stop her frantic movement, using one hand to disengage Charlie’s hair from the metal frame.
“Charlie, it’s not real, it’s just… robot parts,” she said, but Charlie pulled away from Marla, still in a panic, and smacked her head into a cardboard box. She cried out, startled, then the box overturned and eyes the size of fists fell to the ground like rain, showering down with a clatter and rolling everywhere, covering the floor. Charlie stumbled and stepped on one of the hard plastic orbs, and her feet went out from under her. She grabbed at a shelf and missed, and fell on her back, landing with a thud that took the wind out of her. Stunned and gasping, she looked up: there were eyes everywhere, not just on the floor, but in the walls.