Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(70)

Marla crouched at the small door before turning to Charlie.

“Go,” she said, nodding toward the hall that led to the main dining area. They went, Charlie taking the lead as they crept down the hall, heading for the main stage.



Marla looked at Lamar, who nodded. She grasped the doorknob, clenched her teeth, and forced the door open, all in one motion.

“Marla!”

She jumped, barely suppressing a scream. Jason was huddled in the space beneath the monitors, his eyes wide and terrified, staring at the door like a frightened mouse.

“Jason!” Marla crawled into the control room and swooped him into her arms. Jason hugged her back, for once grateful, even desperate for her intense affection. She held on tight, crushing him to her until he began to worry that he might, in fact, be crushed.

From outside Marla’s consuming embrace, Jason heard brief static. He looked over Marla’s shoulder to see Lamar studying the walkie-talkie, preparing to speak into it.

“Jessica? We found him, he’s okay,” he said.

More static, and words Jason did not quite catch coming from the radio. The first wave of relief had worn off, and his ribs were starting to hurt.

“Marla?” He tapped her on the shoulder, first gently, then harder. “Marla!”

She let him go, but took hold of his shoulders for a moment, peering into his eyes as if to be sure it was really him, that he had not been somehow replaced, or irrevocably damaged.

“Marla, cool it,” he said as casually as he could, managing to keep his voice from shaking. Marla let go of his shoulders, giving him a playful shove, and began to scold him as she pulled him the rest of the way out from under the control panel.

“Jason, how could you—” Marla was interrupted as Lamar descended the rest of the way into the small room.

“Through the vent? Really?” Lamar laughed.

“You could have been killed, crawling through the air duct like that!” Marla added, grasping his shoulders.

Jason fought free, flailing his arms until she let him go.

“Okay!” He exclaimed. “Everybody missed me, good, glad to know I’m important.”

“You are important,” Marla said fiercely, and Jason rolled his eyes theatrically.

The little room lit up, as Lamar flipped a switch, bringing the screens to life. Marla looked at Jason thoughtfully, then turned her attention to the security cameras. “Okay, let’s see what we can see.” Lamar looked from screen to screen.

The top, middle screen showed the main dining room and the stage, and as they watched, Charlie, Jessica, and John appeared, crossing the room in a V formation, Charlie at the front.

“Look,” Marla said suddenly, and pointed to the screen at the lower right. “Look.”

The night guard was there; though they could not make out his face, his baggy uniform and sagging shoulders told that it was the same man. He was in the hall near the restaurant’s entrance, walking past the party rooms and the arcade with a slow, purposeful gait.

“Lamar, warn them,” Marla said urgently, and again Lamar spoke into the walkie-talkie.

“Jessica, the guard is somewhere around there, hide.”

There was no response from the radio, but onscreen, the group of three froze, then as one made for the control room under the stage, squeezing in and closing themselves in just as the guard appeared in the doorway.



Voices. People moving around.

Carlton did not allow himself to sigh in relief, a rescue wouldn’t do him any good if he got his insides punctured by a hundred tiny robot parts first. Instead he continued with what he had been doing: inching his way across the floor, into the view of the security camera that perched near the ceiling, just above the door. Each movement was so scarce it felt like nothing, but he had been doing this for over an hour, and he was almost, almost there. He kept his breathing steady, using his trapped hands to lift his body a tiny bit, move to the side, and let himself down again, just a little further to the right. His fingers were cramping and his head still ached, but he kept going, relentless.

Although he was still afraid, still painfully aware of how easily he could trigger his own death, at some point the fear had dulled, or perhaps he had just become accustomed to it. Panic could not last forever; eventually the adrenaline had run out. Now, at least, the need for slow, precise movement took precedence over everything else. It was all there was. Carlton made one final movement, and stopped, closing his eyes for a moment, as if that would feel like rest. He had made it.

Can’t stop now.

The others were here, it had to be them, and if they were looking for him, they would check the cameras. He stared up into the lens, willing himself to be seen. He could not wave, or jump up and down. He tried rocking back and forth a little, but no matter how stiffly he held himself, he felt the press of spring locks, ready to give. He bit his lip in frustration.

“Just see me!” He whispered aloud, to no one, but all at once, he felt as if he had been heard, felt the inexplicable sense of someone else’s presence in the room. His heart began to race again, the adrenaline that had given out finding its second wind.

Carefully, slowly, he looked around, until something caught his eye.

It was only one of the costumes, slumped empty in the shadows, half-hidden in the corner of the room. It was motionless, but its face was pointed directly at him, as if it were staring at him. As Carlton looked back, he realized that deep within the recesses of the costume’s eye sockets, were two tiny glints of light. He felt little muscles twitch, a restrained shudder running through his body, not quite enough to get him killed. He did not look away.