Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(76)

Jason looked at them; he was almost smiling when, in a blur, the door burst open again, and an ugly metal hook sank into his leg. He screamed in pain. Marla leaped to grab him, but she was too slow; as she watched, helpless, Jason was dragged through the doorway.

“Marla!” He cried, clawing futilely at the floor, and she howled in despair as he was taken from her again, nothing visible of his assailant but the awful glimmer of the hook.

Marla dove toward the door after him, falling to her knees, and crawling toward the thing, but Lamar grabbed her shoulder and yanked her back, taking hold of the door. Before he could pull it shut, it was ripped from his hands with an inhuman strength, and suddenly Foxy was there before them, coming inside.

He was suddenly full of life, a different creature, and he turned to look at Marla, his silver eyes appearing to comprehend. His face was a canine rictus, the scrappy orange fur insufficient to cover up his skull. He looked between them, turning his ghoulish smile first on Lamar, then on Marla. His eyes flared and dimmed, and he snapped his jaws with a sound like something breaking. They stared, backed up against the control panel, then Lamar realized suddenly what he was looking at.

“He can’t fit all the way in,” he whispered. Marla looked; it was true, Foxy’s shoulders were jammed into the doorway, his head the only part he could wedge through the door.

Lamar lunged forward and kicked the animatronic, bracing himself against the wall and striking out with his foot three times before Foxy gave a low whine, a sound more machine than animal, and slunk back out into the dark. Lamar snapped the door shut behind him and slid the deadbolt into place. They stared at one another for a long moment, breathing hard.

“Jason!” Marla screamed.

Lamar put his arms around her, and she let him hug her, but she did not cry, just closed her eyes.



“What do you mean, it’s Michael in the suit?” Charlie said softly, as if she might be talking to someone who had gone mad, while also desperate to hear the answer. Carlton looked at the yellow bear for a long moment, and when he turned back to Charlie, his face was calm. He opened his mouth to speak, and Charlie put a finger to her lips. Something was coming; she could hear footsteps out in the hall, moving toward them. Deliberate, heavy steps, the approach of someone who did not mind if anyone heard him coming. Charlie looked wildly around the room, and spotted a pipe in a corner. She grabbed it and hurried to stand behind the door, where whoever opened it would not see her. Carlton picked up the torso, as though to use it as a weapon somehow. He looked confused, as if he were not thinking clearly.

“Don’t,” Charlie warned in a low voice, but too late. Something snapped inside it. Carlton dropped the thing and stepped back from it, a shimmer of blood on his hand.

“Are you okay?” Charlie whispered. He nodded, and then the doorknob turned.

Dave appeared in the doorway, his head held high and his face grim. It should have been imposing, but he just looked like a man walking through a door.

“Now you’ve done it,” he announced to the room in general, then his eyes lit on Carlton, unfettered, and his face darkened. Before he could move, Charlie raised the pipe high, stepped forward, and swung it down on his head.

There was a sickening thunk and he turned, shock on his face. Charlie lifted the pipe, ready to attack again, but the man just stumbled backward against the wall and dropped into a sitting position.

“Carlton! Come on,” Charlie said urgently, but he was looking down at his injured hand. “Carlton? Are you hurt?”

“No,” he said, shaking off his reverie and wiping his hand clean with his black shirt.

“Come on” Charlie said firmly, and took his arm. “Come on, we have to get out of here. I don’t know how long he’ll stay out.” You’re awfully calm for just having knocked a guy out cold, she thought wryly.

They crept out into the hallway, empty and lit by the dim glow of light from other rooms, and Charlie hustled them through the swinging doors to the kitchen, where the dark was total. The air was thick with it, a blackness that was almost tangible; it was as if they had been swallowed. She turned to look at Carlton, but only the faint sound of his breathing told her that he was still beside her. Something touched her arm and she stifled a scream.

“It’s just me,” Carlton hissed, and she let out a sigh.

“Let’s just make sure that we aren’t being followed, then we can find the others and get out of here,” she whispered. Charlie glanced back at the door, and the last spots of light peeking under it. She scooted herself a little closer to it, and got to her feet to peer through the round window, careful not to touch it.

“What do you see?” Carlton whispered.

“Nothing. I think it’s safe.” Just as she finished speaking, a form passed by, darkening the window. Charlie jumped back, almost falling over Carlton.

They stumbled forward, rushing to get away from the door.

Suddenly two beams of light split the darkness, illuminating the room in a harsh, yellow light. Chica loomed in front of them, almost on top of them. She stretched up to her full height, growing taller still. She must have been hiding here all along, Charlie thought. The dark recesses of the kitchen could be hiding anything. Chica looked at each of them, the beams of light shifting dizzyingly as her eyes snapped mechanically from one side to the other. Then she paused, and Charlie grabbed Carlton’s arm.