Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(80)

“PM.” Lamar’s voice came over the radio, hard to hear, like he was not close enough to the receiver. “I told you, Marla, it’s daytime.”

“It doesn’t feel like daytime.” Marla sobbed, shrieking as the building shook with a crash of thunder.

“I know,” he said softly, and the radio clicked off. Charlie looked at the walkie-talkie for a moment, with a sense of something empty; it was like hanging up the phone, knowing the person on the other end was still there, but feeling a loss anyway, as if they might be gone for good.

“Charlie?” John said, and she looked at him. He cast a nod back at Carlton, who was leaning against the wall, his eyes closed. Jessica was hovering worriedly, not sure what to do. “We have to get him out of here,” John said.

“I know,” Charlie said. “Come on, that guard is our best chance of getting out alive.” With one more look at the open space in front of them, she led them out into the main room.

Crossing in front of the stage, she saw John and Jessica glancing upward, but she refused to look up at the animals, as if that would stop them from looking at her. It did not help; she felt their eyes on her, taking her measure, waiting for their moment—finally she could not stand it. She snapped her head around to look as they passed, and saw only the inanimate robots, their eyes fixed on something that no one else could see.

They paused again at a hall entrance, waiting for Marla to guide them, and after an anxious moment her voice came over the radio, calm again.

“Go ahead, the hall is clear.”

They went. They were almost there, and Charlie felt a tightness in her stomach like a living knot, something snakelike that was fighting to be free. She thought of Carlton, retching on the floor of the office, and felt for a moment like she might do the same, if her stomach were not almost painfully empty. She stopped a few feet from the door, holding up a hand.

“I don’t know if he’s in there,” she said in a low voice. “And if he is I don’t know if he’s—awake,” she finished. Now let’s hope I didn’t accidentally kill that guard, she had said. She was only kidding, but now the words came back, unsettling her. It had not really occurred to her that he might be dead until the words were out of her mouth, and now, as she stood in the hall, about to find out, the idea took hold.

As if he knew what she was thinking, John said,

“Charlie, we have to go in.”

She nodded. John moved as if to take the lead, but she shook her head. Whatever was in there, it was her doing. Her responsibility. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, then turned the knob.

He was dead. He was lying on the floor, on his back, his eyes closed and his face ashen. She felt herself put a hand over her mouth, but it was as if someone else were moving her body; she felt numb, the knots in her stomach gone still and dead. John pushed past her. He was slapping the man’s face.

“John,” she said, hearing a note of panic in her voice. He looked up at her, surprised.

“He’s not dead,” he said. “He’s just out cold. He can’t tell us anything like this.”

“We have to tie him up or something,” Jessica said. “Don’t wake him up like this.”

“Yeah, gotta agree with that,” Carlton said. His eyes searched the room for devices, tools, or costumes: anything that Dave could—and probably would—use against them, given the opportunity.

Charlie just stared, the numb feeling lingering. He’s not dead. She shook herself all over, like a dog, trying to rid herself of the remnants of shock, and cleared her throat.

“Let’s find something to tie him up with,” she said. “This place seems to have everything.” Jessica headed to the back of the room, where costume pieces were piled haphazardly, empty mascot heads staring out from odd angles with ghastly eyes.

“Careful touching the costumes,” Charlie called toward Jessica.

“We could always put him in one of those costumes, like he did to me,” Carlton said. There was an uncharacteristic edge to his voice, something hard and painful. Charlie didn’t think it was from his injury. He sat down on a box, his face strained and his arms wrapped around his body, like he was holding himself together.

Suddenly Carlton’s face lit up with alarm.

“Don’t touch—” He shouted, and pushed Charlie out of the way. He stumbled past Jessica, who was searching through the clutter, and started tearing his way through the mess, picking up boxes and pushing things out of his way, scrambling in a desperate search.

“Charlie, where is it??” He said, his gaze roaming around the room futilely. Charlie went to him, following where he looked, and realized what was missing: the yellow bear suit that had been slouched in the corner.

“What?” John said, confused.

“Charlie, where is it? Where is Michael?” He sat with a thud on a cardboard box that sagged a little, but held his weight. He was only looking at Charlie, as if they were the only people in the room.

“Michael?” John whispered. He looked at Charlie, but she returned his gaze silently; she had no answers to offer him.

“Michael was there.” Carlton pressed his lips firmly, rocking himself back and forth.

“I believe you.” Charlie answered calmly, her voice quiet. John put his hands on his knees and let out a breath.