Five Nights at Freddy's: The Silver Eyes(86)
“Hello? Anyone?” John repeated into the radio, but there was only static. He had managed to hook the walkie-talkie into the sound system, but getting a signal to the outside seemed impossible; Freddy’s was sealed off from the world. He looked at the monitors again; on one screen he could see three figures crouched under tables, Marla, Lamar, and Jason, he thought. They found Jason, he realized with profound relief, letting go of a tension he had not known he felt. Everything on screen was lit with unnatural greys and whites. “These must be night-vision cameras,” He said aloud to no one, and squinted to see through the static. He watched the blurry figures crawl and come to a stop beneath the long party tables, then movement from another screen caught his eye.
There was a figure in the hallway, moving steadily toward the room they were in. John could not tell what it was, but the way it moved wasn’t human. It stopped beside a doorway and with a sudden jolt of realization, John looked again at the party room where his friends were hiding. He grabbed the walkie-talkie and flipped the speaker system on, jamming the volume control as high as it would go.
“Lamar.” He said calmly, trying to sound commanding, and heard the reverberation of his own voice through the walls of the control room. “Lamar, don’t move.”
John’s voice blared over the speaker, blurred with static but intelligible.
“Lamar, don’t move.”
Lamar, Marla, and Jason looked at one another across the distance between the tables. The room lit up with a burning red glow, and they watched, as still as they could be, as Freddy Fazbear entered the room. His movements were mechanical and graceless as he walked with deliberate steps to the middle of the room and stopped between two tables; Marla on one side, Jason on the other. Jason looked at his sister and she put a finger to her lips. Jason hadn’t realized that there were tears on his cheeks until now.
He watched as Freddy surveyed the room, his head, with eyes like spotlights, whirred to one to side, stopped with a click, and then turned to the other side. There was a long pause. The two padded feet were motionless, the legs like black trees in a forest beside them. There was a sound of twisting fur and crinkling fabric, and the feet began to pivot. Freddy turned around and headed for the door, each step shaking the floor beneath them. As Freddy passed by, Jason shrunk back instinctively, his foot hitting one of the metal chairs. It made a scraping sound. Jason’s heart raced. Frantic, he looked across the space at Marla, who beckoned to him urgently. Freddy had stopped, they could still hear the sound of fabric and fur scrunching and moving. Freddy was bending down to look under the table. His motions were slow, and in those precious few seconds, Jason pushed the two chairs in front of him apart, making a gap just wide enough for him to crawl behind Freddy and under the table with Marla. The light of Freddy’s eyes came into view under the table, illuminating the space beside Jason, and he quickly but quietly crawled between the chairs and through the space Marla had cleared for him. Freddy stood again, training his eyes on the floor just as Jason pulled his foot out of sight.
Freddy began to pivot toward the table that they were under. Marla put a hand on Jason’s arm, steadying him. There was another pause. Lamar, under the table opposite them, was beckoning to Marla and Jason, urging them to his own table, farther away from Freddy. Marla shook her head, not wanting to risk making noise. Maybe he’s leaving, she told herself. Jason was beginning to breathe normally again, then it struck them: Freddy was ducking down again, this time silently. His eyes had gone dark, but as soon as they spotted him they lit up again, illuminating the room. Marla and Jason scrambled around the metal chairs as fast as they could without touching them. They crawled across the thin carpet between tables until they came across an opening in the chairs and crawled under the table beside Lamar. Marla and Lamar looked at each other, at a loss; Freddy was straightened up again, and began to circle around to the third table. “We have to run for the door.” Marla whispered. Lamar nodded, then motioned for them to follow his lead. He watched, waited until Freddy was bending down once again, and then gestured to the middle table. They caught their breath, trying not to gasp and Lamar looked toward the door: could they make it? Marla put a hand on Jason’s shoulder, and he started to shrug her off, but she was gripping him tightly, her fingers digging into him. He moved to brush her away, then looked at her; she was terrified, even more than he was. He let her hold onto him, and kept his eyes on Freddy, waiting for their next opening.
It didn’t come. As they waited, poised for flight, Freddy turned away, his deliberate steps taking him to the doorway. The room went dark, and Jason’s heart skipped before he understood what had happened: the lights were gone because Freddy was gone.
“Marla,” he whispered, his voice little more than a breath of air. “He’s gone.” Marla looked at him and nodded, but she did not let go of his shoulder.
“Are you okay?” She asked, in the same, almost soundless way. He nodded, then pointed to his leg and shrugged theatrically. She smiled at him, and took her hand from his shoulder to muss his hair.
Suddenly Lamar was tapping Marla’s arm. He pointed to his ear, and she gave him a puzzled look. Jason stiffened, realizing what it was, and in a second Marla did, too. There was music in the room, a tinny, labored sound like a music box, the gaps between the notes just a little too long. The room lit up again, a drowning red, and before they could move, the table was wrenched away, and Freddy was standing over them. He shoved the table aside, almost hurling it. They screamed, a wailing, primal sound—not a scream for help but the last, futile act of defiance. Jason clung to his sister, and she pulled his head down against her, shielding his eyes so he would not have to see.