Five Nights at Freddy's_The Silver Eyes

by Scott Cawthon

  “We should get ready,” Jessica said. “We’re supposed to meet the guys at the diner in an hour.”

  “Hurry!” Marla said. “We have to change, too, I didn’t want to get all gross while we were driving.”

  “Jason, you can watch TV,” Charlie said, and he looked at Marla. She nodded, and he grinned and turned it on, starting to flip through channels.

  “Please just pick a channel,” Marla said. Charlie headed into the bathroom to get dressed, while Jessica fussed with her hair.

  A little less than an hour later, they pulled into the diner parking lot. The others were already there, in the same booth they’d been in the night before. When they got inside Marla performed a second round of squeals and hugs, only slightly quieter now that they were in public. Overshadowed by her enthusiasm, Lamar stood and waved at Jessica and Charlie, waiting until Marla sat down.

  “Hi, guys,” he said at last. He was wearing a dark tie and dark grey suit. He was tall and thin, black, with his hair shaved close to his head; his features were sharp and attractive, and he looked just a little older than the rest of them. It could have been the suit, but Charlie thought it was something about the way he stood, holding himself like he would be comfortable wherever he was.

  They had all dressed up a little for the ceremony. Marla had changed at the motel, and she and Jessica were both wearing dresses. Jessica’s was knee-length and covered in pastel flowers, a light fabric that moved as she walked. Marla’s was simple; white with big sunflowers splashed over the fabric. Charlie hadn’t thought to bring a dress and she hoped she didn’t look out of place in black pants and a white button-down shirt. John was wearing a light purple shirt today, though he’d added a matching tie in a slightly darker color, and Carlton seemed to be wearing an identical outfit as before, still all in black. They all sat down.

  “Well don’t we all look nice,” Marla said happily.

  “Where’s Jason?” Jessica craned her head from side to side.

  Marla groaned.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  She scooted out of the booth and hurried out the door.

  “Lamar, what have you been up to?” Charlie said. He grinned.

  “He’s an Ivy League man,” Carlton said, teasing. Lamar looked briefly down at the table, but he was smiling.

  “Early acceptance,” was all he said.

  “Which one?” Jessica said.

  “Cornell.”

  “Wait, how did you already apply to college?” Charlie said. “That’s not till next year. I don’t even know where I want to go.”

  “He skipped sixth grade,” John said. There was a brief flicker of something across his face, and Charlie knew what it was. John liked being the clever one, the precocious one. Lamar had been kind of a goof-off when they were kids, and now he had leapt ahead. John forced a grin, and the moment passed. “Congratulations,” he said, with no hint that it was not entirely sincere.

  Marla came bursting in again, this time towing Jason behind her, holding on to his upper arm. At the hotel she had made him change as well, into a blazer and khakis, though he was still wearing his Nikes.

  “I’m coming, stop it,” he whined.

  “Is that Jason?” Carlton said.

  “Yeah,” Jason said.

  “Do you remember me?” Carlton said.

  “I don’t remember any of you,” Jason said unapologetically.

  “Sit there,” Marla said, pointing to the next booth over.

  “Okay,” he grumbled.

  “Marla, he can sit with us,” Jessica said. “Jason, come on over.”

  “I want to sit here,” he said, and sat down behind them. He pulled a video game out of his pocket, and was oblivious to the world.

  The waitress came over and they ordered; Marla told her to put Jason’s breakfast on their check. When their food came, Charlie checked her watch.

  “We don’t have a lot of time,” she said.

  “We’ll get there,” Carlton said. “It’s not far.” A small piece of food fell out of his mouth as he gestured down the road.

  “Have you been back to the school?” Lamar said, and Carlton shrugged.

  “I pass it sometimes. I know this is a nostalgia trip for all of you, but I just live here. I don’t exactly go around reminiscing about kindergarten all the time.”

  They were all quiet for a second, the beeps and pings of Jason’s video game filling the silence.

  “Hey, did you know Lamar’s going to Cornell next year?” Jessica said to Marla.

  “Really? Well, aren’t you ahead of the pack,” she said. He looked down at his plate. When he looked up he was a little flushed.

  “All part of the five-year plan,” he said. They laughed, and his blush deepened. “It’s kind of weird to be back here,” he said, hastily changing the subject.

  “I think it’s strange that I’m the only one who still lives here,” Carlton said. “Nobody ever leaves Hurricane.”

  “Is it strange, though?” Jessica said thoughtfully. “My parents—you remember, my mom’s from New York originally, she used to joke about going back. When I go back to New York, but it might as well have been, when I win the lottery, she didn’t mean it. And then right after Michael’s… right after, she stopped joking about it, then three months later we were all on a plane to visit her sister in Queens, and we never came back. My dad’s father died when I was nine, and they came back to Hurricane for the funeral without me. They didn’t want me coming back here, and honestly I didn’t want to go. I was kind of anxious the whole time they were gone. I kept looking out the window, hoping they would come back early, like something bad was going to happen to them if they stayed.”

  They looked at each other, considering. Charlie knew they had all moved, all but Carlton, but she had never thought about it—people moved all the time. Carlton was right, though. People didn’t leave Hurricane.

  “We moved because my dad got a new job, the summer after third grade,” John said. “That’s not exactly mysterious. Lamar, you left in the middle of the semester that year.”

  “Yeah,” he said. “But that’s because when my parents split, I went with my mom to Indianapolis.” He frowned. “But my dad moved, too, he’s in Chicago, now.”

  “My parents left because of Michael,” Marla said. They all turned to her. “Afterward, my mom couldn’t sleep. She said spirits were stirring in the town, unquiet. My dad told her she was being ridiculous, but we still left as fast as we could.” Marla looked around at her friends. “What?” She said defensively. “I don’t believe in ghosts.”

  “I do,” Charlie said. She felt like she was talking from a great distance, was almost surprised they could hear her. “I mean, not ghosts, but… memories. I think they linger, whether there’s someone there or not.” The house, her old house, was imbued with memory, with loss, with longing. It hung in the air like humidity; the walls were saturated, like the wood had soaked in it. It had been there before she came, it was there now, it would be there forever. It had to be. There was too much, too great and vast a weight, for Charlie to have brought it with her.

  “That doesn’t make any sense,” Jessica said. “Memory is in our brains. Like, literally stored in the brain, you can see it on a scan. It can’t exist outside of someone’s mind.”

  “I don’t know,” John said. “Think of all the places that have… atmosphere. Old houses, sometimes, places where you walk in and you feel sad, or nostalgic, even though you’ve never been there before.”

  “That’s not other people’s memories, though,” Lamar said, “that’s subconscious cues, stuff we don’t realize we’re noticing, that tells us we should feel some way. Peeling paint, old-fashioned furniture, lace curtains, details that tell us to be nostalgic, mostly things we pick up from movies, probably. I got lost at a carnival when I was four; I never got so scared in my life, but I don’t think anybody’s feeling suddenly desperate for their mom when they pass that Ferris wheel.

  “Maybe they ar
e,” Marla said. “I don’t know, sometimes I have little moments where it’s like there’s something I forgot, something I regret, or that I’m happy about, or something that makes me want to cry, but it’s only there for a split second, then it’s gone. Maybe we’re all shedding our fear and regret and hope everywhere we go, and catching up traces of people we’ve never met. Maybe it’s everywhere.”

  “How is that different from believing in ghosts?” Lamar said.

  “It’s totally different,” Marla said. “It’s not supernatural, and it’s not, like, the souls of dead people, it’s just… people leaving their mark on the world.”

  “So it’s the ghosts of living people?” Lamar said.

  “No.”

  “You’re talking about people having some kind of essence that can hang around a specific place after the person is gone,” Lamar said. “That’s a ghost.”

  “No, it’s not! I’m not saying it right,” Marla said. She closed her eyes for a minute, thinking. “Okay,” she said at last. “Do you all remember my grandmother?”

  “I do,” said Jason. “She was my grandmother, too.”

  “She was my dad’s mom, not yours,” Marla said. “Anyway, you were only a year old when she died.”

  “I do remember her,” Jason said quietly.

  “Okay,” Marla said. “So, she collected dolls, from the time she was a kid. She and my grandfather used to travel a lot after he retired, and she’d bring them back from all over the world—she had them from France, Egypt, Italy, Brazil, China, everywhere. She kept them in their own special room, and it was full of them, shelves and shelves of dolls, some tiny and some almost as big as I was. I loved it; one of my earliest memories is playing in that room, with the dolls. I remember my dad would always warn me to be careful, and my grandmother would laugh, and say ‘toys should be played with.’

  “I had a favorite, a 21-inch red-haired doll in a short, shiny white dress like Shirley Temple; I called her Maggie. She was from the 1940s, and I loved her; I told her everything, and when I was lonely I would imagine myself in that room, playing with Maggie. My grandmother died when I was six, and when my dad and I went to see my grandfather after the funeral, he told me I should pick a doll to keep from the collection. I went to the room to get Maggie, and as soon as I walked through the door, something was wrong.

  “It was as though the light had changed, become darker, harsher than it used to be. I looked around, and the lively, playful poses of the dolls now seemed unnatural, disjointed. It was as though all of them were staring at me. I didn’t know what they wanted. Maggie was in the corner, and I took a step toward her, then stopped. I met her eyes, and instead of painted glass I saw a stranger. I turned and ran. I raced down the hall as though something might be chasing me, not daring to look back until I reached my father’s side. He asked if I had picked a doll, and I just shook my head. I never went back in that room.”

  Everyone was silent. Charlie was transfixed, still seeing little Marla running for her life.

  “What happened to the dolls?” Carlton said, only half-breaking the spell.

  “I don’t know, I think my mom sold them to another collector when my grandfather died,” Marla said.

  “Sorry, Marla,” Lamar said, “It’s still just tricks of the mind. You missed your grandmother, you were frightened of death, and dolls are inherently freaky.”

  Charlie broke in, wanting to head off the argument:

  “Is everybody done eating?” She said. “We have to go soon.”

  “We still have plenty of time,” Carlton looked down at his watch, “it’s like five minutes away.” Something else fell out of his mouth landing next to the first dropped bit of food.

  John looked around the table, from person to person, as though he were waiting for something.

  “We have to tell them,” he said, looking at Charlie.

  “Oh, yeah, we totally do!” Jessica said.

  “Tell us what?” Jason piped up, peeking over the back of Marla’s seat.

  “Shh,” Marla said halfheartedly. She was looking at John. “Tell us what?”

  John dropped his voice, forcing everyone to lean in closer. Charlie did it too, eager to hear, even though she knew exactly what he was going to say.

  “We went to Freddy’s last night,” he said.

  “Freddy’s is still there?” Marla exclaimed, too loud.

  “Shhh!” Jessica said, making frantic hand movements.

  “Sorry,” Marla whispered. “I just can’t believe it’s still there.”

  “It’s not,” Carlton said, raising his eyebrows and grinning enigmatically at Lamar.

  “It’s hidden,” John explained. “They were supposed to knock it down to build a mall, but they didn’t. They just… built around it.”

  “Entombed it.” John corrected.

  “And you got in?” Lamar said. Charlie nodded confirmation. “No way,” he said.

  “What was it like?” Marla asked.

  “Exactly the same,” John said. “It was like…”

  “It was like everyone vanished,” Charlie said softly.

  “I want to go too; you have to take us,” Marla said. Jessica cleared her throat hesitantly, and they all looked at her.

  “I don’t know,” she said slowly. “I mean, today? Should we?”

  “We have to see it,” Lamar said. “You can’t tell us this and not let us see it.”

  “I want to see it,” Jason chimed in. “What’s Freddy’s?” They ignored him. His eyes were wide and he was hanging on to every word.

  “Maybe Jessica’s right,” John said with reluctance. “Maybe it’s disrespectful to go tonight.” There was a moment’s pause, and Charlie knew they were waiting for her to talk. She was the one they were really afraid of offending; they needed her permission.

  “I think we should go,” she said. “I don’t think it’s disrespectful. It’s almost a way of honoring... what happened.” She looked around the table. Jessica was nodding. Charlie wasn’t sure it was much of an argument, but they didn’t need to be convinced. They wanted an excuse.

  Marla twisted herself to look back at Jason’s plate.

  “Are you done eating?” She said.

  “Yup,” he said. Marla pointed to the game in his hand.

  “You know you can’t play with that during the ceremony,” she said.

  “Yup.”

  “I’m serious, Jason, I’m locking it in the car.”

  “Why don’t you just lock me in the car,” he muttered.

  “I’d love to,” Marla said under her breath as she turned back to the group. “Okay, we can go.”

  They headed to the school in a caravan; the boys in Carlton’s car, Marla following, and Charlie bringing up the rear.

  “We should have carpooled,” Jessica said idly, staring out the window. It hadn’t occurred to Charlie.

  “I guess,” she said.

  “On the other hand, I’m not sure I want to ride with Marla and Jason.” Jessica said plainly.

  “They are kind of intense,” Charlie agreed.

  When they arrived, the parking lot was already jammed full. Charlie parked on a side street, in what she hoped was a legal spot, and they walked to the school along the familiar sidewalk. Jessica shivered.

  “I’ve got goosebumps.”

  “It is weird to be here,” Charlie said. The school looked unchanged from the outside, but the fence was new, slick, black-plastic coated chain link. The whole town was like this, a mix of old and new, familiar and not. The things that had changed seemed out of place. The things that had remained the same made Charlie feel out of place. It must be so strange for Carlton to live here, she thought. “This is a nostalgia trip for you, but I just live here,” he had said. Somehow, Charlie was not sure she believed that.

  When they got to the playing field behind the school, the bleachers were already full. Rows of folding chairs had been laid out in front of them to add more seating, and Charlie spotted Marla and the boys
at the front.

  “Oh, great,” she said. “I don’t want to sit in the front row.”

  “I don’t mind,” Jessica said. Charlie looked at her.

  Of course you don’t, she wanted to say. You’re… you.

  “Yeah,” she said instead, “no big deal. Half the town must be here,” she observed as they made their way to the group, where two seats had been saved. There was one open in the front row, next to Carlton, and one right behind it, beside Marla. Jessica winked at Charlie and sat down next to Carlton. She leaned toward him and they started whispering. Charlie repeated herself to Marla.

  “There’s a lot of people here,” she said.

  “Yeah,” Marla said. “I mean, it’s a small town, you know? Michael’s… it was a big deal. Plus, his parents still live here. People remember.”

  “People remember,” Charlie echoed softly. There was a small raised stage set up in front of them, with a podium and four chairs. Behind the chairs a screen was suspended, projected on it a larger-than-life picture of Michael. It was a close-up, just his face. It was not the most flattering picture: his head was thrown back at an odd angle, his mouth open in laughter, but it was perfect—a joyful moment, snatched up and kept, not curated. He looked happy.

  “Darn it,” Marla said softly. Charlie looked at her. She was dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. Charlie put an arm around her.

  “I know,” she said.

  The sound system came on suddenly with a whine that slowly faded. Four people walked onstage: a heavyset man in a suit, who went straight to the microphone, an elderly woman, and a couple, a man and a woman. The man in the suit stepped up to the podium, and the elderly woman sat down in one of the four chairs. The couple stayed back, but they did not sit. Charlie knew they must be Michael’s parents, but she did not recognize them. When she was young they had just been parents, a species that was for the most part unremarkable. She realized, suddenly, that she didn’t even know their names; Michael’s parents had not gone out of their way to interact with their son’s friends, and Charlie had literally spoken to them as “Michael’s Mom,” and “Michael’s Dad,” as if those were appropriate forms of address.