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Silent Hill 2 Fanfic

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Mutou Yami
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« on: October 16, 2010, 04:26:23 am »

Chapter Twelve
The Long Road to Nowhere

It was a strange feeling having someone tag along with me through the town. Had you asked me at practically any point before this if I would have preferred a partner as opposed to going it alone, the answer would have been resoundingly affirmative. And honestly, Maria was the fourth human being I had encountered in the three or four hours since I got to town, and with the exception of the kid, she was certainly the most normal. I guess I would have preferred her over Angela or Eddie, as they were both at least a little on the loopy side.

Then there was also the kid. Part of me was totally okay with not wanting to be the escort service for the little snotnose, and the other part felt bad thinking that. Yet, she never appeared to be non-plussed. I can’t believe she would see any of the monsters I saw and still be able to act so nonchalant. ****, here I was, twenty-nine years old, and scared halfway to hell, but the kid seemed just fine, not scared in the slightest. It made no sense at all.

Yet, even though Maria was the most ideal travel partner I had yet to meet in this town, even she gave me this decidedly uncomfortable feeling. She was strange as well, if not in the same way that the others were. She seemed totally sane and in command of her mental facilities, yet I just felt a sort of vibe from her, an icy one. At first, I kept a fast pace, mostly to spite her for the hurtful things she had said to me. I might have kept doing it, too, but I just didn’t like the idea of her being out of my line of sight, so I slowed a bit and we exited Rosewater Park alongside each other. It was a quiet walk, so far. I felt no desire to speak to her, and she seemed to have enough tact to realize it.

Nathan Avenue stretched wide and long in both directions. We both stared as far as our sight would allow, looking for threats, but none made themselves apparent. Satisfied, I headed west, and Maria followed.

I decided that the safest course of action would be to stay close to the center of the road and keep my radio cranked to the max. It would give us both the best chance to evade any monsters we might encounter, by my reasoning. There would be no obstacles to prevent us from getting around one of them, and no place from which they could ambush. The radio would alert me before they could get close enough to do anything. Thus, we walked down Nathan, keeping as close to the double-yellow dividing line as we could.

If anything, it was a rather uneventful journey. Every so often the radio would buzz softly, meaning we definitely weren’t alone out here, but the local creepshow population seemed thinner than in the eastern side of town, and less determined. I heard perhaps five or six of them thanks to the radio, but we never saw any. Keeping away from the edges meant there were no landmarks to see, so it was impossible to mark our progress, but I had been down this street many times. I knew that before long, we would reach a small bank of streams that flowed from the southwest mouths of the lake and carried its silver waters along to places unknown, and there were bridges built to span them. From that point on, there wouldn’t have been much in the way of landmarks even on a crystal clear day, just a few houses opposite of the lake, until we reached the hotel and that amusement park that was across the street. I have to say that there was a little too much tension and residual fear in me to make it boring, but that’s as close as it ever came. And, even though Maria was with me, we didn’t say much to each other. I was still too pissed off, and she seemed to sense it, so we kept to just basics, “watch your step”, “boy, it’s cold”, that sort of thing.

Then, the asphalt under our feet suddenly brightened in color as it ceased being asphalt and became concrete and metal. We had reached the first bridge. And, we didn’t get another ten feet before we finally saw something distinctly unusual.

We didn’t really see the body, at first. What we did see was a long, pasty smear of blood that led to it, a smear that stretched a good six feet and ended in a pulpy mass that I can only describe as human, once upon a time. Maria turned green at the sight of it, and refused to even go near it. I probably wouldn’t have either, except that I noticed two things about this particular unfortunate: One, he was apparently carrying a gun and ammunition, as a pistol lie on the ground about a foot away from his outstretched arm. The second was that his other hand was grasped tightly around a large piece of paper.

I bent down and retrieved the gun. It was sticky with blood, which I wiped off with the flap of my jacket. Once it was mostly clean, I checked the magazine. It was also a ten-shot, and six of the 9MM bullets still sat in the rack. I offered the gun to Maria.

“No thanks,” she said. “I don’t know the first thing about them, and I’ve got you, crack-shot. I’ll be okay.”

Yeah, some crack-shot. Only now did I remember that the last time I used this gun, I had emptied it, and I had never bothered taking the time to reload the damn thing. Here we were, trotting merrily though this wasteland, and our sole means of defense would have been useless, as I would have raised it to fire without even thinking. Angry with myself, I slammed one of the loaded clips into the chamber, and fed the dead guy’s last six into my empty. I wanted to search him and see if he had any more, yet I was very hesitant to touch him. He hadn’t been dead long, a few hours at most, but he already smelled bad, and it was nasty even still. Yet, my desire to survive overrode my dainty senses, and I dug through the guy’s pockets. I came out with about thirty cents in change, a crappy little pocket knife, and two more loaded clips of ammunition. How incredibly lucky. I also kept the pocket knife. It was cheap and dull, totally useless as a weapon, but as a tool it might be handy.

Then I pulled the paper from his other hand, almost tearing it in the process, since it had been glued to his hand with dried blood (making me wonder just what the hell happened to him, he was literally drenched). I opened the roll and looked at it. Maria came alongside of me and peeked as well.

It was a map of Silent Hill, more detailed than the one I had. I would have kept it had it not been in such terrible shape. The area depicting Old Silent Hill was soaked stiff with blood and almost unreadable. The South Vale area was still in decent shape though, and it looked as though our new friend had tried to keep tabs on where he had been. A large X marked Nathan Avenue a little further down, with an arrow leading in the reverse direction and ending in a point that aimed at a small building labeled “Pete’s Bowl-O-Rama”. There were a few other marks, but none of them seemed to be important, being in areas I had no intention of visiting. I dropped the map, and the wind made it skitter across the pavement. We continued ahead.

We didn’t even it another fifty feet before we learned what the X signified. When I saw it, I almost literally felt my stomach drop to the bottom of my feet. I honestly felt like crying.

The bridge ended very abruptly, the concrete bending downwards to the point where it had been torn completely off. Steel support cables hung out limply past the edge of the broken concrete like beard stubble. The railing on the lakeside looked like a massive dog had chewed on it for a few hours.

“Motherfucker!” I yelled at the top of my lungs. I felt like I was being overwhelmed by a wave of futility and despair. It had all seemed so easy, so easy. Too good to be true, in other words. If God, or whoever was pulling the strings around these parts, was going to allow me to find what I came here looking for, He sure as hell had no intention of gift-wrapping it for me.

I felt a warm hand touch mine.

“Hey, James,” Maria said, “Calm down. Don’t go crazy on me now.” I looked over at her and for the first time, I didn’t see condescension or chilly mirth in her eyes, but a look of concern that looked completely genuine. The slight tremble in her voice made it sound even more real. She wasn’t Mary, despite the similarities, but when I looked into those eyes right then, I could’ve sworn they were the same eyes I looked into when I spoke my wedding vows. It was god damn uncanny.

It did the trick, too. I did calm down.

“So, what do we do now?” I asked.

“I don’t know. There aren’t any other bridges crossing here. Short of boating across the lake, I’m fresh out of ideas myself.”

That might not be a terrible idea, really. Still…

“That map pointed at the bowling alley. Let’s go there.” I said.

Maria looked at me sideways. “What are we going to find in a stupid bowling alley?”

“Beats the hell out of me. But right now I can’t think of anything else. Besides, he did mark it for a reason, there could be something useful there.”

She smiled at me, another one that didn’t ice my spine. “Maybe you’re right. Come on, let’s go see.”

We did exactly that. And as we passed the savaged corpse, I remembered that Maria had called me by my name, which was kind of funny since I didn’t remember telling her what my name was. I thought of asking her about it, but I didn’t in the end. I probably did tell her and forgot that I did.

Still couldn’t shake the feeling, though.

Pete’s Bowl-O-Rama was a little corner building, and it was definitely an authentic piece of vintage, judging by its size. I was never really big on bowling, and neither was Mary, but once or twice we still went for an evening or an afternoon, when we were still dating. Now, nobody in their right mind would ever confuse Ashfield, Massachusetts for a small hole-in-the-wall like Silent Hill. Ashfield was actually a rather busy little place, not quite close enough to Boston to be considered one of its suburbs. A bowling alley in a city like Ashfield is going to have at least twenty lanes and the works besides. Pete’s couldn’t be anywhere near that, it couldn’t hold six lanes to save its life. It was these kinds of differences that made you realize you were in a real, honest to God small town, and not one that merely thought of itself as small just because there was a large metropolis nearby.

I had the door open and was halfway inside before I noticed that Maria was making no attempt to follow. I turned to her, shooting her a glance that she obviously recognized.

“You go ahead, James. I think I’ll wait out here. Never cared to go bowling, you know?”

“Well, it’s not like I came here looking to hit a three-hundred myself. I’m just going to see if there’s anything here that we can use.”

“Yeah, okay. Do what you want. I’m not going inside.” She wrapped her arms around her body and shivered. She had to be cold in that skimpy outfit of hers, but until now, I hadn’t seen her show it.

She noticed me watching her, and shot me an annoyed look. “I’m fine. Just go, and don’t take too long.” I didn’t answer her, I just shrugged and went inside. She was a grown woman, she could do as she pleased.

The door led into a narrow lobby area, and it was a complete shambles. The floor was littered with a million fragments of broken glass, some of it from the door, some of it once belonging to the divider from the ticket area. There were only two doors, and I entered the one closest to me. It was the deathly silence that brought a little sense to me, and I drew the Glock, not wanting to be taken by surprise.

This looked to be a storage area and employee lounge of some kind. Old bowling balls, their once-bright colors dimmed with time, lined several specialty shelves, some of which had collapsed and spilled their contents all over the floor. This room looked like hell too, but this whole place didn’t look destroyed so much as it looked like a victim of long neglect. Had the bowling alley been abandoned when we were last here? I couldn’t remember. The first time Mary and I came, we joked about playing a game here, but we never did, and I don’t recall the place entering my thoughts ever again until I saw its name on the bloody map, the focus of an arrow. I wondered what was supposed to be here. I didn’t know. It sure as hell wasn’t our special place though, that much I was certain of.

I stepped through the room, treading carefully to keep from tripping over the garbage in the floor, when I heard a voice, close but muffled, coming from the next room. As I got closer to the door, I heard a second voice, both clearly human and both of them familiar to me. The first voice I heard was a husky, boyish male voice. Eddie, I was certain. The other voice was instantly recognizable, not just from the sound but from the tone, she was being as sarcastic and teasing to Eddie as she was to me. It was my little friend, the hand-stomping rugrat.

There was only one other door in this little backroom, and it led to the actual business area of the place. It was open a crack, but I didn’t enter right away. Instead, I listened to them talk.

“What’re you doin’ wandering around all by yourself, anyway?” That was Eddie, and his voice sounded a lot softer than it had when I saw him perched over the john earlier.

“I already told ya,” The kid said.

“Well yeah, I know that, but I mean, it ain’t safe out there. That’s why I’m carryin’ this gun.”

She paused for a moment. “It’s okay. I’ll be just fine all by myself.”

Eddie spoke again, and this time it sounded as though he was speaking with a mouth full of food. “I can come with ya, if you want.”

“No thanks,” she said, “A fatso like you would just get in my way.” No response from Eddie.

“So, whatdja do? Robbery? Murder?” She asked, a moment later.

“Nah, I didn’t do nothin’ like that. I just ran away ‘cause I was scared.”

“Scared?” she said, and her sharp edge was back, “You’re runnin’ from nothing? You’re just a gutless fatso, that’s all!”

“Hey, why do you gotta make fun of me for? I ain’t saying nothing about you!”

“Yeah…” Her voice had softened considerably. “I run away all the time, too. That’s sorta what I’m doing now.”

It wasn’t an apology, but Eddie seemed to take it for one, because he didn’t argue or raise his voice.

“So, uh, did you find that lady you came here looking for? God, what did you say her name was?” He paused for a moment, obviously trying to remember, and the kid didn’t offer him any help. “Oh yeah, that’s right, her name is Mary.”

I coughed. It was the quickest ad-hoc response my body could provide for the surprise I felt, hearing that name coming from his mouth. I pushed the door open slowly, feeling embarrassed for eavesdropping yet trying to play off as if I hadn’t been. It opened into the main lobby of Pete’s Bowl-O-Rama. My appraisal of its size from outside was generous, I found. There were only four lanes, and they stretched into the distance. The ends were dimly lit. It was sort of surreal to watch, and strangely enough, it was calming, even dreamlike.

I saw Eddie sitting at the scoring booth, and either he didn’t notice my presence, or didn’t care to acknowledge it. Atop the booth table was a box of pizza. Honest to God, the man was shoving pizza in his face. Where he managed to find it was totally beyond me. He was eating it, as I mentioned, and making noises of contentment as he did, like a child might.

The kid, however, was nowhere in sight. My presence obviously wasn’t much of a secret, after all. And only one person here could shed any light on the situation…

“Hey, Eddie?”

He turned to look at me very briefly, then turned his attention back to his food. He finished chewing and swallowed his bite, and to me it seemed to take an eternity.

“Oh… yeah, you’re… ah…”

“My name’s James. We met at the apartment building, remember?”

“Yeah, sure I do.” He took another bite of his pizza, a large bite that he tore off by jerking his head, looking for all the world like a lion tearing chunks of flesh from a freshly-killed zebra. I could picture a kid doing that, and it wouldn’t bother me. It was creepy to watch a grown man do it. Damned creepy.

“So, Eddie…” I continued, feeling just as uncomfortable as I did talking to him the first time, “I thought I heard someone else’s voice in here. You’re not alone, are you?”

“Nooo…” he said, drawing out the word as he looked to the floor beside him. My eyes followed his gaze.

A bowling ball rolled slowly across the hardwood floor, the soft, dull thrum barely noticeable even in the quiet din. It came to a stop about six inches from my right foot. At once, Eddie and I both darted a glance in the direction it came from.

Sure enough, there she was, leaning against the far wall, looking at the two of us. My mouth was open and Eddie's was full of pizza, but hers was drawn into a tight sneer, the look full of childish derision. I couldn’t tell if Eddie was the target, or if it was me. Maybe both.

She suddenly broke into a full, open grin and waved at us, and then made a beeline for a door in the corner. I yelled to her, telling her to stop, but she didn’t pay me the slightest bit of mind. The door slammed shut and she was gone. I was a little worried for her. I mean, the little **** had made my trek through the apartments quite a bit more difficult than it should have been, and she was taunting me by dropping Mary’s name on me when I was in a clearly vulnerable moment, but for Christ’s sake, she was just a little kid, and there was some very dangerous **** going on in this town. So far she had apparently been blessed with the devil’s own luck and had yet to run across any of the town’s unsavory new population, but that couldn’t be expected to last forever. She’d probably **** her pants if she came across Pyramid Head, and that was only partially a nasty thought. Much of it was rooted in reality. God knows I damn near **** myself on each of the three occasions I had the misfortune to make his acquaintance. I wouldn’t wish that on my worst enemy, and the child was a brat and a half, but miles away from an enemy. She was in danger.

“Eddie!” I yelled, “Come on, man. We have to go after her!” I waved at him to follow me, and took a step forward expecting he would do just that. I stopped dumb in my tracks when I realized he had no intention of coming along. He simply sat at the scoring book and chomped on old pizza, a new slice flopping limply over his right hand. I stared at him for a moment, wondering what he was doing, but he didn’t mind me a bit. To him, there was the pizza, and the world might very well have ended three feet beyond him in any direction.

“Hey Eddie, come on! We’ve got to go after her!”

He paused to swallow his food, but made no attempt to get off of his ass. He just looked in my direction. “Why bother? Laura can take care of herself. She doesn’t need a gutless fatso getting in her way.”

Interesting, a name for the brat. “You said her name is Laura?” I asked.

“That’s what she told me.” He turned away and resumed his meal.

I was getting just a little pissed off here. The kid – Laura – could get herself hurt out there. I didn’t want that on my conscience. Of course, I wanted to get ahold of her because of that one provocative statement that I’m certain was about my wife, but there was, deep down, an honest concern for her safety. She was just a kid, after all. I had no idea why she was here or what she was about, hell, I just learned her name, but she might definitely find herself in over her little head. Apparently, Eddie held no such concerns.

“Eddie!” I said, my voice rising, “The town’s full of monsters! We can’t leave her on her own out there!”
“So go ahead then. You have a gun. You can handle it.”

I felt like hitting him.

“I can’t believe you’re just going to sit there and eat that damn pizza.”

I expected him to get pissed at me in return. I wasn’t really intending to bait him into an argument, yet I couldn’t exactly blame him if he took it for exactly that. He didn’t, though. When he responded, he sounded agitated, but calm.

“She said she was fine by herself.” And that, apparently closed the discussion.

“The hell with you, then!” I hissed, and I stormed towards the door and out of the alley. Eddie sat just as he had the whole time, eating a hot pie from Victory Pizza.

The door led back to the entry area of the place, and from there I let myself out the front door. I was surprised to find that it had gotten darker outside. The ever-present fog and mist, milky-white all along, had taken on a distinctly darker tone, along with a reddish tinge. The sun was setting. I wondered just how much worse things would be after dark, and of course they would be. That’s simply the way it works, isn’t it? Watch any horror movie. Once the lights go out, the **** hits the fan with great, renewed intensity. That’s when Jason suddenly appears behind you, or Freddy suddenly appears in front of you.

Or Pyramid Head, of course. I didn’t need to think about any over-the-top invincible movie monsters. I already had one of my own. What on earth was I going to do when darkness fell? I had to force the thought out of my head, just the notion of it filled me with fresh dread. I couldn’t prepare because I had no idea what I was in store for, so all I could do was be careful and stay alert.

I also noticed something else that made me instantly uncomfortable; Maria was gone. I called her name, but she didn’t respond.

I ran around the side of the building to see if I could find her, and I did just that. In fact, we almost knocked each other over, as we collided just as I turned the corner. I’m sure it was a rather humorous thing to see from someone else’s perspective, what with her and I bouncing around like characters in a Bugs Bunny cartoon, but it sure didn’t seem funny to me, not in the least. It scared the living **** out of me, because until my brain registered the fact that it was in fact Maria that I had collided with, that revelation was not an instant one, and for a moment I was dead certain I had just made very personal acquaintance with some shambling monstrosity from Hades. However, I had yet to encounter any such monstrosity that wore a leopard-skin printed skirt, a red sweater, and dyed its hair tips red. I was surprised, but I was enough on the ball to grab her hand and prevent her from taking an unnecessary spill. She said nothing, and in fact appeared to be out of breath.

“What happened to you?” I asked.

“A kid just ran out this way, darted past me and took off down the alley that way,” she said, pointing behind her.

Laura. Of course.

She grabbed my arm and pulled. “Come on, James,” she said, “We’ve got to find her!” I nodded agreement, and we took off down the side parking lot. She led me through a door in a rusty old chain-link fence, and we found ourselves in a small, cramped alley. It wasn’t very long in either direction, and it ended not perhaps forty feet from one end to the other.

The end I found myself at was strewn with old trash and debris, prominent among which was a variety of old liquor bottles, old labels that I was quite familiar with, like Johnny Walker and Jim Beam, and a clear bottle of Stolichnaya that seemed to have a little left. There was a gap between two of the buildings. I stared down that gap. I felt sure that was where Laura had gone, for it was narrow enough for her body, but certainly too much so for Maria or myself.

I turned to her and shrugged.

“Nope, I don’t see that happening either,” she said, a trace of that annoying smile creeping back for a moment. There was one door, but the knob refused to turn. Not broken, but definitely locked. I kicked it in frustration.

“Hey, calm down, tiger,” Maria said, and gently pushed me out of the way. I watched her as she turned her back to me, and appeared to reach into the front of her sweater. Intrigued, I leaned in closer to see what she was doing, only realizing after she leaned farther away that she mistook me for trying to look down her shirt. I stepped back and I could feel my face flush. When she was finished, she displayed for me what she found.

It was a key. I reached for it, but she pulled it back, and inserted it into the keyhole in the knob. She turned it back and forth several times, and I would have thought she was trying to jimmy it open if the movements weren’t so smooth and careful. Finally, the lock disengaged with a startling click, and together we entered the building.

It was dark inside. I flicked on the flashlight and had the gun out and ready, but to my surprise, Maria took the lead and led me up the stairs with a confidence and lack of hesitation that made me strongly suspect that she was quite familiar with this particular establishment. We went down a dark hall at the top of the stairs, passing another large pile of firewater bottles, most of them full. Seeing them brought back a fleeting sense of familiarity, and rightly so, for how often had I looked to Mr. Daniels in a glass to escape the hell my life had been descending into for the last several years? Too many times. Just looking at the bottles made my stomach clench.

We ended up in a large room that was lit by several neon displays, some advertising beer, one of them a curvy broad in a seductive pose over the phrase “Paradise”, which I assumed was the name of the bar right underneath, a small deal that seemed well-stocked, and one by the front door that read “Heaven’s Night.” There were tables and chairs and several booths, all with ashtrays and drink coasters, and some assorted other things here and there. But dominating the place was a stage, and the long brass pole extending from the floor to the ceiling left no doubts as to just what type of bar it was. I could almost hear the bump & grind music playing, the cheering of hormonal men, and I could definitely catch the sour, mellow scent of old beer in the air, the kind that sets into any bar on earth that sees years of operation. It was almost unreal, and it made me a little uncomfortable, especially when I thought about why someone like Maria would have a key to a place like this. Of course, considering her rather slutty manner of dress, it was hardly impossible to assume that she had herself been on that very stage, her long, coltish legs wrapped around the pole, slithering gracefully around it like a coiling python. Not a stretch by half, though I hadn’t the slightest intention of asking her, and she didn’t seem willing to put it forth on her own either. I followed her out of the front door.

A long, narrow set of stairs led down to the ground, and a few feet in front of us, the alley opened into another street, which the map told me was Carroll St. To our left, a large, shabby construction barrier had been erected, blocking access to Nathan Avenue. Neither of us really had any solid ideas about where to go.

And as we started south along Carroll, it didn’t take long for it not to matter a whole lot. The line of buildings didn’t extend very far, and they were replaced by a long chain-linked fence that enclosed a pretty wide-open area. Through the fog I could see a large building on the grounds, though the only hint I had to its purpose was on the fence. It was topped with rolls of razor wire. So, a secure area of some kind. A prison, maybe? Strange place for one, but while the map I had did display names for several key locations in town, this particular building was anonymous.

I almost crumpled the map when I heard the tapping noise in front of me, both hands darting in opposite directions, one to give me a line of sight and the other flying for my pistol, when I realized that the tapping wasn’t the deep ,rhythmic sound of a straight-jacket, but the light, fleeting tap of human feet. Children’s feet. Laura’s feet.

I took off running after her, and so did Maria, even calling her name. I got close enough to see her, and she had to have been able to hear and know we were nearby, meaning that she was ignoring us.

We followed her until the line of fence suddenly ceased, and became a concrete path that led to concrete steps. Laura darted down this path, up these stairs, and opened the large gilded door, slipping inside easily and closing it behind her. Neither of us immediately followed her inside. Instead, I looked at the sign that was displayed above the front door.

Brookhaven Hospital, it said, in large, beveled letters, complete with a little Red Cross insignia. A hospital. Of course I would have to end up at a hospital. As if I hadn’t spent the better part of several years in and out of them, with Mary and her sickness. I hate hospitals, hate them to death. I hate that smell that hospitals have, that weird, sickening odor that is an impossible mixture of sterility and death.

There was more, too. I had no idea why, but for some very strange reason, I experienced the briefest flash of deja-vu. I couldn’t explain it at all, and it was gone as quickly as it came. I shook my head of it, and together with Maria, I pushed open the fancy front door and we stepped into the cold, oppressive darkness of Brookhaven Hospital.
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All Hail The Strogg!
R.I.P. Paul Gray - April 8, 1972 – May 24, 2010.


"Stay...
 I Need You Here, For A New Day To Break...
Stay...
I Want You Near, Like A Shadow In My Wake...
Stay...
Here With Me... Don't You Leave...
Stay...
Stay With Me, Until The Day's Over..."
I love you Mutou Yami... Forever.


Long Live, Mr.Yamaoka Akira, The Silent Hill Legend.
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