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Silent Hill 2 Fanfic

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Author Topic: Silent Hill 2 Fanfic  (Read 17257 times)
Mutou Yami
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« on: October 16, 2010, 05:01:41 am »

Chapter Eighteen
Basement’s Basement

Having a goal was a good thing. Having determination made it a little easier to make myself move. However, the reality of the situation was that I was faced with the task of searching this hospital all over again, and that was hard enough when things looked more normal. What I really wanted was to get out of here, to get out and not look back.

I couldn’t leave Maria here, though. Even though I wasn’t extraordinarily thrilled to keep her around, abandoning her here would be quite cowardly of me. I’m no saint, but I’m also not that kind of ****.

So, I marched up the hallway, examining the doors. Most of them still retained their padlocks. In fact, the passage of time had basically fused many of the locks to the latches they rested in.

The first one without a lock opened only after being kicked, and a wretched smell came from within, thick and choking. It was a smell similar to old ketchup, and it made my throat lock up. I covered my mouth and nose with my jacket sleeve, readied the pipe with my other hand, and peeked inside, wondering what on earth was causing the stench.

It came as no small surprise to find that the room was empty of any obvious source. In fact, the small cell looked quite clean compared to S3. There was no mattress on the bed, just an old, rusty boxspring with a deep sag in the middle. Maybe there was something in the vent shaft. I didn’t know and it didn’t matter. Maria wasn’t here. I quickly got out of the room and shut the door. When I did, I noticed that my efforts to force the door open had broken off some of the encrusted green slop that had grown over most of the hallway and hardened like glue. Chunks of it had been torn right off, and while it was hardly much of an improvement, it was noticeable. If anyone else had tried to open these doors, they should leave similar evidence.

It didn’t really matter though, because this door, S10, was the only one besides S3 that was left unlocked. Even S16 now had a crusty, rusty padlock preventing access, and I knew for certain that it wasn’t there before.

The specialty rooms on the other side of the hall were also all inaccessible. The door leading to the main hallway was still functioning though, and I opened it, which required more muscle-work. I slid through it once it had opened enough to permit it, and the retractor pulled the door shut behind me with a dry, metallic groan.

The radio came to life with a vengeance, and I looked down the hallway as I debated whether or not to use the gun. I only had one clip left, so I really didn’t want to.

At least, not until I saw two nurses in the distance, a distance that was narrowing because both of them had been facing my direction and doubtlessly were attracted to my flashlight. They shambled towards me at a good pace. The one in the lead suddenly halted, and its head quivered and flailed. I don’t know why it did this, but it didn’t seem to faze the other one, which pushed the lead nurse out of the way and continued towards me. The nurse with the spasmodic head didn’t resist being shoved, and regained its composure a moment later and resumed towards me.

I stood my ground, thinking for some crazy reason that I would defend myself against both attackers. It was crazy to think that. Crazy and reckless and stupid. Had I tried, I’m sure I would have died right there.

Therefore, I suppose it was an ironic twist of luck that a third nurse lurched around the corner not even three feet in front of me. It broke my fixation on the other two, which was luck, but it was a costly bit of luck. I was so fixated on the nurses that I saw down the hall that I hadn’t thought to check the small branch to my left, and as the faceless horror raised its pipe, I realized my error and turned to get out of the way.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t fast enough.

The nurse swung its ghost-white arm. The pipe made a buzzing hum as it sliced through the air, and then made a dull thump as the pipe’s head struck me on the side of my knee.

The pain was tremendous, soundless but so loud. I cried out and came this close to collapsing. If I did that, though, I was finished. This nurse would reach me in seconds and club me again and again, and I might survive it long enough for the other two nurses to arrive and join the party. I would die curled up like a baby on the floor, beaten to a bloody pulp. It was this horrible mental image, and the fear of how painful it would be, that made me force myself to stay balanced. I almost stumbled again as lurched towards the door to the stairwell, as the pain flared anew once I put my weight on it, but though sheer force of will, I stayed up once again and I gripped the door handle.

Dear God, please let this knob turn. Please let this door open, and please let there be nothing behind the door. I’ll fall to the ground inside and cry because this hurts so **** bad and I know that’s not dignified but please God give me that chance. Dear God, if this knob doesn’t turn, I’m gonna die…

The knob turned smoothly in my hand, and I pushed the door open, stumbled through, and slammed it shut behind me with the nearest demon nurse less than a foot away. I slid to the floor, clutching my knee and sobbing with pain and fear. I’m not ashamed to admit that. I was in tears. It hurt that bad. And, I was scared stupid to boot, because not two seconds after I shut the door, I heard a muted whack, which was followed by another. A moment later, there were more and more, and soon it was a terrifying, arrhythmic percussion line as all three nurses beat furiously on the door with their pipes. It was a damned lucky thing that the door was made of solid steel. They might be able to break through eventually, but it wouldn’t be any time soon, and it didn’t seem as though they possessed the intelligence to simply try the doorknob. Even this realization wasn’t enough to bring my heart rate down under about two-hundred. As long as I leaned against it, it probably wasn’t going to be opened.

I pulled the right leg of my pants up and examined my knee. The nurse didn’t hit me directly in the kneecap and that was a damned good thing, as it could very well have been shattered by a blow that hard. The right side of my knee was an angry red mass that was swelling and already turning purple. I massaged it with my right hand and it smarted, but once I tried extending and contracting the leg a few times, I was pretty certain that nothing was broken. It would hurt like hell for awhile, and it would be difficult to walk on, but it was definitely a more desirable alternative to having a broken knee. Had I turned a second slower, that’s almost certainly what would have happened. If it did, I would be useless and unable to move. A broken knee would be a certain death sentence here. I would have sat here, immobile, until I either starved to death or the nurses broke through, or, of course, until I decided to turn the gun on myself. If ever I had doubted the existence of God, and during Mary’s ordeal I most certainly did, my belief was somewhat reaffirmed now. That was too close a call for my liking.

The beating eased somewhat as I hoisted myself up into a standing position. I almost lost my balance at first, but I had the wall for support, and I took a few tentative steps back and forth. Evidently, the nurses must have started to lose interest in me, because the thumping on the door became less intense and not nearly as rapid. It finally stopped altogether as I gripped the handrail and started to ascend the stairs to the roof. I found that I was able to climb them without too much difficulty. My knee was sore but it wasn’t as debilitating as I was afraid it would be. I could walk on this knee, run if I had to, and I could climb stairs. The relief I felt was almost tangible.

And it melted away entirely the second I reached the top of the stairs, where the door to the hospital’s roof was.

It was gone. I don’t say that meaning that there was a missing door, I mean, the door and the frame were simply not there. Instead, I found myself staring at a blank concrete wall. It was if there had never been a door there to begin with. I ran my hand along its surface, hoping it was some weird visual trick, or perhaps that my eyes were playing some **** tricks on my brain. But it was smooth, cool concrete that my fingers felt.

I thought perhaps that I had been injured by the fleshbags and through some impossible means remained unconscious for a very long time, years or even decades. There was a lot to suggest that it was possible. Everything did look severely aged compared to how it did before. The climate was completely different.

But there were also things that made me unsure of that theory, and this was certainly the most compelling of them all. A door had simply vanished. Someone would have had to actually remove that. It would require construction, and careful construction at that, to make this possible, and considering the state of things, I could not even begin to accept that as possible, but logic and common sense simply did not hold sway here. I wanted to find Mary, and everything else was secondary to that, but just what in the hell happened here? I had dismissed the idea of being Rip Van Winkle as Twilight Zone crap, but now that was the only sort of explanation that made sense. Maybe I was in some insane alternate universe. Hell, why not? Nothing else in Silent Hill makes any sense. Eat your heart out, Ray Bradbury!

There were things to be done, though. Standing here thinking about it was a waste of time. I didn’t know the answers, didn’t even have so much as a basic grasp of them, and I knew I wouldn’t anytime soon. I descended the stairs carefully, not wanting to overtax my knee. Everything was quiet as I passed the third floor door. Apparently, the locals had better things to be doing. Good for them. I kept going.

The doorknob on the second floor turned, but the door did not budge, even with me throwing my body at it. Of course, I didn’t put all of my weight into that venture, but I don’t think it would have mattered. Something was obstructing that door and it would take more than the likes of me to do anything about it. The door leading to the ground level might not have been blocked by anything, but it was locked, so it might as well have been.

It came from down below. A noise. Something was squealing, and it was squealing repeatedly. Cautiously, I continued downward, listening to the strange noise. At first, the regularity of it made me think it was some kind of mechanical sound, but as I got closer, I doubted that more and more. It resembled a baby’s screech, or perhaps that of a pig, but the pitch was wrong, far too high to be either one.

At the bottom there was a door directly in front of me. The hallway seemed to continue further, and the noise was stronger now. Whatever it was, it wasn’t very far around the corner from me. But I wouldn’t be peeking around to investigate, even if I wanted to, because just like in that one room upstairs on the first floor, someone had erected a length of chain-link fencing that covered the entire span of the hallway. It was secured to the wall every foot or so with strong iron bolts. There would be no getting through it, but I can’t say it was too disappointing, because I wasn’t all that eager to discover the source of that earsplitting squeal.

So instead, I opened the door in front of me.

It appeared to be a storeroom of some sort, though it was in pretty poor shape. Rows of shelves lay tipped and leaning at wrong angles, their contents having spilled out and cascaded across the floor. Most of them were small boxes of things I could barely read because they were so old and worn. Some were bars of soap, still wrapped in silver foil and smelling as fresh as ever. Most of them were hygienic supplies of various sorts, few of them worth keeping. It was the bright blue box that caught my attention, mostly because it stood out quite plainly from the rest.

The box read “Silver Bear”, and it was full of Luger 9mm rounds. Well, mostly full. The box held fifty and I counted thirty-eight, and the box didn’t look too old, not nearly as old as most of the others, so hopefully it was still potent. I couldn’t believe my luck. What a full box of ammo was doing in the storeroom of a mental institution, or where the missing twelve bullets went, was beyond me, but thank God for whatever idiot thought it was a good idea to keep it here. I took the opportunity to fill my empty clip. It might be reckless to fire ammo when you weren’t sure if it was good, but I was willing to take my chances.

Having done that, I noticed that there was still one shelf still standing. It leaned against the wall to the left of where I had entered. A large bloody handprint was smeared all over the side of the unit. Looking closer, I noticed that it didn’t rest completely against the wall, instead sitting at a slight angle. There was something behind it, I could see.

There was too much clutter on the other side of the shelf to push it, and not enough room to pull it towards me, so I gripped it with both hands at the top and tipped it forward. More boxes of cleaning supplies spilled forth from its shelves just before the unit itself hit the ground with a powerful crash. I backed up quickly to avoid getting hit by any of it.

And it was quite an interesting thing that was revealed to me. It was a cubbyhole, not large enough to be considered a doorway, nor having a door anyway, it was a small crevice just large enough for a man if he ducked his head. There was a ladder going down into inky darkness. I stood looking at it for a moment, and then I poked my head and flashlight through the hole. Looking down, I didn’t see anything, and so far, the radio was behaving. I turned to get on the ladder.

Suddenly, the door opened next to me. I cried out in surprise and stood straight up instinctively, which caused the back of my head to strike the concrete wall. It wasn’t a hard blow, but it dazed me for just a bit as I climbed back out and groped for the pipe.

“James!” The voice was female, and so terribly familiar.

Oh dear God, I’ve actually found her. I’ve actually found…

“Mary!” I yelled, overcome by just a quicksilver flash of elation. But it evaporated just as quickly. It wasn’t Mary. It was Maria, and she stood there shaking her head.

“Ah, Maria, I… Jesus, I thought it was… Ah ****, I’m sorry.” She stared at me with her ice-cold eyes. They almost made my voice break as I spoke. “Anyway, I’m glad to see you’re okay.”

In an instant, those eyes changed from ice to blazing fire. They opened wide and she bared her teeth.

Anyway? What do you mean, anyway?” Her voice was filled with venomous anger. “I wander around this dump, lost and scared out of my mind, looking for you, and the first thing you do is confuse me with her. She’s all you even freaking care about! You couldn’t be bothered to give a damn about me though, could you? Why didn’t you even try to find me?

“But Maria, I was looking for you, it’s just that…”

“Oh, don’t give me that, James. You left me in that room and you never came back! You’ve been gone forever, and you’d have walked right out of here without me so you can find that dead wife of yours! The hell with me, right?”

“No, of course not.”

Unexpectedly, she threw her arms around my neck and rested her head on my chest. Her fingers laced through my hair, and I could feel how warm she was, I could feel the hot wetness of her tears as they stained my shirt. I put my arm around her. It was an instinctive thing.

“Then stay with me, James. Please, for the love of God, stay with me. Don’t leave me alone here. You’re supposed to take care of me.” She remained close to me, and it hit me that this was the most intimate contact I’d had with a woman since Mary died. Years. As awkward as it was, as much as I didn’t want to enjoy it, I did. I slipped my other arm around her waist and held her a little tighter. After everything that had happened, this was nice. This was needed. I had no feelings for this woman. On the contrary. But at this moment, I needed to hold somebody. It was an incredible relief.

But it didn’t mean anything. Only Mary mattered. I was glad to know it sounded less hollow in my own mind than I thought it would at this moment, in the embrace of another woman.

Finally, she looked up at me, not yet breaking contact. “You didn’t happen to find Laura, did you?”

“Yeah, I did, but it didn’t go all that well. She ran away.” I was hardly willing to divulge many of the details, and she didn’t seem willing to pry for them.

“We’ve gotta find her,” was all she said.

I looked at her curiously. “You really seem to care for her a great deal. You know who she is?”

She shook her head. “Never met her before. But you know, I feel so sorry for her, wandering around this place all by herself. It’s not safe. And I can’t explain why exactly, but ever since I saw her run from the bowling alley, I feel like it’s up to be to keep her safe.” She laughed softly. “Strange, huh?”

“No, it’s not. I’ve felt the same, really.” Partially true. Part of me did want to keep her safe. Part of me wanted to use her to kick a field goal.

I turned away from Maria and approached the ladder I found.

“What’s down there?” Maria asked.

“I don’t know, I just came across it. Follow me down?”

“Sure.”

I climbed down the ladder. It actually ended about a foot and a half before it reached the ground, and I almost stumbled getting off, landing on my sore knee. I heard Maria mount the ladder as I took a look around.

It was a very small room, not much larger than the solitary rooms upstairs. It was walled on all sides in bare concrete, but the floor was covered in old wooden slats, scaly and warping with age and moisture. The room was completely naked, save for one thing.

An old refrigerator lay on its back in the middle of the room. It was a relic, an old Amana with the rounded edges and chevrons on the front. It was white once but dimmed and dulled with time. I gripped the handle and pulled, but it didn’t budge.

“What’s the matter?” Maria’s voice came from behind.

I pointed at the fridge. “It’s stuck.”

She laughed. “What’s wrong? The big strong guy can’t open it by himself? Need a woman’s touch?”

I hated that mocking tone in her voice, in anyone’s voice, really, but I said nothing. I grabbed the handle again, and she did as well with both hands. Together, we pulled and strained.

There was a bass-like sucking sound as the door pried away from the main unit and the vacuum-trapped air within was released after countless years of confinement. The air was very stale and smelled rotten.

“Huh. What’s this?”

She reached into the fridge and came up with something in her hand. “Wow, talk about ugly. What a weird thing to hide in a fridge.” She held her hand out to me. “Here, you can have them. I wouldn’t be caught dead wearing them.”

I opened my hand and received her treasure. My eyes widened.

A pair of rings dropped into my outstretched hand.

She was right about one thing, they were pretty tacky. One was made of old copper and had a spider engraved on it. The other was at least three times heavier despite being the same size. Lead? I didn’t know. Its face was shaped like a distraught skull, looking kind of like that screaming man in that Edvard Munch painting.

Ugly, yeah, no question. But the image of that amazing fresco on the door upstairs came immediately to mind, and a slightly bewildered expression appeared on Maria’s face as I made for the ladder, not saying a word to her.

They were the missing rings from that bas-relief upstairs, I was certain of it. I was suddenly more than a little curious to find out where that door led to, and I intended to find out now.
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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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