Message #5089

[Mutou Yami]

Chapter Twenty-Six
March to the Scaffold

There were no monsters in this hall, but I had no idea how long that door behind me would hold. The pounding intensified, and even through the thick metal I could hear their terrible voices. Thank God they didn’t have arms to operate the handle. If they wanted through, they’d have to knock it down. I prayed that it would take them awhile.

About halfway down this new hall were a pair of doors that faced each other. The smaller of the two opened into a small room that was probably used for storage. Metal shelves lined all of the walls. I found several garments, all of them filthy and some of them bloody, but nothing of any use to me.

The larger door led to a gigantic open area, perhaps the strangest yet. Now, I was underground, very far underground, possibly underneath a damn lake. I don’t know how such a structure was created, but the possibility of a large, open space wasn’t outside the realm of possibility.

What I would never have expected, all the way down here, was to find such an open space, and find grass beneath my feet. Yet, that’s what I saw. Green grass and soft, rocky soil. I scooped a bit into my hand and smelled it. It was a deep, earthy smell. Fresh and fertile and moist. Certainly not what one would expect to find in a deep hole in the ground like this. And on top of that, damned if I didn’t feel wind. And I did, too. I could feel a soft breeze, felt it brush through my hair and kiss my cheek. I could smell the earth and the mineral scents of the lake that carried upon it. I strained my ears to hear it, if I could. I couldn’t really, it was too soft, and I could see no trees or foliage around to catch the wind and make noise for me. Not that I expected to see trees or shrubbery down here, but then again, I also didn’t expect to feel lakeside breezes down here, refreshing though they may be.

I circled the perimeter of the area. It was enclosed by a wall, and a high one at that, for when I shined my torchlight skyward, the only thing that was up there was the jet-black nothingness that absorbed and consumed my meager luminance. The walls extended beyond the reach of my light, as did the ceiling (there had to be a ceiling, damn it). I eventually followed the wall all the way around back to the doors through which I entered originally.

I decided to venture towards the center of the courtyard I was in. It was still totally silent, save for the soft crunch of my footsteps on the gravelly soil. No screams, no moans, and best of all, no radio static. Not that I wasn’t thankful for it, mind you, but its silence was always golden. Nope, it was quiet and, God help me, peaceful out here. Ten stories underground in a leaking, rotting prison, and I find a quiet place that somehow feels like it’s outside, and with a climate that’s actually in-season. Hell, get rid of the darkness, the creepiness, the walls, it’s almost picnic atmosphere. Got all the room in the world to spread out, because it looked like there wasn’t anything out here, just open ground.

Not quite. Something did come into view. And this time, I was quite certain it wasn’t something that was going to melt off my skin and eat me. It was a small wooden structure of some kind. I thought it might be some kind of shack at first, but if that’s what it was, it sure was small. My car couldn’t have fit in it even if turned on its side.

Support beams reached into the air about ten feet or so, but there was no roof, and no walls. There was a set of steps, and I climbed them carefully, not knowing how sturdy it was. It held my weight easily, though.

At first, I couldn’t really see a point to the structure. Once at the top of the handful of steps, I was on a platform that extended no more than a pace and a half. And that was it. It looked like a trumped-up diving platform, which of course it wasn’t, but regardless of what it was, it seemed quite out of place. Why would such a tiny, useless little construct be sitting in the middle of a huge and otherwise empty courtyard? The question darted around my head as I stepped to the edge of the platform.

And then I almost fell off. Something brushed against me, something light, but it was such a surprise to my tattered nerves that I was an ass-hair away from panicking right off the platform. But then it brushed me again, and lay flat against me. Whatever it was, it was light, but dead weight. I nudged it away and it came back a second later, tapping me softly and coming to a rest. I reached over to touch it.

It was thin and rough, with a threaded texture. A rope. And as soon as that fact registered, I moved my hand down along the length of it, feeling a dread certainty mounting. First was the knot, just larger than a baseball. Then the rope went in two directions, looping outward and coming back in a small circle, which I traced with my finger.

I turned to look at it, but I didn’t really have to, because I knew what was resting against my shoulder, and I knew then the nature of the platform upon which I stood.

I was standing upon a scaffold. A gibbet. And that meant that what I held in my hand was the centerpiece of such a construction. The hangman’s noose.

The feeling of peace and quiet that I had felt while walking around this courtyard vanished like smoke on the wind. This wasn’t just a courtyard, it was an execution yard. The realization made me seize up, and suddenly I couldn’t get down fast enough. I leapt off of the front of the platform.

And in the time it took me to do so, or at least, for a fraction of it, I had this sudden and completely irrational thought, that I wouldn’t ever touch the ground, that somehow that noose had worked its way around my throat somehow, and that my fall would only be broken because my neck would be, too.

Now, of course, it was a crazy thought. The noose was still hanging from the gibbet, and certainly wasn’t around my neck. That my feet both planted firmly in the soft dirt without incident was proof enough. Yet, even as I landed, my hands shot up to my neck, reflexively tugging at a rope that wasn’t there. Realizing that it wasn’t there was something that didn’t happen nearly as fast as it should have, and even once I was certain that the whole thing was just my overactive imagination making a bad situation even worse, it took a little while to calm down.

It still seemed really strange for such a large execution yard to feature only one scaffold and nothing else at all. I couldn’t help but wonder if it were a message for me, somehow. It didn’t seem possible, but then, none of this seemed possible. Sure, it could be a message for me. Maybe my nameless friend came down and arranged things for me. He seemed to enjoy making his points with emphasis. Who else would bother?

I turned to look at the scaffold behind me, and I noticed that it had a sort of decoration. It was a pretty large slab of slate, and it was engraved with a design that was quite crude. It depicted two people facing each other, standing straight and tall. They carried spears in their hands. They also both wore helmets, or headgear of some kind, and it was that headgear that made the figures eminently recognizable. It was that headgear that made my hair stand on end and my balls climb in so high that they fought with my lungs for room. It made such horrifying sense that I almost laughed in spite of it all. The simplistic design showed both little stick-figure guys wearing distinctive triangular helmets, the flat base extending from shoulder to shoulder. Who else could it be?

But, if his image was on this plaque, that meant some not-so-good things for me. I hadn’t come across the bastard since he murdered Maria in the basement of Brookhaven. I had a scare while in the Historical Society, but it turned out to be a false alarm. He killed Maria while trying to get at me, of that I was completely convinced. It hurt enough that I couldn’t protect her. It hurt much worse to know that she suffered only because she was behind me. Because I had run ahead, like a coward. I had a streak of yellow right up my back, and it cost Maria her life.

And, as certain as I was that she died because of me, I was certain that he wasn’t satisfied. I was certain I would encounter him again. And again. And again. Until either he killed me, or I found some way to kill him. So far, he definitely came closer than I did. Somehow, I had survived several direct attacks, but definitely not for his lack of trying. The plaque on the scaffold made me strongly suspect that he might try again right here if I stuck around and let him. It was definitely time to get back indoors. At least I would have a chance inside to get a closed door or two between us if he showed up.

So, I walked back towards the lonely door, and while I did, I kept my ear cocked to catch the sounds of footsteps that weren’t coming from me. It wouldn’t be too difficult, as the area was as still and silent as a tomb.

The door came into view before long, and I already had my hand on the knob when I remembered the veritable army of straight-jacket monsters that had been trying to batter their way into the connecting hallway when I had last been around. It was terribly possible that they might have managed in the time I spent out here. I pressed my ear to the door, hoping that I would be able to hear movement inside. I didn’t have the slightest idea what I would do if they had managed to break in. If they did, then I was trapped. I couldn’t go in, and I certainly couldn’t let them out here. If they got out into the open, they would flank me in no time, and I would be up **** Creek in a heartbeat. If they did get through, my only hope would be to bum rush through them, up the other side of the hall, and pray that there was another door up there, and that it would open for me. It was a lot to ask for.

But as I listened, I heard nothing from the other side. No banging, no muted screeching, not even the sharp tapping sound they made while walking. Maybe luck decided to cut me a break this time and…

Then I did hear something, and it confused me for a second. It was a sort of low rumble, the likes of which I didn’t recognize at first. Then I realized it wasn’t coming from the other side of the door. And in the same moment that I realized the sound came from behind me, I was able to identify it.

Hooves. Horse hooves on dirt. It was running, and fast. At least, I sure as hell hoped it was a horse, and not some new breed of four-legged mindfuck eager to tear my throat out.

What the hell else would it be, Sunderland? How many normal, real horses would one find in a place like this?

Not a point I could argue. I suddenly found it quite prudent to chance a possibility of a painful encounter against one that was heavy and loud and flying in my direction at considerable speed. I almost tripped scrambling through the door, and I darted back fast to yank it shut.
I didn’t even get the chance to breathe a sigh or relief, assuming I had one, because as soon as I was sure the door was closed tight, I had the gun out and looking. I swept in a complete circle, ready to hair-trigger the dozen or so monsters that I was already certain had me surrounded. I was too high-strung for the inevitable result to fully sink in, and in a way, it was liberating.

A shot rang out, filling the tight quarters with concussive sound. I hadn’t expected it. I was so high-strung that I didn’t realize I had pulled the trigger. I suppose it helped serve as a much-needed reality check. It sure as hell didn’t serve as much of anything else. The hallway was completely empty. I heard nothing and saw nothing. I stalked towards the door that I was certain would be bashed in by now. The radio kept to itself, and lo and behold, the door did still stand firm. They weren’t able to break it down after all. And, the stony silence indicated that they weren’t much interested in trying anymore.

Or maybe they never were. Maybe they were never there at all. Maybe you’re finally letting your imagination run away. Maybe you’re going nuts. Maybe you

I shook my head. I didn’t need my voice of reason taunting me. Besides, they were there. It was all far too vivid, too real, to be stupid imaginative fancies. Maybe they did give up. Maybe Eddie shot them all to hell and was on the other side of the prison laughing about it. I didn’t know and I didn’t care. I knew what I saw, and I was glad I wasn’t seeing it now.

Listen to yourself, Sunderland! You’re arguing with your own inner voices! You’re hearing horses and seeing monsters that aren’t there! You know what they call that? They call it CRAZY.

I ignored it. I had to ignore it. To recognize it was to accept it as truth. I wasn’t crazy. Not yet. And God dammit, I deserved a medal for getting as far as I had through this horrible place while still retaining my wits.

The thoughts lingered as I made my way up the hall towards the unexplored end. All I found was another locked gate and a door right before it on the left wall. This one opened, and in I went.

And I stopped cold as soon as I did. It seemed almost like deja-vu, but I knew it couldn’t be. It only made sense that I was simply in another cell block. There were probably several more besides these. And, this one didn’t have the same sort of activity the other had. No rattling cages, no bashing on bars, no hideous screeching. Just the sound of water dripping from the ceiling and onto the floor, and my own footsteps as I trod along, passing cell after empty cell.

The radio hissed like a cat smelling something it didn’t like. Immediately, I leapt away from the cells and backed against the wall, my gun aiming in front of me.

At nothing.

I sidled to my left slowly, keeping at the ready and trying to listen over the radio static for any sound that might betray the identity of whatever was surely here. Of the creatures I had encountered in this town, most of them I had seen several times and I picked up on their distinctive noises. That knowledge was often as useful as the radio’s warnings. Whatever was here was definitely not anything natural, but it was also keeping me in the dark.

Wait, there… Now I did hear it. Just barely, mind, but I did hear it.

Thump thump thump.

It sounded really strange though, and not just because it was unquestionably one of Silent Hill’s less-Euclidean residents. It sounded large and heavy, for each thump was pretty percussive. Yet, it was also soft, as if all that weight were being cushioned by something. And, it was walking at a pretty brisk, even clip. Yet, from where I stood, I could see both ends of the cell block and I was alone, at least out here.

So then where is it?

I kept sliding along the wall, hearing the thumping and my radio fighting over which would make the most noise. The radio was squalling like a thing possessed, and maybe it was, because I couldn’t see a damn thing that would make it act this way. The thing had been so reliable that I didn’t even want to consider the possibility that it was acting faulty. I was very dependant upon it now. If I couldn’t count on its warnings, I would be as blind to the monsters as if I lost the flashlight. I might not see one until I was already on top of it. The radio almost always gave me enough time to figure out a plan. If it now gave warnings when no danger was present, might it not neglect to warn me if there was a threat?

There was something here though, something stomping around. I couldn’t see it but I could damn well hear it even without the radio. But where the **** was it?

Then, overtop the frantic squealing and thumping, I heard a voice.

rrrritturrralll

It was in front of me. In the cell. In the empty cell.

rrrritturrralll

The voice wasn’t human, of that I was certain. But no other monster that I’d met yet made even an attempt at speech, if that was what this was. It sounded to me like it was trying to say the word ‘ritual’, though it was spoken in a way that someone would pronounce a word written in an unfamiliar language. It repeated that same word over and over again, quite loudly and with the exact same stress, stretching and slurring the R and the L at both ends. Was it trying to communicate with me? Certainly, it would be the first non-human life form around here to try, the rest being less interested in conversation and more interested in causing me bodily harm. There was the extremely disconcerting fact that I couldn’t see it, but I didn’t need my eyes to be convinced that it was there. For the moment, at least, it was trapped behind these bars (or so I fervently hoped). It was that fragile reassurance that led me to speak.

“Hello?” was all I could manage.

“rrrriturrralll” it responded, and continued its muffled movement.

For whatever reason, intrigue overcame fear. I took my steel pipe and slid it through the rusty old bars, without getting close enough for it to grab my arm. I poked and prodded lightly at the seemingly-empty air.

It was jerked out of my hands in one sudden and powerful movement. I almost fell ass over teakettle in an effort to get distance between myself and the monster. Then I watched, completely stupefied, as I saw my weapon flying maniacally around the cell. The monster was no longer stomping or speaking the one word it seemed to know. The only sound coming from in there now was the angry hum of the pipe as it was swung madly about, as if to pulverize some pesky flying insect.

Then, without warning, the monster launched the pipe back through the bars. It happened so fast and suddenly that I couldn’t think it was aimed, but it flashed across the gap and struck the wall barely three inches from my head. The impact was so powerful that a small shower of sparks erupted from the point of contact. The pipe bounced skyward and clattered to the floor right in front of me. I was so surprised by the whole thing that I didn’t even attempt to pick it up right away. Instead, I stood there, shaking and, it seemed, willing myself not to have a heart attack.

After I had recovered a bit, I retrieved my weapon and hurried down the hall. I wanted to get away from the stomping ghost, and I was quite angry with myself for trying something so stupid. I should have damn well known better than to toy around with these things. Well, after having another few years scared off of my life, I vowed not to make that same mistake again.

Opening the door at the end of the hall, I left this cell block, and its single inhabitant, to their own devices, hoping as I did so that this first encounter with an invisible monster would also be my last encounter with an invisible monster. Once was plenty bad, and this one was only able to attack me because I let it. The thought of more of these things stalking the open halls and rooms was not one I had any desire to entertain.

rrrriturrralll

Oblivious to my thoughts, the invisible monster continued stomping around and repeating its creepy three-note song, as if nothing had ever interrupted in the first place.