Disclaimer: I don't own anything, lines, characters, anything related to them is the sole property of the copyright owners. All rights reserved or something like that.
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"Permanent Nothingness"
(4)
The tree swayed gently in the wind, branches and trunks shimmying up as close to the road as the state would allow, waiting patiently for the chance to grow over the highway. The sun filtered down through the mostly cloudy sky, beams of light breaking through like ephemeral staircases in the air. The '77 green Gremlin powered down the pavement, the sun blinking into the windshield. The car had been outclassed and outdated for decades, but this one was in excellent condition and much beloved by the two riders in the front seat. There had been no other cars on the road for hours, which suit them just fine.
Chuck Taylor kept his foot on the gas, enjoying the ride. His best friend Troy Sheder took a long drag on his Red Apple cigarette, blowing the smoke out of the window. It was a spontaneous road trip, just to go different places and see different people, a much needed holiday for the pair. Every mile they put behind them made Chuck feel that much more at ease and relaxed, the road a sort of therapy for an otherwise routine life. Troy was his normal self, funny, charismatic, talking about the time they spent eight hours on back roads trying to get to Ontario.
"That's what I get for letting you drive." Chuck teased good naturedly.
"Yeah, yeah. Easy on the gas there, Chuck. You're speeding. That's a good way to get yourself noticed." Troy scoffed.
"Ah don't bother me. There hasn't been any other cars around and besides, we're not really going anywhere specific, we could get lost and still be on track."
"Speaking of getting lost, where the hell are we?" Troy said, flicking the last of the cigarette out of the window.
"Good question." Chuck said, "Check the map will ya?"
"Psst, map." Troy said, running his hand through his hair. He was the better looking of the two, healthy bronzed skin, a strong angular face and dark hair, had an excellent fashion sense and always managed to look cool. Chuck was sometimes envious of his friend's good looks, but it was hard to hold anything against Troy. Chuck was taller by a little, rounded face and pale skin, curly short blond hair like sheep's wool and a slightly thicker frame. His acne was a source of constant frustration and embarrassment, it was hard sometimes for him to not feel self conscious, but his friend usually cheered him up.
"Try this exit up here," Troy suggested, "we need gas soon anyway." Chuck merged onto the ill-kept off ramp, bushes and undergrowth of the forest around them actually spilling out onto the road. It seemed like no one had come through here in years, but it couldn't have been that long ago. There was a road sign on the ground just ahead of them, Chuck slowed down to see what it said. Like a thousand other signs they had seen, this one said "Silent Hill - 1 mi." and below that there was some kind of sticker that said "KEEP OUT" in red letters.
"What do you think?"
"I dunno. This town isn't even on the map." Troy said. "Maybe we should turn around and wait for another exit."
"Let's just check it out. We took this trip to breathe a little air right? If there's no gas station we can always make a U turn." Chuck assured.
Although the foliage hadn't quite overtaken the road just yet, it was clear it hadn't been used in a while. Still, there were signs of its use sometime soon, there were old tire marks in the grime that covered the road and foot prints in the mud near the edges of the pavement. If they had been made any time but recently, the prints would have faded long ago from the elements.
The road grew more tortuous as they moved along, winding through a series of low lying hills. They winded up and then back down again, into a valley shrouded in fog, the road straightened and dropped down into a long descent. It grew too foggy to see very far in short time, reducing visibility to a minimum and forcing Chuck to slow down to 15. It was very still, tense minutes rolled by until buildings started to appear in the mist. They were dark and decrepit, seemingly abandoned.
"It's so quiet…" Chucked whispered.
"Well, the sign did say Silent Hill and not Loud Hill." Troy joked, but neither of them was laughing.
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In the distance, not close but not far, a pen scrawled across an open book. The moving tip spilled ink across the empty page in quick, precise strokes until it had covered the blank paper. The pen finally was laid down, a hand reached out and snuffed the single candle in the room with a pinch. In the darkness, clothing was pulled and buckled on, weapons slid into place and a door was locked with an ancient key, footsteps echoing down a stone stairwell, fading into the air.
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"Maybe we should turn back now." Troy suggested as Chuck scanned the buildings they passed by.
"I think its-"
"Chuck!" Troy yelped but it was too late, he slammed on the brakes even as the dark form in front of them was hit by the front end of the Gremlin. He felt the impact all the way into his stomach, even though it was at low speed, the sound of crunching metal and screeching tires breaking the oppressive stillness in a violent cacophony.
"Whoa." Chuck said, his knuckles white on the wheel. He and Troy exchanged a look of mixed fear and worry, the two getting out and circling around to the front of the car. In a rapidly growing pool of red lay an animal of some kind, the mangled grill wet with the creature's blood. It was unlike anything Chuck had ever seen, it seemed to be a dog but instead of having fur it was covered in a mottled brown and black skin, apparently burned or scalded. Where its eyes and muzzle should have been it was smooth, instead of a horizontal line for its mouth it had a vertical one that ran up its skull instead of across.
"What the hell is this thing?" he said aloud,
"I don't know…" he said. When his friend turned back to face him, something else was on his usually cheerful features. "Hey…are you okay?" Troy asked worriedly. Chuck began to feel strange, he blinked but it seemed to take a full minute, getting his eyelids back up was suddenly difficult. "Chuck?" Troy asked him but he was already falling. He was aware of hitting the ground but unable to feel it. The white mist closed in around him and Chuck Taylor fell headlong into a deep, deep torpor.
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Everything became clear again, the spinning stopped and Chuck's head ceased to throb. He was lying on his side, stretched out on a cot, staring at a padded wall. It had been white once, the soft cloth now discolored with age. The light above him was a dull yellow, blinking on and off repeatedly, tinking with effort as it struggled to stay on. He didn't know how he got here, he didn't know where here was. His mind was in fragments, like shattered glass. There was the animal and the car and Troy but then everything became hazy. Had it only happened a second ago or had it been days? Time had passed, that much he was certain of, but how much and for how long?
He collected himself, sitting up on the cot. The light above was still making sounds that pierced the calm of the room, the flashes of darkness giving it an uneasy vibe. Feeling a little light headed, Chuck sat on the edge of the cot and let the dizziness pass, staring at the dirty floor. There wasn't much point to figuring out what happened, he had to deal with his situation now and hope to learn that later. The room was a small padded cell, something right out of a bad dream. There was no handle on the door, only a small window that was his link to the outside world.
Moving shakily to his feet, Chuck peered out through the glass, trying to see if there were people around. There was a long hall going left and running, it was mostly dark, metal and dirty, ancient looking. A row of lights hung from the ceiling but only one on the far right seemed to be working, casting an outnumbered spot of light in the gloom. He looked all over for a way out but the door was seamless, shut. It had been built to keep someone from escaping, but that was exactly what he had to do or he would eventually starve to death.
The window was his only option, he took off his gray sweater and wrapped it around his hand. Taking a deep breath, he slugged the glass for all he was worth. The pane didn't budge, but pain shot through his knuckles and up his arm like fire. He roared in the cell, shaking out his arm, cursing his own stupidity, waiting for the shock to slowly dissipate. If only he had a knife! The best way to break glass was with one sharp point, like a blade or even a screwdriver, but he kept nothing like that on him. Inspecting the cot, it seemed to be fixed into the wall and covered in a very cushion like material, probably to make sure whoever was inside didn't hurt themselves against it. What else could there possibly be to use?
The single point method gave him an idea, and this time he wrapped the sweater around his elbow, using as much of it as he could while retaining the somewhat jutting bone on the end of his arm. It was going to hurt, a lot, Chuck knew it but he didn't have a choice. Backing up against the padded wall across from the door, he took a minute to breathe and work up the nerve. When he was ready he exploded off the wall like a track star, practically flying at the window.
It shattered satisfactorily, some of the shards inflicting minor cut but the impact was much easier on his elbow then he imagined it would have been. The first punch did more damage to him then that, he carefully picked out the glass on his sweater and knocked out the rest of the broken pieces with it, his arm in a dull numb pain but not seriously injured. Just to be safe, he used his other arm to reach through the tiny aperture and feel around for the handle. Miraculously it was within reach, he had to fiddle a few frustrating minutes the with the lock mechanism, but he was able to slide the latch to the side. Feeling for the handle, he pulled it up and the door clicked open, the most welcome sound he had ever heard. He shook off his sweater, ridding it of any glass particles and put it back on, stepping out into the hallway at last.
On the right was a solid looking door and the lighted lamp, to the left the hall turned and was dark. He didn't like the thought of wandering around in some creepy place in the dark, so he chose the lighted path. The entire row was made of cells just like his with identical locks, none of them having a working light. He was grateful of his having one, however partially it worked. Maybe his luck was beginning to change.
When he touched the doorknob at the end of the hall, it seemed colder then the rest of the area as if it were giving off its own temperature. What was making it do that? He went through to investigate, stepping into a meat locker of some kind. It was colder in here, he could see his breath as he entered. There was something odd going on however, there was rust everywhere. The walls, the floor, the hundreds of strands of metal chains hanging from the high ceiling were covered in it, making for a shabby and decrepit room. The chains were the worst, they were so thick he couldn't see but a few feet in front of him, some of them having meat hooks on the end and a few clanking together ominously. It had to be a slaughterhouse of some kind, but what was it doing right next to a row of padded cells? That hadn't occurred to him when he first came through, but there was no use trying to figure things out just yet.
Something scraped against the metal floor not too far away, sending a ripple of motion through the chains which swayed like grass in the wind. "Is someone there?" Chuck called out, but he didn't get an answer. Whoever it was they were moving closer, the chains clinking together in their wake, the floor scraping erratic. Chuck was suddenly uneasy, something was very wrong and something in the back of his mind was telling him this wasn't right. He ignored the feeling and stood his ground, waiting for the person to come into view.
His uneasy feeling was replaced much more quickly then he ever wanted it to be when the other finally came through the chains. Its feet weren't its feet but hands, fingers splayed out on the ground, elbows pointed askew where the knees should be. It legs had been similarly juxtaposed, coming out the sides of the creature's shoulders as if they belonged that way in the first place. It had two large appendages that might have been its head, sticking out on the bottom and top of the torso in between both sets of misplaced limbs. Both were smooth and devoid of features, pale and peeling skin barely stretching to cover the grotesque body.
Chuck screamed in abject terror, scrambling back the way he came and tearing down the hall into the dark turn, which was hiding another door. He flung it open, in front of him was another row of cells, well lit by the working lights. There seemed to have been a battle of some kind in here, the walls and floors were slick with red blood, pooling on the floor and streaking down the walls. Some of the cell doors were hanging open, red bits of things he didn't want to think about trailing from one of the open doors. He froze in fear, but the sound of the thing he had seen moving behind him snapped Chuck out of his shocked state and spurred him into motion, sending him running down the bloody hall.
The lights began to fail a couple dozens cells down, he had no choice but to keep going. That decision cost him when his foot hit open air and he tumbled down, falling into a hole he hadn't even seen. He landed hard, he tasted blood in his mouth getting to his feet, but when he looked around him that was the least of his worries. Gathered around the one light in the room, three vaguely human creatures in nurse outfits were performing surgery on or perhaps just stabbing with scalpels another vaguely human creature laid out on an operating table. The patient, if it could be called that, appeared to be trying to scream and get free, but it was gagged with a dirty cloth and well strapped onto the table. Chuck was beyond fear, there was nothing coming into his mind, only the utter terror. If he had tried to talk he would have been blubbering incoherently, to his benefit however he couldn't even say something.
The twisted nurses stopped their activities, their faceless heads swinging around towards Chuck's direction, bobbing up and down. It almost looked like they were trying to smell him, but there was so much blood in the air and a lot of it pouring out of their patient it would have been difficult to pick up anything else. Chuck's heart was beating so hard that he thought he was about to keel over, but the creatures turned back to their project and continued working.
His mouth was bleeding and his knee was hurting, but Chuck forced himself to move on. There were a couple other door leading out of the room, as quietly as he could possibly manage he went towards one. He kept his eyes trained on the monsters, ignoring the pain, opening the door softly. They didn't notice, engrossed in their patient, dead to the world. The next room was thankfully empty, Chuck limped in and locked it behind him.
Sliding down against the wall, he took deep breaths and tried not to break down. "What the hell is going on?" he asked the open air, burying his head in his hands. Was this just some kind of bad nightmare he was going to wake up from? Just a second ago he was out having the time of his life, driving carefree on the open road with his best friend. "Oh no….." he said aloud, he had completely forgotten about Troy. Was he here somewhere in this mess? It wasn't even something he could consider that perhaps his friend had already met a grisly end, the only thing to do was try to find him.
"I'll find you buddy. I'll find you if it's the last thing I do." he promised the empty room.
