A/N: NO WAY. I'm still alive? HOW IS THIS POSSIBLEEEE
Well, I finally managed to pull together a chapter! Woohoo! Sorry I couldn't update sooner, as my life's been pretty hectic and writer's block hasn't helped at all, haha. I'm really trying not to let my writing hobby die, no matter how hard it is to find inspiration for it nowadays. D: At least Downpour's keeping me occupied, though the lack of Yamaoka-induced eargasms just makes me sad.
ANYWAY. Here you go, guys-the long-awaited continuation! Enjoy!
"It's you!"
The voice came from the direction of the stairs, causing me to jump and swing around. When I saw the familiar face, though, I had to let out a shaky sigh of relief.
She'd grown up quite a bit in the past few years—I almost hadn't recognized her. Laura was at least a head taller now, possessing the bony, lanky body of an eleven-year-old. She had abandoned the old overall dress in favor of a frilly tank top and a pair of jeans. Her hair was a bit of a darker blond now, closer to James' color, and it had grown out just past the small of her back.
A smile had formed on my lips before I knew it. "Hi, Laura."
"You're…Brittany, right?" She asked hesitantly, frowning from her seat on the bottom step.
"I'm surprised you remember me," I said, putting my hands in my pockets and resisting the urge to sneak a glance at the hallway door. I didn't want her to head home right away if Vincent was gonna be hanging out in her apartment.
"James talks about you sometimes," she admitted, the troubled look still on her face. "Why are you here?"
I blinked. Was I not wanted? "I, uh…came to visit, actually. I know it's been a long time, but…where is James, anyway?"
Laura huffed, the old attitude I remembered finally showing through. She got to her feet, scowling. "I don't get it. Why didn't you call each other or something? Now he went to find you and you came here and it's just stupid 'cause you coulda just told each other!"
My brow furrowed. "…Wait, what? James left to visit me?"
"Uh huh," she confirmed.
"But he doesn't know where I live," I pointed out.
"He said you were in Silent Hill," Laura replied. "Some weird guy came and then James wanted to leave all of a sudden. I'm stuck staying with Grandpa until he gets back."
My blood ran cold. "Vincent? Was that the guy's name?"
She shrugged. "Dunno. He was annoying."
Vincent, for sure.
"…When was this, Laura?"
"Um…just this morning."
I wanted to scream. I had just missed him. If I had only figured this all out yesterday…
…But it was too late for that now. Right before we had left Silent Hill those years ago, we had separated. James had gone to talk Laura into coming with us, and I had gone ahead to wait for them. But instead of going to James' car, I had somehow ended up back home. From James' perspective, I had completely vanished. He had probably thought I was dead.
Then with Vincent showing up at his door and telling him otherwise…he must've got it into his head that he had to go save me or something. And worst of all, I had mentioned Vincent's name to James before—he had reason to trust the man, when he was really only being manipulated.
A wave of anger hit me. Vincent. That bastard—he wanted me in Silent Hill, and he knew just how to get me there, didn't he? Fuck! I couldn't just turn away and ignore this. What if something happened? What if James never came back and it was my fault?
"What's wrong?" Laura was watching me carefully, so I fought to regain my composure.
I shook my head. "Nothing. It's fine. I'm gonna head out there and meet up with James then, all right? Just hang tight, we'll be back soon."
"Hurry up, then," she demanded. "I hate staying with Grandpa…it's so boring, and his apartment smells weird."
Grandpa…Frank? That remark almost caused me to let out a morbid little laugh—only it wasn't so funny anymore, because the disturbing reason behind the smell was no longer fictional.
"I'll try," I told her, a little bemused. Then I turned for the door, knowing it probably wasn't a good idea to linger here. "See you in a bit, Laura."
"Bye," she said, looking glum at the prospect of being alone again.
The front doors opened with a slow creak, almost as if they were reluctant to let me leave. I moved out on to the front walkway, digging through my pocket for my car keys. My mind was racing.
What could I do? Somehow I knew finding the town would be ridiculously easy now that I needed to go there again. But not yet...no, I couldn't go just yet. I needed to make sure I was prepared. First I had to head home and gather up all of the things I would need.
...Shit. I was really going to do this, wasn't I?
For James, I had to. It didn't matter that I was already shaking at the very thought of it. I had braved that town before. I could do it again.
Something was happening in Silent Hill...the line between realities was blurring again. What was The Order stirring up now, and why the hell did I have to be a part of it?
I paused, turning to glance over my shoulder. Suddenly the apartments of Ashfield Heights seemed infinitely foreboding. The horseshoe-shaped building seemed to almost draw me in. So many awful things were going to happen here. I almost wanted to go back in and warn Henry...but even if by some miracle he was actually there and I convinced him to move out, wouldn't that just be damning whoever moved in to room 302 after him?
No...there was nothing I could do. I just had to hope getting James and Laura out of here would be enough. But I had to get James out of Silent Hill first.
When I turned away from the building again, something had changed. For a moment it was hard to put my finger on it—had the shadows shifted? Was the light dimmer? The air just a little colder?
That wasn't it. What was different was that I wasn't alone on the path anymore. Beneath one of the trees lining the walkway sat a single man, the angle of the sunlight causing his features to be nothing more than a silhouette. I could see the shoulder-length hair, and that was enough.
His appearance wasn't abrupt. Somehow, I knew he had been there the entire time.
It took a great amount of willpower to keep walking. This was the only path leading to the parking lot. There were exit doors on the east and west wings of the building as well, but that would involve me going back inside. I couldn't do that when he was sitting there in plain sight. Not when things looked all skewed like this, like the building was going to eat me...
I closed my eyes briefly, taking a breath. This distorted perception...it was a bad sign. I had to get out of here.
When I opened my eyes again, nothing had changed. That man was still sitting there. I kept walking, my movements stiff.
The sound of Walter Sullivan's voice was what caused me to stop in my tracks, standing a mere four feet from where he was sitting. He hadn't looked up, but I knew beyond a doubt that it was me he was addressing.
"And God said, offer the Blood of the Ten Sinners and the White Oil," he recited quietly. "Be then released from the bonds of the flesh, and gain the Power of Heaven. From the Darkness and Void, bring forth Gloom, and gird thyself with Despair for the Giver of Wisdom."
I stood frozen, listening to the words and wishing I didn't understand them so well. Somehow I knew I needed to keep walking, to get out, but my legs didn't want to respond.
My mouth went dry when the man smiled, lifting his head to serenely meet my gaze. He almost seemed to be looking through me for a moment—but then I realized that that wasn't quite it. It was like...he wasn't really seeing me the way normal people did. Like I was something less than human to him.
Somehow I knew I wasn't reading too much into it.
"Darkness will fall soon," he told me. "This place...is not for The Order."
"I'm not with them," I assured him quietly, fighting to keep my voice steady. "And if you want Vincent to leave, you'll have to tell him yourself. I'm getting out of here."
Walter smiled as if to a private joke. Chills raced down my spine in response. Just what was he thinking?
"Go, then," he said, looking almost smug. "Silent Hill awaits."
I almost felt dizzy at those words. So many questions came to mind in that instant, but I forced myself to turn away and start walking. My survival instincts overrode my need to know—somehow I doubted I would be able to get any answers out of that man.
Silent Hill...Jesus Christ. Did everyone know what was going on but me?
Just put one foot in front of the other. Keep walking. Don't look back.
"Your blood will open the path to Paradise..."
The voice faded, and then South Ashfield Heights allowed me to leave. I walked up to the nearest trash bin in the parking lot and threw up.
The forty-minute drive back to my apartment was a blur. Somehow I focused enough not to get into an accident, but my mind was far from the present. One minute I was going through a toll booth in New Hampshire, and the next I was getting off the highway exit near my apartment.
I whipped into the parking lot for my complex, immediately getting out of my car and fishing for my door key.
Upon entering my apartment, I headed for the closet in my room, where I had set aside some things in case something like this should ever happen. For three years I had been telling myself that it was over, that keeping this stuff was crazy and I needed to let go of the past—now I understood that I had been wrong, and I was immensely grateful that I'd had the foresight to do this.
In my bedroom closet was a mid-sized suitcase and a tote bag. Into the suitcase went as many clothing articles as I could fit; I made sure to vary the materials and types of clothing to suit different situations. For good measure, I also threw in a pair of leather gloves. All of this stuff was going into the trunk of my car. There was no guarantee that I'd ever get to use it, but I was bringing it regardless.
Next came the tote bag—what I would be carrying with me at all times. I put in two bottles of water, as well as some granola bars and trail mix. The flashlight and switchblade were transferred over from my purse. My cell phone, fully charged, was included, along with a pocket radio and some spare batteries. I also placed a fully equipped first-aid kit in the bag; definitely couldn't go without that.
Then I took a black folder from a shelf in my closet and slipped that into the bag, too. It contained a printed copy of every map ever shown in the Silent Hill games. The most prominent areas, including the town map itself, were at the front of the pile. There was also a sheet of paper covered in notes I had taken—history of the town, The Order, details about the different locations that I was fuzzy on—everything that wasn't firmly entrenched in my memory was in that folder. If I had to go back, I was sure as hell going to be prepared this time.
One final addition was necessary, and it was in a safe that only I knew the combination to.
The sleek black metal of my Glock 21 shined coldly in the late afternoon sun coming in through my bedroom window. I contemplated the gun for a moment, ejected the magazine to make sure it was loaded, and then slipped it back into its holster. That was placed into my bag with as many spare bullets as I could carry.
Naturally, none of my friends or family knew that I kept a deadly weapon hidden in my room. That was a little secret kept between me and the federal government.
My license only allowed me to keep the gun at home. It didn't permit me to carry it concealed on my person, and I would be facing some very serious charges if I was caught.
I wouldn't be caught.
It was time to get moving.
Halfway through loading all of my crap into my car, my nerves finally gave out. I slumped against the vehicle for a moment, tasting old bile on my tongue and resisting the sobs that were threatening to come out.
After about half a minute of this, I took a deep breath and forced myself to get behind the wheel. I needed to get somewhere isolated so I could get my emotions under control. Somewhere that might relax me a little...
The thought of relaxation was nothing more than a distant dream, but I finally stopped my car at York Beach—it was a familiar place where I liked to drop by on my days off. And at this time of year, it was empty.
I parked my car, getting out and sitting on the hood as I stared out at the ocean. The sky was free of clouds. Seagulls soared overhead, some of them landing on nearby benches to stare expectantly at me. The presence of animals was comforting; it reminded me that I was still a part of reality.
"The hell've you been? I called you three times."
The sudden voice caused me to jump and reach for my bag—luckily it was on the passenger seat of my car, or else Matt would've had the business end of a gun shoved in his face just then.
I breathed out a shaky sigh. "...Never heard the phone ring. Nice to see you too, Matt."
"Hmm..." He replied by sitting next to me, pulling a pack of cigarettes from an inside pocket of his coat. "Well, I went to Portland all by my lonesome because of you. What did you do that was so important?"
"Nothing," I lied. "Went to Portsmouth for a haircut."
Matt frowned, pulling his aviators down slightly to get a better look at me. "Ah, I see it now."
I snorted despite myself. Asshole...I had gotten the haircut three weeks ago and he hadn't noticed till now, despite seeing me almost every day.
"You still look like hell, though," he remarked, lighting a cigarette. When I smacked him, he just held his hands up defensively. "Just being honest! You're so pale I can practically see through you."
"I'm fine," I snapped. The last thing I needed right now was close scrutiny...why couldn't Matt let this slide like he'd done so many times before?
"Uh huh," he replied, raising an eyebrow. Then he shrugged, taking a long drag from his cigarette before offering it to me.
I reached out and took it, taking a short puff and immediately breaking out into a coughing fit. Next thing I knew, Matt had snatched the smoke out of my hand, placing one hand on my back and attempting to help me get it under control.
"Jesus!" He said when I finally calmed down, lowering his hand and leaning forward to see my face better. It was impossible to see his eyes through the sunglasses he wore, but from the way he was gaping, it was probably safe to assume that my actions had surprised him.
I cleared my throat, swallowing and almost cringing at the awful taste that had left in my mouth. On the bright side, the burning feeling in my throat had served to clear my head a little, bring everything into better focus.
We were silent for a few seconds as Matt stared me down, the look on his face suddenly serious.
"...What's going on?" He reached up to take off his aviators. It was a gesture he only performed when he really meant business; this was a side of Matt that I didn't see often.
Not that it was surprising. He offered me a cigarette almost every single time he lit up—he'd offer and I'd refuse. It was a stupid habit we had fallen into, his way of being a pain in the ass. Not once in two years had I ever caved. Except for now.
"Don't think I haven't noticed," he said before I could respond. "You've been acting like a complete basket case ever since that day we went to the arcade."
I looked away, but he persisted, gripping one of my shoulders tightly and leaning over to meet my gaze.
"Look, I know I never pry," he told me in a stern voice, "but I know a bad situation when I see one. You're even jumpier than usual, and that's saying something."
"I'm just stressed," I mumbled, crossing my arms and staring out at the water. "Maybe I need more sleep or something. There's no need to get all freaked out, Matt."
"Will you please be fucking straight with me for once?" he growled. "I know something's up. I swear to god, if you don't tell me who's been giving you trouble, I'm going to find them myself and mess them up."
That made me flinch a little, and I glanced over at him cautiously. "...What are you talking about?"
He glared. "I stopped by your apartment earlier before checking here. Your mail was overflowing on to the floor, so I figured I'd grab some of it for you. A lot of it wasn't even in envelopes—just a bunch of writing scrawled over dirty paper. Sounded like biblical passages or something...creepy as all hell."
The thought of it made my skin crawl. I had just checked my mail this morning...my mailbox had been empty. Had someone been to my apartment since then? This was bad. They knew where I lived...but who was 'they'? The Order? It didn't matter.
Matt couldn't know about this. I was well aware of what Silent Hill had done to me—its effects weren't something you could shrug off. It was almost like the adrenaline high from all the fear had never faded completely; all it took was the slightest trigger to set me off all over again.
He already had more than enough of his own baggage from his time in the military. I didn't know what he had seen or done in that period of his life, but I had zero doubt that Silent Hill would home right in on it. There was no way I could put him through that.
Part of me was terrified of doing this alone...but it would be selfish of me to involve him, wouldn't it?
"The mail," I said abruptly, thinking of something. "Do you have it?"
"...Some of it," he replied with a frown. "Why?"
I shook my head. "I'll admit it, okay? Something is very wrong—but I need to see what's in those letters. Please, Matt."
He stared me down for a few seconds, before letting out a sigh and donning his aviators once more. "Fine. Just give me a sec, they're in my car."
Now I nodded, my heart pounding as I watched him walk off to where he was parked a little ways away. He opened his passenger side door, bending over to dig through his glove box.
No time to waste. I stood up, pulling my keys out of my pocket and getting into my own car.
Matt looked up when he heard the sound of the engine starting. He yelled something that sounded suspiciously like a profanity—but I wasn't listening. I backed out of the space and peeled out of the small parking lot, my tires squealing.
In the rearview mirror, I saw him throw up his arms with disgust, watching me leave.
It kind of hurt to think that this might be the last I ever saw of him.
The drive up to Silent Hill was quite possibly the longest drive of my life. I didn't miss the way the clouds had begun to move in the minute I entered New Hampshire, blotting out the sun. The volume of cars on the highway gradually dwindled until I was the only one left. Considering the fact that it was still midday, this was too bizarre to be a coincidence.
Finally, I came upon the exit sign labelled "Silent Hill". I had been down this stretch of highway dozens of times, and I knew for a fact that that sign did not exist.
But it did. The exit ramp appeared through the fog (I didn't even bother trying to figure out when the fog had closed in), and I signaled to the empty highway that I was turning in.
I took it slow down the ramp, watching for any signs of movement. The fog continued to press in; I held the steering wheel in an iron grip. My hands were trembling already.
The sign at the end of the ramp read Nathan Avenue. Pleasant River was 4 miles east, while Silent Hill was 1 mile to the west. I took a left, turning on my fog lights and the car radio. As expected, there was no reception—just very faint white noise.
After a few seconds of driving, a small building became visible through the fog. I realized suddenly that it was the same run-down rest stop overlooking Toluca Lake where the story of Silent Hill 2 began.
The only car in the parking lot was a pale blue Oldsmobile; I parked next to it, immediately getting out to examine it.
That model and that color...they both looked right. This couldn't be his car, could it? Did that mean...?
The vehicle was empty, but the doors were unlocked. I opened the driver side door and got in, sitting down. The car was relatively clean, other than an empty bottle of Poland Spring sitting in one of the cup holders.
I reached into the glove box and pulled out the first piece of paper my hand came into contact with. It was the car's insurance card. The policy holder was listed as James Sunderland of South Ashfield, New Hampshire.
So it was his. How long ago had he been sitting in this very spot, contemplating the events of three years ago? Where could he be now?
This was James' car. Now I at least knew part of the path he had taken...I was one step closer to finding him.
I got out of his car and went over to mine, pulling out my bag and putting on the gun holster. The pocket radio was clipped to my belt and turned on. Then I reached into my glove box, pulling out my own insurance card and fixing it so it stood up against the driver side window.
There. If James returned, he had a way of knowing that I had in fact been here.
I was unable to resist the urge to lock up the car; somehow I felt that if I didn't, I'd return to find the contents of my suitcase missing or strewn haphazardly across the parking lot. Silent Hill had a terrible sense of humor.
Okay. Now that that was all said and done, it was time to get going.
My first instinct was to head directly for the forest path, but upon closer inspection, I saw that it was completely blocked off with junk. Wood pallets, traffic cones, oil barrels, and various pieces of equipment were all placed at and around the entrance. I could try climbing the fence, but there was too much of a drop on the other side for it to be worth it.
Now I frowned, taking a look at my other option—the tunnel. It had been blocked off last time.
I walked over to it, pulling the flashlight out of my bag and switching it on. The beam was bright and powerful—I'd made sure to get the best quality one I could find. The light revealed a tunnel that was littered with debris, but otherwise passable.
...Passable on foot, anyway. I glanced longingly back at my car. My Tiburon was low to the ground, not meant for moving over any sort of rugged terrain. Should've stolen my sister's Jeep for this trip...
Not that it mattered. I was sure having a car in the town wouldn't make much of a difference; even the best car would probably die at the worst opportunity, leaving me surrounded by a bunch of monsters. No, I was better off not making such a noticeable entrance.
I stood at the mouth of the tunnel, frowning deeply. This route was much shorter than the forest path, and it led right into town...but...
The darkness looked almost impenetrable, and I was about to walk right into it.
Deep breaths.
Deep breaths...
I steeled myself and took step after step forward, the pitch blackness slowly swallowing me. The static emitting from the radio became more noticeable, but not to an alarming point. I found myself straining my senses, wired from adrenaline.
Piles of warped, twisted scrap metal barred my way; I climbed over and around them, cautiously avoiding anything that looked sharp.
I was unsurprised to find an overturned wheelchair in the center of the road, one wheel slowly turning. I passed it by.
Just a little further. This tunnel was less than a mile long...it couldn't be that much further, right? If I squinted hard enough, I could see a faint red glow up ahead.
Red...that didn't seem right. Dusk wasn't for another few hours.
It didn't matter; turning back wasn't an option now. The road abruptly became clear, so I broke out into a light jog. The light grew ever closer.
Then it was right in front of me. There was no other end to the tunnel—just a wall made of some strange black stone, and painted on the wall was an enormous, glowing Halo of the Sun.
I slowed to a stop when I understood what I was looking at, my stomach churning.
"Motherfucker," I whispered, shaking. Someone had anticipated my coming here, was that it? I couldn't go this way. I didn't want to follow any predetermined path—I just wanted to find James and get out.
But just as I turned back, the radio exploded into static. I saw something huge shift just beyond the flashlight's beam, heard a faint moan. The static grew ever louder. Tendrils of blood seeped into the light, the darkness starting to close in like a sentient being.
My heart leapt into overdrive. That was the Otherworld closing in. And what was that monster? That fleshy thing I couldn't see, something too large to be stopped by a mere bullet...
Now I turned back to the ritual circle, my entire body shaking with unspent energy, everything screaming at me to move forward and away from the abomination behind me.
I knew what my only choice was—to give in and let the town swallow me whole again.
In a sick and twisted way, it was kind of a relief. Three long years spent being afraid for no reason, jumping at shadows, constantly wracked with paranoia...
How pathetic...this was the only world I understood anymore.
I reached out and placed my hand in the center of the Halo. The red light grew in intensity until it enveloped me completely.
The static abruptly cut to silence, and everything faded to black.
A/N: And now the real fun begins. B) What does the town have in store this time? HMMMM.
Reviews, of course, are always welcome and much-appreciated. Feel free to speculate, because it entertains me! XD
Next time: Oh, hiya Heather!