So after finishing the first chapter I started getting a bunch of ideas for a continuation. After a while I figured I'd start writing a second chapter and see how it looked. I liked how this turned out so I uploaded it. I'm hoping everyone enjoys it.
I got a couple complaints in regards to James leaving the hotel with Scott. A few people took this to mean that I had made James gay, but that wasn't my intention. James isn't gay, in my opinion it's an impossibility because of his characterization. Basically he left the hotel with Scott on a whim, but I couldn't think of a good way to convey that. You should also be aware that things get kinda gross at the end of this chapter.
Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill and I'm not making any money off of this.
I'm sitting in some biker bar with Scott. A glance at the clock informs me that it's 3:30 AM, leaving half an hour until closing time.
The place is shady at best. There are a couple of pool tables near the far wall, accompanied by a pinball machine. The bar is long and feels sticky, kinda like it hasn't been cleaned in months. In fact everything in here looks dirty. The windows are streaked with grime, mud cakes the floor, and the only lighting comes from yellowing bulbs in hanging lamps spread randomly around the space. We've been sitting by ourselves for forty-five minutes; the bartender is probably in the backroom fucking the waitress.
"Sorry again for bringing you here." Scott mutters, "There's not much to do in this area."
"It's no problem," I shrug. "It actually reminds me of the town I was in before coming here."
"Really? Where was that?"
"It's not important." I mutter, remembering Silent Hill all too vividly. "You really don't strike me as the biker type."
Scott shrugs, "I'm not really, not anymore. I used to hang with a biker crowd and I guess you could say that I grew up. But like I said, there's not much to do in this area. So what brought you to town? You got family here?"
"I had some business to conduct near here and this seemed like a halfway decent place to stop for the night." Scott makes a soft sound, signifying that he heard me. "I gotta piss." I say as I stand.
"It's right over there." Scott points to a dim hallway in the corner before turning back to his drink.
I thank him and make my way to the bathroom. The floorboards creek under my weight and some dust actually kicks up with each step I take. I'm already dreading entering the restroom.
It's pitch black when I enter the room and it takes me a moment of groping around the wall to find the light switch. The room floods with fluorescent light and I have to wince and take a moment to adjust to it.
Shockingly the place isn't that bad. It's dirty, but not to the point I thought it would be. One of the stall doors is hanging by one hinge, the other is just a piece of plywood. Two of the three urinals are clearly broken and most of the tiles in the room are cracked. There are streaks of grime visible on the tiling and and I hear a steady dripping from the pipes under the sink; It's probably been like that for a while since there's a puddle inching it's way throughout the room. The mirror is so broken it almost looks like a giant spiderweb.
As I peer into the stall with the plywood door and feel relieved that it isn't covered with shit. I idly read the graffiti as I go about by business. There's the typical barroom fare- for a good time call so-and-so, Joseph is a faggot, and general slander against society. There's a glory-hole cut in the partition between stalls it gives me the impression that Scott probably comes here often.
Once finished I move to the sink and start washing my hands. There's no soap and I feel surprised for a moment before I remember what kind of shit-hole I'm in. As I shake my hands off, since there aren't any fucking towels, some motorcycles pull in. It sounds like there's three of them, but I could be wrong. I don't know the first thing about bikes.
By the time I'm ready to leave the bathroom footsteps sound in the hallway. Scott crashes through the door, he looks clearly upset. "We gotta go man." He huffs, "These guys are bad news."
"Taking candy from kids bad news, or drowning puppies bad news?"
"Drowning puppies then throwing the corpses through the windows at an orphanage bad news."
"That's pretty bad." I say, " Come on, I'm sure there's a back way outta here."
There's raucous laughter coming from the barroom now and one of the men yells something about how much "The fucking spic service here blows!" The others seem to find this hilarious and laugh even louder. Turning to the left I spot the swinging metal doors leading to the kitchen. Scott and I inch our way down the hallway, hoping the bikers don't decide to come looking for the bartender.
After an agonizing amount of creeping we finally reach the doorway. It glides open with ease and we step into the small kitchen."Fuck." I mutter, my eyes going wide at the scene.
The scene of gore stretched out before us turns my stomach until I almost lose it. Scott is bent over, retching next to me as I survey the area. There's a large pile of innards mounded on the stainless steel table in the center of the room. The leaking gastric juices have already started digesting the pile of entrails, leaving a slightly rotten smell wafting through the air. I trace the line of intestine down the counter to see the hollowed out corpse of the waitress sprawled out on the floor, a look of agony and sheer terror cemented on her face. Her ribcage has been split down the middle, her hollow chest-cavity open like a hand reaching for something. After letting the sight of the eviscerated girl soak in I notice the wide, crimson trail leading out the exit. There are scratches in the linoleum and I'm pretty sure that's a fingernail sticking out of one of them.
Scott heaves once more before wiping his mouth. "What could have done this?" He asks me, standing shakily.
"I'd rather not stick around to find out." I answer, stepping over the dead girl like it's nothing. "Can't believe I threw out that radio..." I mumble as Scott slips in the mess behind me. He skids to the ground with a yell, accidentally knocking the filth from the table into his lap. He vomits again, only adding to the already overbearing stench in the small room. I kick the pile of remains off him and give him a hand standing. He's covered almost from head to toe in blood and I definitely feel for him but we need to get out of here now; something tells me that whatever did this is still hanging around.
Walking toward the exit I notice a fire extinguisher sitting near the stove. I pick it up, thinking it could come in handy. "Wait here." I mumble to Scott, "I just wanna see if there's anything we could use."
"Sure thing." Scott answers, leaning against the door frame. He grabs a towel from the nearby counter and makes a half-hearted attempt at cleaning himself off.
As Scott fusses over himself I set to surveying the room for anything of interest. A large knife is sitting on a counter-top, I grab it so that Scott can have a weapon too. After a bit of rummaging I find a big flashlight, the heavy duty kind designed to bludgeon burglars, just in case. I slip it easily into a pocket and continue searching through the kitchen. I still can't believe I got rid of the fucking radio. The whole time I'm ripping apart the kitchen that's the one thing I want to find, the one thing I hope to find. Now that shit's going south again I'd like the reassurance of the thing. At least with a radio I'd know if there was a monster around the corner.
"What the fuck is this shit?!" I look up at the exclamation to see a large, leather-clad man stomping into the room. "Scotty-boy!" He grins, his Irish accent getting thicker, more maniacal. "I thought we told you never to show your fucking face around here again." He hasn't noticed me yet, he's too distracted by Scott. "And just look what you've done to pretty little Cherri." He kicks the girl's corpse out of his way as I start inching toward him, crouching to stay out of sight. "I was plannin' on having a good time with her tonight. Looks like I'll have to settle for kicking the shit outta you." The man cracks his knuckles loudly as I creep up behind him. As he reaches for Scott I raise the fire extinguisher above my head. "I'm gonna enjoy thi--" His monologue is cut short as I bring the bright red weapon crashing down on the back of his skull.
The Irishman crumples to the floor with a yelp. As he attempts to hoist himself up again I kick his balls in. He curls up for a moment and I can't decide what to do next. As the man throws up Scott says, "Let's go James. I think he's had enough."
"You two are in for a world of hurt." The man utters, trying once again to get up.
I look down at the weapon in my hands and raise it again. "You might wanna turn around." I whisper to Scott. Once his eyes are averted I crack the guy's head with the bludgeon. He collapses and starts gasping but starts getting up again- so I hit him again. His face collides with the floor and the sound of bone breaking bounces off the walls. He coughs and blood splatters across the floor, the coughing is replaced with a gurgling sound as he struggles to stay conscious. He's clearly going into shock, but I'm not done yet. After flipping the man over to get a better look at his broken face I raise the now dented weapon high above my head and bring it down as if chopping wood. His jaw is shattered by it and a handful of teeth skitter across the floor. The man's eyes are practically bouncing around in their sockets and it sounds like he's trying to say something. That's gotta be hard, considering he's missing the lower part of his face. I swing the fire extinguisher once more and his forehead cracks like an egg, sending bits of brain and bone across the floor.
Scott looks like he has his mouth covered in case he's going to throw up again. In the short silence I notice that I'm gasping for breath; the adrenaline pumping through my system sending shivers down my spine. With a soft squelching sound I pry my weapon from the carcass below me and brush past Scott. He soon falls into step behind me, I hold out the knife. "Here, I found this." He takes it with a sigh and a wolf howls somewhere in the distance.
"Why did you do that?" He whispers as we make our way to his pick-up.
"I had to." My voice sounds huskier than usual and I feel like crawling into a hole to die. I thought I was done with the Silent Hill bullshit and now I'm dreading what I need to do next. "If he told his crew about what he saw in the back they'd have tried to find us." We've reached the car and I move toward the passenger side.
"You drive. I don't feel up to it." Scott says, tossing me the keys and climbing into the car.
After lifting the dented fire extinguisher into the truck bed I climb in and start the engine. "So where do you live?"
He takes a moment to answer, "I umm... I don't feel like being alone right now." Scott is staring at the ground and for the first time I notice that he's breathing heavily.
"Well you really don't wanna be where I'm going." I back the car out of the parking lot and start heading north.
"Where's that?" He mutters, gazing out the window.
I pause and ask myself if I should tell him the truth. "Silent Hill." I answer shakily.
Scott turns to me, "The ghost town?"
"Yeah." I say with a nod and a sigh. "It looks like my business there isn't done yet." We lapse into silence, which isn't surprising. I doubt Scott has ever been through something like this. Seeing a corpse is bad enough, but that girl had been massacred.
"Her name was Shannon." Scott mumbles after a while. I feel confused for a minute before realizing that he's talking about the waitress. "Everyone called her Cherri for some reason that I can't remember. We ah... we went to school together. I used to be a scrawny nerd and nobody wanted anything to do with me. Except for her, she was always nice to everybody no mater what." He falls silent again.
"I'm sorry you had to see her like that." I respond after a moment.
"It's not your fault." He says, turning to me, "I want to help you. I want to punish whatever did that to her and if you think the source if it is in Silent Hill then I want to help you stop it."
I shake my head, "I obviously can't persuade you not to. But when things get weird don't try and say that I didn't warn you."