Rating: T. For violence.
Disclaimer: I don't own Silent Hill or anything related to it.
James' eyes opened and he wasn't shocked to see the fogged-filled streets of the Otherworld. He knew this wasn't a dream; this world was just as real as the one he had come from.
His blue eyes immediately started to search his surroundings for a weapon. To go unarmed in this town would mean death. A large, wooden plank resting against a nearby chain-link fence caught James' eye and the man walked over to retrieve it. He picked up the object and weighed it in his hands, finding that it was easy to carry. He noticed five nails sticking out of the tip of the board and he smiled; he could do some serious damage with this.
He surveyed his surroundings further and realized that the woman, Maria, wasn't in sight. Where could she be? he asked himself. He shrugged it off, however, and proceeded to walk down the road. His grip on the nail-board tightened as he heard growling and other strange noises in the depths of the fog.
Suddenly, James became aware of the appearance of a new sound. This sound was a piercing, drawn out screech that dragged on for a few seconds, stopped, dragged on again, stopped, and so forth. The noise resembled that of a metallic object scraping against the ground. As James continued down the road, he realized that this noise seemed to be following him. He quickened his pace; the noise grew louder and faster, matching his pace.
James saw a building on the side of the road and quickly made his way to it. Perhaps it would provide a safe sanctuary away from the eerie sound.
His hand grabbed the doorknob and he thrust the door open, surprised that it was unlocked. He hurriedly rushed inside and slammed the door behind him. He sighed in relief when the noise ceased.
As James turned around to inspect the building, he immediately noticed the thick darkness. He checked his jacket and saw that the flashlight Maria had given him was still there. He smiled in gratitude as he clicked a button and lit up the room. The first thing to greet him was a sign reading "Silent Hill Historical Society." James half-grinned. This other world even had the same name as the real world.
He wandered around the room, examining shelves and desks for things that might be useful. When he walked by the counter, he noticed a few items scattered about on its surface: a first-aid kit, a small rucksack, a shotgun, and shotgun bullets. James smiled as he placed the kit into the rucksack and slung it over his shoulder. This must be my lucky day, he thought. He looked at the nail-board and then the shotgun, deciding which one to use. He grabbed the shotgun and placed it in the rucksack, choosing to stick with a basic melee weapon until he came across a more dangerous creature.
James finished his exploration of the first room and entered the next room. His heart leaped into his throat when he looked to his left.
A gruesome painting stared back at him. It depicted a bloody scene of bodies hanging in mid-air and its main focus was on a creature with a red, pyramid-shaped helmet. It's him…, thought James, his hands trembling as they held the plank. He read the caption underneath the painting: "Misty day, remains of judgment." "Judgment…?" he whispered aloud. How could that nightmarish creature be connected to judgment?
He shook away the thought and walked through two more rooms. When he reached a dead-end room, he was shocked to see that one of its walls had been bashed in, leaving a huge, gaping pathway of stairs leading down to someplace. He stared into the dark entryway, wondering what lay beyond it. Suddenly, he heard vague noises from within its depths. Human voices.
James almost cried out in glee. There were more people here! James quickly suppressed his high hopes, however, remembering how he was tricked by the Lying Figure and he thought it possible for another monster to bait its prey with the use of a human voice.
The blond-haired man began his descent of the stairway, his nail-board held out in front of him cautiously. The voices became louder as James travelled further down the stairway. After a few minutes, James had reached the metal door, marked "Prison," at the end.
Slowly, he opened the door, wincing as the rusted metal creaked and ground under the pressure. The voices on the other side stopped, hearing James' entrance.
"Who's there?!" yelled a man's voice. "If you don't show yourself, I'll—I'll kill you!"
James pushed the door open to its fullest and was met by two people.
The closest person was a heavyset, young male. His boyish face was set in a stern, alert expression. He had ruffled blond hair that was covered by a backwards baseball cap. He held a small pistol out in front of him, aiming it at James' chest. "Who are you and what do you want? Are you another one of those monsters? If you are, then I'll kill you."
James instinctively raised both his hands, the universal sign of truth and replied softly. "My name is James Sunderland. I'm not monster…just a man looking for his wife."
The man gave James an unwavering leer before lowering his gun to his side.
"You're…you're looking for someone, too?" piped up a quiet voice from behind the man.
A young woman stepped out from behind him and approached James. "I'm looking for my mama—I mean my mother." She had short brown hair and a thin body. She hugged her arms around herself in an insecure manner and her voice quivered as she spoke. "I hope you find your wife, James."
James lowered his hands, looking at the two people. By God, there really are others here. "What are your names?" he asked.
"My name's Angela. Angela Orosco." She smiled timidly at him.
"I'm Eddie Dombrowski," replied the husky male.
"What are you two doing here, in this building?
"Probably the same thing as you," chuckled Eddie, his angry visage turning into one of pleasantness. "Hiding from those freaks outside."
Angela nodded in agreement and added, "This place is safe."
James smiled at the presence of his newfound company. They led him through the prison to the cell they had stayed in for the past two nights. Dirty quilts and blankets lined the floor and food wrappers were scattered about randomly. The three of them took a seat on the blankets and Eddie passed James a spare hamburger snatched from the town's burger joint. James took off the "Happy Burger" wrapping and began to munch hungrily on the cold substance, listening to Angela and Eddie converse.
"Have you got any clue where your mom's at?" asked Eddie.
Angela twiddled her thumbs. "No…I…I've been searching for a long time for her, but I haven't come across anything that would tell me where she's at…"
Eddie patted her on the back. "Keep looking for her. I'm sure she'll turn up soon."
"But…," began Angela timidly, "…I'm afraid to leave this prison to go out and search for her again…Daddy's always following me around…"
"…Daddy?" asked Eddie, his eyebrow rising in confusion.
"I know he is…I can feel him following me…Waiting to hurt me, again…" She shivered and her eyes began to well.
"I thought you said you couldn't find your dad," stated Eddie, getting frustrated.
"No, he's here…he's here…My Daddy…lost in this abstract world…waiting to hurt me like he used to do…waiting to do bad things to me…"
Eddie's eyes widened and his neck stiffened in anger. "Shut up," he said.
"He's here! I know he is! He's going to kill me!"
Eddie's fist suddenly smashed into Angela's face. She let out a pathetic scream and doubled over. Eddie stood up and raised his arm threateningly, prepared to punch her again. "I told you to shut up. You're reminding me of those stupid people back home."
James dropped his hamburger and quickly rose from the floor. "Whoa, whoa," he said calmly, waving his hands side-to-side and motioning for Eddie to stop. "How about we don't get violent?"
Eddie's eyes snapped viciously to James and James could see the boiling fury and hate within his eyes.
"You shut up, too. Or else," ordered Eddie. He glanced at the girl, crumpled on the floor and weeping, and he gave her a swift kick to the ribs. "I bet you're one of them!" he yelled. "I bet one of those punks sent you here to remind me of them and their sorry little butts!" He kicked her again, causing her to cry out in pain.
James' heart sank as he watched the disgusting scene. What happened? he asked himself. They were fine and happy a second ago… He reached down beside him and grabbed his nail-board, pointing its tip at Eddie threateningly. "Stop it," said James boldly.
Eddie ceased kicking Angela and he glared at James, again. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the pistol he had earlier. He aimed the gun at James' face and slowly cocked it. "You…," he whispered, his voice full of hate. "You're one of them, too. I knew it."
-
Smithy Payne lightly grasped and turned the steering wheel of his small car, and he kept his eyes focused on the road in front of him. He took one hand off the wheel occasionally to push his glasses back up on the bridge of his nose. The psychiatrist had never quite taken to driving; the people on the road always made him uncomfortable. But he went out of his way to drive, today. He was going to the local library.
He pulled his miniature vehicle into a parking space just outside the library. After killing the ignition, he stepped out of the car and took a gander at the building. A smile crossed his lips as he thought about the thousands of book that lay in wait inside, about all the knowledge he could find within their pages.
Smithy walked up to the entrance and pushed open the glass double-doors. He gave a quick wave to the librarian before making his way into the depths of the library. He tried not to let the rows and rows of books distract him; he came here for a purpose other than his simple pleasure.
He wandered around the library for a few minutes, looking for a section he had never explored before: the "Occult" section. When he found it, he quickly went to work thumbing through book titles. He passed books about obscure metaphysics and satanic religions. Suddenly, he came across an old, decrepit book with its title hardly legible. He brushed dust from its cover with the back of his hand before opening the book, resulting in a crackling and rustling sound. The scent of incense and age infiltrated his nose as he flipped through the book's pages.
After looking over pages for a few minutes, he came across a sudden, intriguing picture. The image illustrated what appeared to be a man with an oddly-shaped crimson helm and a vicious sword in hand. Multiple images of this being were scattered about the same page, but each of them bore different head armor and wielded diverse weapons.
Smithy's eyes shifted to the column of text next to the images. It read:
"The Punisher. Created by God as a lower deity. This creature stalks and haunts those who have sinned against God. Its purpose is to force its victim to repent and then kill the victim, thus sending him into purgatory in order to be closer to God."
Smithy turned the page. The image of a man without a face greeted him and he proceeded to read the text beside it.
"Valtiel. Messenger of God. Created as a lower deity in order to be present at the rebirth of God."
Smithy frowned and furrowed his brows. "What a peculiar religion…," he muttered absently. He flipped back and forth between the two pages, studying the images closely. They resembled James' visions very, very closely…But what could they mean? Why was he seeing creatures as part of such an obscure religion?
The psychiatrist closed the book swiftly, causing a plume of dust to choke out between the pages. He turned the book over and viewed its cover once more. A name, the only thing legible on the cover, stared back at him: Dr. Michael Kaufmann.
"Dr. Kaufmann?" asked Smithy quietly to himself. "Wasn't he the old director of that other hospital here? What's it called….? Alchemilla Hospital, that's right."
The rotund psychiatrist made his way back to the librarian and handed her the tattered book. She accepted it from him, typed something quickly into her computer's database, and returned the book to Smithy. "This will be due in one month, sir," she stated. Smithy gave her a quick nod of his head as he departed the facility.
Once he was back in his car, he placed the book in his lap and opened it once more:
The Order: Local and Ancient Religion of Silent Hill
A Journal by Dr. Michael Kaufmann
Contained within these pages are my personal insights into this specific cult. I have become closely acquainted with Dahlia Gillespie, Priestess of the Holy Woman sect, and she has taught me everything about the inside beliefs of the religion…
Smithy turned a few pages.
The cult's main focus is on the Sun God, usually portrayed as a woman, and the lower deities and angels She created in order to lead the chosen ones to Her. Her right-hand gods, Xuchilbara and Lobsel Vith, along with the lower deity Valtiel are also highly worshipped in the cult.
The cult's central belief is that, by use of a human vessel and sacrifice, God will be reborn to bring about an apocalypse and, afterwards, Paradise…A place where there is no suffering or hatred…The idea is intriguing and alluring...
Smithy frowned as he continued reading the passage, but soon flipped to a different page. A large, red, circular symbol adorned the page and stared back at him threateningly.
Halo of the Sun. A symbol widely used in The Order. Its use and meaning varies in the different sects; it could be used for protection, conjuring, or cursing.
Smithy turned to the near back of the book.
While writing this, I have been asked by Dahlia to perform a "righteous, honorary task." I find no honor in what she disclosed to me, however. Dahlia used her own daughter, Alessa Gillespie, as the sacrifice in the ritual meant to bring about the second-coming of God. She impregnated her own daughter, her own flesh and blood, with the curse of bearing God. Dahlia has put the task of delivering the deity in my hands. I have no choice but to follow through with it.
The psychiatrist couldn't read anymore. He slammed the book closed and threw it into the empty passenger's seat. He leaned his bald head against the seat's headrest and let his hands loosely grip the steering wheel. "What kind of religion…is that…?" he whispered to himself. His tired eyes drifted back to the book's cover, its dirt and filth intimidating. His thoughts turned once more to the visions plaguing James, to the monsters that existed in his patient's nightmares and reality, that mimicked those in the cult's religion.
Smithy snapped back into a straight, upright position and he gripped the wheel tightly as he switched on the ignition. He quickly pulled out of the library's driveway, his tires screeching in protest as his miniature car disappeared down the highway, heading in the direction of Alchemilla Hospital.
-
"Don't try to deny it," said Eddie, his voice low and threatening. "You're one of them."
James backed up against a wall on the far side of the prison. "O-one of who?" he asked, a slight tremor in his voice.
"Don't play dumb!" yelled Eddie, waving the gun in James' direction. "They sent you here!"
"No one sent me here," said James, attempting to put up a calm façade in order to hide his fear.
Eddie shook his gun again at James. "Liar!" he screamed, taking a few bold steps towards James. "You must think I'm pretty stupid, huh? Well I'll show you…" Eddie placed his other hand on his gun, steadying the weapon for accuracy. "I'll kill you just like I killed that stupid dog!"
James felt his heart leap into his chest and he immediately ducked to the ground, barely missing the shot Eddie fired. James hurriedly looked to his left and snatched up his nail-board.
"You weren't supposed to move!" cried Eddie savagely, positioning the gun again for another shot.
James slowly stood up; his eyes locked with Eddie's. "What are you doing?" the blond-haired man asked calmly.
"SHUT UP!" Eddie suddenly fired his gun again as James made another narrow dodge. "SHUT UP! SHUT UP! SHUT UP!"
As Eddie opened fire, James swiftly hid behind a make-shift barricade created from a turned-over prison bench. The shooting suddenly ceased and the only audible sound in the room was a quiet clicking noise—Eddie had run out of bullets. James could hear the husky man rummage through his pockets, in search of more bullets. "Come on, James! Don't be a coward! Come and face your death like a friggin' man!"
James looked at the plank in his hands, analyzing it closely, before discarding it beside him. A weapon like that would hardly put a scratch on someone like Eddie. It was effective against those monsters, but not against someone with a gun. James reached into his rucksack and withdrew the shotgun. He needed firepower.
James hastily leaped out from behind the barricade and shakily pointed the shotgun's barrel at Eddie.
The portly man sneered. "Finally," he said, lifting his fully-loaded pistol with both hands.
"Don't shoot," warned James, cradling the shotgun pump in his hand anxiously and fingering the trigger uneasily. "I don't want to have to kill you."
Eddie let out a guffaw. "You kill me? You?" His raucous laughter dwindled to a slight chuckle and he leered at James. "Not a chance."
As soon as Eddie pulled the trigger, James followed suit, firing off a shotgun round straight into Eddie's face, causing it to explode into bursts of crimson and flesh. The blond-haired man watched in horror as Eddie's body crumpled to the ground, emitting a loud "squish" from the impact. It was at this moment when James realized that he had been shot in the bicep. He held the wound with his palm in an attempt to stop the blood.
"Oh my god…Oh my god…"
James turned his attention to the opposite side of the prison, where Angela sat and watched the horrifying event take place. She was hidden within the shadows, but James was still able to make out her young face, coated with tears. "Oh my god…," Angela whispered once more, her frightened eyes never leaving Eddie's carcass.
James dropped his shotgun gently to the ground and stumbled over to her. "Angela," he began, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to kill him, I--" He paused, catching a glint of something held in her hand.
Angela gripped the knife's handle tightly within her hand and she raised its tip to her temple. Her breathing was slow and rhythmic, but it had an underlying hint of terror and anxiety. "I'll do it…," she moaned apathetically. The knife's point lightly scraped her skin. "I can't go on any longer…I'm sorry, Mama…I can't do it anymore…"
"Angela, don't!" yelled James, rushing towards her and reaching out his arm in a helpless attempt to stop her.
Angela plunged the knife's blade deep into her skull. Blood instantly spurted forth from the gash, spattering against her hand and to the floor. Her eyes rolled back into her head and her jaw drooped. Her neck fell limp and rested against the wall behind her. Her body seized and shook as the last drop of life left her body.
James stood still in shock, unable to comprehend what had just taken place. He had just discovered these people, though against all odds. He thought that he had found hope for himself, knowing that there was life within this desolate, demon-ridden town.
He slowly closed the distance between himself and Angela's body. He studied her lifeless, bloody frame, knowing there was no hope here.
Suddenly, James noticed Angela's body changing. Her skin began to shrivel and cling to her bones and took on a brown, deathly shade. Her hair began to fall off in chunks until only a few strands were left. A fleshy skeleton remained.
James bent over, gagging and retching at the sight as a disgusting odor filled his nose. He quickly moved away from Angela's body and bumped into Eddie's in the process. James jumped in fright and turned to face the corpse, but he saw that this one was in the same state as Angela's. Both bodies had completely decomposed in seconds. It's as if they were already dead…, thought James grudgingly.
He picked up the shotgun he set down earlier and made his way out of the prison. As he ascended the stairs, the odor of death was replaced with a neutral-scented air. Relief overcame him as he exited the Historical Society, but only for a moment. He quickly regained his alertness and he roamed the misty streets of the town with his shotgun poised and ready to shoot.
He pointlessly meandered about the town, attempting to force the thoughts of Eddie and Angela out of his mind. What had driven such normal-looking people to insanity? James grimaced and looked at his hellish surroundings. This town, full of cretins and demons, could certainly make any sane person go mad. However, James didn't think this was the case.
He recalled the conversation held between Eddie and Angela earlier. Angela had referred to her father, a source of terror that had originated outside of the town. And during the fire fight, Eddie had mentioned the cause of his fear: people from his hometown. The causes for their insanity…They weren't created in this town. But this town…it had something to do with their insanity.
James pondered the thought for a moment before coming up with a conclusion. He remembered Angela saying that her fear, her "daddy," existed in this town and followed her everywhere. It was as if the town heightened Angela's fears and manifested them in this nightmarish world.
Could it be possible…? James asked himself. Could this town actually bring peoples' fears to life?
As he wandered throughout the town and pondered its purpose, a familiar sound made its sudden appearance and all thoughts ceased. James stopped in his tracks and listened as the screeching noise drew closer and closer to him, approaching him head-on. James pointed the shotgun barrel into the fog in front of him, his finger stroking the trigger in anticipation. "I won't run from you," stated James in a whisper.
The pyramid-helmed creature emerged from the fog, its crimson helmet shimmering as if it were coated with blood, and it dragged an immense sword behind it. It slowly drifted towards the blond-haired man, its blade shrieking and groaning with every step.
James squinted and aimed his shotgun at the monster's chest. He pulled the trigger, sending a thick bullet straight into the thing's heart. James' eyes widened as he saw the creature still approaching him without so much as a flinch. He fired off another round, and then another, but to no avail.
With each step the creature took towards James, James felt a slight throb in his head. As the thing grew closer, the pain excruciatingly intensified, causing the blond-haired man to drop his shotgun and clutch at his aching head. The world began to spin around him as he fell to his knees, his fingers digging into his skull, attempting to extract the immense torture within his brain.
His weary eyes glanced upward and he watched powerlessly as the demon stood only a foot away from him. The creature and James both stood still, each gazing at the other, neither moving.
When James realized the monster wasn't going to make a move, he smirked weakly. This thing that had been attacking him in his dreams…Now he was face-to-face with it. And the creature chose to do absolutely nothing to him.
James' pain-filled eyes mocked the nightmare and he chuckled softly. "What are you gonna do?" he asked feebly. His thoughts flickered back to the painting in the Historical Society. "What are you gonna do…?" he repeated. "Judge me?"
The creature remained still, as if it were slowly contemplating what James said. After a long moment of silence, its metallic, loud voice boomed from within the helmet: "YES."
James' head was immediately filled with agonizing pain and his vision began to fade. He gasped and curled himself into a slight fetal position, grabbing at his hair and moaning in pain. Through the black splotches in his sight, James could faintly make out the creature's hand stretching towards his face. The man attempted to cry out in protest, but it only resulted in a faint, hoarse groan.
James felt the demon's latex-covered hand press against and cover his face, enveloping him in pitch, black darkness.
-
Smithy Payne pushed through a pair of glass doors, officially entering Alchemilla Hospital. Immediately to his left and behind a counter sat a young secretary, occupied with filing her nails. When she caught sight of Smithy, she quickly put away her pink file and placed her neat hands, folded together, on top of the counter. She gave the psychiatrist a sweet smile and asked, "May I help you, sir?"
"Ah, yes!" he enthusiastically replied as he approached the counter. "I'm in the process of looking for someone and I could use your help."
"Who might you be looking for, sir?" She gave him an inquisitive glance.
Smithy grinned before saying, "A man named Dr. Kaufmann."
The secretary blinked a few times, mulling over the name Smithy had uttered. "Dr. Kaufmann?" she finally asked. "Why would you be looking for him?"
"Well…," began Smithy as he pulled out the worn book from within his overcoat. "He happens to be the author of this book and I just had a few questions I wanted to ask the fellow."
The secretary looked at the book, studying its illegible and tattered cover. When she finished absorbing its appearance, she turned her glance back to Smithy. "I'm sorry, sir, but I can't help you. Dr. Kaufmann has been dead for years."
Smithy's exuberant smile instantly diminished at the secretary's words.
"However," she started to say, "there is someone else here who may be able to answer your questions." She stood up from her chair. "Just take a seat and I'll be right back with him. Would you like anything before I run off? Water, perhaps?"
Smiling at the woman, Smithy answered, "Oh, yes. That would be lovely."
The secretary turned to a small water machine and held a paper cup underneath its faucet. When the cup had filled adequately, she handed it over to Smithy. "I'll be right back," she said before disappearing down the hall.
Smithy took a seat in one of the chairs lining the waiting room's wall and slowly sipped his water. He allowed his empty hand to absentmindedly brush against Dr. Kaufmann's book as he surveyed his surroundings.
He observed the walls of the hospital which had an off-white hue. He gazed at the floor and saw that it had not been mopped in what appeared to be months and had probably never been waxed. He inspected the secretary's counter and realized that its white surface was tainted by small splotches of dirt. He turned his eyes to the small, ancient television resting upon a filing cabinet which was supposed to somehow provide entertainment for waiting patients.
Smithy frowned at these sights. This hospital was in an obviously worse condition than Brookhaven and Smithy pitied the structure. "Such a shame…," he muttered to himself.
Footsteps suddenly became audible in the adjacent hallway and Smithy watched as a young man appeared from around a corner. The man had short, blond hair and a pale complexion scattered with freckles. The man had bright green eyes that glistened joyfully as they fell upon Smithy.
The man walked over to where Smithy sat and stretched out his hand. "Hello, sir, my name is Arnie Reyers. I heard that you have some questions for me…" He grinned.
Smithy shook Arnie's hand and grinned in return. "Why, yes I do. But only a few. I don't want to take up much of your valuable time," he said.
Arnie laughed. "Valuable time? I just work in the lab."
Smithy joined in on the laughter for a moment before initiating conversation. "Let's see…," he began, gathering his thoughts. "I recently read a very interesting book written by Dr. Kaufmann and I noticed that some of the…things…within the book are appearing in one of my patient's dreams…I'm a psychiatrist, you see…anyway…"
Arnie leaned forward slightly, his green eyes growing intent. "What kind of things, sir?"
Smithy twiddled his thumbs. "Well…monsters, you see…"
Arnie raised an eyebrow curiously. "Monsters? What book of Kaufmann's did you read?"
The psychiatrist took out the old book once more from his jacket and passed it over to Arnie. The lab worker's eyes grew wide as he looked over the book and flipped through its pages. "This…this is amazing…," he whispered.
"Yes, quite," muttered Smithy unenthusiastically. "The monsters are on pages forty-four and forty-five."
Arnie complied and turned to the appropriate pages. He scanned the pictures of the beast with the helmet as well as the fiend without a face. He flipped back and forth between the pages continuously, as if to convince himself that the pages and images were real. When he was finally convinced, he raised his striking eyes from the pictures. "You say one of your patients has been seeing these creatures?"
"That's correct."
Arnie's lips grew thin as he pondered over a thought. His green eyes, now lacking any brightness or sheen, locked onto Smithy's. He opened his mouth and uttered something unintelligible under his breath.
"Pardon?" asked Smithy. "I don't believe I heard--"
The psychiatrist suddenly stopped mid-sentence. He gazed thoughtlessly at Arnie before his upper body collapsed onto his lap.
Arnie's green eyes became bright once more and he grinned widely as he stared at Smithy's unconscious form…