Later that night, Eileen called the hospital, but nobody there was willing to tell her anything. No matter how much she begged and cajoled, nobody would even admit that he was there.

"Henry. Henry Townshend," she said, for the tenth time. "He came in this morning. You've got to remember him."

"There's no such patient here," the nurse said for the tenth time.

Eileen gritted her teeth. This was going nowhere, fast. "Who's the doctor on duty?"

"Doctor Morgan."

Yes! "Let me talk to him."

He had been her doctor when she was admitted. Her memories were fuzzy, but she remembered that he'd been very kind and willing to answer her questions once she was conscious. Maybe…

"Eileen?" came the voice on the other end of the line. "Is that you?"

"Doctor! Thank you for talking to me."

"Eileen – "

"Doctor, you've got to help me. Nobody's telling me anything, but I know that he's there. We brought him in ourselves, Father Kelley and I – "

She heard a sigh over the phone. "That's because there's nothing to tell you just yet."

"What do you mean…nothing to tell me? Why won't they even admit that he's there?" Oh my God…he can't mean…

"Because of the publicity. You remember. Look, he's alive, but he's in bad shape. Really bad shape. But you know that too."

"How bad?"

There was a pause.

"We're not sure that we've been able to determine the full extent of his injuries yet."

"How can you not know?" Eileen spluttered. "Can't you…take X-rays or something?"

"We've done that. We've been over him head to toe. But until he's fully awake, we can't talk to him."

oh.

"I'm sorry, Doctor. I didn't mean to tell you how to do your job…but…"

"Don't worry about it. Eileen, what the hell happened to him? When he was here a week ago, he wasn't anywhere near this bad."

"I don't know. But I think…well, he was in his room for all of the last week, and I'm pretty sure that something got to him."

"Something left over from…"

"Yeah."

She could almost hear the doctor shaking his head. "That's got to be it. If I hadn't seen him here last week with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. He looks as if…"

"Doctor?"

"Eileen, I don't want to make this harder than it is."

Oh God. This is getting worse and worse.

"Please tell me. I need to know."

A deep breath. "I shouldn't be telling you this…but he looks as if he's been tortured. For months. There are old injuries that would have taken weeks to heal. Broken bones, deep cuts, torn muscles, and worse…you name it. And, well, you saw him. I've never seen anything like it. Never."

Eileen couldn't speak. She knew what the next sentence would have been, even though the doctor would never say it to her.

Eileen, Henry shouldn't be alive.

The voice on the other end of the phone was shaken. "If I'd known…he shouldn't ever have left. I'd have made sure of that. Would have locked his door myself."

Something about the doctor's tone of voice brought her speech back. "Left?"

"You didn't know? He was admitted here too, late the next morning. The police that brought him in said that he staggered out of the building and passed out on the sidewalk. He had a bullet wound to the arm and a pulled muscle in his groin, and plenty of cuts and bruises, too, but he was basically OK. He was as tired as anybody I've ever seen, but bed rest would have taken care of that. We wanted to keep him here for a day or so for observation, but a few hours after that we found that he'd disappeared."

that means that…he must have left after he came to speak to me. Snuck out. I had no idea…if I'd known…

"Has he said anything, Doctor?"

"That's the thing. He's been drifting in and out, but he hasn't said a word. And, Eileen…"

"Yes?"

"When he's been conscious, he's – I don't like what I've been seeing in his eyes."

Eileen felt her heart slowly sinking into her shoes.

"I'm sorry," the voice on the other end said. "I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, it's OK. Thank you. I needed to know."

"Do you know anything, Eileen? Anything about this – whatever it was that did this to him? Anything that could help us figure out what happened?"

"No, Doctor. I wish to God that I did, but I don't. Nothing like this happened…before."

A faint beeping sound came over the line.

"Eileen, I have to go. Tell you what," the doctor said. "Come by tomorrow morning, and give the nurse at the desk your name. I'll tell her to let you come up."

"Thank you so much, Doctor."

"Don't thank me yet. You may wish that you hadn't."


The next morning, Eileen drove the few blocks to St. Jerome's. It looked much better than it had that night that she'd limped down the hallways, and it wasn't as if she hadn't spent two days here reminding herself that everything – including this hospital – was back to normal. Still, she couldn't help a shiver as she approached the reception desk.

"My name's Eileen Galvin," she told the nurse at the desk. "I'm here to see Henry Townshend."

The nurse didn't even look up. "I'm sorry, there's nobody here by that name."

"I know that he's here. Please…it's important."

"Honey, I hear that all the time," the nurse replied, then stopped short. She peered at Eileen closely. "Haven't I seen you somewhere before?"

"Probably. I was in here for a couple of days a week ago."

"Yes…now I remember. South Ashfield Heights."

"Yeah. That's why Henry's here, too."

"I read about it in the papers. Sounded horrible."

"Yes, it was," Eileen said, nodding quickly. "That's why I need to see him. He … I owe him my life. Doctor Morgan told me that I could see him."

The nurse's expression softened. "Let me call the doctor for you." She picked up the phone. "Doctor? I have a Miss Eileen Galvin here to see Henry Townshend …yes…yes…yes, it's her…"

Maybe being in the papers isn't all bad.

"No, Doctor…I'll tell her…OK." She put the phone down and smiled at Eileen. "He's in Room 315. You can go up now. I'm supposed to tell you that he's awake, but that you may be shocked by what you see."

"Thanks."

"Up the stairs and to the right."

Eileen started toward the stairwell, then stopped and turned around.

"Um...are the rooms numbered?"

"Of course," the nurse said, with a puzzled expression. "Why wouldn't they be?"


Indeed, the rooms were numbered. But Eileen had never been up to this wing before, and she walked past 315 a couple of times before she realized that it was a hospital room and not...well, she didn't know what it should have been, except that it wasn't what she expected.

A single nurse sat just inside the door, facing the large window that ran from a few feet above the floor all the way to the ceiling. She seemed familiar somehow. There was a stack of paperwork in front of her, but something inside the window was holding her attention for now. As Eileen approached the door, the nurse turned and smiled.

"Miss Galvin. I was hoping you'd come."

"Aren't you Nurse Rachael? From 106?"

"That's me," Rachael said.

"How is he?"

"Well, he's malnourished, and he's weak. And he's got a bullet hole in his arm. He's lost a lot of blood, too, but that wasn't too hard to take care of. He's clearly been through a lot," Rachael said. "Oh, and he had a lump on his head."

"That was our fault," Eileen said.

"Nothing to worry about. Physically, anyway. He'll heal up soon enough." Rachael shook her head. "It's going to be a while before he's completely OK, though."

"…I don't like what I've been seeing in his eyes."

Eileen nodded. "How is he?"

"I'm no expert, but from what the doctors say, there's been... damage. We don't know how much yet. They kept him sedated all night." She dropped her voice. "Frank told me what happened, Eileen. Sounds like he went through hell and back."

"He did. At least when I was there. A lot happened before that, though. And, after…"

Rachael shook her head. "It was bad enough, afterward. Half of the building ended up here, for one thing or another, you know. If not for him, and for you…"

Silence. Eileen really didn't want to think about that.

Rachael patted her hand. "Don't worry, we're all taking good care of him."

"I know. Thank you."

"He's going to need a lot of help, though. More than we can give him here. He's being transferred to Brookhaven tomorrow."

"Brookhaven? That's a mental hospital!"

"Not all of it. But yes, he is going to the psychiatric ward," Rachael said, suddenly serious. "Eileen, he's got to go. You know better than anyone just what he went through that night. And none of us know what happened after he came back. Not yet. He hasn't said a word about any of it since he arrived. But if he's been through half of what the doctors suspect happened to him, there's no other option. He's got a long road ahead of him."

"But that's in Silent Hill! Isn't there anywhere else?"

"I know...it's the last place I'd want to send him, especially after what happened. But it's the only one around here. Please believe me. It's the best thing for him, and they'll take good care of him."

"It's just so hard to believe."

"I know. But it really is what he needs. You can see for yourself. But…"

"What?"

"Brace yourself. It's not pretty."

Eileen duly braced herself. She reached for the door, turned the knob and entered the room.

The large room was divided in two by glass or acrylic or something like it, with holes for air circulation at regular intervals along the top. In front of her, a brushed metal ledge ran across the glass with a single chair underneath. A door in the glass provided the only entry to the other side. She pulled out the chair as quietly as she could and lowered herself into it, resting her elbows on the ledge.

The counter and chair were repeated in the little room on the other side of the glass, which also held a metal sink and toilet and a bed that jutted out from the wall like a huge shelf. It also held a single occupant. He was seated on the edge of the hard metal bed with his arms resting on his thighs, looking out of the little barred window, which, Eileen calculated, overlooked the garden in the back. The long-sleeved hospital shirt and pants hung like curtains off of his bony frame; he was so narrow and thin that she only recognized him by the mop of brown hair and the red lines on his sunken cheeks. His white hands fidgeted restlessly, their fingers picking and scratching at each other. A single pillow was propped up against the wall at the end of the bed, unused.

"He's awake," she said to nobody in particular.

"Woke up just a few minutes ago," Nurse Rachael replied. "The doctor was surprised, but he said that we should keep from sedating him again unless it became necessary."

Eileen hadn't slept much the previous night. Whenever she had closed her eyes, all that she saw was the orange ooze running down the walls of 302 and crunching under her feet and bubbling like lava in the cuts on Henry's face…and then, that brief glimpse of him lying limp and sunken in Father Kelley's arms, and in her lap on the way to the hospital. Somehow, although she'd spent the whole night lying in bed with those images running through her head, she hadn't realized just how…what…

Her brain leapt from thought to thought as if trying to evade what was so plain in front of her.

That metal bed must hurt to sit on. I wonder if it's cold in there, it looks as though it might be. Those hospital clothes can't be very warm. How terrible, to have to wash up and everything without any privacy. He always seemed like such a private type. It all looks like a prison cell...like the ones we saw in the kids' prison...

It was at that moment that it hit her like a wrecking ball.

It was only a week…a week! But look at what's happened to him in just a week. He's a shadow of himself…no, not even that. Is he still the Henry I knew for those hours? Or is that Henry gone forever? Replaced by this shell? He doesn't even seem like he did when we got him out of there…now, he looks so lost…

Through hell and back twice. No, three times now. How much can one man take? What happened to him in that room? Is it too late?

You should have checked on him sooner. He saved your goddamn LIFE more times than you can count, and you couldn't even be bothered to make sure that he was OK. And look what's happened now. This is your fault, that he's like this. All your fault. If you'd given him half a thought, none of this would have happened. You shouldn't be here…

She was about to stand up to leave when his head turned to the glass. Under the single light over the bed, his eyes were dark holes, and she couldn't tell if they saw her. Then he stiffened in shock, and she knew that they did.

He sat very still for a moment, then stood up slowly, gradually unfolding himself. Henry was tall, Eileen remembered, around six feet or so. She wasn't sure exactly how tall he was, since his shoulders had slumped tiredly for most of the time that he wasn't shooting or swinging at something. Now, though…now he looked even longer and stretched-out, like an old rubber band.

He walked the few steps to the glass, shakily, and as he dropped into the chair she could almost hear his bones hitting the brushed steel. His fingers splayed across the counter, and his hands gripped its edge tightly. As he leaned forward, his face seemed as if it would split in two from the smile that stretched his cracked and peeling lips. His eyes stared at her from beneath his hair, two bright green circles in cavernous sockets.

Like death warmed over. I know what that means now.

Eileen didn't know where to begin. "Henry, I…"

"Eileen," he said low, as he lifted a hand to the glass. His voice was scratchy, and it came out as a croak. There were faint red lines on his palm. She hadn't seen them before, in his room, probably because of the other dirt and muck. She stared at the circular markings…they seemed familiar somehow, but she couldn't place them. The sleeve of his shirt fell back, and the muscles in his forearm slid like cords beneath the skin as he pressed against the window.

She put her hand to the glass opposite his. "It's good to see you," she blurted. He nodded, and kept staring at her as if mesmerized, still smiling. His cracked lip was starting to bleed. As she looked at him, she realized that his gaze was unfocused, and his smile was unearthly. Her eye slewed back to the red circle on his hand...was it glowing faintly now, or was that just a trick of the light?

His sunken eyes searched hers, and his lips parted. She strained to hear his whisper through the thick glass.

"Mother?"

Her blood turned to ice in an instant. She couldn't move. His chair fell to the floor as he jumped to his feet and scratched against the glass with his broken fingernails and pressed the knife-blade of his nose into it, never taking his eyes off of her. She could see now that both of his palms bore the bright red circles. His lips moved rapidly. The words were just a hiss...at first.

"..thermothermothermothermotherMOTHERMOTHERMOTHEEERRR!"

He was screaming, louder than she thought possible. His pupils were dilated now, enormous black holes ringed in green, and the whites of his eyes were red. Eileen shrank back into the chair. Somewhere behind her, she could hear Nurse Rachael paging the doctor.

"MOTHERRRRR-it's-her-she's-here-she's-here. Where...ARE...YOU?"

There were streaks of blood on the glass. It was running down his arm to his hand from the bandage where the bullet hole was. Still was. Had to be.

Henry…

His nose was still squashed against the glass, and he was whispering at her with an ungodly grin on his face.

"…mothermothermothermothermothermothermother…"

Then, he started to scream again, loud, raw, wordless screams. His bloody hand clenched and slammed into the glass, over and over again, and blood splattered onto the sleeve of his shirt and all over the glass.

Henry...oh my God!

"Miss Galvin, please step back."

Eileen stumbled away from the door. Rachael hurried into the room and pulled him away from the glass, and Henry's howling faded to a whisper.

"Mother…wheredidyougo…Ineedyouuuuu...don't leave me alone...please..."

He began to cry weakly. Rachael pressed a needle to his arm. Henry's whimpering died away into muttering and then into nothing as he sagged into her arms. She laid him on the metal bed, and his head lolled sideways. Then, she slipped the pillow under his head, straightened his shirt and wiped his face, and padded out of the room.

Eileen was speechless.

Rachael's eyes were full of sympathy. "It looks worse than it is. He's strong, honey. If he wasn't, he wouldn't have made it this far. None of us would." She sighed. "He's had a close call, but the worst is over."

Just then, Dr. Morgan came running down the hallway.

"Is he – "

"Sedated," Nurse Rachael said. "But he gave Miss Galvin a good scare." Her smile was weak.

Dr. Morgan turned to look into the room. Eileen saw his eyes linger for a moment on the splash of blood that was dripping down the inside of the partition. He turned to her.

"Are you OK?"

"Yeah," she said. "I'll be fine." Eventually.

Dr. Morgan stared at her critically, then nodded. "If you're sure. Like I said, he's in bad shape."

"He was calling for his mother," Nurse Rachael said. "Any idea why?"

Eileen shook her head. "No. But that was why Walter Sullivan…did what he did. He wanted his mother back. It's got to have something to do with that. I know it." She didn't want to say any more, not yet.

"…because my mommy loves me…"

Something was poking at her brain, some thought that refused to take shape no matter how hard she tried…

The doctor was talking. "He'll be OK, but it's going to take a long time."

And now I see why.

Eileen looked past the dripping blood, toward the hard metal bed. Now, he looked so peaceful, just lying there asleep…as if lost in a dream. But she knew that this dream was one that she couldn't enter, ever, no matter how much she wished she could. She would have given anything to do so.

Dreams…

"Henry…do you think that maybe…this is all a dream?" she'd asked as they rested on the burned-out steps of the orphanage in the forest.

His head snapped around. "What?"

"This. It's like some kind of nightmare…but everything seems so real…and you're here. It's the most real dream I've ever had. If it is a dream. I don't know." She shook her head.

"Yeah. I don't know what it is, either. But…" He stared off into the distance for a second or two. "If it's not a dream… what is it…"

"I wish we knew."

"It was a lie." There was an edge in his voice that puzzled her. "That's all I had for her. A weak, useless lie."

"What was?"

He turned back to her. His face was unreadable. That mask of his was back in place again, the one that he seemed to hide behind when he didn't want to talk about something. She had quickly grown to resent that in their short time together. He didn't have to hide from her. Why did he do that?

"Nothing," he said as he struggled to his feet. "You should stay here and rest. I'll be back as soon as I can."

She shook her head. "No, I'm OK. Let's get going."

He'd helped her up, and they'd trudged off in search of the next piece of the carved wooden doll…

It felt like a dream then. Still does. And now…it really wasn't a dream…I wish it had been.

"Do you think they'll let me visit?" I don't even need to talk to him. I don't deserve that. I just want to see him…

The doctor smiled. "You're the only person he's responded to in any way. I'm going to recommend it, and I don't think that they'll say no."