A/N: FINALLY. Sorry I took so long. Hopefully the length of this chapter will make up for it. And I'm also saying FINALLY for another reason as well. -wink wink-
Chapter Twenty One
Canines, Pyramids, and old women galore, Rose snapped back to attention as Cybil's voice invaded her ears, hard and domineering, yet within it a note of desperate pleading which seemed to suggest that for once she was truly out of ideas. The young mother wasn't sure she liked that fact—after all, it meant that she would have to do the quick thinking for the second time in only a few minutes—not to mention that her first attempt at an escape was what had led them into their current predicament as it were. Her hands and legs were scraped and bleeding, and Cybil's did not appear to be in much better condition; an ashen breeze sifted through the frayed locks of once blonde hair, and the suddenly reassuring pressure of Cybil's frame against her own gradually managed to calm her down to the point at which rational thought was capable.
A swift turning of her feminine physique aimed her in the direction of a particularly long section of what might have been railroad iron jutting out from the mass upon which they were uncomfortably settled for the time being; Cybil watched worriedly as the mother carefully picked her way across the surface of the rusted pile to place first one, then both, feet atop the ancient rail. The cop's mouth opened just slightly as she realized exactly what Rose was doing; the young mother, currently surveying the black mass of acid which clung to the path below, appeared to be measuring distance. Eyeing the canines and those with the Red Pyramid, the deputy tripped and scuttled her way over to stand behind Rose as quickly and as steadily as she could manage. Her whispered voice cut the air more sharply than the terrible roars of the beasts below.
"Rose—this is not a good idea."
Apparently, however, the woman had already made up her mind. She quite abruptly stepped back from about a meter from the end of the rail and clutched the cross on her necklace tightly, closing her eyes and tilting her head upward. Cybil was taken aback, having not truly viewed her friend as the religious type, for she herself was anything but; Rose finished her quiet prayer and turned to lock eyes with the cop, and to speak.
"We have no choice Cybil."
"Yes we do."
"Fine then. You do it your way and see how far you get."
The cop stared after the woman as she moved closer to the end of the rail once again, examining one last time the distance from its tip to the tar caked earth below. It was quite a drop, but nothing that would kill them—or so she hoped. They would need to make it beyond the black goop though, lest they fall into it and let its sticky hold disintegrate their bodies as it had Cybil's boot. The mother repeated her earlier actions, stepping back a meter and then two, and glanced at Cybil.
"Wait until I'm out before you come down after me," Rose instructed the cop sternly, the command odd seeing as it was coming from her. She'd never been one to take charge over Cybil's actions, but 'twas necessary at this point in time, she reasoned. The cop, however, did not seem keen to accept anything but being in charge.
"Wait a minute Rose—When you're out of what?" Cybil asked hurriedly, stepping up closer to the woman while being careful not to offset either of their balance. In the background, the snarls and slurps of canines filled the area.
Abruptly, the sound of shoes on iron rocketed through the chorus of friends and foes, and the cop watched in horror as her friend made a rather clumsy leap from the tip of the railroad iron; to her amazement, neither the Pyramid, the canines, or their human counterparts appeared to have seen the suicidal leap. After a few moments of what to Rose felt like weightlessness, the mother crashed to the earth with a sickening thud; her small frame log-rolled several times before coming to rest with her back against hard stone. She was dazed, and sore, and she probably shouldn't have moved, but she did so anyway. Lifting her head only just, she was able to see that she had completely missed the acidic tar which blocked the way for the canines and the others to reach her.
From atop the pile, Cybil saw the young mother set her head back against the ground once more, her chest heaving and struggling to catch her breath. The cop swore quietly to herself and then mirrored Rose's vault, though she was not so lucky as to miss the tar; her leather boots struck it first, and the sudden grip of the substance jerked her slim body into it, sinking first her left hip and then her left shoulder into the mass. She did her best not to cry out at the stinging sensation which nearly overwhelmed her, lest she be heard by the nearby entities. After all, she had no idea what they were capable of; perhaps the canines could easily jump over the acid, as she and Rose had tried to do. A final shifting of her weight resulted in her freeing herself from the sticky mess, and dragging herself out of its midst.
Rose rested a few meters away, still straining to breath, and the cop quickly realized that the worry she felt was unjustified; the poor mother had had nothing more than the wind knocked out of her. Ignoring the burning of the acid which still clung to her uniform and bare arms, the officer scurried over to her friend and positioned herself so that her face was where Rose could see it without turning her own. A firm hand was placed on her stomach, presumably so that the cop would be able to tell more precisely when her friend was properly able to breathe, and a cool but hurried voice filled the mother's ears.
"Exhale," she said quietly, though not so quiet as to not be heard over the sounds of the nearby entities. "You're hyperventilating."
It took a few moments, but the mother did eventually manage to get her breathing rating under control; Cybil helped her to her feet, instinctively glancing around for the foes she knew would eventually see them once they began moving. Her side still burned from the acid as it continued to peck away at her skin, but she didn't complain aloud, choosing rather to simply clench her teeth to the point at which Rose noticed and sucked in a quick gasp.
"Cybil!" she cried, suddenly swarming her friend with probing hands as she attempted to examine the extent of the damage. "Why the Hell can't you ever tell me when you're hurt!" She snatched the woman's arm and practically dragged her forward, noting the fact that the Red Pyramid had since rounded the bend that was the pile of metal from which they had just leapt, and his cranium was seemingly aimed in their direction. Galia, the miners, and the raggedy woman Dahlia moved with him, as he drove the canines to the edge of the black goop, around which they crowded, desperate to escape the six foot blade of the Pyramid, but not so desperate as to test the acid before them. A certain brunette's gaze suddenly locked onto that of Rose's, and the mother jump-started into motion.
"Come on!" she cried as she snatched Cybil's hand once again—not having realized she'd let go—and the two bolted side-by-side for shelter. In her pocket the syringe, which she had nearly forgotten was present there, pressed into her thigh—though the presence of the plastic cap on the point ensured it did not prick her. They rounded a corner and raced across the road to the side opposite that of the one which possessed the old rusty autos; Rose took note of the enormous sign proclaiming a misleading Welcome to Silent Hill, and released Cybil's gloved hand as the land beneath their feet grew considerably steeper. The mother ducked behind the sign and awaited Cybil, only a few steps behind.
"We need to get you cleaned up," Rose muttered softly, somewhat out of breath yet again. Cybil shook her head halfheartedly.
"I'll be okay. It's not bad."
"Well that black stuff should be washed off at least. I know what it feels like."
"Fine."
"There's a barber's shop not far from here. We'll just have to pray they have running water still."
"Praying doesn't seem to be of much use in this town."
"Don't mock religion, Cybil."
"Fine."
The two stared long and hard at one another before Rose turned and walked off in the direction of the town; the cop, fatigued, followed closely behind, limping somewhat as the burning moved down her legs and into her boots. She had to admit the mother was right—she did need to get the stuff off her uniform. At least the uniform was slowing the progress though.
The sound of the canines could still be heard in the far off distance, but 'twas steadily and surely fading as the two made their way through the ash coated brush located on the slope a good fifty feet down from the road. Cybil eventually moved up to walk beside her friend, still frustrated at her lack of a working gun, and instead carrying a large piece of metal she had picked up during their walk. Rose remained focused ever so intently on their destination, whilst Cybil kept an eye out for any approaching monstrosities. As she did so, she pondered aloud.
"I don't understand why that woman would have helped us if she only wanted to kill us later," the cop proclaimed with a frown, drawing Rose's attention back to her. "And what the Hell prompted Dahlia's sudden turnaround in attitude? She was all about 'saving' us the last time we were here, wasn't she?" The blonde turned to look at the mother, who pulled her eyes away before contact could be made, and focused them on the path once more.
"That plant thing must have told her what it told us. No doubt Dahlia wants out of here just as much, if not more, than we do," Rose replied cautiously, still not looking Cybil's way. "And now, knowing that, she's realized that if she kills me she can get out."
"But what about Galia? Why is she helping her?"
"I suspect they made a deal. That woman has influence over the survivors—she's be more than willing to help out anyone who thought they knew a way out of this—this..."
"Shit hole?" Cybil finished in a grumble. She shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose for a moment before speaking again. "Do you remember what Galia said back in the library? About the devil manifesting himself within you?"
Rose stopped and at last looked at her, remaining silent.
"What if that plant did something to you? What if that was the devil?"
"As far as I know, the devil doesn't assist people in evading him."
"The devil seems to run this place, Da Silva. Why wouldn't it be a possibility?"
To this, Rose had no preconceived answer; instead she simply began walking again, spotting their destination only a few hundred feet ahead. Her pace quickened; Cybil bit her tongue as another wave of burning washed over her. Before they reached it, Cybil reached out and gripped her friend's shoulder.
"She said you'd become a whole demon, Rose. If you have, it would explain why they're trailing us."
"I'm under the impression that the phrase 'whole demon' meant I'd look like one of those…things," responded the young mother, shuddering lightly as a sudden breeze swept over them both. Glancing swiftly upward, both women laid eyes on a creature of enormous size and, much to their horror, wingspan; swooping down, and with a haunting wail, the beastly creature ejected two bird-like feet to which were attached six inch talons. Cybil instantaneously shoved Rose through the ancient door of the barber's shop; one talon grazed her shoulder, but succeeded only in slicing her uniform rather than her skin. Slamming the door shut behind them, the cop collapsed to the floor alongside Rose, both breathing hard, and listening to the horrid screeching of the beast of air.
Rose was the first to recover.
"Well that's new."
Cybil glared at her as she sat up, pinching the bridge of her nose with her gloved fingers once again, resulting in a curious glance from the blonde mother.
"C'mon. There's got to be some towels or something here I can use."
"I'll try the water," offered the lady deputy, more for the knowledge that it would give her something to do, rather than actually wanting to help. Whilst Rose combed the dirtied floor and cupboards for cloth, Cybil made her way over to one of the old sinks in which customers would have washed their hair. Examining the numerous faucets, she found one that looked as if it were in relatively good working order, and reached out to turn the knob. Hesitating before making contact, she half expected some sort of demonic transformation to occur when she did finally touch it and shift it to the Hot position.
Nothing happened, but before she turned away, a single drop of water fell from within the faucet, followed by a trail of what appeared to be the same black substance which was still proceeding to eat away at the officer's flesh. Yet she knew otherwise only a few moments later when the substance didn't sizzle or hiss upon touching the inside surface of the sink. Rose returned with a stained white washcloth and stood behind the cop to watch over her shoulder as the black goop suddenly stopped falling from the faucet. There was a moment of nothingness, and then quite abruptly a surge of brown, rust-tainted, water.
Both women jumped backward as the spray hit them, the noise loud but at the same time welcome; a brilliant laugh escaped the mother as she wiped the grimy liquid from her face, watching as it gradually cleared until 'twas almost taking the appearance of normal tap water. Cybil moved towards the spray and turned the knob the opposite direction so as to slow the stream, and then was brushed aside when Rose moved to fill a small bucket with the liquid. When the cop sent a questioning glance, the woman responded, "Don't know how long this'll last. It's better to fill up than to let run out."
Nodding, the cop glanced out the window of the shop and skyward, scanning for any sign of the flighty creature that had tried to attack them earlier. She noted the presence of curtains pulled back from the window, and quickly moved to pull them shut, if only for peace of mind; she didn't want anything to know of she and Rose's presence there. She turned around to spot Rose dragging a rather flimsy looking stool in her direction, and she realized after a moment that she was being instructed to sit on it. Doing so cautiously, for fear of the bedraggled frame crunching into pieces beneath even her own light mass.
"Do you think it's possible for you to get rid of that shirt?" Rose asked with a chuckle, to which Cybil responded by way of a surprised expression which then melted into one of understanding. Rose clarified anyway as the buttons of the sheriff's blue blouse were undone by gloved fingertips. "It'll be easier without it."
Having removed the top, Cybil's hands made to unclasp the back buckle of her bra, for she knew Rose would ask for her to remove it eventually as well, seeing as the majority of her left side—including areas of her chest—were covered in blisters and sores from the acid's presence. She folded her arms 'round to protect whatever amount of her dignity she still possessed, shielding her breasts from the other woman's view. Her face grew red; though she was doing so only for the purpose of assistance, the young cop had not exposed herself in such a manner to another in over a decade. Rose dipped the cloth in the lukewarm water, wringing it out before dabbing it carefully first onto her friend's shoulder.
"You know," she commented as she wiped away the substance, "You don't have anything to hide that I haven't seen before."
Muttering something indecipherable, Cybil was caught off guard when the mother gripped her lower left arm and pulled it from it's shielding position against her chest, dipping the cloth into the water once again, and allowing it to run over the angry marks on the skin. Unintentionally catching the young mother's cerulean eye, Cybil blinked and snapped her gaze to the floor, wincing as the water hit a particularly sensitive sore.
"Good Lord Cybil—Are you aware this stuff was dripping down your side too? You're going to need to take care of your lower half by yourself."
Without thinking, the cop blurted out, "Why not you?"
Blinking and pausing for a moment, Rose raised her eyebrow and dipped the cloth in the bucket once again. "Very well then. Strip it."
Realizing just what she had done, the cop narrowed her eyes and stood up, making to snatch the cloth and move to another area of the shop where she could indeed tend to her own injuries; Rose however, pulled the object away before she could succeed, and chuckled.
"Come on now," she said, her smile fading. "You know I only mean to help."
For a long moment the lady deputy simply gazed at her friend, violet and cerulean blending into one brilliant shade of blue; she frowned severely, and eyed the old version of a sectional couch which lined the side wall of the shop, no doubt arranged with the purpose of seating customers whilst they awaited service; hesitantly she made her way to sit on the moth-eaten cushions, still feeling far beyond overly exposed. She glanced in Rose's direction as she sat down, reluctantly making to undo the button and zipper of her precious leather pants; noting the discomfort of her friend, Rose turned her back as Cybil undressed, hearing the sound of a cupboard opening and closing which signaled she had retrieved something from within them.
"All set," came the lady deputy's voice a moment past, stern and misleadingly unconcerned, and Rose rounded on her slowly, giving her ample time to change her mind. Alas, she realized with a chuckle, there was no need for mind changing—the woman had found an extra towel and cloaked the majority of her body within its stained material, leaving only the necessary areas open for viewing. The cop herself seemed surprised at the extent of the damage done, for she spent a moment or so leaning over to examine herself prior to Rose's soon to come repetitive actions.
Shaking her head, the mother moved swiftly and purposefully to sit beside her friend, bringing the bucket and the cloth along with her. Wasting no time, she dipped the decaying fabric into the water and withdrew it almost instantaneously to place it upon the singed flesh of the other woman's hip.
She hissed and pulled away, more bothered by the cloth's touch on the more sensitive skin, but Rose reacted by second nature and snatched her bare knee in ash coated palms to prevent her from moving too much again. Violet eyes were seen to make an equally swift snapping motion to the bare flesh upon which the young mother's hand unthinkingly but comfortably rested; the same eyes watched apprehensively as her friend went to work on her thigh, sopping up all the dried blood which had leaked out between the acidic coating, along with the coating itself; the officer couldn't help but be suddenly fascinated by the woman's hands. She admired their shapely design and feminine qualities; she admired their inherent strength and their apparent sense of duty…and realized with a jolt that whilst she had been staring and pondering, the hands had ceased movement. She shook her head and looked up.
"It's not as clean as it should be, but it'll keep you going for a while."
"That's it?"
The mother, having stood up, made a strange face as she turned.
"I can only do so much Cybil. What did you expect?"
Blinking and shooting her eyes to the floorboards, Cybil narrowed them and muttered, "Nothing." A moment's pause. "I guess I thought it would take longer."
Tossing the cloth into the bucket, Rose bent down to pick up the partially burned uniform top, and then sat down on the couch again, scrutinizing the blackened fabric. Cybil subconsciously glanced at her pants which lay out of her reach. Maybe if she sat there long enough, Rose would get them for her and she wouldn't have to move.
"I could've taken longer," Rose said calmly, suddenly thinking of Sharon for an unexplained reason. She forced her attention back to the present. "But you were so red I thought you might overheat or something."
Cybil smiled in half embarrassment, not entirely sure she liked the idea of Rose mentioning such fact, but she nonetheless let it go.
"Sorry," she said as she turned her gaze away. "I haven't—well, not in a long time, anyway—" Trailing off, she moved her eyes so as to stare at the curtains covering the window, wondering to herself if there were any foes beyond her range of sight. After another minute or so of silence, her gaze fell on the mother's downcast face. "We should get some rest."
"Yes. Rest. That sounds good."
"You can have the couch."
"I don't have to take the whole thing you know."
"One of us has to keep watch anyway Rose. Just get some sleep."
Cerulean eyes met violet as the young mother watched the other woman try to give orders with naught but a towel shielding her from view; it was only partially welcome to Rose, for whilst she was greatly appreciative of the cop's stern, no-nonsense, demeanor, she found also that she rather liked the idea that someone as hard as Cybil Bennett could also have a softer, more human, side to her persona. The ancient towel rippled as the lady deputy bent to pick up the precious black leather coverings which would soon be placed over the marred skin of the left side which Rose had helped to clean; she noted the heavy curves seemingly accentuated by the thin coverings of the fabric. She half wondered if the roughened exterior Cybil had displayed on virtually every occasion during which she and Rose had spoken was the reality beneath the coverings of the towel. A simple slip of the cloth and she might be able to find out.
Parting her lips slightly with the realization of just where her mind was straying, dirty blonde locks swung through the air and brushed against the face closest to them as Rose shook her head defiantly to herself; Cybil squeezed into the pants, her back turned, and then with the towel still wrapped about her upper potions, made to pick up her bra and to take the uniform top from the armrest of the couch next to Rose. She slipped both on, sparing two buttons upon putting on the uniform, and allowed a light smile to creep across her features when she spied Rose shuffling about into a presumably more comfortable position on the couch. Her knees were drawn up towards her chest, and her arms tucked up under her chin; long lashed lids flickered shut, but the irises beneath still moved.
The cop, watching from a distance of six or so feet away, started to roll the towel up but seemed to have thought better of it. Her heeled leather boots sounded, causing Rose to open her eyes and lift her head up with a worried expression written across her features; Cybil stopped for a brief instant, as if frozen by her friend's vision, but then continued toward her. Letting the towel drop to its full, stained, length once again, she placed it over her friend. Although she knew it would do nothing in the way of providing any extra comfort, 'twas the gesture itself which earned her a hesitant but faintly genuine smile from the young blonde haired mother.
Turning away, the sound of footsteps could be heard once again if only to imply that Cybil was currently making her way up to the window of the shop; the light creak of gloved hands preceded the motion of the curtains being pulled only slightly out of the way so as to allow violet irises to view the surrounding area. Seeing no sign of danger, she carefully placed the curtains back to their original position, ensuring that any creatures which might have been lurking beyond her sight did not spot the sudden movement. Rose had since moved to prop herself up on one elbow, and apparently possessed insight as to the officer's inherent weariness.
"Will you get over here?" the mother insisted, sounding fatigued herself.
Cybil slanted her eyebrows in a worried fashion.
"Without you I'll never do anybody any good," Rose added.
A true smile split the blonde's face, but she made sure to give a well timed roll of her eyes before sitting down at the other end of the couch. Mimicking Rose's position, she pulled her legs up onto the decaying cushions and gratefully laid her head upon the armrest. The exhaustion she felt quite suddenly and very nearly overwhelmed her, and unwilling though she was, her body immediately sagged into the softness of the couch, begging for sleep. A rare peace had overcome them both, and while the time would have been ideal for the rest which the lady deputy had intended them, she found she could not do so in knowing that there was no soul to watch over her dearest friend.
Sitting up, the blonde checked for shadows through the thin curtains over the window, and then lowered her gaze to find that of the young Rose. Her face was smudged with dirt and ash, and without speaking a word, the cop got to her feet, retrieved the washcloth from the bucket of water, and carried it over to her friend.
"Hold still," she demanded calmly, to which Rose responded by way of a narrowing of the eyes and a slight shifting of her position into one of a more upright stance; Cybil instantly placed her free hand roughly on the other woman's shoulder, forcing her backside against the back of the couch, making certain that she had made her point. Rose, abruptly reminded of the fact that Cybil Bennett was indeed an officer of the law, and of the fact that she was therefore more powerful in physicality than she herself, chose to behave. She was surprised when the sensation of water and fabric crossed her face, but realized after a moment of thought that the cop was obsessing over cleanliness herself now; a few seconds past and Rose Da Silva's face was cleared of ashen scars, and the cloth had been tossed back into the bucket a second time.
Locking eyes for a brief instant, the Da Silva woman took in the depth of what she was able to see of her friend's emotions, and reasoned with herself about just what they meant. She understood that there was a helpful partnership between the two, but after so many incidents, Rose was certain there was something more. To make matters worse, her mind was rushing her, for she knew there probably wouldn't be a second chance to simply engage herself in the moment and enjoy what she was given in return; with a jolt she realized that Cybil seemed to be reading just as much into her own thoughts as they sat there, perfectly content with one another in one instant, and then utterly lost in a surge of emotion the next.
A quaint and desperate crushing together of two pairs of chapped lips erased all lack of certainty either had felt previously; Rose found herself being pressed rather forcefully into the back of the couch as her friend and unrecognized crush moved to her right side, sliding her down so that she was laying on her back. Gloved hands traveled the length of her body and back again, insistent and determined but nevertheless astonishingly gentle in their administrations. They reached for the base of one half-destroyed blouse, not bothering to undo the buttons but rather to slide the wretched thing up and over the housewife's head. Surprisingly eager to aide in whatever way she could, Rose wriggled her hands and arms up so as to make the removal easier, and then went to work on the buttons of the god forsaken uniform of blue which hovered above her.
As Cybil proceeded to unclasp the front of her friend's bra, Rose succeeded in removing the blouse and the bra beneath, to which Cybil reacted by way of an immediate shrinking back and a concealment of her unmentionables. She ceased in her movements, as if suddenly aware of just what she was getting herself into; Rose's breathing was slightly ragged as she tried to slow her heart rate. With eyes soft but narrowed, she cautiously reached upward to grip the cop's forearm as she had done for the cleaning and pulled it, not especially easily, out of the way. Calm fingertips traced the area surrounding the full breasts, her eyes refusing to make contact with the woman she touched; not soon after she felt the telltale warning of leather slipping 'neath the waistline of her jeans, though she did not pull away at the contact as the officer had.
Lower coverings and undergarments removed, the young mother realized with a start that she was now completely nude and lying beneath the one person she would never have suspected would actually agree to take such actions as she was now. She'd remained faithful to her husband for nearly a decade, and now here she was throwing it all away for a fit of passion which she would most likely regret come the following day. What was she doing? She didn't know, and right about then, she really didn't care, and instead reached for the zipper of the leather pants, only to feel the woman hesitate and pull away a second time.
"Play fair Cybil," came the soft voice of a mother so aching for happiness in a world so dead; cerulean settled on violet and she fingered the smooth leather. "Your turn."
Emotions swarmed the blonde officer as she quaked under the slightest grazing of Rose's fingertips across her stomach; every inch of her being was screaming at her to pull out now, to not ruin the beauty of the friendship which had so marked their journey to this horrid land of ashen desolation, to hide from nearly a decade of not having been touched. She wasn't ready for this, but she sure as Hell didn't want to stop it and risk hurting the Da Silva woman; a nervous exhalation of breath accompanied the creaking of leather pants sliding down scarred legs, and Cybil Bennett came to understand that while she was embarrassed, Rose Da Silva was absolutely terrified.
"You've never done this before, have you Rose?"
The mother stilled.
"Not…with a woman."
"Neither have I."
"You don't act like it."
"It's my job to feign confidence Rose."
"Well you've done a pretty damn good job of it."
"I haven't…been…with anyone in years."
"Cybil?"
"Yeah?"
"You're really not helping."
One gloved hand seemed to have a psychic understand of precisely where to find home in the moments following their brief conversational interlude; within seconds the woman pinned to the surface of the ancient couch gasped and writhed. What shocked the blonde haired officer most was that her friend's fear was becoming steadily more intense, or so it would seem; trembling from head to foot and apparently unable to calm herself, the seas unleashed tiny trickling tears which paraded down the sides of Rose's face and onto the cushions. A rhythmic pressure began to radiate from the core at which Cybil's hand was located, and the free hand carefully wiped into nonexistence the sweat and tear-plastered strands of hair which had dared to cross into the mother's eyes; at last a turning of the head resulted in the forging together of two pairs of eyes, violet to blue, blue to violet, sea to the evening sky above it; the cop placed a soft caress onto the pained mother's collarbone and then onto her lips once more, relishing in the flavor of sweet Rose as the first of many consummations arose.
From a distance, a shadow watched two of its own blacknesses sin behind the protection of the curtains.