Chapter 24: "To the Deepest Part of Him"

When I woke up, the first thing I did was look around to find that Eileen was gone. I don't know where I expected her to be, but on the bed next to me seemed the most logical place (however awkward that might have been) if only because I thought I was holding her hand the entire time.

I stood up and almost immediately I heard a crash coming from the living room. As soon as I went out there, I noticed that the air felt … heavy. Oppressive. It was almost as if just staying here too long would give me a headache. I looked down to find that the ceiling fan had fallen and lay broken on the floor, against the newly mauled coffee table that it had apparently hit on the way down.

Then I looked up and found that a few more sheets of red paper were next to the bookcase in the living room. I stepped over the fan and picked up the first one:

The weather that day was very strange. Even though I avoided the earlier storm, there was a thick fog clinging to everything. Fortunately, that allowed me to avoid being seen and get right to work. The police are still stubbornly acting as if it's just a copycat case. So I figured things probably hadn't been touched here. But I was wrong. I should have come here sooner.

The cemetery was in such bad condition that it was almost sad. The storm must have raised the sea level. Anyway, that's how it was when I found Walter Sullivan's grave.

At this point, the page was too damaged to read, but there was more that I could make out below:

I'm still in shock. There was no body in the grave … and on top of that, written on the coffin were the numbers "11/21" … - June 14

I had seen that grave, it was in the forest, near Wish House. So that was Walter Sullivan's grave … and it had numbers on the coffin, not unlike the numbers on his victims.

I had some strange ideas forming in my head as to what the significance of these particular numbers were ("That's no kid, it's the 11121 man") but I wasn't quite ready to seriously consider any of them, so I went to the second page:

How long has it been since I left this room? I can't tell if it's been days or hours. But during that time, they've found the body of "14/21".

I've been having hallucinations lately. I think I'm losing my mind.

This one had no date written on it. I hated reading these notes, the ones where Joseph lamented about the horrors he went through—it scared the hell out of me. I sighed, and went on to the next note:

Walter Sullivan did kill himself. He died in his prison cell of blood loss after he stabbed himself in the neck with his spoon. His body was buried in a cemetery just outside his hometown of Silent Hill in an unmarked grave. After that, his name became famous all over the world and it looked like his string of mass murders was finished at 10 out of 21.

But 3 years later, they found a corpse that had "12/21" carved into it. The corpse was from 6 months earlier. In other words, the person was killed two and a half years after Sullivan committed suicide. The MO was exactly the same as Sullivan's … except for one thing: all 10 of Sullivan's victims were found with their hearts cut out and their chest wounds sewn together expertly with thread. On the other hand, the "12/21" victim still had their heart.

Naturally the police think it's a copycat and are proceeding on that basis. But they haven't made any progress and recently discovered victim number 13. This corpse also had their heart intact. The police still haven't identified a suspect.

I've got a working hypothesis. Very few people knew the details of the original crimes and would be able to copy Sullivan's MO so precisely. First, I'll head to Silent Hill. To the graveyard near that beautiful little lake. Maybe I'll find the answer there. - June 11

Although I had read the notes out of sequence, things were still starting to come together … somewhat. After all that I'd been through and seen lately, it was hard to discount the idea of Walter Sullivan coming back from the dead to continue his mission, as horrifying as that idea was.

And if that was true …

"… the boy protected me from the man in the coat …"

… then the man in the blue coat that I kept seeing would have to be …

"… Walter Sullivan," I whispered in horror.

Somehow I think I'd always had a vague feeling that it was him, possibly even when I first saw him outside of Eileen's room, but I didn't have any information to back it up at the time—all I knew was that he was dangerous, somehow, and not to be trusted, which was later confirmed by the little episode in the hospital.

Having still not found any sign of Eileen, I turned around and saw something under the front door. I went to it quickly, hoping that Joseph might have some kind of answer for me. This time, it was a red envelope that had a small key and a note inside:

You've seen that world as well … that horrible nightmare. But if you get sucked into it, it's not just a nightmare. Don't get lost in there. If you get pulled in, you'll be killed.

But there's still hope. Maybe this small key will guide you. If you've seen the door with the placard set in it, look on the other side of the door. Then keep going down. To the deepest part of him. And look for the ultimate Truth. - July 20 –Joseph

"Thanks again, Joseph," I muttered with a sigh of relief. I didn't know what the key was for, exactly, but I figured that it must unlock some door in the hospital. Eileen was probably still there as well.

Without hesitating, I dropped off the items I didn't need anymore, and went through the hole in the laundry room.

I awoke, back in the washroom of the hospital. I must have inadvertently made a noise as I was standing.

"Henry!" Eileen turned and greeted me with a relieved smile. Such a welcoming sight.

I returned it—the first time I'd smiled since I could remember—as she ran up and threw her arm around my neck and hugged me tightly. I wished I could have appreciated it more, but not being used to human contact these days, I just tensed up and stammered, "Haaave ... you b-been here the whole time?"

"Yeah," she said, as she pulled away, "and I didn't see any hole, either. You just … disappeared, all of a sudden!" She was so frustrated, she was nearly in hysterics.

I sighed. It seemed that every time I thought I'd found a possible way out of a situation, a roadblock came up at the last second.

"I can't stay here by myself," she said, panicking, "I'll be cursed … I know it! What am I gonna do?"

If I couldn't stash her someplace safe, then I'd have to take her with me … not that I really knew where I was ultimately going. Then I remembered the key I had just gotten. "I might know a way to save you," I said, folding my arms, thoughtfully. "Do you know about someone named Joseph?" I spoke slowly this time, careful not to blurt everything out as I had earlier.

"Yeah …" she said, walking carefully to the other end of the room and leaning with her side against the wall, "He was the guy who … lived in your apartment before you. I think he was a journalist or something." She turned so her back was against the wall. "He disappeared about six months before you moved in. But toward the end … he started acting really weird …"

"Yeah," I interrupted, "he was doing an investigation … about a religious cult and a man named Walter Sullivan." I paused and tried to find the best way to word this. "I got this … letter from him. He told me to go down … 'down to the deepest part of him' … and find the 'ultimate truth'."

She had pushed away from the wall and was listening intently, shaking her head slowly. I can only imagine how strange it sounded—the fact that I was getting letters from Joseph, the guy who up and disappeared two and a half years ago—but she seemed to be taking everything in alright.

"Let's do that," I continued with determination, "There must be something down there."

She paused for a moment—not quite sure what to make of all I had told her, I'm sure—then nodded. "Okay, I'll do it. You're the only chance I've got," she said with a nervous smile, "I'll stick with you."

We left the room, and on impulse, I decided to try the elevator again, if only because I knew that the key I'd gotten from Joseph would be too small to fit in a normal door lock, so I had to think of an unusual place to try it.

Sure enough, since the elevator was on the second floor, it revealed a gate that had a latch with a very small keyhole in it. I took the key out of my pocket and it was a match.

Beyond the gate was a very long stairway, at the bottom of which I saw shapes moving. As we walked further, I realized that they were more Patients … three, this time.

"Oh, God …" I muttered, as I pulled out the pistol.

Shooting from a distance was much less effective than shooting up close—I could have guessed that before even trying it—but, knowing that I could be overwhelmed by two of these things, I wasn't about to let three of them anywhere near me. Fortunately, thanks to my luck in finding a lot of ammo, and my attempt to conserve it as much as possible, I had a lot to spare. More bullets hit their targets than missed them, but not by much.

Whenever one of the creatures fell, they would tumble down the stairs and lay stunned at the bottom. I figured that whatever time I took to finish one off would just give the others more time to recover, so I opted to simply step over the bodies quickly, and helped Eileen do the same.

Although she was quiet about it, I could see on her face how disturbed she was by everything. I could only imagine what she was thinking about me and how nonchalant I probably seemed about all this. Hell, even I don't know what to make of that—I guess you can't know what level of calmness you'll have in a situation until you're forced into it.

No, I was giving myself a little too much credit—I was calm because I'd become desensitized … and I wasn't sure how I felt about the idea of that happening to Eileen.

At the bottom of the stairway was a grey door that I recognized, having seen others like it in the various worlds—it had the same design as the holes I'd been using to go back and forth between these worlds and my apartment. But unlike the other doors, this one was unlocked.

We went through the door and the outside area was so foggy that I could barely see five feet in front of me. I held out my hand, and Eileen took it—I didn't expect to be separated from her here, but the thick fog made me not want to chance it.

We were on a winding, declining walkway that was made of concrete and brick, and lined with intermittent chainlink fences. And this place wasn't merely uninviting, but frightening as well, I realized, as Eileen gasped at something to the left.

I turned to see a body hung high above the abyss that was within the spiral of the walkway—it was a woman whose arms were bound behind her back and she had many sharp objects inserted into her abdomen. I couldn't help but remember that I'd seen Walter fiddling with a female corpse in the hospital and doing something to her abdomen, and I shivered, wondering what this obsession was about. Surely he had some sort of issues with women, as the way he'd killed Cynthia and attempted to kill Eileen was generally more violent than the methods he'd used against his male victims. But I had no idea why, or even if I wanted to know.

"This is a nightmare," Eileen whimpered, "It can't be happening."

I blinked and had to swallow a lump in my throat when I heard this. I hadn't really thought about Cynthia in awhile, but what Eileen said reminded me of her insistence that she was dreaming. I didn't know what to say in response—reminding her that it wasn't a dream would be cold, not to mention unnecessary, but nothing was to be gained by lying to her and saying that it was. In Cynthia's case, it was comforting words as she was dying, but I wasn't going to let Eileen suffer the same fate. I just looked at her and squeezed her hand tighter for a moment, hoping it'd give her at least some comfort to remind her that I was there for her.

She returned with a sad, but appreciative look.