"Fiction is the truth inside the lie."

~Stephen King

Nineteen

It might have been strange for Will to be thankful at hearing gunshots ringing somewhere else in the station, but it provided a necessary distraction. The interrogation had begun to border on the unexplainable, or at the very least, the unbelievable. There was not too much Will could have said to the detective that would have gotten him set free, especially since he slammed that book onto the table. His options were to go into a lengthy diatribe about the meaning of said book and the lore from his town's history, or to just ask for a lawyer and shut his mouth. The problem with the latter option was that no lawyer would be sent and paid for, so he would probably wind up with some inept public defender, whom he would not have ever been able to be honest with. He let out a long breath when Rutledge left the room to check on the gunshots.

He spent the first minute of solitude just staring at the book across the table from him. Will's hands had been left uncuffed, so he was free to grab it, but he had no desire to even touch the thing. Considering that he never owned a copy of the book …hell, he had never even seen a copy of it in person…the gears in his mind were running at full speed as to where it could have come from. Was the genuine article? The only person he had seen in the last couple of years that would have even known what this is would have been Horace Fuller. Had he planted the book in Will's room? To what end? And would Horace have even wanted to be anywhere near this thing? Of course, all these questions were based under the assumption that this was legitimate. By Rutledge's own admission, he tried to read from it. From the stories that he was told in his youth, speaking aloud anything would bring about unspeakable horrors. Things like what he had seen when he was supposedly in a coma.
Another gunshot rang out through the building, somewhere outside of the drab, square room which Will currently occupied. He finally got to his feet and tried the door, only to find it locked. The center of the room held a metal table and two chairs, all of which were bolted to the floor. There was a mirror along the left wall, no doubt two way and with thick glass that Will would not be able to break through without a heavy object or weapon. The only other object in the room was a small wastebasket which contained an empty cigarette package and a crushed Styrofoam cup. None of these things helped him.

"What's the plan now, boss?"

Will turned to the far corner to see his former roommate Teddy, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets. His posture was carefree, but his brows were lowered, eyes staring directly into Will, which was made all the more possible by the fact that he was, for lack of a better term, a ghost. The sight of him, with the hem of his shirt torn, ripped off in places and dried blood staining his face and matted in his hair, still gave Will pause, even though he knew that his own psyche was playing tricks on him. At least, that's what he hoped was happening.

"I'm not your boss," Will muttered, kneeling down to look under the table for anything of use, "I don't even know why I'm responding."

"Do you want me to answer that?" Teddy asked. "Maybe you're feeling guilty for my death? After all, horrible shit does seem to follow you wherever you go lately."

Will stood back up, his search ending up fruitless. He knew there was a part of Teddy that was right because it was a struggle to even look at him. It took an effort, but he finally did, only to be met by the same piercing stare he saw prior.

"I tried to save you," Will responded as he walked around the table, "I tried to get us out of there. Those things that got you weren't my doing. I'm in the dark to what's going on, just like you and everyone else."

The left corner of Teddy's lips curled up somewhere between a smirk and a sneer. "We both know that's not entirely true. I can't help but wonder what's in that book that makes you so afraid."

Will shot a glance towards the table again, half expecting it have moved or vanished. It remained though; physically a pound but the weight of its presence was making Will uncomfortable, as if the room's walls were slowly closing in. He didn't want to admit that he was afraid of it. There is nothing in this world to fear, so long as you have faith. How many times had he heard that when he was younger? It was a mantra drilled into all the children's minds when he was a kid at school, a school that was vastly different than the college he attended as an adult. But it was all a fable, wasn't it? He was told of the book and the consequences that it brought, but surely that was to reinforce the way of life. A simple life of hard work and prayer, not unlike the Amish that he had read about later, except with modern utilities. When he was given the task to come to Clearview, wasn't he just to earn money so that the town continued to thrive?

"Looks like we've got company." Teddy quipped.

It came at an opportune time, as Will no longer had any desire to be alone with his thoughts. After a loud click, the doorknob twisted, and the door was pulled outward. At first there was nobody there in the doorway, but then Jeff came stumbling in, pulling the door as he entered so that it was now open just a crack. The college kid who served as a subordinate to Will was doubled over and panting, hands resting on his knees.

"Yo dude," Jeff started, nervously laughing as he tried to regain his composure, "I dunno what kind of crazy shit you got goin' on, but it almost got me killed. C'mon let's split."

Will looked past Jeff out in the hallway to see a layer of fog hanging about a foot or two above the ground. Glancing back to Teddy, he found that his deceased friend had disappeared again. Of course he had, Will said to himself. He was never there to begin with, not really. Turning his attention back to Jeff, who was now standing fully erect with pleading, wild eyes, Will was hesitant to go anywhere with him. He looked strung out.

"What's going on out there?" Will asked.

Jeff chuckled again, rolling his shoulders into a shrug. "Armageddon? Alien invasion? You tell me, boss."

Jeff emphasized the word boss in a way that Will did not like. After a long look past him to the fog outside, and the shouts that were coming from somewhere else in the station, Will glanced at the book once more. It couldn't have been the cause, right? If he kept telling himself that maybe it would be true.

"I don't know," Will said, finally tearing his eyes away and looking back up to the strung-out kid, "maybe you should just get out of here Jeff. I'll find my own way, thanks for opening the door."

Will took one step before Jeff pulled out a gun. He aimed it at Will's chest, shaking his head vehemently.

"No, no, no," Jeff started, "deal is that I get you out of the station. Then I get mine, ya feel me? So again, let's go, boss, before one of those things gets us."

With an exasperated sigh, Will walked around the table to Jeff, holding his hands up shoulder level to show that he would come along peacefully. He didn't think the kid would actually shoot him, but who knew if he was on Pure, or anything else for that matter which might cause an itchy trigger finger. Will stopped for a moment at the table to regard the book before scooping it up and quickly tucking it away into his inside jacket pocket. As much as he wanted to leave it here, he could not risk anyone else getting their hands on it.

"What things?" Will asked as he left the room, following Jeff's gun motion to go to the right. He hesitantly raised his foot above the fog level and dipped it in, like someone checking the temperature in a pool before taking the plunge. He looked around the hallway to find it deserted, only hearing panicked voices from a few rooms behind him.

"Yeah, like you don't know." Jeff responded, lightly jabbing the gun into Will's ribs. He cowered a little under Will's glare, but his bravery came right back after realizing what he held in his hand. Will shook his head and started walking towards the back. "Don't know what you got planned, but he said I'd be safe as long as I brought you out."

Will stopped for a moment, then proceeded down the hallway and around the corner after seeing the gun raised up to his eyes. "He? Just exactly who are you taking me to, Jeff?" It was a short walk to the emergency exit door in the back of the station, which did not give Will much time to think. Still, he had a good idea who was behind this. He was being led out of the station, so there were not going to be any cops on the other side of the door.

When he pushed the door open, his thoughts and fears were confirmed. The fog had cleared somewhat since he was last outside, the layer that had hovered above the ground inside was not present out here. He still couldn't see much beyond about twenty feet, but half that distance away stood Horace Fuller, waiting with a smug grin. Will noticed that Fuller had shed the garb that he typically wore when meeting him, replacing the dreary overcoat with attire that was Will was intimately familiar with. Nobody outside of Silent Hill would have recognized the ceremonial brown robe, much like a monk would wear, complete with a hood which was currently hanging off to show an almost perfectly bald head. His beard had been trimmed since the last time Will saw him; Horace had cleaned himself up for the occasion. Jeff closed the door behind them and propped a piece of metal rebar up so that it would be impossible for anyone to follow.

"I have to admit," Horace began, "when I approached you about getting Will out, I was a little skeptical that you would get the job done. Despite everything going on, I would say you performed very well, Mr. Traber."

"Yeah, yeah, sure thing, pops," Jeff responded, pocketing the gun, and charging past Will towards Horace, his hand out, palm up, "time to pay up."

Horace furrowed his brow at Jeff, staring at the younger man for a beat. His eyes darted down to the open hand in front of him, which was now wavering, as any confidence that Jeff displayed with his initial demand was quickly dissipating. Will knew that Horace was not the most genial person to begin with, but considering the circumstances, he hoped that the man would just speed things along. He needed some answers, and he was tired of waiting. There was also the unanswered question as to just what was going on in that station. Suddenly, Horace broke the tension by doing something that Will had never seen or even thought he would do. The man laughed, big and hearty, and rooted through the pockets on his robe.

"Fair enough. Well said, Mr. Traber."

Horace produced two film canisters, followed by a third and handed them over to Jeff. The addict snatched them, eyeing them as if they were precious gems in his hands. A big grin broke out and stretched across his face, followed by a fit of nervous laughter. He looked around as he placed them in one of the leg pockets of his light brown cargo pants, perhaps out of instinct as there was nobody around and no way anyone other than Horace or Will would have seen him anyway through the ever-present fog. Or maybe he was looking around for whatever lurked behind the ominous shroud.

Horace's eyes turned from Jeff to Will, and it wasn't long before any good humor was erased from the man's countenance. He let out a big sigh, slowly shaking his head back and forth as he took a few steps towards Will, stopping just next to Jeff.

"Yo man," Jeff began, his hand shooting down to protect his new stash, "I know the deal was only gettin' our man out here, but you gotta get me outta here. Those things in there…"

No matter what his feelings were for the kid, Will would have warned him if he saw it coming. Within the space of two seconds, Horace procured a knife with his right hand from somewhere inside the robe, brought his left hand around the side of Jeff's head to keep it steady before jamming the knife into the side of his neck. Jeff's eyes went wide with surprise, his hand coming up to grab Horace's. When their eyes met this time, Jeff's were a mixture of shock, fear, and pleading; Horace's eyes were cold, uncaring for the life which he just took. Will just stood there, watching the blood form around the knife, and steadily streaming out of Jeff's mouth in between futile attempts to cry out. The college kid's eyes slowly closed as Horace guides him to the ground.

"What the…" Will finally blurts out, watching as Horace pulls the knife out and wipes it on the inside of his robe, "…why'd you have to do that?! What is going on?!"

"His death was unavoidable." Horace said with a shrug. He regarded Will for a moment, the knife pointed at him in a manner that caused the hairs on the back of Will's neck to stick straight out. Their eyes locked for a moment, with Will doing his best to show this man no signs of fear. Whether or not it worked, Horace placed the knife somewhere back in the recesses of his robe. "You, however, did much better than I thought you would. I guess you're not as stupid as I thought."

"Unavoidable?" Will echoed, shaking his head, eyes darting from Horace to Jeff's body on the floor. "You murdering him was unavoidable? And what did I do better, what the hell are you talking about?"

Horace chuckled again, tsk-tsking the way someone would if they were speaking to a small child who got themselves into trouble. "Hell…" he started, "…could easily be somebody else's Paradise. If you paid attention to the sermons when you were younger, you would know this, better than any of those unenlightened miscreants you have consorted with for the past few years. I have, on a couple of occasions, voiced my concerns over just how well you assimilated into this heathen culture, but it all fell on deaf ears. My reservations were unmitigated, I was told. You were simply the most enterprising wolf that was sent out amongst the sheep. Distributing almost twice as much, what was it that you called it…" Horace thought for a moment, then clapped his hands together and grinned, "…Pure. Even I must admit, that was a pretty clever name."

Will's eyes never left Horace the entire time, not even after hearing the muffled shouts and more gunshots from the building behind him. He still had no idea what was going on in there, what the cops and whomever else was in there were being attacked by. He briefly remembered that Rory was in there and was surprised at the amount of concern he felt for someone who no doubt despised him. Dawn's well-being also flashed across his mind. Will just hoped that wherever she was, she was safe. "Okay, I've pushed more than the others of my generation that were sent across the country. Great, give me a trophy or something. What does that have to do with anything that's going on? This weather…" Will looked around again, a shiver traveling down his spine as his thoughts zeroed in, back to a particular lesson he was told multiple times growing up, "…it reminds me of the Other World."

"As it should." Horace replied, extending his arms out and closing his eyes for a moment. "Perhaps you paid more attention than I gave you credit for. And like I said, you did better than I thought you would. You survived your first real test to prove your worthiness. Congratulations on being the only one. The task you had to 'spread influence' as you so elegantly put it, was only the initial part. That Pure of yours have opened the minds of enough people in this town and at that school, that it is causing the Other World to bleed through into theirs. So, a second congratulations are in order for perpetuating that."

Will's head was swimming. If he were to believe Horace, then everything that has happened recently, from the sinister fog to the multiple deaths in town, all of it was on Will's conscience. If that was the intention all along, it was kept from him. Spreading influence to him meant that the drug would expand the minds of people and make them more susceptible to joining the Order. He and all the others were pitched expansion before he was sent across the country to Clearview University. Were they all lied to like him, or did some of them know the truth? Did his mother know about this?

"Nobody was supposed to die," Will muttered to himself, "there are good people here. People that would make fine additions to the Order."

"Who?" Horace asked, looking at Will incredulously. "The police officer that arrested you, or the roommate you got into a fistfight with? The Spanish drug dealer you have associated yourself with? Perhaps the little blonde thing you've befriended?"

Will's eyes darkened. He always met Horace alone, and never discussed anything remotely close to a social life with him. He would expect Horace to know about his roommates, but to bring up Dawn proved to Will that Horace had been spying on him. For Will, who liked control and valued privacy, the fact that this man had been watching him caused him to make a decision about his next course of action.

Suddenly, Horace stepped around Jeff and surprised Will by grabbing him hard by the elbow. Will immediately shook his arm, but it only caused Horace's grip to tighten.

"No matter, it's not my place to tell you more," Horace said, "only to bring you back to home for the next phase. And that is exactly what I intend to do, with or without your cooperation."

"Without my cooperation?" Will asked, forcing a smirk. "How exactly do you plan on that if I'm so important?"

Horace gave Will a contemptuous sneer in response to his question. "Just because you are to be brought back alive, boy, doesn't mean that you have to be conscious."

"And I'm supposed be unconscious the entire trip back across the country?"

It was the second time that Horace laughed, and it put Will just as on edge as the first time he heard it. Coming from this man, it seemed unnatural.

"There's just so much you have no idea about." Horace started, turning, and pulling Will towards the exit of the alley behind the police station. "The power that our Order wields is quite remarkable."

Will followed at first, then planted his feet. Horace looked back and pulled again, but Will refused to budge. He shook his arm free of Horace's hand and dropped to one knee. "Just calm down, I'm coming peacefully, okay?" Will responded, reaching into his coat pocket as he stood back up. "Before I do, just answer me one question. Why did you plant this book in my room for the police to find?"

Upon being presented with the tome, Horace flinched hard, taking a step back as he stared at the thing. Will thought that it must have been how he looked when he first saw it, given the thing's significance. Horace appeared to be genuinely surprised.

"You had this book in your room?"
Horace looked back up to find Will pointing a gun at him, the gun that Jeff had concealed. Will could see the anger welling up, the man's face grow flushed, and his eyes go cold, much like they did when he stabbed Jeff just minutes ago. That anger was matched by Will's own; at the position that this man and the Order put him in. The truths that they held back from him, the lies that they told. He felt as if the wool had been pulled over his eyes his entire life, and the veil was suddenly yanked off, exposing everything about the world he had known. The deaths of Teddy, anyone else who might be suffering inside, the potential death of Dawn; the feelings of anger, mixed with grief and betrayal, all that energy accumulated together and was released by his index finger pulling the trigger.

The echo in the alley was jarring. Firing the shot seemed to happen in slow motion, but the bullet arrived almost instantaneously, burying itself in Horace Fuller's forehead and causing the man to fall flat on his back. Will could see through the suddenly thinning fog that Horace had died with his cold eyes open, his arms outstretched like some twisted martyr. He did not move or blink, just stared down at the man from Silent Hill; the man he was supposed to report to. There was nobody else around to see what happened though. He could still get some answers. He needed to call his mother, tell her something like Horace got himself shot in a bad neighborhood. Will believed in his ability to sell whatever he needed to.

Snapping out of it, he made sure the gun had its safety on and tucked in into his back waistband. As he did, the fog continued to disperse, and he could see the other end of the alley. The people inside were foremost on his mind though, and he started towards the door. He pulled hard at the rebar, finally wrenching it off and stumbling to the ground. He tossed the rebar aside and pressed his hand to the ground to get up, but the feeling of cool metal against his palm caused him to freeze in place. It should have been asphalt, but when he looked down, he saw that the ground was rust colored, an industrial metal floor that had no place here. And then, somewhere off in the distance, a siren was sounding off, seemingly growing louder by the second until it was almost unbearable. Will stuck his fingers in his ears, looking down the alley again to see the fog literally disappear before him. The sky grew darker; darker and faster in a way that people knew to be impossible. All these things occurring at once were troubling, but it was the way that the brick buildings surrounding Will were peeling that caused a tightening in his chest. They peeled off and upward, showing the same rust colored metal that Will was sitting on, as if they were sinister creatures revealing their true forms. Will got up and turned back to the station's emergency exit, only to find that said exit no longer existed. In its place was a black stain that was burned into the now steel wall.

The siren finally stopped, signifying that the world's new reality had fully taken shape. Will looked down to find the book, feeling as though its cursed symbol was staring back up, daring him to take possession of it once again. He was torn, his survival instincts all screaming at him to get as far away from it as possible, but there was another part of him, whether it be curiosity in finding the truth or responsibility for everything that happened, that told him answers could lie within its pages. Whether they were answers that he was ready for or more riddles that would lead him down a path from which he could not return, was another story.

Will bent down to pick it up, staring for a moment before pocketing it once more.