CHAPTER FIVE

The door leading up to the sixth floor of the hospital stood before a very flustered Wyatt. He continously swiped the keycard in the slot to no avail. The door didn't budge. He kicked at the door with his barefoot, smearing dirt and grime on it, leaving a large footprint. "Damn thing! I'll make you open." He took his pipe and swung it at the window in the door, shattering the glass. He cleared away the metal netting that was between each pane and proceeded to climb through.

His radio let off a shrill static hiss. Wyatt jumped, moving his foot back to the other end of the door. From the other side, he could hear clicking noises, like a dog walking along the floor. There was a deep growl, then another answered it. "Dogs? What are they doing in the hospital?," he asked quietly to himself. He shined his flashlight on the figures; two creatures. Wyatt didn't want to call them dogs, for they looked as though they had been turned completely inside out. He saw their chests heave as they breathed, and with each exhale was a deep rumbling growl. They seemed totally oblvious to him.

He pulled the handgun from his pocket and aimed it at one of the dogs and shot. Miss. This got their attention and they lunged towrd him, jumping through the broken window with no effort, and onto Wyatt, sending him to the floor on his back. He struggled to free himself from under the strong legs of the dog while swatting away the other with his pipe. It had managed to bite his leg and he screamed in pain and kicked it in the head. It had hit the wall, breaking its neck and dying instantly. Now, he just had to deal with the one on top of him.

Wyatt punched the dog-thing in the head and it snapped at his fist, almost biting it, but with his other hand, he pulled the gun to its stomach and pulled the trigger. The dog's innards splattered everywhere, and it howled loudly as it fell and died. Wyatt's hand was covered with intestines and thick black blood and his hospital gown and labcoat was soaked with the same liquid and solid masses of intestine and other vital organs. Even his face had been been splattered upon, and he wiped it away with his clean hand and pulled the corpse off of him. He stood to his full height and glanced at the dog he had shot. Blood snaked from the hole in its gut. He shook his head and walked back toward the door, peering with his flashlight before stepping through the broken window.

Once on the other side, he glanced at the little radio. Just a low hum. Sighing with relief, he trudged up the stairs that led to floor 6. Once he stood in front of it, he noticed that the door was unlike the ones on the floor below. The ones below looked as though they had years of rust and grime on them, but this door was untouched by the effects. He shrugged and pushed it open, walking through and letting it close behind him.

The sixth floor was where the labratories were, along with much of the hospital storage. The morgues were further up-there were two morgues-one upstairs on the 10th floor and one in the basement. The upstairs morgue were where the patients would go when they died, while downstairs was the local morgue. Wyatt looked around, rather awestruck at the surroundings. It was completely...clean. The lights even worked on this floor. The gurneys in the halls were laying along the walls, the sheets neatly folded and starch white. Wyatt blinked against the bright light, being used to the dimness of his tiny flashlight and flicked the small light off and slid it into his pocket.

The only thing strange about the sixth floor was the harsh light. The walls, floors and ceiling were bright white and the lights hummed above Wyatt. Wyatt found it to be more scary than the fifth floor. The quietness sent chills up and down his spine, and his bare feet tapped along the tiled floors, echoing in the halls. He made his way to the reception desk near the door and looked around the counter. There, he found a health drink and some bandages. Suddenly remembering his injury, he looked down at his leg. That dog-creature had managed not only to pierce his skin, but bite off a rather large chunk of his calf. His lower leg was soaked with his own blood.

He cringed and wrapped his leg. The pain was very little, surprisingly, and he continued on his way down the emtpy hallways. He passed a particular door that caught his eye. Chemical Storage Room A. He creased his eyebrows and held his radio up to the door. It snapped and hummed quietly. Shrugging and gripping his pipe, he stepped inside. Instead of a monster, Wyatt was shocked to find another person sitting in a chair-a doctor. It was apparent from the labcoat, but he was turned away from the door. "Hello?," Wyatt asked cautiously. He took a baby step toward the chair.

Slowly turning around, the doctor's eyes met Wyatt's. They held a shocked expression as they saw that Wyatt was no monster. "Who are you?," he asked slowly, his voice full of fear and exhaustion.

Wyatt dropped the pipe's end to the ground casually and smiled gratefully. Another survivor! There had to be a way out then! "I'm Wyatt, I'm a patient here. Who are you?"

The man smiled. "You're the one, then."

Wyatt then became confused. "What are you talking about? What do you mean I'm 'the one'?"

"You're the one...that caused all this. Why did you have to do that? Why did you do it, Wyatt?"

"I don't know what you're talking about...what did I do?"

"You really don't remember, do you? Well, it's not my job to tell you...but she'll be sure to remind you what you did. Silent Hill has taken you Wyatt, it has you in its grip. All she has to do is get her hands on you, and you'll fall into Silent Hill. There's no escape, Wyatt."

Wyatt's voice then filled with fear and anger. "Silent Hill!? What are you talking about? Tell me, dammit!"

The doctor laughed. "Silent Hill...is where you are. Nobody can escape Silent Hill, nobody." He then stood to his full height. From his pocket, he pulled out handgun bullets and placed them on the chair and walked past Wyatt without another word. As the doctor closed the door behind him, there was a loud crash and the sound of a roar.

Wyatt jumped and took the bullets and loaded his gun. "He's in trouble!" He threw open the door and aimed his gun at nothing. Becoming rather confused, he lowered his gun and looked around. There was a small puddle of blood that wasn't his own, but that was the only sign of the doctor. "Whatever that was, I don't want to run into it...that poor doctor," he muttered, continuing on his way to look for some sort of way out.