Sonic Hill: Memories of a Shadow

Chapter 4: Sorrow

-

"Gerald, are you there?"

Shadow knocked on the door for the fourth time. Knock. Knock. Knock. Still, no one replied. "No…I guess not."

Doubtful was his faith of Gerald's presence. He hadn't been very responsive the first time around, so maybe the old guy could be just ignoring him this time. Or maybe he left awhile ago. Or maybe he was dead.

(—his body laying mangled on the floor with his eyes stabbed out by the mannequin monsters high heels and soon to become bloody ant-filled craters—)

—SLAP!

The nerves in the side of his face cried with agony in response to the smack it received from his hand. That was an insane mental image, one he most certainly did not want to have trapped within the barren confines of his memories. If a monster broke in and killed the mysterious man, wouldn't he hear the screams? Wouldn't the door be ajar?

'Which means he must have left, if he's not ignoring me,' Shadow concluded. 'Now shut the hell up and open the door. You're not going to find out what happened if you just stand here.'

With a nod, Shadow grasped the door's knob and turned it. The feeling of the door pulling back closed as he tried to open it never came – it opened wide to reveal a dark, lifeless room.

He refastened his jacket around his waist and flicked his lighter back on, illuminating a forest of shadows. It seemed to be a lounge. Two couches lay parallel to each other in the center of the room, a bridge of a coffee table in-between them. A few random books were strewn across it, along with a black-encrusted ashtray reeking with age. There was a second fireplace to the left of it, surrounded by many paintings and collectable plates of trivial scenery. Even more copious bookcases lined the back walls, in between the oversized windows. Had the black curtains not been drawn, some decent light would be shrouding the scene. A few plants littered the place too – it looked pretty tidy and elegant all around. But no Gerald was in sight.

'I guess he did leave after all,' Shadow almost felt relieved. 'But where did he go?'

There weren't exactly many unlocked doors in this creepy place, but it wasn't that unlikely Gerald had a key. It was pretty safe to assume by this point that he lived here – Boyd might be the former owner of the mansion or something like that. And that grave in the secret garden most likely belonged to…to…

'You don't know that,' Shadow interjected his thoughts. The number of times he's argued with himself thus far was a trifle humorous. 'And I think it's best to quit considering the idea until you at least catch up to him.'

He rescanned the room and noticed two things he hadn't before. One: There actually was another door, in the center of the right wall, and Two: On the coffee table, beside a melted candle stub and an old looking coffee mug, lie an oversized open book. It looked like an encyclopedia of some sort, judging from the immense mass of it. Shadow stepped up to the book and sat down on the couch, lighting the candle with his lighter and reading the page that was left naked to the room's interior.

It, in fact, was an encyclopedia; a plant encyclopedia to be exact. One part was circled in black marker; below a medium-sized photo of a rather interesting looking tree, some tiny typed up text was printed.

'ACACIA:

A genus of evergreen trees of the mimosa tribe of the pea family. Its tiny flowers are yellow or white and grow in clusters. Common varieties include the "gum tree".

The Acacia Tree is a potent symbol in many religions across the world: In Christianity it represents eternal life and morality. In ancient Egypt it represented purity and rebirth; while in ancient Babylonia it was thought of as the tree of the Goddess Ishtar and was a symbol of Life.

It was also a holy tree to the Ancient Jews who built the sacred Ark of the Covenant from it, and for whom it signified a peaceful death and a release from grief.'

Acacia…that name sounded familiar. Highways of thought bustled in his brain for a moment and halted when he remembered that was the word engraved on the key he'd found in the tombstone.

'Interesting…' he mused. 'But probably not relevant.'

Many more frivolous books lined the walls of the room, but none of them seemed interesting enough to read right here and now. That left only the other door to check out. It was safe to assume the faceless old man had gone through there. Even if he hadn't, it wasn't like there was anywhere else to go.

That notion blighted him. More or less, he really was just wandering aimlessly around town. What would happen if he escaped? He really had no idea whatsoever.

With a discontent sigh, Shadow the hedgehog flicked his lighter back on and pulled the door open. Another hallway awaited him, not very surprisingly. It seemed like there were more hallways than actual rooms in this weird place.

Cautiously he stuck his head through the doorway to examine the hall's interior. The subtleness that surrounded the mannequin monster to his immediate right almost tricked him into thinking it was safe. Almost. He jumped backwards, just nearly missing a swing from the monsters synthetic leg. The narrow miss seemed to trigger an electric grenade to go off within it, for the mannequin spazmed vibrantly and stumbled into the doorway he stood in, throwing a hard kick into the side of his face. The attack knocked his head into the side of the doorway and he cried out in pain. In one abrupt movement, Shadow bolted into the creature, knocking it backwards a little, and then slammed the door closed. A loud thud emitted from behind the door.

Shadow reopened it and didn't even look down. He hopped over the fallen monster and sprinted across the hall. It twisted to the left, but he didn't acknowledge that at all. What stole his interest was the staircase directly ahead, which steeply moved down into a new section of the ground level. Unaware of the fact that the mannequin wasn't even following him anymore, he jumped down the stairs two steps at a time, almost tripping over himself in the process. He finally did when he reached the final step, but not because of the tricky wooden flooring – because of what stood at the bottom of the staircase. He rammed right into the straightjacket monster and fell over with it, his heart spazming in reaction to the feeling of the monster's slick flesh.

Rolling over, he jumped to his feet and yanked the handgun out of his side, which somehow hadn't fallen off when he'd tripped. The monster screamed in the position it lay in, and before he knew it wasn't there anymore. With frightening agility, it crawled across the floor towards his boots. With a strangled cry, Shadow squeezed the trigger and fired an oversized deathbomb into the creature's back. It seemed to almost explode in gore, like a landmine had been planted in its flesh. Somehow that didn't managed to kill it though, to his dismay. The straightjacket monster stopped crawling and wiggled in sync with a series of abrupt moans, seeming to be crippled from the destruction of its spine. The black hedgehog spared it from the inevitable slow death it would have suffered, and kicked it hard in the face. A sickening crack of its neck, and it was dead.

Panting heavily, Shadow tore his eyes away from the corpse, only to see another straightjacket monster standing about ten feet away, wiggling a bit as it stumbled towards him, followed closely by a mannequin monster right behind it.

'Fuck that!' he cried. He noticed door to his right, which he opened at lighting speed and ran through. With a loud slam, it was closed, and he was safe.

'Looks like the new guests have arrived.' He wished he could come up with a better one-liner than that, but he doubted it meant shit in a real situation like this anyway.

The corridor he stood in now was thankfully empty, and also quite bright. Windows lined the left wall, pouring in a sea of gray light. From where he stood, he could see the other door at the end of the ridiculously long hall. It seemed to stretch across the whole rear of the mansion.

'Better than having more twisting dark corridors,' Still, Shadow wished hopelessly that his quest through the mansion would be a little less complicated. The idea of a backdoor was currently pushed behind a mental wall of other problems and questions. More than ever, he was bent on catching up to Gerald. 'I wonder if that guy has a weapon or something with him. It's certainly dangerous enough here with one, let alone without one.'

It suddenly occurred to him that he should have grabbed the poker from the fireplace while he was in the living room. It would have made a much less tricky melee weapon than the meat cleaver.

Too late now. Shadow refastened his jacket for the second time (quite intrigued that it hadn't fallen off in his mad rush) and jolted those little imaginary electric wires that control the movement of one's body. The floorboards creaked and cried as uncomfortably as they had in the other parts of the house, though the creepy effect it submitted to his ears was weakened by the absence of darkness. Outside there was only fog in sight, but if he recalled there was an apartment building across the mansion's back alley. Being able to see it from here would have added to his ease, but at least he had someth—

(—man, what a great afternoon, eh tails?)

Shadow stopped abruptly and leaned forward when a harsh unexpected cough invaded his throat. No spittle erupted, just an incredibly dry feeling of air compressing unnaturally within him. Within the same amount of time it took that sickening feeling to be born, it died away resiliently.

"What was that?" he croaked, regaining his composure. It was like a brief, incoherent memory stabbed him in the brain and disappeared.

Silence was the world's only answer. In response, that everlasting question he'd had since he'd awoken bloated up even more, like an unwanted and ugly tumor.

'Who the hell is Tails?' It felt like the answer was looming just out of reach, teasing and bemusing him endlessly. "This is getting too weird for me." Shadow bit his lip and rubbed his hand through his spikes, feeling slightly surprised at the abnormalness of them. They disobeyed gravity's godly plans and continued to bend upwards oddly. They felt awkward. He felt awkward.

With his mind clouded with confusion, he navigated the long hallway till he reached the door at the very end. Looked like it really did go to the exact opposite end of the mansion after all, he found. The room living behind the mask of the door was some sort of service room, which had two boarded up windows on the wall parallel to him. That told him two things: he was in the far corner of the mansion now, and there was no back door in sight. Looks like that plan wasn't foolproof after all.

There was an old telephone on one of the desks, which he quickly examined. It was dead as the rest of the world, as he had come to expect it to be. Nothing wrong with trying anyway. There were a few more papers scattered around, and what looked like car keys hung on a coat hook in the corner, but nothing that looked useful. Though if he could manage to find the garage and a car inside of it, maybe those keys would be useful…he could use it to ram one of the barricades down outside, perhaps. But that was just wishful thinking, he knew. All his ideas felt hopeless.

A door stood on the other wall, leading back into the deeper regions of the residence. No other way to go but there. Shadow collapsed the threshold, gun drawn and ready to enter battle.

But no battle ever came. It was empty. Relieved, he holstered the gun back at his side.

'You only have two bullets left,' He warned himself. 'You should have gotten the poker while you had the chance.'

"Too late now." A million deaf ears heard his chagrin notion.

There were quite a few doors in this hallway: One to his immediate left marked 'TUNNEL', one directly ahead, and a few more in the section where the hall curved to the right. Maybe one of them led back into the living room – he could only hope so. Since the tunnel door caught the most interest, he tried it, feeling disappointed to find that it was locked tight. That left only the ones ahead. Ever cautious, he went through the nearest door.

Books, books, books. If Gerald did own this place after all, he sure as hell must have loved books. The study looked more like a personal library; shelves filled to the brim with hardcovers and paperbacks. Stacks of more books and magazines lay in a rather unprofessional box in the corner. To his left was an old-looking lamp, which guarded the desk behind it. On the desk was something that didn't take long to catch his undivided attention.

It looked like a transcribed letter of some sort, written by a professional. That would explain the picture of an island ('that island in the middle of the lake Toluca, i think…) illustrated at the top of it with an absurd amount of detail. Underneath it, some words were inscribed in neat handwriting.

'I have the strongest trust - you may even call it faith - in the miracle called the "Resurrection of the Dead".

Upon the hill where the light descended, the Beast intoned his song. With words of blood, drops of mist and the vessel of night, the grave became an open field. The people wept in fear and joy at the reunion, but my faith in the salvation of Ztar did not waver.

It is also spoken of in the ancient legends. The original worshippers did not believe that death was the end but that it was simply the path by which the deceased returned to nature. They also believed the process was reversible.'

There was also something written at the bottom of the page, in much more sloppy and human-like handwriting.

'Blood: Red

Mist: White

Night: Black

Chaos: God?'

'Did Gerald write this part?' he questioned. Everything in his imaginary puzzle was beginning to come together, and the idea of that truly didn't comfort him in the least. Ironic. Anyway, there was only one way to find out for sure…

In the left corner of the study sat a miniature wooden bookcase, which reached to about his belly in height. Beside that bookcase, more notably, was a single door. He reached for the handle, beginning to turn when it stopped suddenly. But it stopped in a much more…organic sort of way than it would have if it were locked. That meant only one thing.

"Gerald," Shadow spoke out loud, knowing very well that the man was on the other side of the door.

"What is it this time?" Gerald questioned with a hint of annoyance. "Why can't you just leave me be?"

"Do you know a girl named Maria?"

There was a long silence, and for a moment Shadow thought he was being ignored again. He opened his mouth to repeat himself, but that's when the old man responded.

"Why do you ask me that?"

"I, uh, I went to the attic," The hedgehog stated quickly, fumbling over his words as he pulled the card out of his jacket. "There was a birthday card on the table there. 'Happy birthday daddy', it says. It's from someone by the name of Maria Robotnik."

…

"Hello?"

"That explains it…" Gerald began. Thick, cold vines of sadness were entangled in his ashen voice. "Why she was up there in the attic; why she had an envelope in her hand before she…she…"

A regretful frown formed on Shadow's pale lips. "Gerald…"

"I wasn't there to stop her fall," He uttered, a tremendous sorrow overwhelming him. "No one was. We were all in the courtyard, laughing and chatting…ignorant of what was to come. If only I'd known while I had the chance…if only I had reinstalled that old window beforehand, or locked the attic door…"

Another pause, in which neither of them knew what to say.

"I'm sorry for reminding you..." Shadow whispered sincerely.

"No, no. You didn't remind me," Gerald stated forgivingly. "I've never forgotten…" A sigh, and he continued: "Shadow, there are some things you can forget…and some things you can never forget. I'm really not sure which is worse."

The black hedgehog looked down to the floor, carrying an ounce of the man's grief on his shoulders. That ounce was difficult for even him to bear. "I think I can understand."

"It's been twelve long years, and yet I still…" he trailed off contritely. "Oh Maria…"

After a few moments, realization hit Shadow that the old man behind the door was weeping. "I…I don't know what to say."

"Have you ever lost someone, Shadow?"

"No," he didn't feel quite sure of that answer. Was losing someone comparable to never having someone at all? If it wasn't, it sure did feel like it was. "Not really."

"Heh…that's good. It's not something you should feel; not something anyone should be forced to feel…It's like a void of emptiness swallows you whole, and you can't escape it no matter how hard you try, day after day…as if the very air you breath is forever poisoned with feelings of loss, and despair."

Saying Shadow hadn't felt so helpless or speechless in his entire life wouldn't be saying much, since all he could remember was the events of the past few hours. But he truly did feel that way. "I…"

"Shadow, that birthday card…"

"Here." Shadow kneeled down to the ground and slid the birthday card under the door into Gerald's room.

"Thank you," A nearly joyful chuckle could be heard from behind the door. "Heh, Maria Robotnik…she used to always spell out her last name in birthday cards and letters to me, as if I didn't know who it was…"

Shadow smiled halfheartedly. Fond memories were the best one could hold onto in situations like this, he knew. It was too bad no one could ever relive those memories though…

It somehow felt like that had ended the conversation. A minute of no sound ticked by, and he figured it must have. Unknowing of what to do, Shadow began to turn around. The solemn man seemed to hear what he was doing and stopped him.

"Shadow…"

"Yeah?"

"So you must be…" he overlapped his own sentence with another. "That's why; that's why you can hear me…"

"Huh?"

"So perhaps that means I can hope for a miracle as well…?"

"What do you mean?"

"Next door, in the apartment building, there's a bottle of this white liquid," He reluctantly beseeched. "I don't know exactly where it is, but I know it's in there somewhere…that's all that I still need."

Shadow got the picture. "You want me to get it for you?"

"Please."

"Why can't you get it yourself?"

"Heh, believe me, if I could, I would. But it's been so long…"

"I understand," Shadow affirmed, though he didn't really. "But how do I get there?"

"Through the tunnel. It's locked, but there's a key in my desk behind you."

"Do you really think that it will work?"

"I don't know…"

A small smile cracked at the side of his face. "That's okay. I guess I don't mind fighting for a seemingly hopeless cause anyway. Beats just giving up and doing nothing."

"This is Sonic Hill, Shadow. Don't ever forget that."

Turning around, Shadow suggested: "Yeah, but I think that may be the problem."

The mysterious man behind the door either didn't hear him or just chose not to acknowledge what he'd said. That was fine. Claiming the key from the desk, Shadow exited the study. It wasn't much, but he had a firm goal in mind now. And with that, he could live at least a little longer.