Seeing as people are launching threats against my noexistant hamsters, I'd better put this chapter up pronto. Aaaand by the looks of things, it's C.S Lewis time as we have another trippy dream sequence.

Conversations with dead people and the Cake Theorem: The third interlude

Part 1: A simple sort of lust

'I'm dead now, aren't I?'

The thought wormed its way into Jobe's mind as he swam back up to consciousness and the world slowly floated back into place around him.

'I'm going to open my eyes and there's going to be a big red guy standing over me, just waiting to prod me with a pitch fork…'

Or perhaps he'd open his eyes to find Phil standing over him, that sick, dead grin spread all over his face, still reeking of wet cloth and spoilt meat. Yes, that version of hell seemed far more terrifying that the traditional ye olde 'fire and brimstone'. Jobe opened his eyes, bracing himself for whatever may be revealed beyond the curtains of his eyelids.

There was no un-dead Phil leering back at him, only a ceiling pasted with curling paper. Jobe sat up, groaning at the dull thudding pain in his head and looked around.

He was in a room, and guessing from the cramped layout a hotel one at that. A double bed occupied one corner but it looked as though none had bothered to change the soiled sheets for aeons and the oppressive odder of dank mildew seemed to be the only thing that dared to lie within its blankets. At the other end of the room stood a lonely table, its stained surface baron, save for the domed room-service cover. Jobe didn't dare to lift it when he noticed the dirty brown tendrils creeping up over its chrome surface.

 The fact he wasn't in the van anymore gave him a clue of where this scene was going, especially after the last time he'd turned up in this hotel.

He sighed, rising somewhat reluctantly as his mind whirled back to the events before his arrival in…(what was it that fat guy had called it? Oh yeah, I remember now)'Nowhere'. However, before he managed to gather them, a moan from the bathroom by the door halted his train of though. He looked up and before he could stop himself, he was at the door.

The pure stench that assaulted his nose like a blow sent him reeling back. It smelt (and from his vantage point, looked) as though the toilet had decided to gradually regurgitate its fermenting contence, choking the room with the nauseatingly sweet aroma of shit. The brown muck had slopped over the edge of the once spotless porcelain bowl and swirled between the tiles in the toilet's immediate proximity. A swarm of bloated flies danced over the miniature swamp of faeces and other, unnameable substances.

And then Jobe saw the cause of the moaning.

The nurse from his previous visit was slumped against the bath, her red service-cardigan hanging languidly from one shoulder.   

"Lisa?" He hissed, pulling her name from his memory, with some effort. He stepped forward but stopped short of the rancid smelling toilet. A fly buzzed lazily past him.

"You're still here?" Her voice came out more as a groan than clearly formed words. "I was hoping you were going to get out of this place…" She lifted her head as if someone had pumped her skull full of concrete and tried with notable effort to flash Jobe a tired smile. The man couldn't help but gasp at what he saw.

She looked as if she'd been the object that halted the van's suicidal rampage.

Her eyes were blood-shot, livid veins running in a haywire pattern over their surface and the heavy lids kept on trying to slip over them. A deep, purple welt flourished under one, like some dark, forbidden flower, mirroring its twin that stained her forehead. A cut split her lips, its furious surface crusted over.

Jobe realised that he was gawking and hurriedly looked away, his face burning with quiet shame.

"I tried to, but…" He tried to finish his explanation but the image of her scarred face kept flashing in his mind like some distracting neon light.

"Mmm," She murmured in contented agreement. "I know what you mean…there's always something holding you back." Her eyes seemed to be focused on some far away object. "Whether its wanting or duty, something always seems to keep you here, no matter what you do…"

Jobe looked back at her forlornly. Even though it would take nothing but a step to reach her, she was a thousand miles away.

"Are you sure there isn't anything I can do?" He asked, praying that she might be able to offer some uplifting words, yet he seriously doubted it. Any hope faded when her eyes met his and she let out a soft laugh.

"I tried…the one rash move I took resulted in me looking like this and brought me a one way ticket here." She gestured towards her face, grimacing a smile.

"But… last time I saw you, you were fine."

"Yeah, its funny. Time here seems to flit back and forth. Bruises don't tend to fade to well in this place…" She trailed off before refreshing her gaze and Jobe saw the sparse hope that crept into her worn eyes.

"Please try to get away…before its too late for you and you end up like us."

Jobe had left the bathroom, Lisa's final words ringing hauntingly in his ears.

'Before its too late for you and you end up like us'

 Without warning, vehement anger flared within him, the passion aimed at both himself and Virgil.

Just what the hell had happened back there? His one good chance of getting away and she'd wrecked it, damn well near killing him in the process. Thanks to her schizophrenic attack he was stuck in this god forsaken limbo with no clear way out.

Jobe shuddered, remembering the darkness that had filled her face just before he'd tried to rip his throat out. She was right when she'd told him she was nothing more than a monster, only now Jobe had seen the creature's true face.

With a throaty grunt, he slammed a balled fist into the wall as memories of Phil came back to him, stabbing at his heart with cruel, long fingers. Why did everything have to have so many sides?

He looked up and sighed bitterly. The air caught in his throat when he saw the figure silhouetted by the faint light that barely broke through the window dominating the opposite wall to him. He stood upright, blinking in mute disbelief.

"J Julia?" The word caught in his throat like a dusty cobweb.

'It can't be…She's over seven hundred miles from here.' It had to be another of the town's cruel, heartless tricks as it tried to manipulate him even further.

But it looked so very much like her…

She turned, her auburn glowing softly in the smudged light. She smiled and that simple act alone crushed the nagging voice of question. Jobe, so eager for a break from the living nightmare that had swallowed him, body and soul, forgot momentarily how unreal it was. He was more than happy to chase a fleeting dream.

"What happened to you two? I've waiting for you for what feels like such a long time now."

Jobe found himself slowly moving towards her, as if her very words were the lifeline he'd been seeking for all this time. Finally, everything took its toll and he crumbled before her.

"I didn't want to, I swear to god I didn't but Phil…oh god, he didn't give me a chance"

"Shh…" She raised a finger to his lips, ceasing their frantic movement. "You don't need to explain it to me. I understand."

And with that, she kissed him. Nothing like the soft ones they'd exchanged before but a heated move that threatened to devour him with emotion. He simply returned it, closing his eyes, finally letting the insanity slip from his mind and sunk into it like a drowning man. For the first time in what felt like a painfully long stretch of his existence, Jobe felt as though he belonged.

That was, until Lisa's shrill cry shattered the moment.

He spun round, glaring viciously at the woman, a look of horror and disgust frozen on her face as she clung to the toilet's doorframe.

"Get away from him!"

He turned back to Julia…Only it wasn't she who lay in his arms.

He yelled, pushing Maria away from him as fast as he could but it was nowhere near as fast as he wanted to. The sweet flavour left in his mouth rapidly fermented like fruit left to spoil, leaving him with a dusty, rank taste on his tongue. It tasted of death.

She closed her eyes, running her tongue slowly over her lips.

"Mmm," She purred deeply. "Now that was good."

Jobe did nothing but stare at Maria, trying not to be sick as he tried to buckle down the foul distaste that clawed its way up his throat.

"What the hell are you?" He grimaced as he spoke; trying not to think of what he'd just done but it lurked within him like a foul after taste.

Maria slowly opened her eyes.

"I can be anything you want me to be" Her voluptuous smile was broken by another interruption from the nurse.

"You monster! Can't you just leave him alone?"

Jobe saw her roll her eyes before she rounded on the nurse, her lip curled.

"Don't tell me we're back to petty name calling, can't a girl get any kicks around this place?"

Lisa shot her a look of sheer disgust.

"Kicks? You think this is fun? Oh god, you're even worse than I" But Jobe didn't get to hear the rest of the argument. He'd already made a break for the door in a mad rush, trying to out run the shame and feeling of deep sickness that weighed down on him.

He sailed into the hallway.

"Those two at it again?"

Part 2: Twenty Questions

Jobe stopped, his feet digging into the floorboards. He turned to see who had accosted him.

"They're worse than a married couple…" A second said. Jobe vaguely recognised it as the girl from his previous visit to this twisted plane of reality except this time she didn't seem intent on stabbing herself. She and her companion, the final and somewhat lardy member of the hotel's cast, sat on a set of stairs that filled this end of the corridor, the wood and walls around them looked as black and burnt as charcoal.

"We didn't think we'd be seeing you again…" The fat man commented, scratching at the blonde stalks of hair that protruded at all angles from underneath his cap.

Jobe could quite safely put his hand on his heart and say the same.

The dark haired girl motioned to him, beckoning him forward with a pale hand.

"Come here," She saw the weary apprehension cross his face and smiled timidly "we won't bite…"

Jobe slowly placed one foot in front of the other and inched his way towards the pair, the voice in the back of his head screaming at him to stop, asking if he hadn't learnt anything from the last time he'd tried to approach someone? Jobe found himself at the bottom of the stairs, looking up at the pair with a quiet fear, despite the fact they were possibly two of the most unimposing members of the human race, if only a little out of sorts.

"You're Jobe right?" The blond man squinted his already tiny eyes and the two orbs practically vanished behind layers of heavy skin. Jobe nodded slowly, sitting on the step bellow them and trying to let every thing sink into his already over-saturated brain.

"I guess you've got a whole stack of questions none's been able to you an answer without making your head spin, huh?" He pressed gently, his large fingers fumbling with the dirty blue and white t-shirt that did nothing for his figure.

Jobe turned to him, his brows furrowed.

"Who are you people?"

It was the girl's turn to answer.

"Well, I'm Angela and this, this is Eddie..." Her companion fired off a mock salute at the mention of his name. "And I must apologise for my rather unsociable behaviour for the last time we met…" She shifted uncomfortable as she saw Jobe's eyes flicker to the sleeve of her polo neck, the memory of the knife and blood suddenly vibrantly fresh in his mind.

Eddie lent forward, his heavy presence descending on the man.

"Not to cryptic for you I hope?" He grinned widely, his looming, moonish face practically splitting in two. Jobe felt his breath on him and couldn't help but shudder. It was colder than a hollow grave. "Surely you've got something a little harder for us? It's not like we get visitors often…" Eddie withdrew and fell back on the step, still grinning stupidly. On hearing his words, the question burst from Jobe like an overly full damn.

"What is Silent Hill, I mean, nothing here makes any sense. And what dose it want from me?"

Eddie whistled sharply through his teeth.

"What is Silent Hill…Now there's a question…"

The large man fell as quiet as the town itself, as if in deep contemplation. Jobe suddenly felt sure he wasn't going to get any useful information from the pair until Angela spoke up.

"We aren't really sure ourselves, that must sound stupid coming from people who've been here for so long"

"But we did come up with something," Eddie cut in; embers of excitement began to flicker in his dull eyes as he spoke. "It's easer if you think of the town like one great big cake"

This time it was Jobe who interrupted.

"A cake?" He repeated flatly, not quite able to believe he'd heard someone compare this damned town to something as harmless as pastry. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Angela roll her eyes at Eddie and shake her head.

"I told you it was a stupid idea," She muttered from the edge of her mouth.

"Well I didn't see you coming up with any better ideas that didn't give me a headache. Seriously, you shoulda heard some of the stuff she came up with, 'Nine Circles' my ass…now where was I…oh yeah!"

He cleared his throat perpously and sat up.

"Now, on the top of this cake, you got the icing. Everyone can see that, no problem and it's just like that in the town. Hell, right now, everyone who lives in Silent Hill is probably walking around up there, they ain't got no idea what's happening on the next layer."

He took a pause, seeing another potential question swelling in Jobe's mouth.

"But I haven't seen anyone, save one or two people since I got here."

At this Angela smirked, seeming to have decided this 'cake theorem' was worth warranting.

"That's because you haven't ever been on that level, you've only seen the next circle"

"The sponge!" Eddie butted in again, leaving Angela to grit her teeth with exasperation. It was clear to see her understanding of literature wasn't shared by her some-what dimmer companion.

Oblivious to her stress, Eddie continued.

"Now," He said, with a sly tone. "It takes a certain kinda person to see the sponge."

He paused dramatically, leaving Jobe feeling obliged to fill it.

"What kind of person?"

And with that, Eddie was off again.

"Well, this town, it kinda calls out to people who can see it for what it really is. People just like you and me and her, and I bet my bottom dollar we've all got something in common." He smiled darkly. "We've all done something or got something in us this town can feed off, and 'cos of that, it needs people like us."

"And just what do you have that this town needs?" Jobe asked. Despite their poor construction, Eddie's words sounded fantastically philosophical…

"Sin, Jobe, I got sin. Shit, man, we all got it."

He felt himself go cold at the Eddie's concluding sentence, his mouth as dry as sand. Jobe barely heard himself ask the question.

"What did you do to end up here?"

"Me? Oh, nothing big, not compared to what some of the people around here have done…"Jobe noticed him staring at Angela from the corner of his eye and how she in turn had fallen dumb, shifting nervously on her stair.

"…But if you're really curious, I shot some guy, yeah, that's right; some dumb ass football player with a yap to match." Eddie relished the way Jobe shrunk back from him as he confessed and felt himself swell with pride. He wasn't going to be getting any crap from this guy any time soon.

"Don't forget the dog." Angela added contently, lancing Eddie's somewhat swollen ego.

"Anyway," He gushed, hoping Jobe hadn't heard her contribution. "After the sponge, you got the base of the cake and my god, do you get some crazy-ass-shit in there."

Jobe silently imagined this as the place he'd seen through Vanity's mirror. Eddie's crude description didn't come close to what he'd thought of it…

"Then, there's this place."

"The circle of Judas and his fellow traitors " Angela added, only to get a sneer from Eddie.

"I guess this would be the plate the whole damn cake rests on…"

 He let his voice trail off, for his speech was done and for a moment, there was silence. That was until Jobe couldn't help but pop another question.     

"What are you people? How do you know all this?"

Eddie held his tongue at this and Angela's shadowed eyes drooped. For a moment, the notion that he'd offended them deeply flashed through Jobe's mind and he shifted uncomfortably, feeling as though he'd just asked a blind person if they could see.

"What are we?" Angela echoed, her brown, misty eyes fixed on some far away point. "I don't think even we know that anymore.

"Are we ghosts? Trapped shadows of the town? Could we perhaps be another type of monster that lurk the streets, only with a more human face. Or maybe memories kept alive by the power of this place and by our own desire for redemption born from leading such painful, pointless existences…"

"Basically," Eddie picked up from the end of her sombre monologue. "We don't have a clue, for those of us who don't appreciate a touch of the dramatic."  Angela's eyes latched dangerously on to Eddie before moving on to Jobe. She bent towards him, uttering words in a low yet smooth voice.

"But I've got a question for you Jobe, and it's the million dollar one that's been on my mind ever since I met you. What have you done to earn yourself a place here?"

Jobe's jaw clinched like stone at her words, reeking of suspicion and said nothing as she continued her unforgiving stare.

"Because, you know the only way you can ever escape from this place is to face up to them or they'll eat you up inside out." She paused, leaning back on her step. Jobe saw something catch her eye as she continued.

"And if you don't accept them, you'll never get past him…"

She pointed and Jobe heard Eddie mutter yet more of his usual prophanity as he turned to see what was at the base of the stairs.

He felt the bile in his gut rise when he saw the object of their avid attention.

It stood, staring at him with an eyeless gaze. The huge, iron helmet the creature wore looked heavy enough for its body to crumple beneath but instead it stood ridged and stock-still. The edges of the triangular-shaped gore coloured helmet looked sharp enough to rival the blade of the colossal knife that rested securely in its hand, gloved with coarse skin. It stood, the skin between its legs forming a web between them, giving the impression it adorned some sort of ceremonial robe constructed from its very dead flesh.

It took a lumbering step towards the group on the stairs; it's great knife squealing as it dragged its fearsome weapon over the cracked floorboards. It lifted the impossibly large sword over his head and it hovered there indecisively as if the red-judge contemplated their fate. Jobe felt the flat face of its helmet lock onto him and the knife came down.

He'd been judged and found guilty of his forgotten crime.

There was a groan as the staircase buckled under the force of the blow and fell apart, tumbling into an impossible darkness that seemed to reside directly under them. Jobe could do nothing as he fell, the eyes of the red-judge still on him as the darkness absorbed him.