Chapter 12: Hope and faith
Now does my project gather to a head:
My charms crack not, my spirits obey, and time
Goes upright with his carriage.
-The Tempest
Kyle was the first to step out of the Honda. The other three passengers followed suit, shaking themselves as the cozy warmth of the car's interior was replaced by the bitter cold and biting winds of the January morning. Dense pine forest grew along both sides of the road. To the group's left, a small wooden sign read 'Toluca Lake – Keep the Nature' next to a larger sign with an image of the beaming, colourful ponys of Lakeside Amusement Park's merry-go-round.
"What do you think of my hometown so far?" Louise asked, still standing on the middle of the road and not about to move an inch – not that there was anything dangerous about that; the town had obviously been void of traffic for years.
"It looks … kind of desolate," Kyle replied. His view of the vexing girl was momentarily obscured by his own breath, floating up from his mouth in grey puffs as he spoke.
Louise let out a brief, amused laugh. "Kind of is an understatement. There's only me, Philip and the four of you here."
"Philip? Where's he?" Dean inquired.
"On his way to the church," Louise said. "He has to pick up something important there. Anyway, that brings me to the instructions I promised to give you once you'd arrived in this town. You're not actually going to help me and Philip with the ritual itself – you're going to find the items necessary to perform it."
"Splendid," Beth grumbled. "So what's on your shopping list?"
Louise was not amused. "Only two items in fact," she replied. "A red book, located in the house next to Bluecreek Apartments on Munson Street, and a black goblet, which should be somewhere in the Historical Society."
"A 'goblet' and a 'red book'?" Shelley quoted, folding the map to tuck it into her pocket. "But how are we supposed to find that?"
Louise shrugged. "I don't know exactly where you'll find them, but Philip said they're located somewhere in those buildings. I can tell you what they look like, though. The red book's very old and falling apart. "Crimson Ceremony" is written on the cover. As for the goblet, it's made of black obsidian and has a serpent carved around the stem. That's all I know."
"And if we find them for you, we can get the hell out of here?" Shelley said.
"Yes." Louise's smile grew wider. "You can get out of the town, and your world will return to its old self."
"I can hardly wait for that to happen. Let's go." Kyle walked around the car towards the driver's seat, but stopped in his tracks a few feet from the door. Letting out a yelp of shock and pain, he stumbled back as if punched in the stomach by an unseen fist.
"Oh no …" Beth reached out a shaking hand and felt her fingers touch some kind of invisible barrier in the middle of the clear air. It felt cold and slimy. She could even see little blurry rings spread out from her fingertips like ripples on a water surface. The mystified woman walked across the road a few times, tracing the invisible wall. In an S-shaped curve, it seperated Shelley and Kyle on the west side from Beth, Dean, Louise and the car on the east side.
"In order to find the items faster, I thought it would be best for the four of you to split up in two teams," Louise explained.
"That's what they always do in horror flicks," Beth pointed out. "Makes it easier for the monsters to pick them off one by one."
"Maybe so, but you don't have a choice," Louise said.
"Bitch."
Either Louise didn't hear Kyle's monosyllabic retort, or she didn't care about lack of popularity right now. "Shelley and Kyle can visit the Historical Society. It's just up the road behind you – can't miss it. Beth and Dean'll go to the house next to the apartment building on Munson Street," she said.
"But how are we supposed to find that place? We don't have a map or anything," Beth protested.
"Dean grew up here, remember?" Louise gestured to the man on Beth's side of the barrier.
Dean nodded. "I know that house. It's the Baldwins' place."
"Well, what are you all waiting for?" Louise said.
"Err, I have one more question for you," Shelley said. "Why did it have to be us? Couldn't you have found anyone else to get the items for you?"
Louise hesitated a few seconds before answering. "Yes, I suppose I could have used someone else than the two of you, and ---"
"Two?" Kyle blurted out. "There's four of us …"
"I know. Originally, Philip and I had intended that only Beth and Dean would help us," the girl replied. "But you and Shelley somehow got caught up in Silent Hill's realm as well. I have no idea why …" Her tone and the look on her face added the unheard last part of that sentence: "… and I don't really care."
Beth sighed resignedly. She felt like every word Louise had uttered since they first met in the hospital elevator had only made the situation seem more and more puzzling. "Why did it have to be me and Dean, then?"
"I thought you'd need someone who knew the town like the back of his hand. Dean was the only former Silent Hill resident living in Hooper Lake City. As for you, Beth, we had met before. You just seemed so … fitting," Louise explained.
"What are you talking about? I'd never seen you before I got trapped in that fucked-up hospital," Beth said.
"Ah yes, I figured you wouldn't remember our first encounter. After all, it has been about a year since that took place … Anyway, that doesn't matter. What matters is that you stop wasting time here and fetch those items for the ritual," Louise ordered, putting an end to the conversation.
The confused quartet exchanged brief parting words and then walked and drove off in opposite directions - Shelley and Kyle footed it up Nathan Avenue, while Beth and Dean drove east in the Honda. Louise stood still on the middle of the avenue, watching the vehicle and the bodies turn into distant shadows rapidly vanishing in the mist. She pulled out an old, crumpled photo from her pocket and gazed at the blurry image. Two brown-haired 5 and 8-year-old girls sitting on wooden swings in a backyard beamed to her from the idyllic world of the photo. They had been so happy back then …
Philip's promise echoed through her mind: "After the ritual, God will make sure the two of you can live together happily for as long as you want."
"I'll save you, Sharon," Louise thought and tucked the photo back into her pocket. "It won't be long now."
---
Beth's car cut through the formless fog that seemed to perpetually envelop Nathan Avenue. Even Dean, who had been here so many times before, had a hard time remembering how the desolate Rosewater Park gliding by to their left could ever have looked beautiful in the sunshine of a summer morning.
"What are you drawing?" Beth asked. Dean's pencils and the rough sketch still rested next to him on the seat.
"It's her, my mom … again."
"Oh." Beth remembered the incident in the hospital office - how she had, in a moment of frustration, torn the paper away under his pencil, leaving an ugly dark streak on the portrait of the late mother. But Beth wasn't going to apologize until Dean had offered his apologies for hitting her like that.
"Tell her what happened in the hospital," Mister suggested, referring to the drawing that had come to life only to be covered by black streaks.
"Why would she need to know about that? And besides, she would never believe you," Doctor said.
"But she's seen so many weird things in this place, too. Why would the talking portrait be any harder to believe?"
"Because she knows what they thought about him," Doctor replied dryly. "That he is 'insane'."
Looking for something to distract his thoughts with, Dean opened the glove compartment and pulled out the bulky Shakespeare collection Beth had put there last night. "Have you started reading that play yet? What was it … The Tempest?"
Beth nodded. "I read about half of it when we were driving to the town."
"What's it about?"
"Well, it starts with a ship that gets wrecked in a tempest. The crew makes it to a desert island, though. Then there's this wizard called Prospero living there. He conjured up the tempest to bring the people on the ship to his island. Oh, and he has all these weird spirits that torment the stranded crew …"
"Spirits?" Dean said. "You mean, like demons and monsters?"
"No, they're not really evil. Except Caliban, and he's not controlled by Prospero."
"Turn right," Dean guided Beth as an intersection manifested itself from the fog.
The woman slowed down and moved the wheel in said direction. The car turned about 90 degrees and left Nathan Avenue to head down Munson Street. "Anyway, what made you think they're demons?" she said.
"Well, Louise told you this play had something to do with all this, right? Maybe she thinks she's Prospero, and this weird world we've ended up in is her island."
Beth was silent for a few seconds, dumbfounded by Dean's theory. "Yeah …" She slowly nodded. "Yeah, that would sort of make sense. I have to read the end of that play sometime to find out how those stranded people get off the island."
"If they ever do," Dean added.
---
Approximately two miles from Munson Street, on the opposite side of the lake, Father Philip Blackmer walked through the chapel behind his cult's church. His creaky footsteps echoed throughout the hallways, ludicrously loud in this silence.
As he passed by one of the few windows of the building, he noticed two Bedridden creatures meandering along the road in the distance. The priest shuddered at the disgusting sight and pulled the curtains closed, but the memory stayed in his mind. Those beaks strapped to their rudimentary faces, the bony legs bent backwards at the knees …
"Stop it. Don't let them distract you."
Philip turned from the window and walked on down the corridors. He had a job to do, a part to play, and he wouldn't let any of these ignorant people's delusions hold him up further. In fact, the sheer importance of what he could accomplish using Louise and Sharon almost intimidated him. Sometimes, he wished the responsibility had fallen to someone else …
But he had to do this – he was the head priest of the Valtiel sect, after all. Apart from mediating between the Holy Mother sect and the Saint Ladies sect, the Valtiel priests were also known to be far closer to God through their intensive prayers and vast knowledge of rituals. And now he had the chance to perform a ritual with the most important purpose of them all – to awaken God. He should be proud of what he was doing for this truly godforsaken world.
And yet, he felt afraid.
The things he had experienced so far – including those Bedridden abominations – disturbed him. Not because of their grotesque appearances, but because of the future they could be indicating. If the second salvation was drawing near, shouldn't there be signs of beauty instead?
"This is just the manifestation of Louise's mind. It does not represent Paradise," he told himself.
However, if God was making these things appear, would She do the same to every one of her followers once She had arrived? If so, Her world might not be the same "paradise" it had been during the first salvation. Since then, the souls of mankind had been tainted and corrupted. Humanity had developed from an innocent little child to a weary, grim adult. Wouldn't that influence the new world God was bringing forth?
"No, stop! Those questions are completely pointless. You know this is the only right path to follow."
Philip turned a corner and opened the first door to his left, entering his humble chapel home. The arrangement was Spartan to say the least. Only a cheap bed, desk and bookcases filled with scriptures decorated the narrow room. A door to Philip's immediate right led to his private bathroom – one of the many privileges allowed to head priests only.
Not bothering to close the door behind him, Philip made a beeline for his bed and crouched down to produce a cardboard box hidden underneath. He swiftly opened the top, revealing several plastic bags containing a fine powder. This would hopefully wipe away those horrible thoughts of doubt he had sinfully nurtured. Philip grabbed one of the bags, ripped it open and buried his nose in the white surface. The sugar-like grains announced their entry into his system by pricking his nostrils. He soon replaced the bag and pushed the box back under the bed.
The man stood, walked up to his desk and pulled the lowest drawer out. It contained nothing more than a small bottle filled with an oily white liquid. 'For the Great Resurrection' was written on the label. Philip slipped the bottle into his coat pocket and left the room. Walking back down the deserted corridors, he could already feel the powder kicking in. As usual when Father Philip doubted the necessity of God's salvation, White Claudia came to reinforce his faith and save him with her endless compassion. The priest's lips broadened in a sickly grin.
"Thank God."
---
A/N: Yep, you were all right about "fat albert". Now I feel dumb for writing that obvious symbolism … Wolf: No, I've heard way too many bad things about the graphic novel to dare buy it. Snikers: Will do. I'm starting to feel likea fanfic-writing David Lynch ...Tune in next week, -E.P.O.
