A/N: Listened to Satie's Gnossienne pieces while writing the last part of this chapter. Oddly enough, it fits the mood, but now that stupid melody's stuck in my head … Argh. Anyway, no further ado.
Chapter 21: Path of Juno
Instead of answering Shelley's query, Beth ran her eyes over the office they had just entered. It looked like the secretaries' reception room, with cheap desks covered under documents, calendars, Windows 98 computers, printers and a solitary fax machine. A doorway in the left wall led to a narrow room with a photocopying machine and a closed door in the far wall. The door to their right led to a large conference room.
"Uh, Beth? I asked you a question." Shelley's annoyed voice ripped Beth back to their conversation.
"I don't know," Beth finally replied. "Maybe I'm just … no, that wouldn't make sense."
"There's quite a lot of shit around here that doesn't make sense," Shelley stated. "What, pray tell, doesn't make sense now?"
"Well …" Hesitation slowed Beth's sentence down. "I think Sharon might be … connected to me somehow. She's letting me see what happened to her and Louise in the past."
"And that's why you went into that weird trance just now?" Shelley said.
"Yeah, I guess. She was the first person I met after I woke up in that creepy hospital." Beth remembered their first encounter in Lambert Hospital's elevator. The girl had told her that she was freezing, even though the lift was perfectly well heated.
"You can't imagine how cold it is here …"
Beth shuddered and walked up to the nearest desk. A coffee-stained edition of Hooper Lake News lay on the keyboard. Beth picked up the paper and read a small article on the front page.
TAXI DRIVER AND 9-YEAR-OLD GIRL KILLED IN CAR ACCIDENT
Hooper Park was the scene of a tragic car accident last Friday, as 9-year-old Sharon Barkin and 45-year-old cab driver Kyle Coppola were both killed by crashing into the frozen depths of Hooper Lake. The vehicle, along with the two bodies inside, was hoisted up yesterday.
"It was a horrible weather that Friday," says recently retired police officer Frank Maybrick. "With those icy roads and all the thick fog, we're almost lucky we only had these two traffic fatalities."
The funeral of Sharon Barkin will take place on Thursday. Mr. Coppola's cremation is set for the day after tomorrow.
Beth replaced the paper on the messy desk. The news didn't come as a shock, since she had already witnessed the whole chain of events leading up to the accident when Kyle guided her through the memory. Reading the newspaper article now only filled her with a reflective melancholy.
Meanwhile, Shelley and Dean were placing one of the secretaries' chairs in front of the door to the hallway. "That ought to keep us safe," Shelley said after jamming the thick, wooden chair back up under the knob.
The window offered a dull view of the desolate school yard. Beth could still see the shapes of fallen angels resting in the snow, their wings suspiciously reminiscent of mere childrens' arms flapping through the white carpet. "Snow angels," she said and gestured to the window. "The kids actually made snow angels out there."
"And what's so great about that?" Dean asked.
Beth shrugged. "Here, it just looks so … out of place."
Shelley nodded. "Funny that there's angels lying motionless out there, while demons are alive and kicking in here."
The three humans stood silently in the office for a few seconds. The Harpies could still be heard laughing in the corridor above. The fire alarm abruptly trailed off into silence.
"Fuck," Beth said. "The sprinklers must've put out the fire by now. You know what that means." She glanced from Dean to Shelley. Grim realization coloured their faces pale.
The Harpies would be coming for them now.
Dean led the way as they rushed through the narrow room with the photo copier. The wooden door was adorned with a single silvery plate, the name 'Principal Terry G. Mason' engraved. Beth ripped the door open, and they entered the room where Philip had been studying the Crimson Ceremony book fifteen minutes ago.
Behind the desk Louise and the cult priest had been seated at, three strange doors were lined up in the dark brown, smooth wooden wall. The door at the left corner was painted black, the middle door was bright blue, and the right door was painted in three horizontal stripes of red, yellow and blue. Ceres, Juno, Iris.
Beth, Dean and Shelley immediately understood which keys would open which doors. Beth walked up to the middle door and produced her bluish key, while Shelley chose the right door and Dean unlocked the left one.
"So … Which one are we gonna go through?" Shelley asked.
Dean shrugged and pushed his door open. What looked like some kind of underground tunnel sloped downwards on the other side. Its walls consisted of black, clayey soil. Yellowish tree roots hung from the ceiling like stalactites. A cold wind emerged from the depths of the tunnel, brushing over Dean's face, carrying an acidolous stench with it. "I have a bad feeling about this," Mister remarked.
Shelley stepped closer to look at the tunnel behind Dean's door, but stumbled backwards as the air itself seemed to push her away. "The hell?" she said, gingerly reaching out to trace the invisible wall. It seperated her from Dean and the left door.
Beth felt hope sinking to the bottom of her mind, while dread floated high above. She reached out and pressed her fingertips against another cold, slimy, invisible barrier between herself and Shelley. Ripples could be seen spreading through the air like the waters of a vertical lake surface. The two barriers obviously seperated the trio from each other, forcing them to venture through the three doors alone.
"Shit," Beth commented. She should have seen this coming miles away – what would be the point of finding those three keys and the three doors, if she and her two companions were all going to follow the same path? No, this place had different plans for them.
"We're gonna have to split up now?" Shelley said, frustration and fear widening her eyes.
Beth nodded.
"God, I hate this fucking hellhole!" Shelley kicked the invisible wall. Noiseless waves appeared in the middle of the air, but she still couldn't break through the vertical surface.
As if amused by Shelley's anger, Harpies could be heard laughing in the hallway outside the office. The door to the secretaries' reception room started shaking and cracking as the creatures pounded on the other side. The chair back under the knob constituted a pathetic defence. It was only a matter of seconds before the fragile wood would succumb to the army of grotesque children.
"Well, then I'm outta here." For once, both Mister and Doctor agreed with Dean's decision. "Hope to see you later," he said before disappearing through the doorway. The door slammed shut behind him, almost blown off its hinges by a sudden draft from the depths of the tunnel.
Shelley stared at the closed, black door for half a second, struggling to accept that the trio's ways were parting. She didn't even want to imagine what the powers of Silent Hill would do to her if she were to spend a single minute on her own in this enormous coalescence of nightmares.
Cracks followed by large holes spread through the door in the secretaries' reception room. The old wood let out one last, resigned groan, almost as if apologizing to Shelley and Beth, before it was finally thrust off its hinges under the swarm of Harpies. The creatures squeezed their monstrous wings through the doorway and into the room. The office was rapidly transformed from a safe haven into pure hell.
Shelley was the first to open her door and escape. She burst into the tunnel on the other side, running, not sensing, not thinking any other thoughts than a single mantra: "RUN, RUN, RUN, RUN, RUN, RUN …"
In the office behind her, the door of Iris slammed shut.
The Harpies rushed into the principal's office, guffawing as usual, knocking over desks and bookcases, smashing chairs and photo copiers, making a beeline for the last remaining prey in the room. Beth grabbed the handle of her door and pulled …
… but before she could run out, something came in from the other side of the door.
Water.
A huge torrent of murky, greenish water rushed into the room and sent Beth flying backwards. She smacked painfully against the wall and landed on the wet floor. The waters rose, once more soaking her already blood-drenched clothes. She scrambled to her feet as the water reached her waist level within seconds. Furniture started floating up from the floor, whirling around in the currents. Water simply kept rushing in from the doorway. It looked as if Beth had opened a portal to the ocean itself.
The Harpies stood motionless, arms hanging limply from their mouths, as they stared in shock and confusion at the waves washing over the room. Their laughter quickly turned into screams of terror and agony. They whirled around to escape from the flooded office, but the waters caught all of their hideous bodies like resin trapping mosquitos.
And as Beth contemplated the Harpies' death struggles, she realized that every enemy, no matter how menacing it might seem, would always have some kind of weakness. The Harpies could fly, they could attack in enormous hordes, they could endure and actually enjoy being consumed by flames, but mere water could effortlessly kill them.
Beth felt the cold surface rise to her chin, lifting her feet off the floor. The room around her seemed to disappear in a whirling mess of smashed furniture, dark green water, flailing wings and screaming children. Within seconds, it had become hard to believe that this had ever resembled an ordinary, dry office in a normal building. The Harpies started to abandon their fight and succumb to the waters. Their screams trailed off, and their drowning bodies sank into death.
Beth's head started bobbing against the ceiling as the waters flooded the entire room. In the last seconds before the surface engulfed her up-turned face, she took a deep breath of stale oxygen and clenched her eyes shut.
Darkness.
Only the cold waters remained, along with the faint, hissing noises of waves and currents. The quiet soundscape soothed her senses, contrary to all the cacophonies she had heard since entering the realm of … Silent Hill? The Otherworld? Louise's mind? Sharon's memories? Beth wasn't sure what she could call that hellish world, but she felt certain that she had just left it behind. This realization spawned a new question in her confused, groggy haze of thoughts.
"Where am I now?"
Beth reached both arms up to search for the ceiling. Only more cold water greeted her fingertips. She thrust her feet down. The floor had vanished. Nothing but water surrounded her sinking body. Beth knew she should open her eyes to see what had happened to the room, but she had been gripped by the most powerful fear of them all - one that grips every single human being once in a while.
She didn't want to face the unknown.
Sadly, the only way to stop this fear is to understand the true nature of "the unknown", whether that's as simple as a closed door, a dark corner, or in this case, the depths of a water-filled room. Beth's dread was eventually defeated by the formidable weapon of curiosity, and she slowly opened her eyes.
An infinity of filthy, greenish water met her gaze. No walls, no boundaries, no shore in sight. Just water. Beth would have screamed if she wasn't holding her breath to survive.
Her feet landed on a hard surface, and she looked down at the sandy bottom. The pressure here should have crushed her, but she didn't even feel the slightest headache. Everyday litter rested in peace on this underwater cemetary - used, thrown away and completely forgotten by people living happy, normal lives above the surface. Beth vaguely remembered that she had once been one of them. Strands of hair floated around her head like the pitchblack halo of an angel, fallen from Heaven to Hell.
The drowning woman glared up. 10-15 metres above, a huge layer of ice blocked her path to the salvation of oxygen. A hole was visible in the middle of the ice, though. A wide beam of daylight shone through to the bottom of Hooper Lake – or was it moonlight? Beth couldn't tell. She took off from the ground and swam towards the beam, towards the hole in the ice, towards life …
… but she didn't get far before the currents pulled her back down like the cold fingers of Death itself. She landed on the bottom once more, seaweed tickling her ankle to bid her welcome back. Her lungs were rapidly running out of oxygen. The race against time was over, and the hourglass had won.
"Might as well give up now and get it over with …"
Beth's eyes slid closed as she accepted the situation. Her lips parted, ready to let the water rush in.
It didn't.
Beth remained alive, as if equipped with some invisible snorkel. She opened her eyes and watched the bubbles rise from her mouth, felt her breathing continue unabated. "The fuck!" A series of reactions flashed through her mind – shock, then confusion, followed by an immense relief. Naturally, if this world wanted her to breathe in water, she could simply breathe in water. "Dream logic."
"Hi, Beth."
The voice came from somewhere in front of her, not even muffled by the water between her and the hoarse man. Beth squinted and ran towards the source. The water repressed gravity and slowed her movements down, making her feel like an astronaut wandering across some strange planet.
Through the haze of polluted water, dark shapes finally manifested themselves in the middle of the light beam from above. Beth recognized the taxi that had crashed into Hooper Lake. It lay dormant on the bottom of the waters, a wrecked shadow of the fine vehicle it had once been. A figure stood before the car, staring at something on the front seat behind the smashed windscreen. Kyle turned around from his old cab and met Beth's gaze with dreary, half-closed eyes.
"Kyle." Beth's voice was inexplicably audible over the noises of distant waves and currents. "So, this is the bottom of the sea?"
"No, it's Hooper Lake," Kyle corrected her, although they both knew that.
"Oh. That explains why there aren't any stupid mermaids around," Beth gave a weak smile.
Kyle grinned back at her, but it was less of an amused facial expression than an attempt to reassure the scared woman. His face was a sickening shade of grey, and his lips had turned bluish. "Good one, Beth."
They drowned in silence and hesitation for a few moments, before Beth finally asked a pertinent question: "You wouldn't happen to know a way out of here, would you?"
Kyle slowly shook his head through the filthy water. "I'm sure you'll find something if you keep wandering on across the bottom."
"What about … that?" Beth pointed to the hole in the middle of the ice above, where the taxi had crashed through the surface.
Kyle shook his head again. "That's my exit. I don't think they'll let you come with me."
Beth stood silent, vaguely pondering what Kyle meant by they.
"I guess this is what that girl, Sharon, meant when she said that I was denying something," Kyle said. "That I was pretending this had never happened." He gestured to the taxi behind him. "Well, I've accepted it now. Sharon has, too …"
"But her sister hasn't," Beth softly concluded the sentence.
Kyle nodded. "You have to stop her. You, Dean and Shelley have to stop the ritual before the God returns to your world."
Beth stared through the water at the strange man. She could sense that those weren't his own words – that something else was speaking through him. "You can't help us?"
"No," Kyle said, regret in his voice. "Not anymore. We can only give you strength and advice."
"Kyle?"
"Yeah?" His voice was conveying his own words again.
"You can't help us?"
"I told you; that's my exit." He looked up at the hole in the ice, a contrast of melancholy and relief filling his mind. "I can't come with you, Beth."
"Well … I hope it's warmer up there." Beth's fingers were turning numb, and her lips had already attained the same bluish shade as Kyle's. 'You can't imagine how cold it is here,' Sharon had told her in the subway train.
"I'm sure it is," Kyle replied.
"I'll miss you," Beth said. That wasn't exactly true. She hadn't known Kyle long enough to develop any real friendship with him. They had simply been companions on this hellish odyssey, this voyage across a sea of nightmares. Unusual experiences don't necessarily bind people together.
Kyle was perfectly aware of this. He doubted anyone, not even Beth, would really miss him. But that didn't matter anymore.
"I'll miss you too, Beth," he said. "I'll miss everyone I knew."
Kyle took off from the sandy ground and rose above his old taxi. The light from the skies above enveloped his body in a white glare, as he ascended towards the opening in the ice. He could already feel the water turning clear and warm, free of the litter below. His smile broadened, his hands reaching for the surface.
Beth watched the man pull himself up onto the ice, until nothing remained except a slightly rippled lake surface. She briefly considered following him. But even if she could swim past the currents and break through the surface, she would be deserting Dean and Shelley, leaving them to fight on their own. She couldn't do that now, not after all they'd been through together. "Then again, they might be deserting me right now. Who knows what they're going through while I'm just standing here?"
Beth started sprinting across the bottom of the lake once more, her pace as slow as if she were walking through air. She had no idea which direction to follow, but proceeding aimlessly is usually a better choice than procrastinating in the middle of nowhere.
As Beth passed by the sunken taxi, she glanced at the front seat. The familiar, pale figure floated in the driver's seat. His hands still hovered motionless over the wheel. His mouth hung open, nose broken by an impact with the dashboard, eyes reduced to white slits. The girl rested over the backseat. The currents played with her hair, concealing her face behind a curtain of brown strands, then suddenly pulling the hair up to reveal her lifeless visage. Contrary to the driver, she looked almost beautiful in her early moments of eternal sleep. "Like a fairytale princess, waiting for some prince to wake her up." Beth shivered and rushed away from the vehicle.
A/N: For those interested in the Harpy design, I've linked to a sketch in my profile. And if you haven't read it yet, go check out wrath's recently completed "Sins of the Father". It's nothing short of a masterpiece. Tune in next week, –E.P.O.
