Chapter 2: Clockwork

'bang'

'click'

And so, as Frederick wrenched his key from the lock to room '207' and slung them back into the recesses of his jeans' pocket to make acquaintances with the fluff and empty gum-wrappers that resided there, the events of the day would be put into motion.

It would always start like this, continue like this and end like this. Day in, day out, month after month. Just like yesterday and the horde of days before it, he'd inevitably walk down the corridor, not bothering to stop at the mail box unless it was the third of the month (oh, on days like that, he'd momentarily pause to open the draw labelled with the same set of numbers drilled into the front of his apartment and scoop out the congregation of bills in their unjustifiably bright, cheery envelopes) and try to brush of that curious look '203's Eva Oldfield would aim at him from the corners of her milky, cataract eaten eyes. After the excitement of all that, he'd lumber off down to the double doors that barred the apartment off from the equally placid outside world and stroll on to the library where he'd kill of yet another un-eventful day before coming home, while away yet more time and go to bed...

…Then the whole process would kick off once again as the tinny, shrill whine of his alarm would bring him floundering back to the realm of the waked at seven o'clock the following morning on a day that faithfully promised to be indistinguishable from the last.

How very mechanical it all was. Sometimes Goldfarb would stay plotted before his door, bow his head and hold his breath for a few moments as he listened for the tell-tale clicking of the smooth running, never tiring cogs and wheels that might just be lurking behind the thin plastered walls and keeping this world he lived in running at its never-deviating pace.

Most days however, he'd scold at himself for allowing his mind to play host to such a ridiculous notion. What you saw was what you got; what was the point in allowing one's imagination to run away with themselves like that on a ludicrous flight of fancy?

It.got.you.nowhere.

One should just swallow the pill, no matter how tasteless it was, after all, there was no desk you could march up to with the intention of demanding that the big guy upstairs stopped sitting around feeling his ass grow all day long and do something to spice up your life. It… it just didn't work that way.

With a dragging exhalation, Frederick tore himself away from the spot before his door and ambled down the hall, complete with a fresh new lick of paint that sadly attempted to cover up the ever more assertive signs of ware and tare while making the place stink like a chemical factory.

Perhaps it didn't help that Silent Hill wasn't exactly the most exciting place in the world to live. The weather and people who lived within the rural settlement reflected one another pretty well; dull and cold…and both stayed in a similar state all year round. Most of the children would move out the second they hit nineteen and those few who did decide to live out the remainder of the days were either as eccentric as their home-grown parents or had inherited their un-adventurous nature. That all said, there were one or two details about Silent Hill that stood out from the mundane mass of turgid facts; for starters, it was said that there was some voodoo-underground-cult-lets-sacrifice-us-a-virgin thing going on but Goldfarb suspected there was as much truth in that particular rumour as there was in the quirky belief that alligators roamed the very sewers of New-York city…

… and then, only last week, they'd found that totalled, wreck of a car just beyond the Town's perimeter. Apparently, it had flipped over after trying to avoid a pedestrian who'd gone for an ill advised wonder in the fog (something that was pretty much a permanent resident of the town) but sadly, the driver had been just that little bit too slow on turning the wheel and applying the break. That mistake had cost him his rib-cadge, lungs and heart as the steering wheel had gone and embedded it deep with in his chest cavity while the poor jay walker had ended up as nothing more than a gross picnic for the carrion and a smear on the tarmac several meters behind the up-turned vehicle. However, none of this accounted for the two battered and broken corpses found with in the trashed car along with the deceased driver…

…but that was a story for another day, and one Fredrick really didn't care for. Letting those momentary flickers of thought sink back down into the quagmire of useless, miscellaneous bits of half-remembered fact and cluttered information that was rattling away within his cranium, the man buttoned up his coat and stepped outside, greeting the day with a face utterly void of expression.

8 8 8

With a grunt, Frederick lurched through the chipped, barred door, ignoring the angry clang as the metallic barrier smacked off the alleyway's wall and stumbled out into the twig light, dragging a somewhat stubborn bag of garbage behind him. Damn it, this would have been so much easier if he hadn't shirked away from this mundane task for the past four days and turned a blind, ignorant eye to the gradual build up of clutter.

Well, his idleness was most certainly paying off in droves right now, wasn't it? A bubble of frustration popped within the moist alcove of Goldfarb's throat as he strode on (or at least made a bold effort to), fighting against the swollen black bag's tenacious grip on the gravel as the greasy material dug its metaphorical nails in deep. Oh come on! The great, hulking form of the green dumpster was no more that seven meters away and at this rate he was probably going to pull every single muscle in his back trying to cover this pathetic distance.

The soft grinding of bone on bone warbled down the man's auditory nerve as his jaw set like ridged concrete. He lifted up his foot, took a step forward and…

Rip

Suddenly, the whole business of striding forward was no more a chore than normal (i.e, when Fredric wasn't lugging a tone and a half of trash behind him). As if on automatic, he glanced over the shoulder, only to find himself face to face with the obvious explanation; the reason this whole turgid motion was suddenly such a breeze was because he was no longer tugging the said tone and a half of rubbish behind him. Rather, he was merely holding the tail end of the knot he'd sealed the foul smelling bag with and a very limp husk of shapeless plastic complete with a great, yawning tear in it. For a moment, Fredric did little more than look down at the mass of papers saturate with 'garbage water', fruit peels and the renaments of last nights take-away as they lay there on the alphsplat for all the word to see, spilling forth from the gaping perforation like lose entrails from a savage wound, slick with their own greasy fluids.

'Just pick it up' one of those floating voices within his skull sighed tersely. Fred didn't even think of protesting, finding his back bowed and hands buried deep with in the mass of a week worth of junk before that particular stream of consciousness even trickled away, leaving him to stuff the spoilt load back into the shredded, flaccid bag.

And then he stopped, his hands freezing around the hollow, cardboard core of a spent roll of kitchen towel. Something, a gnawing paranoia, sharpened its teeth on the lining of his gut and the tingly, electric sensation that jittered away in every never was enough to stop his heart cold.

Someone was watching him… he could feel it, the pair of unknown eyes scanning and pouring over every detail of his turned, blind back.

The man remained hunched over like some lumbering, primitive ape as his ears went onto over-drive trying to hear above the internal hum of blood flushing back and forth between arteries and veins, trying desperately to pick out something from the myriad of every-day background interference for something to confirm this sudden phobia.

'Crunch'

Fredrick stiffened, the very air he was breathing whistling as it was dragged through his clenched teeth. The sound of broken glass fracturing into nothing more than sharp edged dust under foot seemed almost deafening in the confides of the tiny, claustrophobic ally. He felt the hairs on the nape of his neck go as ridged as copper wires while that 'whump-whup-whump' of his life blood reached a buzzing fever-pitch. All of a sudden, he may as well have been back in that dingy little hallway, smeared with viscera and gore while feeling the breaking sweat freeze against his clammy skin as something so horribly familiar skulked away in the blinding dark. Oh god, he was going to have to-

Frank turned, the soles of his dating shoes grinding against the cores gravel as he spun on his feet and shot up to his full, uninhibited height. The world was nothing more than a whirling blur as he pivoted round; a dizzying blur of greys and browns and everything that lay between.

And then something snagged his eye.

There was a break in the monotonous spiel and mercilessly, it reeled Fredrick in. He stopped, honing in on that which had caught his eye as it loitered just beyond the mesh fence that cut this particularly faceless ally off from the ground's of the neighbouring apartment.

"Oh no…" His pupils focused on what stood no more that a meter away, dilating to pin-head sized dots while the rest of Fred's surroundings simply became meaningless as this new vision over-road his brain. Hell, even the criss-cross lines of twisting iron dissolved into a fuzzy, distant thing.

What lurked beyond the fence dragged itself that little bit closer; raising its hands and letting the horde of fingers it bore lock themselves around the links of the fence. And then it did the worst thing of all.

It smiled…no, not 'it', he. His cracked and splintered into that hideous expression That Goldfarb has seen leering forth from the darkness that fogged up The Dream, that foul night time visitor that would play out the same demented theme again and again like a skipping record.

"No…" Frederick felt something seize up in his chest as he stumbled back; scuffing the ground as he tried to back away on feet that felt as though they'd sunk right into the mass of grey, manufactured rock that sprawled out across the ally's floor. The Doctor merely looked on, dipping his head and watching the whole display though his arched brows as that damnabled grin split his lips even further.

"NO!"

BANG

"AGH!" something shot through his system like a dose of white hot electricity and some distant part of Fredrick's brain that was yet to be ravaged by the adrenalin coursing about his blood stream was barely aware of his feet leaving the ground as the clacking boom of metal on metal shook the air.

"Christ! What the hell's gotten into you?"

Fred stood there, hunched over and panting as he goggled at the figure standing in the door way that he'd come skulking out of only a bare few moments before. The some what lardy man stared right back at him, wearing an expression that suggested he'd just come across a two headed-fire breathing chicken that was fluent in Belgium. Goldfarb didn't hear the question, reeling back around to face the fence and the smiling monster that lurked just beyond it…

Except…He wasn't there, not anymore.

Frederic's sense of logic finally caught up with him. What? How was that possible? He'd only turned his head for what? The grand total of a split second and that foul thing in the white coat had some how managed to pull a better escape than Houdini could formulate in his widest dreams? Fred's head snapped back on to the man fast enough to give him a crippling case of whiplash, his wide eyes begging for some confirmation that he really had just seen what he though he had… That he, the very thing that woke him again and again at some disgusting hour basted with his own, Luke-warm sweat had really been there, only a yard away and walking around in the bright light of day.

The tubby man just stared warily back at him out of the corner of his eye.

Suddenly, Fredric was more than aware of the gabbled, hacking sound of his spluttering breath choking up and down the tight ally. God, what the hell must he look like standing here in a stack of his own waste and choking on the oxygen? Before the newest arrival on the scene even got the chance to open his rounded, sagging jaw again to re-phrase his un-answered question, Fred had collapsed back into the scattering of thrown away things, scooping them up in great armfuls before hurling them into the hungry dumpster and tearing past he of the by-gone salad days figure into the safe refuge of the apartment. The man stood there for a moment, listening as Fred thumped up the stairway three steps at a time.

"Weirdo…"

8 8 8

The bed whined, the springs coiled up like quiescent serpents voiced their objection at being flopped onto by fifteen stone of sweating, panting man. Fred, however, really didn't give a rat's ass if they weren't happy with the situation. No, he was too busy rubbing away at his temples with a pair of tightly balled fists as he sat perched on the corner of the bed, staring down at the patch of beige carpet between his shoes as if it had all the answers he sought. Sadly, the patch of fuzzy material didn't seem to be too talkative a mood and was more than happy to keep the secrets of enlightenment to itself while the man stewed in his own confusion.

"How…How?" the question that had come racing up the stairs after Frederic, snapping at his heals as sprinted back to the safety of apartment number two-zero-seven… or at least, he'd though he'd find refuge within its walls but apparently, he just hadn't slammed the door shut fast enough for that question had managed to grease in after him and finally managed to get Goldfarb trapped in a corner. No matter where he turned, the question of how something that he was so sure was just nothing more than some flitting shred of unconscious though had managed to break free from his (somewhat limited) imagination and come to be staring right at him from a plot of solid space in the real world glowered back at him. Oh, and that overlooking the piece de résistance, the plain fact that he, that man-thing and its fouls, self-righteous smirk had somehow managed to dissolve away to nothing like some twisted Cheshire-Cat in the space of a few seconds.

How?

HOW?

HOW?

There was a click that only Fredric heard as some internal switch in his head ticked on and the proverbial light-bulb blazed into life. The taunt grimace that his facial muscles had worked themselves into began to wane and soften.

And then he laughed.

How? Oh, he had an answer to beat off that snarling question with and it was so deliciously simple. He simply hadn't been there at all. Yep, it had all been his mind deciding to have a little fun and pulling one on him just for kicks. After all, he did had it coming; he'd been depriving the poor thing of its much needed sleep thanks to a particular habit of his that involved waking in a screaming fit and spending the remaining duration of the night eyeing the ceiling. That gave more than a sound reason as to why his fellow apartment-dweller had been gawking at him so… Hell, anyone was bound to be a little cagey if they discovered a person they live in a relatively close proximity throwing a blue-fit over something they thought they'd seen as plain as day, but in fact was nothing more than a space of empty, harmless air.

Fredric allowed himself a smile as he let his spine melt and flopped back onto the bed. Life was so much better when you took the time to take these things apart, look at them from afar and then approached with nice, big, healthy dose of logic…and to think, he'd been sitting here only moments earlier and ripping out his shambolic hair by its roots over something as ludicrous as the though that the contence of his nightmares were real, breathing things of flesh and blood. Fred exhaled, and with that simple, internal change of pressure, something escaped from him. Suddenly, all those empty, wasted hours of fretful tossing and turning came crashing down on him, squashing whatever virility happened to still be lurking within the man. He blinked but his eyes just didn't want to open again, the lids gripping to one another as if the skin had gained some kind of magnetic property all of a sudden.

God. He was so tired. Clearly, he must have received the angry red bill from the bank of the land of nod, scrawling on in a fat, bold print about just how big his over-draft was. The corners of Goldfarb's mouth picked themselves up at this as he rolled his head all the way back to the point that gravity's downward pull was able to chip in a hand with the formidable task of keeping his peepers open so they could seek out the time blinking across the face of the bed-side clock.

6.07pm.

Fred wriggled that little bit further up the bed and then just let go of it all. As he fell he slowly began to forget about all those things poking away at him as the warm wash of sleep crept over him. He forgot about the dodgy looking stains that now gripped the material of his shirt sleeve thanks to plunging them deep into the pile of spilt rubbish. He forgot about the monotonous carousel that was his life. He forgot about the fact that Harold Ledwin down in 117 probably thought he was as sane the next guy sporting a straight-jacket. He forgot about the way the gaggle of kids whose soul purpose in life seemed to be loitering outside the 'Happy Burger' joint he had to pass on his way home made him feel like curling up into a little ball as their eyes clung to him as he scurried past. He forgot about the waking dream.

There was however, one thing that clung to him like a bad smell as he drifted of into the inner-space of unconsciousness that he could not shake like all those other, trivial woes; That sudden explosion of blind, all consuming panic that'd blown a sizzling hole right through him as he'd turned around and caught sight of him staring right back. No, no matter how sound the excuses were, there was no way that he could deny the strangulating fear that had left him gibbering and ranting.

Surly, something born of one's own mind couldn't do that…unless you really were crazy.

'Thunk'

Frederic's eyes flickered open and the first thing that registered on his mind was how dark it was.

'Must have been out for the count there…' That bossy occupant of his head commented. 'At least this time you weren't woken up by a pair of hands making a bee-line for that throat of yours.'

At this, the eyes snapped open. His inner councillor had a point there. This was the first time in a while he hadn't been aroused by the sound of his own heckling screams bouncing back at him from the walls.

'So…I didn't dream then?' Still muzzy with sleep, Fredric lolled onto his side, propping himself up on the crook of his arm and squinting at the clock by his head.

0.00 - 0.00 - 0.00 was all it had to say on the subject of the time. The man blinked hard enough to ruffle the skin around his eyes and tried again.

0.00 repeated the clock, flashing its enigmatical display of zeros at the man. He was just about to make a grab for the appliance when-

-'Thunk'

Fred sat up, instantly forgetting all about the faulty clock.

'What was that?'

For a gap of time, all the man could do was sit there rigidly, trying to hear over the sound of his heart as it palpitated away behind the safety of his ribcage.

And then the paranoia returned. My god, what if it was one of those crazy psychopaths that you couldn't help but open a newspaper and find looking straight out at you from among the columns about some morbid story detailing how said person had broken and entered before promptly looting/raping/slicing and dicing the poor, hapless occupant as they slept!

'Thunk'

"Shit!" the tiny profanity breezed between Fredric's clenched teeth. After much deliberating and keeping tuned into the reigning silence for even the faintest hint of noise from the living room sprawled out beyond the closed bedroom door, Fred finally got to his feet.

"Hello?" The instant the word left his mouth, the man wished he could just clamp his teeth and catch that stupid gob of noise before it had a chance to punch right through the sudden deathly quiet that had fallen over the apartment. Of course, if there was someone skulking about next-door they were hardly going to return his feeble call with a friendly accost… if anything, they'd probably be grabbing the nearest blunt object to hand and be sidling up behind the door, ready to bump him off the moment he stuck his head out there.

'so, what now?' The voice droned dryly in a tone that suggested that right now, the thing that concerned his internal reasoning was the state of it's metaphorical fingernails. 'We're going to hold up in here until the cops barge in only to find your starved corpse stinking out the place? Anyway, since when did you ever hear of someone being murdered in their bed in Silent Hill of all places?'

Fredric ran a tongue over his lips, sliding his feet (still clad with the shoes that had been just too much of an effort to remove last night) over the carpet as he idled up to the door as stealthily as possible. Laying a hand on the door knob, it suddenly dawned on him that he could just slink back into bed and forget all about these night time disturbances. After all, wouldn't he look like a right prat when he went bursting through that door only to find the furniture to be the only thing shocked by his barging in? Anyways, if yesterday was anything to go by, this could just be his mind playing a new game on him, or maybe a new variant of the same old dream.

Yes, at this point, Fredric Goldfarb could very easily have gone back to bed and cowered under the covers while waiting for dawn to come in all her fresh and rosy fingered glory…

… But in the long run, it would only have prolonged the meeting with what lurked beyond his bedroom door.

A/N- ok, no more refrences to SOTF, I somenly swear it and yay, I sem to be back in the trend of doing grossly long chapters. Oh, and I'm at collage now so this is going to be s l o w

Nivana- yep, so original that I stole his surname for a film. Kudos to you if you recognise it, you have taste.

Just-call-me-blue- appologies for taking so long with that but I'm more that greatful to hear you're enjoying this one

EPO- mmm, one day I do fear that I'm going to turn into a total Thomas hardy type (in which case you and everyone else can stone me to death). Umm… well, strictly speaking, there are no trap doors…fears legal action

Slap-dash- seriously, I'm more than flattered. I always worry and freat that I go too far with that kind of thing. Thankyou very much.

wiezerdgamir- well, I did warn you that this is somewhat derived from SH4 so that's to be expected. I do however promis this to be…original in most respects.

Nessmk- yes, there will be monsters, though this time round, they're going to have a little more meaning than those inhabiting the pages of SOTF