The Extremely Crappy Days at Ashfield High

Chappy Thirty Three: The Awakened

Ashfield Public Park was nearly vacant this day, the cold temperatures enough for most to stay inside. There was a terrific fountain in the center, with nice stone pathways and benches scattered around. There was talk in the local government about constructing a public pool nearby as well, which would serve the citizens well during the summer. But Abraham Jackson was unaware of this as he stood near the fountain, blowing out smoke as he let the cigarette fall from his lips.

He was twenty-eight, but he was wise beyond his years, and highly intelligent. He sported very dark, somewhat messy brown hair, with a slight goatee. His scarf flew around in the breeze, and his jeans were extremely dark. A small scar was apparent on his face, directly underneath his right eye. The sun was hidden behind gray clouds, so his sunglasses were unnecessary.

Lucas Schreiber made his way silently into the park, hardly tired after the half hour walk from the hospital. He felt he needed the walk, despite having a car of his own. He spotted Abraham, but stopped. The other man spoke without looking at him.

"How have you been, Luke?"

"Fine."

"And Linda?"

"Same as always."

Abraham nodded, bringing the cigarette up for one last drag. Lucas followed it with his eyes. "I didn't think you'd turn out a smoker."

"Neither did I," he responded, dropping it and crushing it with the heel of his boot. He turned to Lucas. "I wasn't sure if you'd come. After six years you tend to forget."

"Forget you?" Lucas chuckled. "I doubt I'd ever forget you. Not with Linda talking about you half of the time. And who else calls me 'Luke'?"

"Just me. You were never the social type, anyway," said Abraham. "Now, I bet you're a bit anxious to know why I asked you here, right?"

"A little," answered Lucas while he slipped his hands into his jacket pockets. "It's been six years, Abraham. You don't contact someone just for small talk, at least I think."

Abraham sighed. "It's definitely not small talk, that's for sure. Things have been going on recently, Luke, heavy things. Don't tell me you haven't noticed. That would be a lie."

Lucas raised an eyebrow. "What's your point?"

"You know what I'm referring to, Luke, that town, Silent Hill. Something happened there yesterday, undoubtedly. No one knows about it though, but soon word will spread. Word of The Order was starting to circulate as well."

"How do you know that?" asked Lucas, a little surprised. Abraham shrugged.

"I've been keeping tabs on Langer's actions. You tend to bump into certain things when you go down a path like that." He looked away for a minute, sighing. "And don't think you completely got away with it."

"Hmm?"

"When Langer took that kid, remember? We only had him for a day or two, and yet you managed to sneak that little thing in, whatever it was."

Lucas only sniggered. "What? You know Langer never let us near the kid, Abraham. He was crazy about it."

"But you were the oldest, the one he trusted the most. He didn't expect anything from you, and you were barely a teenager."

"Just cut to the damn chase; what are you trying to accuse me of?"

"Black magic," responded Abraham with coolness. This sparked a short laugh from Lucas. He ran a hand through his hair, giggling with humor.

"What type of accusation is that? I've never done anything even remotely like that!"

The other man reached into his jacket and brought out a book, small and compact. It was black, with only the symbol known as the 'Halo of the Sun' on its front in crimson. He opened it up to the first page, yellow and aged, and began to read, his voice crisp and clear.

"'Its is our responsibilty, as the forefathers of our brotherhood, to record our witnessing of the end. We realize that we were never meant to see these events, but if it was God's will, then we can only serve her as we would serve a superior. For you see, those who succeed us would be at a great loss if we did not do this. They would be like stray sheep, without a sheperd, without guidance...'"

Abraham closed the book then, and held it out. Lucas was still, but began to hesitantly reach out for it. "Take it, Luke. Finish it, as no one else has." With the book then out of his hands, Abraham turned and started off. Lucas stared at him as he went, glancing down at the book.

"So that's it, then? That's all this little meeting was for? To give me a book?"

He got no response.

---

"Henry...? Henry, please, come on, this wasn't your fault..."

Eileen Townsend had never really forgot about what had happened at South Ashfield Heights all those years ago. She couldn't be expected to, really. There are things you just can't push out of your mind, things that stretch back to when you were a child, when you were young and careless. But is it the things that happen when you are a child, are they the things that truly frighten you? Or, is it the things that happen when you're an adult, the things that make you realize they weren't just stories?

It wasn't a story, however. She had seen him in that subway station, oh so long ago. At the time, that doll had been her favorite, but when she gave it to him there was no regret. It was a surprise, though, when she saw it within that chest of Henry's, the one he locked up. He had gotten rid of the key, and she had been curious as to what else had been in there... aside from that peculiar smell.

Henry looked to his wife as she tried to comfort him, but he shook his head. "...I had talked to him, Eileen... back at the apartments... He said that it was all because of me that he had come back. I... I know I should've told you, but..."

She squeezed his hand. "It's alright, I'm not upset with you for that. I probably wouldn't have told you either... Look, we had no idea..."

"But he went after Joshua, Eileen. He tried to kill our son... and look what almost happened. I'm not even sure what happened..." he said, bringing a hand up to his forehead. The door to the waiting room opened, and in came James Sunderland, his cell phone.

"Yes, I know... No, she's not hurt," he said into the receiver. He locked eyes with Henry for a moment, sighed, and quickly added, "We'll talk later, I have to go." He tucked the phone away into his pocket and approached the married couple. "I don't think we've properly introduced ourselves. I'm James Sunderland."

Mrs. Townsend smiled and shook his hand. "Eileen Townsend. And this is my husband, Henry."

The other man nodded. "Nice to meet you," he stated while shaking his hand as well. "You, um, you wouldn't happen to be related to Frank Sunderland, would you?"

James nodded. "Yes, he was my father. Unfortunately, he... passed away, about four months ago."

"...Yeah, I'd heard..."

"Did you know him?"

"Yes, in fact, I was a tenant at South Ashfield Heights. So was Eileen, actually. I really am sorry to hear about it."

"Oh, it's alright," responded James as he took a seat opposite them at the table. He sighed again. "Some pretty weird stuff going on recently, don't you think? That snow, and now this..."

Henry nodded. "All of it is rather odd..." Eileen remained silent, eyeing them both. "...isn't your neice a friend of our son?"

"Yes, I even met him the day before yesterday. I could see that he's a good kid."

"Thank you," replied Eileen as Cheryl Mason entered, carrying a cup of coffee. She glanced at them and sat down, placing her hands together. "I'm sure you're all a bit confused, about what's been going on. So am I actually, but I think we can work out the bugs later." She turned to James. "Mr. Sunderland-,"

"James."

"James," she started again, with the smallest hint of a smile, "you've spoken to Nicole's parents about this, correct?"

"Yes I have, but they're out of town at the moment. Nicole's been with her brother, Michael."

"Well at least they know." She turned her attention to the Townsends. "Mr. and Mrs. Townsend, I should apologize for all of this. I had virtually no idea Joshua was even in Silent Hill."

"There's no reason to apologize," said Henry. "I know you had nothing to do with Joshua going there. It wasn't your fault."

"Even still... Well, I think I should get this over with. We all have our own lives to deal with. Now, am I right to assume all of you have been to Silent Hill?"

The three nodded. Cheryl sipped her coffee. "Okay, well, as it turns out, the town was the home base of an underground religious organization. Cultists, Satanists, call them what you will. Most of the town was a part of the group, but you need to understand that this group had originated hundreds of years ago. Anyway, they refer to themselves as-,"

"The Order," Henry finished. She looked to him for a second. "...Correct. The Order believed in a god, but they started to try and bring this god to the world in some tangible state, so that this god could bring about 'Paradise'. They... They did horrible things, grisly things... I don't really know the details, but... they executed rituals, many of them, to try and summon this god. They even sacrificed themselves for this...

"My father, Harry Mason, he had been involved with them about thirty years ago or so. Basically, he nearly destroyed them."

"Harry Mason?" James asked. "The author?"

"Yeah. I'm sure you know that he died. Well, you see, that was them too. One of them got him... and I cooperated with a detective and brought them down."

"Not all of them," said Henry. "Right?"

"Yes," she answered. "There were others who were a part of the group. They're spread out, and they're continuing to spread. Nonetheless, their core had been destroyed. They lost their leaders. The Order couldn't survive like that, so a man, Jeremy Blackheart, took matters into his own hands, and attempted a ritual. He was going to use the kids for it."

They were all quiet, allowing the information to sink in. Eileen then raised a question. "...How do you know they're all really gone?"

Cheryl shrugged. "I guess that's the problem."

---

Christian felt he was fine on his feet as he staggered into the restroom. He was still weak, sure; he'd been shot. Of course, it was difficult to remember anything. Jeremy Blackheart... he had said he was the one, that Christian was the one carrying the god's soul. A god? Was it real? Was everything he researched... Was it all real?

'It has to be...' he thought while staring at his reflection in the mirror. He placed his palm on the glass, staring into his own pupils. Who was he? He was adopted. Of that he knew. But where had he been adopted? Where had he been born? And that feeling he acquired, whenever he heard of Silent Hill... Was it calling him? Was that it? Was that why he had such a deep interest in it?

He reached for the faucet handles when it hit him. It stung the back of his head and sent shivers down his spine. It caught his mind and racked it. He caught the counter edge for support as he fell. His legs went out, and he struggled to get onto his knees before his arms went as well. He fell to the floor, none of his limbs responding to the signals he was ordering from his brain. Something had cut them off.

...shh. Be still.

"...What?"

Are you awake yet?

"Awake? What... Who... Who is speaking to me...?"

Shh. Not speaking. Be silent. Be still. Are you awake?

"How do you want me to answer... if I can't talk?"

Talking is a meaningless ability. If are awake, you would have no need to speak. However, you seem to have not forsaken this ability. Thus, you are not awake... yet.

"What do you mean?" he asked, looking up at the ceiling. "Who are you?"

Who I am is of no importance, what is crucial is my responsibility. You are my responsibility. I must make it possible for you to awaken, to become what you were meant to be. Circumstances are different than what they were supposed to be, but is not much of a hindrance. I prefer them as they turned out to be.

"Your responsibility? Wait... Are you... inside of me?"

You could see it as such. I awakened instead of you, so I must now complete the Awakening. I must now... complete the prophecy. For now, however, I shall let you be.

The cold grip that was restraining Christian disappeared, and he got up, looking back at his reflection. "What was that?" He ran the cold water and splashed some of it onto his face, noticing something on his arm. He looked down to his left forearm to see a symbol, etched in his own blood. His eyes widened in shock. "How...? Just what is this?" he nearly screamed, splashing water onto his arm only to find the symbol was still there, cut into his skin.

"It is... the 'Halo.. of the Sun'..."

---

Zeik yawned loudly, flipping through his notepad with his good arm. He was very bored. Sure, he could've kept walking hours ago, but he saw no cars passing by, so he would've lost a ride.

"Finally! Done!" The woman rose to her feet and dusted herself off. Her black pants had gotten a bit dirty, but that's the price you pay for taking your father's old vehicle. She tapped Zeik on the shoulder. "What are you doing sitting on my car?"

"I was waiting for you to get done," he replied while hopping down and putting his notepad away. "So... are we all set?"

"'We'?"

"Yeah. I'm getting a ride. So come on."

She shrugged and pushed a few strands of blonde hair out of her face. "Fine, get in. Where are you headed?"

"Ashyfielddy," he said while getting into the passenger seat and strapping himself in.

"Hmm... you know you look like shit, right?" she questioned.

"Yep, and you do too."

She sighed with annoyance and switched the car on. It gave a grunt, but fell silent. Cursing under her breath, she tried again, with pretty much the same result. Another try, and another. Finally, the car spurred into action, despite some reluctance. Zeik looked to the back seat, seeing tons of junk.

"What's with the all the crap?"

"Just stuff."

"Yeah, stuff... So what do they call you, miss?"

"Laura, and you?"

"Zeik."

"Zeik? You mean the one they keep talking about on the news?"

"Maybe."

"Whatever..." Laura reached out onto the dashboard and grasped her cell phone, dialing several digits. "Hold up, I need to check some things with my dad..."

"Uh huh."

(Worry not, Joshua will be back in action next chapter.)