I.

Opening his eyes was more of a task than Harry would have ever presumed before. He clenched his eyes shut in an attempt to get some more energy to fully open his eyes, but they were less than cooperative, keeping him in the dark. Harry relaxed for a moment, feeling himself leaving the hazy, dreamlike state of unconsciousness and re-entering the world he was accustomed to. Again, he opened his eyes, and this time, he was greeted by a harsh white light shining in his face.

Somehow, he had the strength to shield his eyes with his right arm, and angle himself away from the light with his left arm. A dull pain seeped through his body making movement more of a chore than a convenience.

Harry turned to the left and noticed the rusted, worn machinery probably used for some kind of monitoring off to the left of the bed he was on. Harry was puzzled...the last thing he remembered was being in his apartment...then something happened.

Harry sat up much too quickly and felt a wave of dizziness and nausea engulfed him. Harry leaned to the side and vomited, his stomach contracting hard to release whatever was in his stomach. Harry looked down at the puddle of indescribable liquid and noticed blood.

He coughed a few times and dragged the back of his hand over his mouth. Feeling only slightly better, Harry took a full look at the room.

It was definitely a hospital room. The walls and floors were tiled with green and white, the ceiling was plaster and white as well. The florescent lights flickered on and off randomly, but a lamp hovering over Harry kept some consistent luminance, despite being dim. Harry found that he was sitting on a stretcher, which was in the same shape as most of the machinery in the room: rusted, worn, and dirty.

Harry closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he was doing in a hospital. He suddenly remembered a woman...long white hair...gray, no black dress...in his apartment...the sponge...something strange...then...then...he simply couldn't remember. The memory was a fleeting feeling of danger and apprehension. Then he remembered someone else. A man, young, Henry...yeah, his name was Henry...Henry...something...Town...Townsend. He remembered the young man's face hovering over him with an expression of worry and distress. Then...then he was here.

Harry shook his head, finding it useless to continue to try to remember. All he could do now is figure out what to do now and where Heather was. He set his feet on the ground carefully, not wanting a repeat of earlier with nausea and dizziness. Once he was sure he could stand, Harry stood and stretched.

It was then that he noticed the small desk in the corner of the room. He looked at it curiously—he hadn't noticed it before and the room was no bigger than a college dormitory room. He walked over to the desk carefully and noticed a memo on top of scattered papers.

The patient has recovered from his abdomen wound. My lord, I have done your bidding by bringing this man from the brink of death to be judged before you...please accept me into your paradise as a loyal and faithful servant.

Harry felt the pangs of fear creep into his mind. Above the memo was a bottle of pain relievers. He grabbed them and put them into his leather jacket packet. He searched the drawers frantically and found a gun and some bullets. A cell phone, which probably belonged to the doctor, sat underneath some papers, and Harry grabbed it as well, not sure what exactly he would do with a cell phone at this point.

Harry loaded the gun and turned to the door. He opened it carefully and poked his head out. The hallway was desolate and quiet...too quiet for a hospital. There were no doctors rushing to surgery, no nurses helping patients to their rooms, no visitors meandering around the hallways...nothing.

The hallway was in much the same condition as the room: dirty, rusty, and desolate. Harry noticed a lone stretcher down the hallway, the person lying on it covered with a white sheet. Hints of blood discolored the sheet in several places, giving Harry the feeling that something was not quite right with the body.

He slipped through the small crack in the door and let it close quietly. He pointed his gun at the stretcher and walked toward it carefully. He didn't want to see the body, didn't even want to get close to it, but somehow, he was drawn to it. There was something about it that called his name, beckoned to him to investigate.

His shoes tapped lightly on the ground as he moved closer, readying himself to move at the slightest inclination of peril. His throat tightened as he closed the distance...his breathing was almost non-existent. He kept the gun steady and pointed at the body, knowing that he was capable of firing if there was any indication that he needed to.

Closer.

Harry's heart was beating out of his chest and his mind was racing. What was he afraid of...it was only a body underneath a sheet. No, it wasn't. It was much more than that...it was a sign, a symbol.

Closer.

No, it was simply a body...there was nothing evil or sinister or even remotely dangerous about it. It was a lifeless body, left in the hallway by some inattentive nurse. But where was she now?

Closer.

Harry realized he hadn't blinked for the past minute, afraid that in that half second of darkness, the body would spring up and catch him unaware, making him a partner underneath that sheet.

He reached his left hand out carefully toward the sheet. He was ready to draw his hand back at any sudden movement and fire with other hand. The sheet was crisp under his touch and stuck to his sweaty palm. He pulled carefully and discovered what was under the sheet, which wasn't a human body.

II.

"What the hell is a mannequin doing here?" Harry said in a hushed voice.

A lifeless mannequin, void of any facial features, lay underneath the sheet. Harry wondered if it had been placed there as a joke, or maybe it was a practice dummy, or even a prop for some kind of hospital drill.

Harry sighed loudly, cursing himself for getting so worked up.

"There's nothing here...nothing's going on...it's all in your head," he said to himself. He found himself smiling at his panic and illogical conclusions. He looked at his watch and saw that it was a little past midnight.

That was it. He must be at one of the smaller hospitals on the outskirts of town, maybe even a clinic. It was late, so a small clinic like this would have a minimal staff at night and patients wouldn't stay overnight, which would explain the lack of personnel and patients. But it still didn't explain why he found the strange memo on the desk, the gun in the drawer, and why he felt that something still wasn't quite right. Even in a poor town, the clinic would be the cleanest place, yet this clinic seemed rundown and dirty. Even the lights didn't work exactly as they should.

Harry turned from the mannequin and gazed down the hallway. He could see the sign for the elevator up ahead. He shook his head and walked toward the sign.

A piecing scream froze Harry in place. He spun quickly and saw the mannequin's head on the ground, blood caked at the neck. He looked toward the stretcher and saw blood pouring from a jagged area where the neck should have connected to the head.

Harry took an unsure step backwards. It was all surreal...the red blood, the featureless face lying on its right side on the floor, the scream still echoing in his ears.

He spun on his heel and ran for the elevator.

III.

Harry heard a pounding noise, which continued to increase in intensity. It reverberated all around him as his shoes tapped lightly on the linoleum floor.

Harry knew the layout of the floor...all he had to do was run to end of the hall, go left through the double doors, and follow the next hallway to the end. The elevator would be right there.

Then Harry came to the realization that he did indeed know the layout of the hospital—it wasn't a clinic. None of the explanations he came up with earlier seemed to matter, because Harry came to the realization that he was in Brookhaven Hospital. It was then that Harry realized the pounding sound pursuing him was nothing more than his own heart beating wildly.

He reached the elevator, and it opened without hesitation when he pressed the down arrow. The doors closed quietly, and the elevator descended smoothly.

But then Harry realized he didn't press a button. Someone or something was controlling the elevator. Harry readied his gun and pointed it toward the doors. The elevator stopped just as smoothly and opened its doors.

The corridor was empty from what Harry could see of it. It was ominously quiet with no sign of anyone having been there.

He kept his gun pointed in front of him as he took slow, deliberate steps into the hallway. He suddenly wished he had a flashlight. Shadows turned normal objects into menacing-looking creatures of the night, ready to come to life and pounce on anyone that dared to stray too close. The silence was heavy and oppressing, like it was waiting to swallow innocent victims whole.

Harry glanced around cautiously, pointing his gun into every corner and at every shadow, only turning away when he was absolutely sure that the shadow was nothing more than a shadow.

He turned to the left, hoping to get to the front door, when a piercing scream shattered the ebbing silence. Harry immediately identified the scream as coming from the first door on the left. If memory served him correctly, it was the doctor's lounge.

Harry kept his gun level and eyes fixated on the door. He put one hand on the knob and pushed the door open, quickly returning his hand to the gun, steadying it.

Two individuals turned toward him, both with different expressions on their faces. A woman was on the floor, appearing as though she had fallen or been pushed into her present position. Her long black hair was only slightly disheveled from whatever happened, but the look on her face said something completely different. Tears were brimming at the edge of her dark blue, almost violet eyes and her arm was positioned as to ward off any further attacks.

On the other hand, a male loomed over her. He was obviously a doctor, still dressed in the light blue scrubs, cap, and face mask. The only thing clearly visible was his eyes, which scared Harry. They were an olive color, with orange specks...menacing and penetrating. The part of his face that Harry could see seemed darker than it should be...almost dirty.

"What the hell is going on here?" Harry tried to sound brave, but he realized that he had stumbled into something that was much deeper than he thought.

The doctor stepped back from the woman and crossed his arms. "Well, I didn't expect you to be up so soon, Mr. Mason." His voice was husky and stern.

The woman used the interruption to scramble to her feet, backing away from the doctor and towards Harry.

The doctor looked Harry up and down for a long while. Then he said, "Pretty good work I did."

"You are sick!" the woman seethed. "I won't be your victim anymore—you run this hospital like it's your personal playground and use us like your toys. You won't keep me trapped here any longer."

The hatred in her voice was evident. Harry wondered just what had happened before he had walked in and what would have happened if he hadn't walked in. He kept a suspicious eye on the woman, but allowed her to step closer.

The doctor took a step toward the woman, and Harry stepped forward with the gun pointed at his chest.

"I don't know what's going on here, but just stay back," Harry commanded.

The woman backed up until she was slightly behind Harry.

"Is that anyway to treat the doctor that gave you a new lease on life, Mr. Mason? Surely, you would have died if not for my hands," he lifted his hands, palms facing Harry.

Blood began to seep through the rubber gloves and drip to the floor. "See, these hands are blessed by our god."

The woman gasped and Harry heard her take another step back. Harry followed suit and stepped back as well.

"You...you're not well," Harry weakly said.

The doctor turned to the desk and grabbed a scalpel, and began to advance on Harry and the woman. "Maybe I'll just have to reopen your wound, Harry," the doctor drew out his name leaving behind a sense that this doctor was no longer human.

Harry backed out quickly, keeping the woman behind him. He slammed the door and was surprised to find that it had a lock on the outside. He quickly pushed the lock then bolted the door.

The doctor banged on the door, determined to get out. Harry backed up further until he hit the wall. Startled, he turned toward the woman.

"His hands...they were bleeding...why?" she shook her head in disbelief.

Harry could tell that the situation shook her up more than the apparent abuse she was getting. "We've got to get out of here," he said and ran toward the front door. The woman followed with no hesitation. Harry was surprised to find the front door to the hospital open. They dashed through the doors and out into the cool, damp air.

Harry turned left and ran down Carroll Street, the woman keeping pace with him. He turned down an alley and realized that the alley actually led to a set of stairs with a door at the top.

"This way," he said as he ascended the steps two at a time. A sign hung above the door, the name Heaven's Night glowed with blue and red neon.

The door was open. The duo dashed in and shut the door. Harry found a chair to prop against the door. It wouldn't hold anything for long, but at least it would give them a headstart on anything that tried to burst in.

When they felt that they could relax a little, Harry and the woman slid into a booth, trying to comprehend what was going on.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked. It was a simple, routine question, yet it offered a chance for people to open up.

The woman nodded, but stayed silent.

"What happened back there?"

The woman seemed to relive through the entire experience before speaking. "I'm a nurse at the hospital. My name is Tina—it's actually Christina, but I go by Tina. I only have one friend that calls me Christie—Kara," she smiled at the thought of Kara calling her name from far down the hall. "Anyways, there was this patient—he was every bit strange as he was talkative. He always tried to talk to me, almost flirt with me—but there was something about him, something—dangerous. Stanley—Stanley Coleman—I won't forget him—he was so weird and on top of that, he always talked about some fictional woman.

He grabbed my arm, asking me to take him to the one he loved. I slapped his hand away just from reflex. However, the chief of security caught me on camera. He's so strange too—maybe he should have been locked up with the patients.

He called me into his office and showed me the tape, cutting out the part with Stanley grabbing me. He told me I was a worthless bitch and I deserved to be punished. He moved around to the door so quick. Before I could do anything, he grabbed me and began groping me, telling me that I would like it or be locked in solitary confinement. He told me that he could do that—no one would miss me. No one would even know I was gone.

I tried to fight back, but he was strong, much stronger than he looked. He tore my blouse and—Kara happened to have to go to the chief's office and she saw what was happening through the window. She used her key to open the door quietly and snuck up on the chief. She picked up a paperweight and hit him in the head. He slumped over me—I thought he was dead.

Kara helped me up and we ran out of there. Kara made a report to Dr. Killian, and then she took me home. I came back the next day to tell Killian that I quit, but that was when he trapped me in his office. There was suddenly something strange about him, something evil. He...he struck me and told me that I wasn't going anywhere."

Tina stopped the story there, pushing some of her hair out of her face.

"And that was when I showed up," Harry said.

Tina nodded. "I don't know what he would have done...his eyes were so strange and he...he wasn't himself. He's usually so nice and would have been appalled to hear that the chief of security had tried to..." she trailed off, suddenly realizing that gravity of what could have happened.

Tina wiped away a tear, before continuing. "Everything has been so strange lately...things at the hospital, even on the street. When I went to Killian's office, I noticed the foggy weather and that the hospital was almost completely deserted. I tried to call Kara the night before, but my phone kept cutting out."

Harry was responsive the entire time she talked, listening to her story intently, and finally deciding that she was somehow drawn into this nightmarish would just as he was.

"Tina, there's something wrong with this town—something strange. You've noticed it yourself, but it gets a lot worse."

"Worse—what's going on here?"

Harry sighed hesitant to tell her the story, fearing rejection or disbelief. Still, it seemed they were going to be trapped in Heaven's Night for a while, so he sighed and began the events that now spanned seventeen years.

Tina returned the courtesy of listening intently, her face showing true concern and a bit of fear. She never interrupted and waited until he was finished to say something.

"It sounds crazy—you realize that it's difficult for me to believe, but with everything that's happened, I can't rule out what you've experienced. Your story also reminds me of some things I've heard—rumors among the nurses about a girl, seventeen years ago, kept in a secret part of the hospital. She was on the verge of death, yet somehow, she stayed alive. A former nurse here took pity on the girl and took care of her, but the weirdness of the situation really bothered her. From what I know, she disappeared along with the girl."

Harry nodded. He couldn't bring himself to tell the truth about the nurse, Lisa Garland. He could see her face, her torn face as she realized that she was dying. Harry slammed the door on her, unable to face her, unable to help. There was nothing he could do.

"Harry?' Tina asked, noticing the pensive expression on his face.

He was jolted out of his thoughts. "Sorry, I was just thinking about what's going on. We'll wait here a few more minutes then head out. I have to find my daughter—and something tells me she is somewhere in this town."

Thee was a break in conversation, Harry and Tina both finding solace in the silence. After a few minutes, Tina's dark blue—no, violet eyes looked deep into Harry's own eyes.

"Thank you," she said. She didn't elaborate or feel the need to go over what she was thanking him for. Tina just wanted him to know that she was grateful, not only for Harry saving her, but also for just being there with him. Even though she didn't know him, she felt a trust, a bond growing between them, forged through adversity, nurtured by fear.

Harry gave back a genuine smile, despite everything that had happened.

"Let's get going," Harry said.

Notes:

Christie is a character in Silent Hill 3. When exploring the alternate version of Brookhaven Hospital in the Special Treatment room, a note is scribbled by an unknown person, which says, "The Chief is a pervert! Christie would have been better off if she had been fired..."

Skittlefratz: Glad you liked the reappearance of Pyramid Head. Your reviews are very interesting when you're tired...

Richard B. Sampson: The two stories will be merging soon; hopefully within the next few chapters

Cat: Hope you like the new chapter. Everyone's reviews have really been keeping me going on this one. It's like new ideas just keep popping up.

Shortey: Glad you like my work!