After what seemed like an eternity, they dropped out of the end of the passage into a large room. The lighting was dim, but Eileen could make out a few dozen small, round tables around the edges with chairs and decorations. At the far end of the room was a long table that ran the width of the space, with a dozen or so chairs behind it. The middle of the room was clear of tables. White and gray decorations adorned the walls.

"What the..." Henry said. He took his pack off and dropped it by the hole.

"It looks like a party." John said.

"Guys," Eileen said, pointing at the tall cake sitting on a table in front of the long table. "This is no party. This is a wedding reception."

"You're right," John said. "Wonder whose."

Henry approached the cake cautiously. It seemed like a typical wedding cake, with three layers and a little bride and groom standing on top. He inspected it closely for a few moments, then extended a finger and swiped it through the icing. He lifted the finger to his face, sniffed it, and then put it in his mouth.

"It's real," he said. "Not bad."

"Uh...is it really a good idea to eat anything here?" John asked.

Henry shrugged. "If this place wanted to kill us, we'd be dead by now."

Eileen peered at the cake intently.

"There's writing in the icing," she said.

"What does it say?" John asked.

"Huh. Shepherd-Sunderland."

"That's impossible," John said. "It can't be."

"It is," she replied. "We're at their wedding reception."

"That was over a decade ago..."

Then, a familiar sound became audible from a far corner of the room. A shuffling, scratching sound.

"...and we're not alone," Henry said.

All three crouched behind the table and readied their weapons. Eileen's hand sought Henry's, and he gave it a squeeze.

A door in that corner opened, and two figures slowly entered the room. The one in front was vaguely human, but was bent over like an ape. As it came closer, Eileen saw that it wore some sort of loose, dark garment over its body that hid its shape. It shuffled slowly along.

The figure in back was much wider at the bottom than at the top. It seemed to glide along the floor as it moved. As it approached, Eileen saw that its strange shape was due to a light-colored garment, like a dress, that almost completely covered its body. It was dirty, streaked in blood and dirt and something else...

It emitted a high-pitched, keening wail that stood Eileen's hair on end.

"Our bride and groom, maybe," Henry muttered.

"It couldn't really be them, could it?" Eileen asked.

Then, more figures emerged from the door, similar to the first two. They drifted toward them, groaning and keening.

"There's your answer," John said. "Can't be, if there are a bunch of them. Some bridal party."

As they watched, the monsters surrounded their table and moved inward toward them. Escape was impossible.

Henry gripped his axe tightly.

"Let's go," he said.

The three of them stood up from their hiding place, and swung with all their might at the macabre wedding party that approached them. The axe, shovel and bat cut through the rotting flesh, which exploded and splattered everywhere. Limbs smashed, heads crunched, and Eileen tried not to think about it.

It struck her that the creatures weren't putting up much of a fight. They weren't very fast or aggressive…they just meandered around, swatting at them on occasion. She didn't even need to sneak up on them or try to time her hits…she swung, they went down.

Almost too easy. But for now, too easy was just fine.

A few minutes later, they stood, breathless, over the shattered bodies. Henry poked at one of the ape-like figures with the business end of his axe.

"Reminds me of the ones we saw in the building," he said to Eileen. "Except for the clothes."

"Yeah," she said, squinting at one of the figures in dresses. The garment looked as though it might have once been a satiny, fluffy wide-skirted gown. "These sounded different, though."

"No sign of Mary or James," John said. He leaned on his bat, and surveyed the room thoughtfully. "It never occurred to me that..."

Eileen walked to the gift table off to the side. It was strangely empty for such a large wedding reception. Three identical boxes sat side by side in the middle of the large table. They were wrapped in gold paper, with little cards attached.

"Guys," she said. "I think these might be for us."

Henry and John joined her at the table.

John picked up the one in front of him, and opened the attached card. "This one's mine," he said.

The package sitting in front of Eileen had her name on it, as well, and Henry's was the third. They read the cards on the packages.

"A reminder of things past," John read.

"A reminder of things present," Henry read.

"A reminder of things to be," Eileen read. "Wonder how that works. Guess I'm about to find out."

The boxes opened easily.

"What the…" Henry said slowly.

John reached into his box. "I know...or, rather, I don't," he said. In his hand lay a small, sharp knife with a dark handle. The blade was stained with blood.

"Not much use as a weapon," he said. "Lots of knives look the same...but this one seems familiar, somehow." He wrapped it in its tissue paper and put it into a pocket.

Henry was staring absently off into the distance. A set of dog tags dangled from his hand. Their clinking echoed throughout the large room.

Eileen lifted one of the tags and read it.

"Michael Townshend."

"My father," Henry said tightly.

"He served?" John asked.

"Yes. Before I was born." Henry quickly tucked the tags into a pocket.

"What did you get, Eileen?" John asked.

"I know what they are," she said, "but I don't know why I got them..."

In Eileen's box lay two small blood-red notebooks. She flipped through them. The pages were all a creamy white, and unlined. "They're blank," she said. "Nothing in them at all."

Henry's eyes were wide as he stared at the notebooks, but he said nothing. Eileen was opening her mouth to ask him about them when a loud squishing sound and a thud from behind made them all jump.

They spun around. A large fleshy...something had fallen to the ground several feet behind them. No obvious head or hands or anything else were apparent, just a large blob of rotting flesh.

What was more interesting was the tiny gift-wrapped box on top of the mound. Eileen extended her shovel and pushed the box onto the floor. It opened, and a small metal object fell out.

Henry picked it up. "A key," he said. He turned over the tag. "It's blank."

"Guess we should see if it fits any locks around here," John said. "I don't see any in this room."

The door in the corner seemed to be the only one in the whole room, strangely. As they passed the cake on their way to it, Eileen saw the bride and groom on top shift, then topple...then she realized that the floor was shaking.

"Cover!" John yelled. She felt Henry's hand grab hers, and she was pulled under one of the tables before she could react. She found herself crouching under the table, with Henry covering her. The floor shook, and she could hear debris falling around her.

After several seconds, the shaking stopped. John lifted the edge of the tablecloth with his bat, and peered out from underneath. He motioned to them, and they crawled out from under the table.

It looked as though the plaster from the ceiling had all fallen at once. Pieces littered the floor, and dust was everywhere. The cake was in chunks on the floor, and the bride and groom lay shattered.

The hole through which they'd entered was now blocked by enormous piles of debris in front. It was completely inaccessible.

"Damn it," said Henry. Somewhere under the pile was his pack, crushed and useless. "Thank God I kept some stuff on me."

"The door's blocked, too," Eileen said, looking at the pile of debris in that corner.

"But we can get out over there," John said, pointing to where a piece of wall had fallen down. They picked their way through the rubble and passed through the hole in the wall.

The room beyond seemed to have once been a kitchen. A butcher-block table sat in the middle, and cabinets lined the walls. An enormous oven took up part of one wall, and a large refrigerator occupied a corner.

Eileen opened the oven slowly, then let out a sigh of relief. "Empty."

Henry pulled on the handle of the refrigerator. And pulled again, harder.

"Stuck?" John asked. Henry nodded. They both tried the door, but it didn't budge.

"Hang on, Henry. What's this?"

There was a small code pad under the door handle. They both scanned the room, but nothing that looked like a code was evident.

Eileen found a narrow door tucked next to a cabinet. She turned the knob, but the door was locked.

"Henry, throw me that key," she called, and after a moment it sailed toward her. She grabbed it out of the air and turned it in the lock. The door swung open.

All three of them crowded around the doorframe. The little room beyond looked like a pantry, but the shelves were empty.

Empty, except for...

"What's that?" Henry asked.

"You've lived by yourself for how long, and you don't recognize that?" Eileen asked, as her hand reached for the object.

"Really?" John asked.

Henry frowned. "No, I don't. What's the big deal?"

"This," Eileen said, "is a fruit pie. Cherry." She handed it to Henry, who turned it over in his hands, inspecting it. He ripped open the wax-paper wrapper, and red goo dripped out.

"Those things always get squashed," John said.

Henry took a very large bite. He chewed slowly, rolling the food around in his mouth. "Hmmm," he said, mouth full.

"Hungry?" Eileen asked.

"Not really," Henry mumbled, raising his hand to his mouth, "but this might be of use."

He spit something into his hand, and took it to the sink to rinse it off. Unfolding it revealed that it was a letter-size piece of paper, apparently blank on both sides.

Henry ran his fingertips over the surface. Then, he stuck his fingers into the remains of the pie, extracted a large dollop of the red goo, and smeared it onto the paper. He worked it in for a moment or so, then rinsed the paper in the sink. White letters appeared on the paper.

Damn waitstaff keep eating all of the backup snackables. So, the boss has put in a new locking fridge. The code is 9526...don't give it out.

"How did you know?" Eileen asked.

"Had to do this before. At least this time, it's not blood."

"That's gotta help," John said, as he keyed in the code. A beep informed them that the door was open. He pulled the door open to find...

"Another hole," Eileen said.

At the end of the passage, they were deposited back onto the streets of Silent Hill. On the other side of the barrier, as far as they could tell, just feet from where they had entered the door.

Several blocks and a few more demons later, they crossed the northernmost street into a small, brick-lined area with benches. A sign stood at the far end of the space that said "Rosewater Park."

Statues and small grassy areas lined the walkway to the lake, which ended in a long walk along the lakeside. Further down, they found an abandoned hot dog stand and some coin-operated binoculars mounted along the walk.

Eileen leaned on the railing by the hot dog stand, staring into the fog.

"I bet it's beautiful here on a clear day," she said. "You could probably see the other side of the lake."

John nodded. "It was, when we were kids. I remember the old man that sold the hot dogs. He would give us extra relish if nobody was looking."

"Made a good chili dog, too," Henry added. "And eating it by the lake made it taste better."

"Your mom let you eat chili dogs?" John asked. Henry grinned.

"Yeah. With jalapenos."

They made their way out of the park, and back into town. Heading up the street, they came across a gas station with a car parked at one of the pumps. The smell of exhaust was fresh.

John put his hand on the car's hood, then pulled it away quickly. "This car was running a short time ago," he said. He opened the hood and peered inside.

"Is it drivable?" Henry asked.

"Not with this hole through the engine. It shouldn't have been able to start in the first place."

There was a round hole about an inch wide right through the top of the engine block.

"Why would anybody make a hole in an engine like that?" Eileen asked.

John shrugged. "Good question. I'd like to know how."

Across the street, they found a bowling alley. A cold pizza lay, half-eaten, on one of the tables.

A bowling ball rolled across the floor, and they froze. Then, something moved at the far end. They raised their weapons.

"Don't hurt me!"

A small figure scrambled out from one of the alleys and flattened itself against the wall.

John lowered his bat, and walked forward. "I'm not going to hurt you. I'm a policeman, see?" He reached for his badge and held it in front of him. "Nobody's going to hurt you."

The figure stayed still for a moment.

"Is that a real badge?"

John smiled. "Sure is. See, here's my name and picture in with it," he said, holding the badge out.

The figure walked into the light. It was a little girl with long blonde hair and a denim dress and striped shirt. The girl took the badge from the policeman, looked at it, turned it over in her hands, then gave it back to him.

"It looks real," she said. "I remember Ashfield. I grew up there."

John smiled. "What's your name?"

"Laura," said the little girl. "I'm eight."

"Well, Laura-who's-eight," John said, "my name's John."

She put out her hand, and he shook it. "Nice to meet you," she said.

"Now, Laura-who's-eight, I'd like to you meet my friends."

"Stop calling me that!" Laura said. "That's not my name!"

John raised his eyebrows at her, and she pouted. But she couldn't hold out for long, and she smiled back at him.

He took her hand and led her toward the other two. Her eyes narrowed.

"This is Eileen," John said, "and this is Henry. We're here looking for someone."

"So?"

Sheesh, Eileen thought. She knelt down. "Laura, can you do us a favor?"

Laura looked doubtful.

"Can we tell you what he looks like? So, if you see him, you can tell him we're looking for him?"

Laura shrugged. "Yeah, I guess so."

"How about you, Laura?" Henry asked. "Is there anything we can do for you?"

"No. I was looking for someone, but she's gone," Laura said sadly.

"So, you know what it's like. We'd really appreciate your help."

"OK."

John spoke from one of the seats.

"Laura, we're looking for a man. About my height, but younger – like Henry's age – with blond hair. His name is James."

Laura looked stunned. Then, her face screwed up, and she screamed.

"James! I never want to see him again! He's a terrible man! It's all his fault! I'll never see Mary again!" She burst into tears and ran from the room. Henry ran after her, but came back a moment later.

"She's gone."

"So, she's seen him," Eileen said. "But what was all that about Mary?"

"Could she have known Mary somehow before they disappeared?" said Henry.

"That's impossible," John said. "The Sunderlands disappeared ten years ago. Laura said that she's only eight."

They left the bowling alley, and walked around to the back of the building. There was a tall gate leading to a back alley, but the door was rusted shut.

As John was pulling at the door, they heard a voice from the street outside. A wooden fence blocked their view, but the voice was familiar.

"Jim…Jim…where are you? Jim..."

"Frank! It's us! Frank, are you there?" Eileen yelled back over the fence.

They raced back to the front of the alley and back to the street, but Frank had disappeared. The street was quiet.

"Damn it!" Henry said. "He's going to get killed out there."

Further along the street, they came to a short alleyway, which led to a flight of steps and a neon sign. They ascended the steps, and opened the door.

It was a small, seedy strip joint. A few booths clustered against one wall, a bar took up the other, and at the back was a stage with a single pole. Beside the bar was a neon figure of a woman with the word "Paradise".

"Ugh," Eileen said.

"I've seen worse," said John. He bent down.

"There are fresh footprints in the dust. Two sets? Three? Different sizes, anyway. I can't tell how many for sure."

Henry stepped up onto the stage and looked around. He moved to the pole and looked at it intently. His fingers ran up and down the pole.

"Gonna dance for us?" Eileen smirked.

Henry frowned at her. "No. Just curious," he said.

Then, something moved behind him.

"Watch out!" Eileen yelled.

The something leaped at Henry and wrestled him to the ground. It was enormous. In the dim light, it seemed to have a feminine shape, but it was too dark to see well.

Henry struggled, but couldn't break free. The figure's head opened up, and split in half down the front. As Eileen watched in horror, it lowered its head onto Henry's and started to suck him in, dripping something viscous onto him as it worked.

She snapped out of her shock, and raised her gun. John jumped up to the stage and started beating on the thing as Eileen shot, carefully, trying to avoid hitting either man by accident. After a few long seconds, the thing weakened enough for Henry to kick it off of him. He pried its mouth open with his hands, pulled his head out, and stomped on it once.

The creature lay still. Now, they were able to see that it was and about seven feet tall, gray and covered in pus and sores. It had the shape of a buxom female, but its skin looked hard and leathery. It wore no clothing as far as they could tell. Long red hair flowed from its head, and long red nails grew like claws from its fingers and toes.

Henry looked away, reached behind the bar, and grabbed a towel. He rubbed it over his head as he came back around to look at the thing.

"Are you OK?" John asked.

"Yeah," Henry said. "It's one thing shooting them…it's another when they drool on you." He peered at it closely. "This is a new one…I've not seen anything like this before."

"I hope we don't see one again," Eileen said.

Henry's hair stood out from his head in slimy spikes. She dug behind the bar for a bottle of soda water, grabbed another towel, and gave it to Henry. He took it gratefully.

"Bend over," she said. She poured the rest of the bottle of soda water over his head as he scrubbed his fingers through his hair, then he dried himself with the towel.

"Thanks," he said, not meeting her eyes. She shrugged and put the empty bottle back behind the bar.

Something white and rectangular caught her eye.

"Hmmm," she said, lifting it up into the light. "It's a notebook…with notes." She flipped through the faded pages. "It's old and hard to read, but I can make out some of it."

…Negative emotions, like fear, worry, or stress manifest into external energy with physical effects. Nightmares have, in some cases, been shown to tr…

…who is not bold enough to be stared at from across the abyss is not bold enough to stare at into it himself. The truth can only be learned by marchin…

…f you truly love her, then you must act. It all depends on how hard you fight for her. Whatever happens, don't give up. Always try just one more time. Ev…

…More than anything else, I fear the possibility of your going away, far away from me. But sometimes we have to tell the truth…

"I wonder who left this here," she said.

"Maybe the bartender," John replied. "I knew a guy who would write down some of the weird things he heard coming out of his patrons after they'd had a few. He'd keep 'em for the humor value. But this doesn't sound like something that a drunk guy would say…"

Henry seemed lost in thought. After a moment, he held out his hand, and she gave him the little notebook. He tucked it carefully into a pocket.

"You already have a notebook," she said.

"This feels important, but I don't know why," he replied.

"Ready to go?" she asked him.

"Yeah."