I.
Douglas Cartland had never been in this bad of shape, not in all his time as a policeman or as a cheap private investigator. His cases as a police officer were simple and straight-forward, mostly desk work with only a few field cases. And even those field cases were nothing like the crime dramas depicted on television or novels. No huge explosions, no kicking in the door on a gang of merciless thugs, no kidnappers holding a young girl hostage willing to shoot and blow up everything in sight. The most action he had seen was stopping a wayward teen from shoplifting some candy that probably wouldn't have been missed anyways. Even then, he let the kid off with a lecture and threat to tell his parents. Nothing more. Even as a private investigator, Douglas was usually hired for simple missing person cases. But none had been as strange as this.
Not only did he find the missing person, but found out that he was helping some cult locate their mother of god. If that wasn't strange enough, he found himself wrapped up in a bizarre melodrama. Everything Douglas thought he knew about life was scooped up, shaken, tossed, pressed, stretched, and mangled beyond recognition. Grotesque monsters, eerie settings, bizarre characters, and more had been suddenly shoved in his face and all of it revolved around the girl he had been hired to find, Heather Mason.
He was under the impression from Claudia Wolfe that Heather had been kidnapped, as if this town were her rightful place. But after he found Heather and figured some things out on his own, Douglas realized he was nothing but a pawn in a much larger, sinister plan. From what he gathered, Claudia sought Heather to make her some kind of "Mother of God", whatever that meant. From his standpoint, it didn't sound like wholesome, pure fun.
Regardless of the supernatural aspect of the situation, Claudia was responsible for Harry Mason's death. Even if he couldn't attest for all of the mystic cult business happening, he could prove her involvement in Harry's death and possibly a few other crimes. If everything ever returned to normal, he would make sure Claudia was brought to justice.
But for now, Douglas lay breathless on the ground, wondering if every bone in his body was broken.
It seemed like he had fallen for hours, tumbling head over heels through the darkness until coming to an abrupt stop. A cloud of dirt thickened the air he desperately tried to suck in. He coughed and rolled onto his side.
Douglas watched Cybil Bennett, a fellow cop who he had only met a while ago, stir gently then jolt into an upright sitting position. She had her gun pointed into the darkness, not sure what she was even pointing at, but prepared to fire nonetheless.
"Douglas?" she whispered but her voice echoed as if she had shouted.
He coughed again then asked, "Where the hell are we?"
"I don't know. The room just suddenly came apart. Then, we were here, wherever that is."
Douglas took a deep breath. He didn't feel a piercing pain, so at least he knew no ribs were broken. He pulled himself to a sitting position then gingerly stood and brushed off his coat. Douglas knew he was being much more nonchalant than he should be, given the circumstances, but he didn't care. If it was his time to go then so be it.
Cybil stood, though unsteadily. "Douglas, are you okay?"
He simply waved her comment away as he gasped for air. After a few more coughs, he regained some composure. "I'm okay," he finally replied.
He reached for two more painkillers and swallowed them dry then took a curious glance toward Cybil, who now stood next to him, probably thinking some of the same things he was. Yet, her expression was unreadable.
"So what now?" Douglas asked.
Cybil shook her head, "I really don't know. I'm not even sure where we are."
"Well, we're in a house for starters—" a familiar voice cut through the darkness. The figure stepped out of the shadows and smiled. "Looks like we're back on the same team."
Harry Mason gave his new partners a smile.
II.
Christine Mitchell should have been used to the quiet. It was a foreboding blanket that smothered everything in its stifling thickness. When there was a noise, it seemed like an earth-shattering racket that desperately needed her or Heather's immediate attention. The only constant was their shoes thumping along whatever surface suited the environment and right now, they trekked over a hardwood floor, complete with small moans against their weight.
She followed behind Heather Mason, a no-nonsense and slightly selfish girl that had saved her butt quite a few times throughout their adventure. Heather told her story earlier in the evening, but it wasn't until now that everything started to sink in.
Christine gathered that Heather was a victim, just like they were, of the ambitions of a crazy woman named Claudia. Somehow, she had achieved her goal and possibly birthed something inherently evil and deadly. After that, Christine met Heather, who was in a dazed state wandering the street. Only a while later, they encountered Michael McNeal and Trey Harrison. Since then, the four of them kept close with the intention of finding out exactly what happened and a way to return to the normal world. However, at this moment, they had split up. Heather and Christine opted (rather Heather insisted) to search the second floor and the guys took the first floor. Michael asked her to go with Heather so they could split into two groups, but Christine agreed with Michael. Splitting up was always a bad idea.
Christine wondered if they had found the coins, which is the whole reason they split up in the first place. Hopefully, when they all reconvened, they would have all five coins and be able to move on from this creepy house before something really terrible occurred.
But so far nothing had happened. No creepy individuals holding someone's freshly plucked eyes, no strange priests willing to sacrifice them to some malevolent deity, no blade-wielding maniacs waiting around the corner, nothing. Christine found solace in the silence, but she couldn't decide whether that was good or bad at this point.
Most of the doors on the second floor were impossible to open. She believed that someone had strategically come along and mangled the doorknobs to prevent them from straying too far from whoever or whatever they were being led to.
Heather seemed much less surprised by their limited exploration area as she made her way from door to door. However, Christine's nerves tingled expectantly as they moved cautiously down the narrow hallway.
Secretly, Christine admired Heather for her fearlessness despite the horrendous circumstances they found themselves in. Maybe it was that Heather felt somehow responsible—but if what she said was true then Heather was responsible. Still, she could have given up and let whatever was developing happen, but she chose to fight. And that is what gave Christine the willingness to face danger—though she didn't do it as well as Heather.
Her thoughts then went to Cybil. Christine didn't know how long it had been since the accident, but surely Cybil should be worried about them by now. But then again, what if the whole world were in this condition? Christine quickly dismissed this hypothesis though. Judging from what Heather told them earlier, this madness or whatever it was only affected this town and certain areas outside of it, like the college where both Michael and Trey came from.
And now, they were in this house. Christine again reflected on the thick stillness and oppressing silence.
Just be calm. We'll be fine.
Christine took a deep breath and silently repeated her mantra again. They had some near misses, but maybe the worst part was over. They would find the coins and be free of this warped version of hell, free to get back to their lives or at least pick up the pieces.
They rounded a corner and found themselves at a dead end. A window sat about two feet above the floor, flanked on either side by two doors.
Heather tried to peer out the window, but the dense fog kept her from seeing anything beyond her own faint reflection in the glass.
"We can't get into any of the rooms on this floor. What are we supposed to do?" Christine asked.
Heather opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off by a wrenching scream that tore through the hallway.
Christine sucked in her breath and held it, scared that whatever caused that scream was heading straight toward them. Heather immediately pointed her gun at the corner then stepped carefully around it into the adjoining hallway. Christine had her fully charged taser in hand, ready for use.
They expected the scream to disappear, but it continued on into a painful wail that rose and fell. They searched the hallway for the source of the scream, but all the doors were still closed.
"Heather, look!" Christine pointed toward smoke seeping from underneath a door. She and Heather dashed to the second to last door on the left and yanked on the knob. "I think it's locked!" she shouted over the continuous scream. More smoke and a strange repugnant odor escaped through the cracks on the sides, top, and bottom of the door.
"We've got to get in there," Heather quickly glanced around, hoping to find something of use to get into the room. Out of the corner of her eye, she caught a small glint of light. Turning her full attention to it, there was something shiny half sticking out from underneath a chest. Heather picked it up and found that it was actually a key, probably to this room.
She quickly pushed the key into the keyhole and turned. The door swung open easily and banged against the wall. Smoke bellowed out, bringing tears to the girls' eyes and burning their throats. Heather coughed but still moved into the room, covering her mouth. Christine was right behind her, the smoke affecting her just as bad.
They weren't prepared for what they saw as the smoke began to clear.
III.
Michael McNeal had seen enough this night to last him a lifetime. Still, this strange, horrific world always found a way to surprise and scare him. And now was one of those times.
He was taken aback by the writhing woman on the bed, but the appearance of this new creature, complete with a red pyramid for a head and of course armed with a menacing-looking blade, really caught him off guard. He simply stared for a few seconds, while his mind desperately tried to make sense of what was going on and more importantly, what he and Trey were going to do next.
"Stay back!" Trey screamed, hoping that the creature at least understood, but if not, maybe aiming the crossbow at it would get the message across. "Mike, what the hell is that?"
"Pyramid head?" Michael surmised. How the hell did he become the resident expert on the monstrosities that wandered around? The situation was too perilous at this time for Michael to reprimand Trey about stupid questions. His answer was more or less a flippant response, but as good as any for the creature that loomed before them.
He grabbed a knife from the nightstand and sawed at the rope that held the woman's wrists fast to the headboard. Michael didn't even want to wonder what such a thing was doing on a nightstand, let alone what it could have been used for.
"You may want to speed that up," Trey warned as Pyramid Head took a daunting step toward them.
"I'm trying!" Michael frantically sawed the knife back and forth across the rope. The woman continued to move, so it made it hard to get a good angle on the rope without putting the woman's wrists in jeopardy of being cut.
Trey swallowed hard then noticed another figure lying on the ground. "Mike, there's someone else back there."
Michael looked up and saw a dark-haired woman propped up in a sitting position against the wall. Her head lagged forward and only stirred slightly.
He turned back to the ropes and pressed even harder. The rope finally gave way and Michael grabbed one of the woman's arms and draped it around his shoulders and pulled her to her feet. He glanced at the nightstand again and saw a small blue book. There was really no reason for him to take it, but he grabbed it anyway.
I've become a kleptomaniac. Mom and Dad are going to love this.
He glanced around the room and saw another door and a bathroom.
Great, another bathroom.
But Michael pushed his hesitation away as Pyramid Head closed the gap between them.
"Move! Go!" Michael screamed. They half-ran, half-stumbled to the bathroom door and slammed the door behind them. Michael fell to one knee and let the woman's arm slip from around him. She appeared to be returning to some form of sanity as her light blue eyes focused on Michael and Trey, who kept his body pressed against the door, waiting for Pyramid Head to smash through.
"Do you hear it? He's calling me. He needs me back," the woman stared intently at Michael as her grip on his wrist tightened.
Michael shook his head. "No one's calling you. We're safe from whatever that thing was." He gently, but firmly removed her hand from his wrist.
Her light blue, nearly grey, eyes stretched wide. "He doesn't want me, does he?" She made a sound between a snort and dry laugh, "He never wanted me, he wanted her. But he couldn't have her, could he? He killed her. He didn't love her. He hated her and he hated me too."
Michael gave Trey a glance, but Trey was just as clueless as he was. Michael figured that thing, Pyramid Head (that was as good of a name as any to call it), must have tortured this woman. But monsters didn't torture people, did they?
"I don't—" Michael shook his head, but the woman cut him off.
"My time in this world is over. I thought he would take me away, but he hated me, used me, left me," she shook her head as she began to stand, shaking out of Michael's grasp and ignoring his pleas for her to sit down.
"You two. I don't know who you are, but you should get out of here," she reached in her pocket and pulled out a coin similar to the one they had earlier. It had the same strange writing, but in the middle was a large wave, representing water.
"That's one of the coins," Trey said.
She walked toward Trey, and Michael assumed that she was heading back into the bedroom. "You can't go back out there!" He stood and grabbed the woman's arm. "You—" he began. The woman snatched her arm away and backhanded Michael. He flew back and hit the mirror, the glass cascaded around him as he tumbled to the ground.
Trey's head spun. They just helped this woman and now she was the one that they had to worry about harming them. He pointed his crossbow at her. "I don't know what your deal is, but another step and I shoot."
She gave him a half-smile and stepped forward. Trey didn't hesitate. He squeezed the trigger.
The woman looked at her chest and followed the end of the arrow to the middle where it disappeared into the center of her chest. She stared at it for a minute then looked up at Trey. Michael stood slowly, unsure of what would happen next, but he pulled out his gun slowly.
She looked back at Michael, her expression showing satisfaction at his recovery.
"You'll do what I couldn't. Escape. I know that I can't leave this place. I'm not human. Nothing but a figment of this world's imagination. I know what I am now, and that my time is finally over. I was weak. I wanted to be wanted. Now, it's over. Let me go to my fate."
Trey looked at Michael for some kind of decision and when Michael kept his gun raised, but softened his expression, Trey knew Michael was going to let her go. She saw the same thing because she turned and walked toward the door.
Trey kept his crossbow pointed at her, but moved to the side.
She gave Trey a glance over and gave Michael one last glance before opening the door and closing it back.
"What the hell? You let her go? She's going to be—"
"—set free," Michael finished. He put away his gun and pulled out the small blue book.
"What the hell is that?"
"I grabbed it from the nightstand," Michael explained. "When I fell, it opened up to this page." Michael held the book open and Trey read what he could.
I wonder if he really cared about me, if he really loved me. But no, he loved Mary, not me. And that's why he left me, but then again, could I have left with him? Silent Hill created me, but I am alive and I want to live. But that torturer is still here—James' dark side and he's after me. He wants to kill me—I'm sure of it. Maybe I'll find a way to escape, but do I really have anywhere to go? Maybe one day, I'll figure it out. Maria.
"Was she Maria?" Trey asked, still not seeing why Michael let her go.
He nodded. "There was an article in the paper a few years ago about James Sunderland. He came forward and admitted to killing his wife, Mary. But she was sick and he felt that he was putting her out of her misery. The papers called him crazy because he described this nightmarish experience in Silent Hill, which led him to confess what he had done. I'm not sure what happened to him after that, but the story was sensationalized—it was all over the place. The people of Silent Hill were appalled to say the least that their town was somehow at the center of such a terrible story."
"So that woman—" Trey trailed off.
"I think that this place is a cross between a place of redemption for those that need it and a place of torture for others. I think we fall in the latter category."
"Do you think Heather and Christine are okay?" Trey asked.
"I hope—" Michael began, but the sound of a heavy thud and splintering wood shattered the conversation.
The bathroom door now had an addition—a large point covered in crimson jutted from the center of the door, leaving a jagged hole in the door. They heard a gurgling noise from the other room and a steady drip of something liquid hitting the floor.
Michael's stomach sunk as his mind immediately went to the woman—no, Maria. He should have stopped her. He should've made her stay in the bathroom. They could've escaped together. But this is what she wanted, wasn't it? Michael couldn't fathom someone wanting death, but on some level, he understood her decision and maybe that's why he let her go.
"Mike," Trey whispered.
Michael shook his head in disbelief as the door crept open.
The sight of Maria pinned to the door, a large blade taking the place of the small arrow that protruded from her chest only minutes before. She was pinned to the door at least a foot off the ground, blood seeping down her exposed legs. One boot was missing, an obvious result of the struggle that ensued before the end. A pool of blood sat outside the door and some had been splashed across the door and what little of the wall they could see. Copious amounts of blood oozed form the jagged wound.
Numbness washed over Michael as he stared at the woman, who stared back with softness in her eyes.
"I'm finally free," she whispered. Her eyes glazed over and lost their focus then her head fell lifelessly forward.
Michael sank to his knees. "She's—"
Trey touched his shoulder. "From what we read and what she said, this is what she wanted."
Michael felt a hollow hole in his own chest. Was death the only thing in store for them? Would they end up like Maria? Unable to escape and longing for death? Maybe that's what she was trying to tell them. Death was the only way out.
He peered out into the room and realized that it was empty. Pyramid Head was gone.
Trey kneeled down next to Michael, who despite his brown skin had paled. "Mike, are you okay?"
Michael stared at Maria for a moment before answering. "No. No, I'm not."
Trey shook his head in response, "No, you're going to be okay. We all are. Isn't that what you keep telling us? Well, if you're going to keep telling us that, then you have to believe it too. We need each other. We need you. You're the strong one of the group that's going to pull us through this. Heather's the one with the experience, Christine's the fighter, and me. Well, I guess I'm the genius, comic relief."
Michael shook his head. "I don't know anymore. I thought I had it figured out, but I don't. Why us?"
Trey shook his head. "Maybe there isn't a reason. Maybe it's some kind of sick, twisted joke. Maybe we really are bad people and we just don't know it. Maybe we're the ones that have been chosen to end whatever's going on here. We're not going to know anything unless we keep moving forward."
Michael took a deep breath. Trey stood and offered his hand, which Michael took gratefully and stood. "Let's find Heather and Christine and get the hell out of here."
Trey gave him a pat on the shoulder as they moved past Maria, keeping their gazes in the opposite direction.
Still, doubt continued to linger in Michael's mind and something told him that the worst was still to come.
Notes:
I appreciate everyone who's been keeping up with the story. I had a rather large delay—I live in Biloxi, MS, which of course was blasted by Hurricane Katrina. It's been slow, but the city is recovering. To any of you that volunteered, donated, or simply prayed for anyone down here on the Gulf Coast, I offer up a huge thanks. Now, on with the notes.
There is a gap in this story on how exactly Harry finds Cybil and Douglas in the attic—it will be covered in Silent Hill: Harry Mason.
There are several theories out there (I've researched many of them) on what exactly Pyramid Head represented. I chose to go with the theory that Pyramid Head a demented representation other side of James, which is why it continually killed Maria. Combine that with Pyramid Head's role as an executioner-type, and you get trouble for the teens.
Sweetness328: I'm glad you found the story and you are enjoying it. And here is the next chapter—hope you enjoy
Centurious: I appreciate the compliments. As you saw from this chapter Maria and James (kind of—see my note above) were in this story. Maria's appearance was short and tragic, but hopefully, it added some resolve to her story.
Crazyb1tch85: Well, Pyramid Head is definitely on the scene and something tells me he is going to be plaguing our protagonists for a few more chapters. Well, with this chapter, the teens are asking some of the same questions you've posed. And hopefully, they'll start getting a few answers. Thanks for the review and let me know how you like this chapter—oh, and it definitely won't be 100 chapters (I don't think I could ever keep someone interested for that long...)
Richard B. Sampson Jr.: Well, you see who the crazy woman is. Check out Silent Hill 2, and you'll find out a little more about Maria and James Sunderland—and the ever-popular and gruesome Pyramid Head
PJ: Thanks for the reviews and I hope I can continue to freak you out
Rodarian: The woman on the bed idea just kind of came to me. I was actually kind of creeped out as I wrote it too. If you've ever seen Hellraiser, then the scene might seem a bit familiar too. Okay, what about Kate Hudson for Cybil?
Shortey: The update is here, my friend. Let me know what you think
Skittlefratz: Heroes can definitely die, as our heroes have had a few close-calls, but they're getting closer and closer. I think our four heroes are resourceful and clever enough to see this one through to the end, but as in all things, there are no guarantees...
Duelist-17: You guessed right—our friend Pyramid Head is back and in full effect
Demeter aka Obsessed Jackalope: Umm—that's quite a unique name you chose there. Anyways, glad you like Trey—somehow he's grown to be quite the character and it seems several folks like him too.