I.
Orange and yellow light flickered in the darkness, bathing the room in a fiery luminescence. The origin of the light was actually a fiery pillar in the middle of the room that much to Heather and Christine's horror began to move. The movements were frantic and erratic. Appendages whipped about desperately trying to rid themselves of the scorching inferno that now enveloped some poor, genderless soul.
"Oh no," Heather whispered. They were too late to save whoever this individual was. Someone or something had probably gotten to them and planned on torturing them to death. Maybe they scared the torturer away, but they still had to try to save the victim.
The screams rose even higher as the figure danced wildly in the middle of the room, leaving footprints of fire in several spots.
"Grab the sheets from the bed, maybe we can—" Heather began, but stopped when the figure charged them.
Christine screamed at the top of her lungs, spun on her heel, and took off down the hallway in almost one fluid motion. Heather wasn't a screamer, but she took off in a flash right behind Christine.
They thudded down the hallway, closely pursued by the flaming victim. Christine made a sharp left and clambered down the stairs, almost taking a spill as she skipped three stairs at the bottom. Heather was right behind her, thankful that the figure tumbled down the stairs. That gave them a few extra seconds to figure out how they were going to save themselves.
II.
"She's gone and so is that Pyramid thing," Trey stated.
He stared at the spot he had last seen the unconscious woman, slumped against the wall behind Pyramid Head. Trey glanced to the immediate left and right, but found no clue as to where she or the monster had gone. Nothing seemed out of place, but the room was a terrible mess so even if something was out of place, he wouldn't be able to tell.
"Pyramid Head left suddenly, even though it had us trapped in the bathroom. It could have easily attacked us. Maybe the woman escaped and Pyramid Head chased her."
"So, she's basically saved our lives?"
"At maybe the cost of her own," Michael solemnly said. "We've got to find her."
Both of them consciously kept their backs to the door, where Maria now hung lifelessly with a large blade protruding from her chest, courtesy of Pyramid Head.
Trey shifted his weight, "Well, where do we start?"
Michael let silence linger for a few moments as he thought about it. "I don't know."
Trey motioned over Michael's shoulder, "Hey, check that out."
Michael turned and saw a map of the house tacked on the wall. He pulled it down and studied it. Apparently, there were two floors, the basement, and an attic. But the stairs to the attic floor were in a back hallway on the second floor.
"What a weird design for a house," Michael mentioned. He scribbled a few notes on the map then slipped it into his backpack. "According to the map, there are three other rooms past the door in the kitchen."
"So you think she may still be here?"
"This house is bigger than I thought, someone could easily be in another part of the house and we wouldn't know it. There was another door off the kitchen that we didn't check. It leads to a few other rooms."
Trey nodded in agreement as he led the way out of the room and back into the dim hallway. They crept along quietly, hoping to hear something that would let them know where Pyramid Head and the strange woman had gone. The silence was almost overbearing as they emerged from the hallway into the living room. Trey was ready to say something when a high-pitched scream and thudding footsteps rang out from above them.
"What the hell?" Trey reactively said. He frantically glanced back and forth, trying to figure out what was happening.
Michael was startled. The first thing he imagined was the unknown woman pinned against a door with a large blade jutting from her midsection in the same way Maria had met her demise. But then, he heard multiple footsteps, two sets scrambling above them.
"Trey, it's the girls!"
They turned to see Christine almost fall down the stairs. Heather leaped down behind her, nearly taking a spill herself, rounded the corner, and skipped three steps to the bottom. Before they could ask what they were running from, the crackle of fire and flickering light tumbled down the stairs. The flaming haunt picked itself up and ran down the rest of the stairs.
"Holy shit," Trey marveled.
"Run!" Heather choked out.
"Let me burn!" the figure screamed as it suddenly rushed the teens. The figure moved with inhuman speed but with awkward and frantic movements. There was no way that they would be able to escape it.
Trey grabbed Christine by the waist and spun around, throwing them to the ground. Michael did the same thing to Heather, but fell in the opposite direction. He and Heather scrambled backwards across the floor, hoping to get out of the figure's reach.
Instead of pouncing on the teens and turning them into a ball of flesh and fire, the figure continued on and threw itself into the fireplace. The fire sparked up brightly, followed by a satisfying wail as the smoke floated about and a putrid smell filled the room.
As quickly as the fire had started, it vanished, leaving behind a pile of ashes. The teens sat stunned for a moment, not sure whether they should be glad that the figure disposed of itself or disturbed that the person underneath the flames consciously threw himself into the fireplace, sealing his fate.
"Is everyone okay?" Michael finally broke the uneasy silence that had settled. He helped Heather to her feet. Trey and Christine stood as well.
"He said to let him burn. Do you think he set himself on fire?" Christine solemnly asked.
Michael shook his head, suddenly feeling the burden of two deaths weighing him down. It was only minutes ago that Maria had been viciously killed by Pyramid Head, and now, some hapless soul had become a victim too, but it is possible that unlike Maria, it was his own choice. The thought that the man had set himself on fire disturbed him even more.
"Umm, this is just a thought, but does anyone else think this place is just a little WEIRD AND CRAZY?" Trey's voice rose from calm to a distinct shout.
Heather shook her head, "Are you done?"
Trey glared at her. "No, I'm not done! We just saw a woman ran through by some pyramid thing, then this guy comes running out and throws himself into the fireplace, then poof, he's a ball of ash. Sorry, but this," he made an over-exaggerated sweeping motion, "this is not working for me."
Trey's tantrum fell on one set of deaf ears. Christine gazed at the fireplace. She wondered who the man was, what happened, how he got in the house, if it was his house, and how he had made it this long with monsters roaming around. If he had truly set himself on fire, was he really trying to kill himself? Was that the only way to escape?
Christine felt herself sinking into despair. Never in her life had she been exposed to so much horror, so much fear. But in only a few short hours, her life had been endangered several times and she felt powerless.
"Maybe we should just concentrate on finding Tina and getting out of here," Michael interjected, hoping to refocus their efforts away from quibbling. "And we still have to find the other coins."
"Okay, I just had a moment. I'm good now," Trey said and stretched as if he had gotten a load off his shoulders.
"You're not funny," Heather coolly replied.
Before Christine could agree, her eyes caught sight of a burnt scrap of paper sitting on the edge of the fireplace. "Hey, what's that?" She quickly crossed the room and grabbed the rough, blackened paper.
Trey stopped mid-sentence as Christine stood with the paper in hand.
"Does it say anything?" Heather asked.
She flipped it over in her hands then read: "Bright, feverish, cleansing flame, sear my flesh, purify my soul and leave nothing behind but my earthly riches," Christine read. "Earthly riches," Christine repeated absently. Then an idea came to her, "Heather, didn't the riddle by the door say something about earth?"
"Yeah. Earth, air, and water are supposed to combine when the sun hovers over the moon to open up the path or something like that."
Christine thought for a moment then let her eyes shift focus from the note to the fireplace. A thick layer of ash covered the bottom of the fireplace. Something could easily be hidden in there. But then again, that was a person's ashes. Digging through them was not only disrespectful to the dead, but it was downright gross. It didn't help that the smell of burning flesh still lingered in the air.
But the person wanted them to find this note, wanted them to find what he left behind, didn't he? Christine shook off her doubt and kneeled in front of the fireplace, waving away the remnants of smoke. She reluctantly stuck her hands in and sifted through the ash. She thought the effort was useless until her fingers grazed across something hard. She plucked the round object and stood. Christine blew the ash and residue from both sides.
"I think this is our earth coin," Christine held up the coin, dirty, but clearly the piece of the puzzle they were looking for.
Michael fished in his pocket and produced two coins. "We've got the sun coin and the water coin. But where is the air coin?"
"Maybe it will just fall out of the sky," Trey curtly replied.
Michael heard a clattering sound then something hit the ceiling above then a round object sailed down toward his face. Reacting quickly, he caught the cold object and studied it.
"What is it?" Christine asked.
"You're not going to believe this," Michael held the object up for them to see. "It's the air coin."
Christine perked up, "Good, maybe we can—"
"Find that woman," Michael interjected. When met with a puzzled look from Heather and Christine, Michael figured he had some explaining to do. Trey nodded in silent agreement for Michael to tell them what happened.
Leaving out no detail, Michael told them what happened, up to when they saw Heather and Christine running down the stairs. "I won't let anyone else die," he finished. "I've got this map. Maybe we should check the rest of the first floor together."
This time, there was no argument.
III.
Michael McNeal pushed open the door carefully, waiting for Pyramid Head or some other horrific monstrosity to leap from the darkness and tear out his throat. But nothing happened. They found themselves in a short hallway lined with two doors on either side and one at the end of the hallway.
He glanced back toward Heather, who had him covered with her gun. Trey held his crossbow aggressively, ready to fire at the slightest provocation. Christine lingered behind him since she only had a taser as a weapon.
As he stepped into the narrow corridor, Michael noticed a large grandfather clock next to the door on the right. As he neared it, he took a closer look at it and realized the clock didn't work. The carefully sculpted hands sat at nine o'clock, secured by a glass door with a small keyhole.
Before Michael could comment, the knob turned. He stepped back cautiously pointing his gun towards the door. Heather reacted quickly, covering the door as well, while Trey pushed Christine back and pointed his crossbow at the door. They all watched the lights from behind the door flicker on and off.
"What's going on in there?" Heather asked.
Michael shook his head, unsure of whether someone needed help or if they were the ones in trouble. Whatever was behind the door began to wrench on it desperately then the pounding started. Someone was trying to get out of there.
Lowering his gun, Michael moved to the door and shouted, "Hey, is someone in there? Do you need help?"
The knob continued to turn and the pounding continued, but a muffled voice finally replied, "Hey, we can't open the door! Help! There's something in here!"
The thought of Pyramid Head crossed his mind briefly. Surely it heard (even though Michael thought it didn't have any ears) all this noise they were making. It would only be a matter of time before it came for them.
But he pushed that thought aside. They would deal with Pyramid Head when he came. Right now, there was someone that needed their help. And the voice sounded female, so there was a good possibility it was the woman they were looking for.
Michael tried to turn the knob as well, but the door wouldn't budge. He stepped back and rammed his shoulder, but the door didn't even shift slightly. He then replied, "Okay. We can't open it from this side either. Stand back, maybe we can shoot the doorknob!"
It always worked on the movies. The hero took a step back, shot the doorknob, then it fell to pieces, gaining the hero access to some secret documents or another path of escape. This was far from an action movie, but it didn't hurt to try. But what was the worst that could happen?
Well, for starters, the bullet could ricochet off the metal and hit you right in the forehead—way to go hero! Or maybe the bullet actually messes up the knob then chances of getting in there would really be ruined. Or the bullet could go through and hit the people you're trying to save—real smooth.
Michael sighed inward at the thoughts he was having.
"We can't. There's something dangerous in here!" a male voice now replied. So now there were two people in there and something dangerous along with them. So if they did open the door, chances were that they would let something else out too.
"Okay!" Michael replied. He lowered his voice, "There's something in there. I don't know what to do. The door won't open and if something goes wrong with shooting the knob, I could hit the people inside of there."
"Mike, what if it's a trick. I mean, what if some crazy people are trying to trick us? Maybe they were locked in there for a reason," Christine suggested.
Heather's expression remained neutral, "She has a point. The people I've met so far haven't been exactly sane."
"We have to take that chance. That woman, maybe she's in there and if she is, then she saved our lives earlier. If it is a trick, we'll deal with it after we open the door."
"Fair enough," Heather replied. "Where do we start?"
"Hey, look at that," Trey said and motioned with his head toward the clock. Michael hadn't noticed it before but there was something scrawled in red ink (he assumed it was thick, dripping red ink) on the side of the clock.
"Please, hurry!" the female yelled again.
Michael read through the riddle, quietly mouthing the words:
The key is the clock, the clock is the key
Oh what time should it be?
Twelve or eight or maybe three
Or one hand coupled with a semi
"So, I was with the riddle until the last line. What the hell does that mean?" Trey asked.
"One hand with a semi?" Christine repeated.
Heather shook her head, "Dammit! I'm so sick of everything being a damn riddle or puzzle."
"Well, the first line might be that the key to this glass door is somewhere else, like another clock. Maybe it's in one of these other rooms," Michael deduced. "The rest is telling us what time we should set the clock to."
Trey started toward the room across from where they stood. He tried the knob, but it seemed broken. There was no way into the room. He quickly approached the last door and threw open the door.
"Hey, there's a trick to open this door. We're going to get you out, just stay calm!" Michael tried to reassure them.
"You've got to hurry! She's going to kill us!" the female cried out.
"We won't let you die. We'll be right back!" Michael turned from the door and jogged to catch up with Trey, Heather, and Christine, who were already examining the large room.
This room was no different from the rest: messy, neglected, and eerie. Michael decided that it must be some kind of grand room. He noticed a piano pushed to the far corner, several bookcases, stacks of books everywhere, a desk with papers strewn about, and some heavy-looking pieces of furniture. This room looked like it was used often, despite the thin layer of dust that had settled on everything. A single lamp on the desk bathed the room in soft white, but still sinister shadows held their ground making recesses and small spaces appear to be black holes waiting to snatch someone into their eternal dark.
Christine, Trey, and Heather didn't stray too far apart, though they were in the same room. They were huddled on the right side of the room near the large bookcase.
"Find a clock yet?" Michael urgently asked.
"Yeah, right here," Heather had found the clock only a moment before Michael had walked in. The small, modern-looking clock had only one number on it—seven. And both hands rested on the seven. The rest of the places that numbers should have been were stained with what looked like blood.
Christine shifted her weight and pushed her hair behind her ear. "So is this another puzzle we have to solve? Why is there only one number on the clock?"
The teens stared at the clock silently wondering just what they were supposed to make of it.
"I've got it," Trey snapped his fingers. "Listen, I took flying lessons. When the instructor pilot wanted me to look at something, he would always reference it with a clock setting. Like right in front of me would be twelve o'clock," he then pointed slightly off to the right, "that would be one o'clock and so on. If this thing is pointing to seven o'clock, then we need to check over there."
"Are you sure this time? Your biology background wasn't much help earlier," Christine reminded him.
"Of course I'm sure," Trey smugly said and turned to head in that direction. But Michael had beat him to it and frantically searched over everything in the vicinity.
"I don't see a key," Michel moved quickly, borderline frantically, looking for the object. "Wait, Trey," Michael found a small key stuck in between a stack of books, "you're a genius."
"I do what I can. Let's get back to the clock."
Michael led the way back to the clock followed by Heather and Trey. Christine trailed behind, but suddenly stopped at the door.
"Christine," a whisper floated through the room.
Christine immediately sensed something dangerous lurking just out of her sight, jumping from shadow to shadow. She knew that she should catch up to the others, dash out of the room, and slam the door behind her without another glance back. But the whisper was enticing, almost hypnotic.
She paused and took a step back into the room. "Hello?" Christine immediately cursed herself, not only was she being foolish and lingering behind, but she called out as if something would answer her back. And if something did answer back, she knew she would be in real trouble.
Despite knowing what she was doing wrong, the natural curiosity overpowered any sense of reason, despite the circumstances. Christine took another step into the room. She scanned every corner and surface quickly but still couldn't pinpoint where it had come from.
The whisper became a gravelly hiss, "Christine."
"Who's there?" she reflexively said, then cursed herself again. Dammit, it was like she was in a bad horror movie.
The door closed behind her and she spun quickly with the taser in her hand. When her eyes met with someone else's she became dizzy and almost passed out. A small shiver went down her back as she recognized the person that now had her trapped in the room. The messy brown hair, blood streaked face, dark eyes, malevolent stare, and the unmistakable gravelly voice.
"Oh the sights I have to show you," he said as he closed in on Christine.
Notes:
In case you're wondering who's inside of the room, check out Chapter 6 of Silent Hill: Harry Mason—you'll find out exactly what's going on in there
Two-bite-brownies: Thanks for the review! Yes, Maria's story was tragic and her time in this story was no less awful. Her story didn't quite have the happy ending she deserved...
Scribe08: I'm glad you like the story so far. I've tried to make it diverse and keep you all guessing as to what would happen next. Read the rest and let me know what you think.
Rodarian: Yeah, I can definitely see the ageless and quite beautiful Heather Locklear portraying a convincing Cybil—what do you think of Charlize Theron? Hopefully, you've figured out who the dark haired woman is—Tina, who first showed up in Silent Hill: Harry Mason
Richard B. Sampson Jr: Thanks for brainstorming the other night—the clock idea will develop more in the next chapter.
Crazyb1tch85: Things are slowly getting back to normal here after the hurricane—it's been a little over two months—there's still a lot of rebuilding to be done though. And I leave you with yet another cliffhanger—what will happen to Christine? Chances are it won't be good...
Shortey: I know it's been awhile again, but here's the latest chapter!
Demo the Bounding Jackalope: Let me know what you think of this chapter.