I.
The heavy metal door slammed behind the three teens, sending a resounding clang down the length of the corroded corridor. As the sound faded, smothering silence quickly settled in.
Michael McNeal inspected the hallway and immediately determined that they were back in the other version of Silent Hill. Where the house had carpeted floors, reasonably white walls, and a ceiling, the long hallway was rusty, tainted with different shades of dark reds, browns, and black. The floor was now a grated platform, opening to a vast darkness below. The ceiling was simply a series of metal panels affixed together the length of the hallway. And there were more solid-looking doors lined either side of the hallway.
An unrecognizable stench hovered in the air and Heather wrinkled her nose as she caught a whiff.
Michael turned and pushed on the metal door they had just entered from. "The door is locked—I don't think we'll be able to go back that way," he informed the others. He pulled the map of the house from his backpack and added, "This door doesn't even show up on the map."
"Where the hell are we?" Trey asked, his crossbow pointed down the hallway. Not knowing where he was really unnerved Trey, so he had asked the same question several times since they had entered Silent Hill.
Heather shook her head, "We're nowhere. And we're in trouble." Though she kept her gun at her side, Heather kept her eyes fixated on the ebbing darkness at the end of the hallway. She could swear something moved, but when she would blink, the darkness would appear to be still.
Trey ran his fingers through his brown hair and frowned. "Don't get all cryptic now. What is this place?"
"It's hard to describe. We're in the other world now, the way Samael wants the world to be but it's worse than before. Doors lead to places that they shouldn't and other strange things tend to pop up. It's like chaos and evil combined into one warped existence." Heather paused then added, "If this is happening, the real world and this one are on the brink of merging."
Though she sounded cool and collected, Heather was actually quite tense. It wasn't just the fact that they were in Nowhere, but she could feel the presence of Samael. His evil was like a wave of humidity pulsing through the corridor. The closer they got, the thicker the evil became.
"How are we going to find Christine then?" Trey asked.
"We'll have to—" Michael began but stopped abruptly. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his cell phone then held it up for Heather and Trey to see. The grey and silver Samsung vibrated energetically, its screen glowing a soft blue. He slipped it back into his pocket and said, "Guys, I think something big is coming. We—" he was cut off by a sudden jerk upwards and his own scream.
He was thrown against the ceiling and remained there as if the laws of gravity had changed just for him. He lay on his back only for a moment before he began to punch and kick, fighting off something that neither Heather nor Trey could see.
"It's got me. It won't let go!" Michael desperately screamed. He continued to wrench from side-to-side in an attempt to throw the invisible weight off of him. The crushing force pressed Michael against the metal. It creaked against the strain then submitted, leaving an impression of Michael's shape in the ceiling. He groaned as the force intensified and drove out his air.
"Michael, grab my hand!" Trey said, stretching toward the ceiling.
Michael didn't hear Trey's words. All he could hear was the thudding of his own heart and the rustle of his clothes as he frantically fought off the unseen attacker.
The ceiling didn't seem that high when they first entered the corridor, but now, Michael seemed hopelessly out of Trey's reach. Unless Michael was able to stand, there was no way Trey or Heather would be able to save him.
Before Michael could even attempt to stretch toward Trey, he slid forward toward the darkness along the ceiling. It was only a few feet, a warning shot across the bow, but it was enough to alarm Michael. He felt his backpack pressing uncomfortably against his back and the chill of the metal ceiling slowly sapping his energy. Before he could react, Michael was whisked across the ceiling heading straight toward the darkness.
"Michael, no!" Heather screamed. She and Trey took off in a full sprint after Michael. He continued to struggle against the invisible force, but to no avail. The force continued to drag Michael along the ceiling, keeping him a few feet in front of Heather and Trey.
Heather didn't notice a door creak open ahead of them. But when she did notice the open door, it was too late. Another-or maybe it was the same-invisible force now shoved Heather into the room and flung her against the opposite wall. She bounced off the wall and hit the floor hard.
"Heather! Shit!" Trey screamed. He turned to take a step toward Heather, but kept his eyes glued on Michael, who rapidly shrank away from him. However, Trey immediately wished he had watched where he had stepped. Trey suddenly felt unbalanced—like the earth moved underneath him. His arms flailed in an attempt to regain his balance and in his uncoordinated sway, his eyes shot to the grating.
The grated floor wasn't there anymore. Trey now stood in a puddle of thick, pasty material that reeked of decay and mold. But he wasn't standing. Trey realized he was sinking into the rancid mess. He desperately glanced toward Heather, who seemed to be regaining consciousness.
"Heather!" he called.
Hearing her name in such a desperate tone snapped Heather from the unconscious curtain that had befallen her. She lifted her eyes to an unbelievable sight. The floor was swallowing Trey!
Her eyes widened and she attempted to move forward, but felt a sharp pain in her leg. Heather gritted her teeth and bared standing on it. She began to limp toward Trey, who was now up to his waist in the muck.
Before she could get to the door, the malevolent invisible force slammed the door, separating them.
"No!" she screamed. Heather fell against the door and tried to yank it open, but the doorknob wouldn't turn. "Trey! Michael!" she beat on the door but heard no reply.
On the other side of the door, Trey struggled in the mush. His breath came in short spurts which told him that he was on the verge of hyperventilating. Vertigo overtook him as his torso fell forward, lodging him deeper in the liquid. He closed his eyes realizing that he couldn't escape. When the thick liquid covered his face, he held his breath, wondering how much longer he would live.
Heather's screams faded to a whisper then there was nothing.
II.
Christine Mitchell sat up with a start. She expected to be home, snuggled underneath her childhood blanket with her door slightly ajar, her curtains dancing in the night breeze coming through the window, the moonlight barely casting its light into the room.
Instead, she found herself on a lumpy mattress—the door, a heavy iron entrance with a barred window. The room, windowless and cold, a harsh white light shining from somewhere above.
Where am I? What happened?
Then she remembered. The painter, Greg Wallace had attacked her. She had easily usurped him, but there was something else. Yes, something else was in the room—something utterly wrong and evil. Then everything went dark.
And now, she was here, wherever that was. Christine rubbed her neck and winced at how tight it was. She felt her belt. Her taser was still there and she found a few pain relievers in her pocket that Michael had given her. She smoothed back her brown locks and took a composing breath.
Christine slipped off the bed and approached the door. She first pressed her ear against it, hoping to hear something that would let her know someone else was there with her. But she caught no sounds of breathing or shuffling feet on the other side of the door. Christine then pushed against the door, but it wouldn't move.
Of course it's locked, she sourly thought. Not that she really expected it to be open, but it would have been nice.
Now, she started asking herself the important question, why had she been taken away from the rest? It didn't make sense to her. She was no different from them, and it was mere coincidence that she and Sean were going to Silent Hill, wasn't it? Christine had the uneasy feeling that there was much more to the reason for her being in Silent Hill. To find out may mean to face something that she wasn't ready for.
Christine pushed the doubts to the back of her mind. There was no time now to ponder over something that she couldn't help, at least not now. She resolved to figure out a way to get out of the cell. Then, she was sure the rest would take care of itself.
She sat back on the bed and took a deep breath. Christine then stood and surveyed the room again. There must have been something she was missing. Then it hit her. There was always something under the bed.
Christine dropped to her knees and searched. There was only about a foot of space between the floor and the bed frame, but like she thought there was something scrawled on the wall near the corner. But it was too dim for her to make out any of the words.
She stood and tried to move the bed, but it was near impossible. The metal frame was much heavier than it looked.
"I need a light," she said aloud. She rifled through the metal cabinet opposite the bed. Moving aside syringes, gauze, and other equipment, Christine figured she was in some kind of hospital. But before she could ponder on it anymore, her fingers brushed against something small, slender, and hard. A flashlight.
Christine tested it and it worked. She then dropped back to her knees and shone the light into the corner.
Code to the doctor's other office: 9830.
Christine frowned. She was glad that someone thought of writing down the code to the doctor's office, but it didn't help her if she couldn't get out of the room itself. She sat back on the bed and took a moment to think. There was something she was missing. Christine wouldn't accept the fact that there was no way out of the room.
Even when she was younger, her father taught her to never give up, no matter the odds. And for some reason, it stuck with her every day of her life. Even now, despite everything that had happened, Christine wouldn't simply give up. She would escape, find her friends, and then discover what was behind all of this.
Christine glanced at the floor and noticed scratches beside the metal cabinet, as if it had been dragged a foot to the left. If it had been moved before then maybe she could move it again. She squeezed herself between the cabinet and the wall. Bracing herself, Christine pushed against the cabinet. At first, it wouldn't move. But after a few tries, it noisily slid a few inches, a foot, then stopped at a foot and a few more inches.
A big hole into the next room had been covered by the cabinet. Without a second thought, Christine slipped into the hole, hoping the noise of the cabinet hadn't drawn anyone's attention. But when she entered the next room, she was taken aback by where she ended up.
III.
Michael continued to slide down the length of the corridor until he found himself flying through the air over a seemingly bottomless pit. He wanted to be afraid of both the height and the invisible force dropping him, but he hit a wall before any of that could even register. He glanced down and he immediately regretted it. The darkness hungered for him and Michael knew he was at the mercy of whatever held him suspended in the air.
Suddenly, the force rolled him to the right several times then tossed him through a doorway. He pitched forward and flipped once before hitting the floor. He hit the floor awkwardly though and darkness began to creep in from the corners of his eyes. He only caught a slight glimpse of someone standing on the other side of the room.
As he fell unconscious, Michael caught a glimpse of the figure moving toward him. The most distinguishing feature was the man's eyes, olive with orange specks. And then there was his dirty face, halfway covered by a face mask. And then the light blue scrubs? Was he a doctor? Something seemed wrong with him, but before Michael could think on it anymore, he blacked out.
Michael felt like he was floating in a sea of darkness. There was no up or down, left or right, forward or backward. Then suddenly he was in a padded room, outfitted with a straitjacket.
What the hell? What am I doing here?
He meant to talk aloud, but Michael found he couldn't move his mouth. He wiggled his lower face, trying to catch a glance of his lips. But he had no lips. Michael's mouth didn't exist. Instead, his lower face was simply a smooth surface from his nose to his chin, as if his mouth had never existed.
He made grunting noises in his throat, which alarmed him even more. He could feel his tongue sliding back and forth against the inside of where his mouth should have been. Then, the doctor appeared.
It was the same man he had gotten a glimpse of before he had fallen unconscious, but what was he doing? How did Michael get here? What was going on?
The doctor grinned malevolently, "It's time for your surgery." He pulled a large saw from behind his back. "Why don't we start with an amputation?"
Michael tried to struggle, but the doctor grabbed the top of his head hard. Michael felt the jagged teeth begin to dig into his flesh, then eat through his throat.
He suddenly jerked to a sitting position, fully awake and aware. He was still dressed in jeans, brown boots, and a white, long-sleeved button down shirt with a Polo sweater that partially zipped up in the front and his Nike backpack was still on his back. He felt his throat. Still intact. Then felt his mouth. Still there.
He began to relax until he saw the doctor across the room, studying something familiar. Michael felt his backpack and noticed something was missing. It was the case with the weird parasite in it. The doctor had stolen it. Not that Michael was that appalled. The parasite was creepy and he only took it because Heather insisted. But it was the principal of the matter: the doctor went into his bag while he was knocked out and taken it without permission. And Michael wasn't having that bullshit. Not today.
"Who the hell are you?" Michael shot.
The doctor continued to study the parasite then closed the small chest. He slowly turned toward Michael then regarded him with disdain, as if he was appalled that the young man had even spoken to him. He stared as Michael rose to his feet then took a step toward him.
"You stole that from me," he accused. Michael stopped himself from immediately asking for it back. Did he really want the thing? Then again, it was probably better in his hands than the creepy doctor. "Give it back."
"It doesn't belong to you. You don't even understand it."
His voice reminded Michael of some sinister snake character from some of those popular movie-cartoons—raspy, cold, calculating, and pointed.
"Well, you can explain it while you give it back," Michael didn't want to pull his gun, which he unbelievably still had, but the doctor seemed dangerous.
"This will be the embryo of our new god. It's useless in your hands."
Michael pulled out his gun, "You're one of these crazy people like Father Tom and that weird guy. You're not taking that thing." He didn't really want to shoot the doctor, but then again, Michael didn't see himself hesitating if the doctor even breathed wrong.
Killian regarded him with mock alarm then turned away towards the door.
He's going to take that thing and who knows what he was going to do with it. If Trey was right about the whole parasite thing then he's going to use it on someone, Michael thought. Without hesitation, Michael fired.
Killian observed the jagged, smoking rip in the wall only inches from his head.
"Next time, I won't miss," Michael warned.
Killian turned, a flash of amusement in his strange eyes. "You don't even know what's going on here, do you?"
"No more talking. Just give me the box and walk away."
"Our lord plans to remake this desolate existence you call life. Everything will be reborn in his image and you can't stop it."
"Have it your way," Michael shot him in the leg. He expected the doctor to howl in pain, crumple over, and drop the box. Michael would simply grab it and be on his way, but things didn't happen like he imagined. In fact, it took an uncertain turn for the worse.
IV.
Heather Mason slumped against the door. She was tired. She didn't know how long she had been awake, the last time she ate, even the last time she went to the bathroom. Not only that, but she was emotionally drained. The death and apparent resurrection of her father, Claudia, Douglas, and now being separated from the only friends she had found throughout this mess. She didn't know how much more she could take.
No, she could take more. She had to. If not for herself, then for her father. For Michael. For Trey. For Christine. Heather took a deep breath and composed herself.
The first thing I have to do is get out of this damn room.
Heather stood and that's when she noticed the unusually large mirror which practically took up the entire wall. She then remembered her last incident with a mirror. Heather was almost killed by the unreal attack. Luckily, she escaped the room before the snake-like veins totally enveloped the room.
And now here she was, in another room with a huge mirror. Something told her this wouldn't turn out good.
The next first thing Heather noticed a white object hanging off the back of a chair. Upon closer inspection, Heather found that the white object was actually a vest hung on the back of a chair. But not just any vest. Her vest.
"How did that get here?" she wondered as she neared it. She picked it up slowly and suspiciously. Examining it, she realized that it was indeed hers, but wondered why it was here.
There was nothing wrong with it. No strange markings, no inexplicable blood stains, or anything else out of place. She slipped the vest back on, unsure why she felt such a sense of relief from something familiar.
Heather surveyed the room. It was then that Heather noticed the amount of covered objects in the room. Paintings. They probably were paintings covered to protect them from dust and exposure. The larger covered paintings were propped against the walls while the smaller ones sat atop the furniture.
She stepped carefully around the paintings, avoiding looking at them at all. More than likely, they were just strange depictions of torture, pain, and death. And Heather already had her fill of all that and then some.
Heather glanced over the room again, her back to the door and part of the mirror. Suddenly, Heather felt like someone else was in the room and staring at her. She turned to find that someone else was definitely in the room. The other woman stood still with her arms slack at her sides and intense stare. But she wore a police uniform, which threw Heather off. She also noticed that the mirror had disappeared. Only a wall now existed in place of the large mirror. Had she just imagined the mirror?
"I didn't know anyone else was in here," she uncertainly said. Surely, she would have seen the woman, but maybe she was much more tired than she thought. "Are you a cop?"
"Yes," the woman replied.
Heather was only slightly relieved. There was something strange and familiar about this woman. "Look, there's something weird going on here and I got locked in this room. Do you know another way out?"
"I'm not sure," the policewoman replied, much more naturally this time.
"Well, I'm Heather Mason and I got separated from my friends."
"I know. I'm Cybil Bennett." Then Cybil added, "Silent Hill has no more use for you. And I'm here to make sure you interfere no more."
"What did you say?" Heather asked. "Did you just threaten me?"
Cybil only lifted a corner of her mouth in a half-smile in response.
She didn't look like much of a threat, not like the other monsters of Silent Hill. Cybil stood an inch or two shorter than Trey, with a short haircut—kind of stylish actually. Her delicate face didn't really match the command in her voice, but her steel blue eyes were piercing, searching, and focused. It was her eyes that told Heather that this woman was indeed dangerous. Heather took a step back, every alarm in her mind suddenly going off.
Heather's suspicion of Cybil Bennett had planted its seed and grown some time before this confrontation. It began with the diary they found after Christine confronted the reincarnated version of her boyfriend, Sean Bennett. Christine found that Cybil did indeed try to kill her to keep her and Sean from coming to Silent Hill. Killing someone to keep them from doing anything was crazy in Heather's mind, and so it was then that she concluded the woman was slightly off. Yet, she didn't say anything.
Now, hearing Cybil's threat and seeing the dangerous way her eyes studied Heather only confirmed what she thought: Cybil is crazy.
"Cybil Bennett. My dad told me that you helped him save me from this place before. I don't know what happened to you, but you're not going to lay a finger on me," Heather kept her eyes and gun fixated on Cybil hoping that the woman would step back.
Cybil took a step forward and her entire image changed to a hideous creature that only slightly resembled Cybil. The blond hair became gray wisps of limp hair, her fair complexion became covered with abrasions and legions with pus oozing out, her outfit disappeared leaving her naked body exposed, her hands and feet extended into bony claws. However, in the next step, the image of Cybil returned.
"You're a monster," Heather said.
"A servant of Samael," she replied.
Cybil moved much too quickly for Heather to react. Cybil was in her face and Heather found herself backhanded and sliding across the floor. She came to rest against one of the covered paintings.
The corner of Cybil's mouth angled up in a hateful smile as she kicked Heather in the stomach. She slid across the floor into an end table, which shattered around Heather.
Heather tried to stand, but Cybil was upon her. She grabbed Heather's wrist and yanked her upward then flung her across the room. The door abruptly stopped her flight and she fell to the floor. Heather didn't know where the pain started from, but it ebbed throughout her body and her breath came in short gasps.
"Mother of god? You're weak and pathetic, Alessa. Dahlia was a selfish fool to think she had the sole right to resurrect Samael. You're nothing but a waste of time!"
Heather suddenly snapped her head towards Cybil. Her eyes shone an angry red. "Stay away from me!"
Cybil was thrown backwards against one of the paintings and the cover slid off. Cybil turned to find that the painting wasn't a painting at all, but a covered mirror. Staring at her reflection, Cybil saw the real her—the monster. Cybil screamed and threw the tarp back over the mirror.
Heather's eyes returned to normal and she felt drained. What had she done? Did she still have the power that she had assumed died along with Alessa? But then again, it couldn't be completely gone because she was Alessa. She didn't have time to ponder over it now though.
"I'll kill you for that!" Cybil seethed.
Heather saw Cybil's reaction at her reflection. Maybe mirrors were under all these covers, but how did it relate to Cybil?
Cybil dashed toward her and Heather reached for a mirror. She lifted it and threw off the cover, angling it towards Cybil. But it slipped out of her hands and shattered on the floor. A painful wail escaped from Cybil as her hands shot to her face.
Heather watched as Cybil's hands slipped from her face. Spiderweb cracks crept across the left side of Cybil's face. Heather quickly fired her gun, completely shattering the left side of her face.
The image of Cybil was nothing more than some kind of outer shell. It broke off and left behind jagged pieces of her face, but the real monster was revealed underneath.
Heather quickly deduced that was the way to defeat her—break the mirrors then use the delay to fire at her cracked portions until she revealed the real monster. But what then? Heather figured she would deal with that when the time came.
Cybil rushed at her, but Heather quickly dipped to the side and grabbed another mirror, smashing it upon the ground. Again, Cybil wailed in immense pain as Heather fired another shot. This went on for another few minutes with Heather hit by Cybil only twice. At last, the image of Cybil was completely shattered and only the monster remained. Now, Heather realized that she was in serious trouble.
"You have revealed my true form. But this will be the end of you."
Heather backed against the wall and felt a power surge through her. "No, your tricks are nothing. You're finished." Heather simply touched the wall and the large mirror reappeared. She leaped to the side as the monster Cybil caught a full glimpse of its own reflection.
"No!" it groaned.
Heather then whipped around and fired her gun, completely shattering the mirror.
The monster was thrown against the wall, and the glass shards gravitated toward Cybil and embedded themselves into her thick flesh. Thick, dark blood oozed from her wounds and pooled on the floor.
Heather felt even weaker than before, but a sense of relief accompanied it. She was safe, and Cybil was done for. It was over.
Heather slumped against the mirror and let her arms hang limply at her sides. She closed her eyes, hoping that she would hear a click of the lock, the opening of a secret passage, or some other sound urging Heather closer to Samael.
But instead, when Heather opened her eyes, she stared into the face of the monster Cybil. Before she could react, the monster slammed her against the mirror then slapped her.
The gun slid across the floor and came to a rest too far for Heather to reach. She looked up to find the glass-ridden monster hovering over her. The monster leaned toward her, ready to enact its horrid revenge.
V.
When Trey Harrison awoke, he couldn't believe where he had ended up. The valet area next to the door, two twin-sized beds, two identical desks, three-shelf bookcase, two reading chairs, large panel window, and closet. It was definitely one of the college dorm rooms. But he couldn't figure out how he had gotten here. The last thing he remembered was being swallowed by thick muck.
He looked at the ceiling for some kind of clue, but only saw a solid ceiling and a light fixture. Trey felt his body, but he didn't feel wet or have any residue left from the pit. It was as if he had simply woken up from a nap. But Trey knew better. The unnerving silence all around and strange message scrawled on the wall told him that he wasn't out of danger just yet.
I'M DEAD.
That's all it said, but it sent a shiver up Trey's spine. Who did the message refer to? And was it meant for Trey or someone else? Before he could figure out either question, he heard a noise from the closet. It was a muffled noise, as if something was trying to be quiet but had accidentally bumped something.
Trey aimed his crossbow at the closet and whispered, "Who's there?"
Like someone's going to answer, dummy, he thought to himself.
The door creaked open far enough to arouse curiosity, but not far enough for any light to expose if something was in there. Trey paused for a moment, unsure of what to make of the situation. Someone could be on the other side of the door just as scared, unsure if Trey was a friend or foe. Or it could be some otherworldly monstrosity luring Trey into its clutches. Trey held his breath, hoping it was the first option.
He thought about calling out again, but it was probably useless. Instead, Trey slowly made his way around the bed toward the closet. He kept his crossbow aimed as he neared the closet. Trey's palms were wet with perspiration and his breathing had become shallow. Only a little closer.
Trey swore the room shrank around him and that the already dim light grew darker. His body seemed heavier too. Trey didn't think he would be able to react in time if something leapt at him. And there wasn't much space between the bed and the wall for Trey to maneuver either.
I'm doomed, was Trey's final conclusion. Still he pressed on, the power of curiosity outweighing the sense of pending danger.
Trey opened the closet with one foot. As the dim light penetrated the darkness and his eyes focused, Trey's blood ran cold and his breath caught in his throat.
A body dangled from above. No hands. Blood pooled at the bottom of the closet and splattered all over. Face locked in a permanent scream. The skin withered and dry. The eyes rolled back exposing nothing but the whites. A rotten, thick stench seeped from the body.
Trey couldn't hold it any longer. He threw up.
Trey ran to the sink and braced himself on the counter, still gagging and breathing hard. He splashed the cold water on his face and drank a few sips. The rancid taste wouldn't completely disappear no matter how many times Trey swished tap water around in his mouth. He turned it off and stared at his reflection in the mirror. A pale, haggardly face stared back at him.
He composed himself then turned back to the body. Trey hoped that he had imagined such a horrid scene. He hoped that it would be gone when he looked again, but the body still dangled there.
Trey grabbed the closet door and shut it tightly. He couldn't imagine what had killed the dead person or the kind of pain they had been in before dying. Trey hoped that he didn't know the individual. It would be less painful and easier to push out of his mind.
Trey crossed the room to the desk. There must be a reason why he ended up in this room. Heather said that they would end up in strange places so there must be something here. Trey glanced over the desk, but didn't see anything that caught his eye. Until he saw a scrap of paper protruding from one of the drawers. He pulled it out and read it.
It was a receipt. Unimportant except the name at the bottom: Michael McNeal. Now it made sense. This was Michael's dorm room. Michael had told them earlier of his harsh introduction to Silent Hill right here at the college. But he didn't find his roommate. Maybe it was better that he hadn't.
Now Trey had to figure out why he was here of all places. Was there something that Michael missed the first time around? Or was there something more to Michael's involvement in Silent Hill.
Trey suddenly felt as if there was more to all of them. Something that connected them to Silent Hill. And he was meant to find out Michael's connection.
A tattered journal partially protruding from under one of the chairs caught his eye. He picked it up and thumbed through it without really realizing it until he stopped on an entry from five years ago.
I can't believe we solved the mystery of Windlenot Museum. It was dangerous with the demons (Rich called them Ixupi—what a dumb name) and all those puzzles. I feel like the three of us, Rich, Carl, and I were meant to meet there that night because by ourselves, we never would have made it. I'm just glad to leave it all behind and go across the country to college. Maybe everything will go smoothly there.
Trey flipped toward the back of the journal and stopped.
I'm sure that the students, my roommate included, are using that drug, White Claudia. I confronted him about it, but he blew me off and said it wasn't any of my business. That was the first time we had really disagreed about anything—he was mostly an easygoing guy. I knew then that he was involved somehow and if he was, then he may be involved with this mystery cult that everyone acts like doesn't exist. I decided to go to one of the parties Felicia was throwing. Ha! Here I am playing investigator again—sticking my nose where I shouldn't. Oh well...
So this explained why Michael was much more composed than a normal person would be in this type of situation. This was the last entry, dated yesterday. That party was the key to Michael getting to Silent Hill, but did something happen there?
Trey put the journal back on the desk and inspected the room once more. Nothing else stood out.
Surprisingly, the door was unlocked and open, but when Trey walked through it, he didn't end up in the dormitory hallway but walked into a large room. Cups, napkins, plates, and pieces of snacks were strewn about. A poster to the left advertised Felicia's party. This must have been it. This would have been the last place Michael would have been.
Trey stepped on a book. When he looked down, it was another journal.
I didn't realize so many people kept journals then just left them any and everywhere for anyone to read. Weirdos. Still, he couldn't complain too much. The journals so far had been plenty helpful in piecing this whole mess together.
Before he could read it, something moved in the back of the room. Trey stuck the journal in his pants against the small of his back and drew his crossbow. He aimed toward the noise and smirked to himself.
It was no doubt a monster—its stubby legs, jagged opening for a mouth, and featureless upper body all screamed monster. Its upper torso looked like it was enclosed in a thick layer of skin and it struggled underneath that skin to free its arms and head. Trey winced at the sheer grotesque nature of the monster then remembered that the people in the town willingly let themselves be converted. They weren't human anymore and never would be again.
He thought it would be easy, but another shambled from the back of the room. Then two more came into view. Two more from the left and right. Three more from the back of the room. Another from the far left corner. Two adjoined from the right corner. Then one was right behind him. He was surrounded.
He wasn't sure if he would be able to take out all the monsters but he smiled and said to them, "This is about to get real ugly." He aimed and squeezed the trigger.
Notes:
Cybil's mysterious appearance will be further explained in Silent Hill: Harry Mason, Chapter 8.
Dr. Killian is the same doctor that attacked Tina Grey in Silent Hill: Harry Mason, Chapter 3.
Trey immediately recognized the room since he and Michael McNeal attend the same college and both live in the dorms.
Michael's roommate, Brent, suffered a horrible death, but Michael never found the body. This all occurred in Chapter 1—Unknown Horror.
The journal Trey found refers to The Story of Windlenot Museum, written by Richard B. Sampson Jr. and posted here on This is also the incident that Michael recalled when he solved the clock puzzle in Chapter 20—Moving On.
Shortey: Glad you liked Christine's fight scene. She has had some inklings of being a tough girl though in some of the earlier chapters, but here is where she really came out of her shell. We'll have to see if all of our heroes make it through their adventure alive. Of course, there is already a sequel in the planning phase, so some of them are bound to make it.
Crazyb1tch85: Henry and Tina aren't exactly done with little Sara. Check out the other story for their next confrontation with her. If you thought this one was a bit spooky, the next will definitely have you on the edge of your seat. I'm glad you liked Christine's scene. I figured I had to do something to make up for her foolish "oh-I'm-going-to-go-off-and-investigate-the-scary-house-alone-and-unarmed" mistake. Hopefully, as Tina and Henry investigate, they will find out exactly why Christine was targeted as the new vessel. Glad you like the thought blurbs I put in there for Michael. If I were in the situation, I would probably be thinking about the same things. Yes, there are lots of cliffhangers and with this chapter, hopefully, some questions have been answered. Let me know what you think!
Rodarian: Yeah, Pierce Bronson is actually a good choice for Harry age-wise—and maybe Ryan Reynolds could be Henry Townsend then. As you see from this chapter, things have definitely intensified for the teens—they're in more danger now than ever and it's only bound to get worse. Hey, what base do you live by?
Fallen Angel-2009: I'm sorry to hear that things aren't going well—good luck with whatever you're going through. As far as the story goes, hope you like where this chapter took Heather and the others. As you see, they're real close to seeing each other. Maybe next chapter...
Demo the Bounding Jackalope: Hopefully, the scary factor on the story just went up a notch with this chapter. Let me know what you think.