I.

This is the orphanage!

Christine wasn't quite sure how she knew it, but she instantly recognized the upstairs bedroom as one in Wish House. Two sets of bunk beds lined two walls with two identical desks positioned at the foot of the beds. Dreary curtains blocked out any light that might come in through the windows and the bare floor creaked under Christine's weight.

Christine turned to look at the hole she had just come from. But it wasn't there anymore. Just a solid wall.

But how? Am I going crazy? Wasn't I just in a prison of some kind?

Everything whirled and for a moment, Christine thought she would faint. Everything was happening too fast. She just needed to get herself together. A soft voice cut through her vertigo.

"Christine?"

She hadn't seen the young girl standing by the door earlier, but now she was there. A young girl dressed in overalls, clinging to a teddy bear. She looked quite pale and her disheveled hair fell about her face. The girl's clothes were soiled. In this place, there was no telling what the girl had been through.

"Are you hurt? Where did you come from? Where are your parents? Are you wandering around here alone?" The questions rushed out of Christine in part because of concern for the girl, but she was comforted by having someone to ask those questions to.

Christine approached the girl but stopped. Something kept nagging at the back of her mind, like there was something that she should know or remember. But upon closer inspection, something seemed not quite right about the girl. But she was just a little girl wasn't she?

The Christine realized something and asked, "Wait, how did you know my name?"

"You don't know mine?" the girl replied. There was something hollow and mysterious in her voice.

"Sara?" Christine whispered. She didn't know where the name had come from or how she even knew this girl, yet the longer she looked the more Sara looked like someone from a long time ago.

Christine rubbed her temples, the sense of bewilderment growing with each passing second. Memories were fighting to surface, but Christine wouldn't let them. She didn't want to remember. She couldn't remember.

She retreated from the girl, crossing the room between the two sets of bunk beds. She noticed a picture lying on the lower bed to the right. Looking at it, her blood suddenly ran cold. The little girl, Sara, was in the picture along with another girl. They looked similar, maybe only a year apart. Brown hair, toothy smile, tanned complexion. The only difference was the other girl had amazingly green eyes, jade to be exact. Regardless, there was no way that these girls couldn't be related.

But the other girl in the picture, Christine had no doubt who it was. It was her. How? It was the orphanage. They were given to the orphanage by their parents. Their parents only cared about the damn resurrection, whatever that was. They left them to be further tortured and brainwashed by the sick priests and crazed sisters. Oh, the things they endured. It was a wonder that they didn't die.

Christine snapped back realizing she had grasped the framed picture so tightly she had cracked the glass. Why was she so angry? Where had those thoughts come from? But Christine knew that they were hers and hers alone. But she couldn't remember everything. How did she escape? Why didn't she remember any of this before? And if this girl was Sara, why hadn't she aged since this picture?

Sara stepped forward, drawing Christine's attention back to her. "I knew that you would come back. Now, you can stay with me and you don't ever have to leave again."

II.

Trey wiped the thick red blood from his cheek and surveyed the room. The monsters that had ganged up on him now lie scattered about. Some were utterly still, while others shook erratically before imminent death.

I am such a bad ass, Trey mused. He couldn't help but feel tough after taking out a small army of monsters that wanted nothing more than to snack on his bones or whatever these monsters did to their victims.

There were some splatters of blood on his jeans and sneakers, but it wasn't his. He was unharmed besides the ebbing pain in his left arm. He glanced at it and noticed a spot of crimson seeping through the gauze. He would have to get it looked at if they ever got out of here alive.

Trey scanned the room one more time for any other monsters waiting to spring out of the darkness but he was disappointed. None remained. He remembered the journal he had picked up. Back in his hands he flipped open to the only written on page.

Brent told me about that McNeal kid's questions. He might turn us in and we can't have that. Brent dropped a tablet of White Claudia in his drink. Let's see what the nosy bastard does once he's one of us.

The ceremony went awfully. That nosy kid disrupted it. Apparently, the drug had an adverse effect. He was supposed to be paralyzed. We forced him to watch the ceremony. Suddenly, he panicked and started raving about demons and crap like that. Then he tried to attack us. But then he suddenly passed out. Good thing. We told Brent to take him back to their room and find out if he planned to tell what he saw. If he did then he would have to experience an unfortunate accident.

Felicia said there was a drug to counteract White Claudia. Using the drug as the primary ingredient, she added a strange green, blue, and red herb to the mixture along with the medicine. She said it would stop the pain for a first time user and repress the withdrawal symptoms, thus keeping people from being addicted. Why would she even think of nullifying the effects of White Claudia? She doesn't understand, but by the end of the night, she won't need to. Anyways, I put the stuff in the table by the door.

She suggested using it on that kid, but I'd rather see him suffer.

Trey closed the book and quickly found the table. The drawer was indeed locked and there didn't seem to be a way to pry it open.

He wondered where a good hiding place for a key would be. He checked the undersurface of the table, then the top of another table lined with bottles of alcohol, under the couch, and finally behind the curtains. No luck.

Trey ran his fingers through his hair in frustration and exhaled loudly. Where the hell was the stupid key? Whoever wrote the diary didn't mention hiding it, so maybe he took it back to his own room. There was no way Trey would find it then—he didn't even know who wrote the diary.

Just take it easy for a minute. There's got to be something here. I'm simply missing it.

Trey exhaled loudly once again and inspected the room from next to the table. The corner of a pink book protruded from underneath the couch. Surely, it was something important. He stepped over one of the monsters and grabbed the book. He flipped to the last entry and read.

I got the formula from the hospital. I definitely think that creepy Dr. Killian is strung out on PTV, a stronger derivative of White Claudia. Since its appearance about twenty years ago, several patients have been brought in suffered from an overdose. Dr. Owens created the formula because of the way the drug ravaged the body. A quick acting agent could save someone's life no matter what stage they were at in their withdrawal.

I think Killian fired Dr. Owens because he created it, but he continued to make it and passed a sample to me when I told him of my suspicions of my boyfriend using it. He gave me a copious amount of the liquid form, which is the fastest acting form of the agent. He also gave me the instructions on how to create it. It's pretty easy too.

Anyways, I created some and tested it and it works just like Dr. Owens's. I am so proud of myself. I tried to give it to that jerk Corey at the party. He thought I didn't see him throw it in the drawer. I went over and locked it and put the key around my neck. I don't trust a lot of the people that showed up to this party. I'm sure they use White Claudia and they're mixed up with that rumored cult. I'm going to kick all them out in a few.

I'm concerned about Michael McNeal though. Again, I'm sure I saw Brent, his trifling roommate, throw a White Claudia tablet in his drink. I confronted Brent, but he said it was a harmless joke and not to worry so much. If it is his first time, it would probably paralyze him until it wore off. And chances are, he won't even remember the "joke" since it directly affects the amygdala, hippocampus, and thalamus—three areas of the brain responsible for memory. It also acts on the cerebellum, responsible for movement, and other parts of the thalamus, thus the hallucinations. Whoops, getting off on a tangent here!

Anyways, I don't trust Brent. Felicia Drake

Trey felt uneasy. Felicia was at the party and she had the key. But she didn't use White Claudia and wasn't one of the cult members, which meant that she didn't let herself be changed into one of the horrible monsters he had just taken out. So where was she?

Trey walked to the back of the room and saw where they're ceremony had taken place. They had drawn a strange symbol on the ground.

A circle was on the outside and another was drawn inside, with about an inch or two less in diameter. Three other smaller circles where drawn in the middle of the second circle, one on the top and two on the bottom. A strange depiction of an eye stared up from the top in the space between the two outside circles. A scale was drawn at the nine o'clock spot and two other symbols Trey couldn't distinguish at the three o'clock and six o'clock points. Inside, other symbols populated the space between the smaller circles, all of them strange but equally creepy. There were smaller symbols along the edge of the large, outside circle. Though the ceremony had been over for some time, the entire symbol glowed scarlet red.

He didn't know what to male of it though. There was something inherently evil about the symbol and it being placed here. More so than any monster or strange journal he found.

Trey turned to the left and spied a crumpled piece of paper. He smoothed it out and read the contents.

The symbol commonly used in the ritual represents The Halo of the Sun. The outer two circles are charity and resurrection and the three inner circles represent past, present, and future. Usually, it is drawn in red. Black or other dark colors are acceptable as well, but blue is strictly forbidden as it places a curse on the deity being honored with the symbol.

At least he knew what it was. But knowing only made it seem that much more forbidden and wrong. He planned to put as much distance between him and the eerie symbol. But as he turned away, he stopped to study what looked like blood stemming from outside the circle. Someone had splattered it all around the symbol and let it trail off down the hallway to a door only slightly ajar.

Light, probably from candles, flickered through the crack as if a breeze had suddenly disturbed their monotonous burn.

He raised his crossbow and approached the door slowly. Trey followed the blood all the way up to the door and stopped. He already knew that trails of blood led to nothing good.

Pushing the door with his foot, Trey stepped in the bathroom and immediately knew something was horribly wrong. Black candles, thick and melted on the counter, floor, selves, and any other horizontal surface they could find. The trail of blood continued into the bathroom and stopped at the edge of the tub. But the shower curtain was closed.

Trey, don't go back there. You don't want to see what's back there that bad, he told himself. He had trouble swallowing and his mouth had gone dry. Fear. It was fear and something else. The closer he got, the thicker the air became. Something reeked and it was emanated from the tub. What the hell was in there?

His stomach tightened and he began to perspire. Was it just hot in the bathroom because of the candles?

Though every alarm in his mind had gone off and his body even rebelled against him, Trey cautiously continued forward. Maybe there was just another monster lying in wait. That, he could deal with. In fact, he hoped that was all that hid behind the curtain.

He grasped the cloth curtain in his left hand and paused. Did he really want to do this? Yes, he had to. Everything he saw from the beginning to the end, he was meant to see. It was meant to be burned into his mind, and whatever he found here was no different.

Dammit, just throw it open!

The curtain snapped back and Trey immediately threw up.

Between heaves, he realized what had happened to Felicia Drake and where the blood had come from. The girl now lay in a knee deep pool of her own blood. The same symbol in the room had been scratched into her chest and stomach area. Blond hair was caked with dried blood, matted to her face, neck, and shoulders. Her fair, smooth skin was now riddled with cuts and abrasions all over her naked body. Her vibrant, violet eyes stared lifelessly at the ceiling—she was alive throughout the whole ordeal. They had tortured her and then killed her.

They killed her and made him watch, Trey suddenly realized, which only made him more nauseous. Michael was paralyzed by the drug. Then they probably attacked Felicia when she tried to throw them out. They made him watch as they tore at her clothes and cut her. Trey didn't want to think about the situation anymore

He braved another glance at Felicia, and noticed her clenched fist resting on the side of the tub, as if with her lest energy, she placed it there. Was she holding something? He didn't want to touch her at all, but he still moved closer and pried her hand open. There it was. The key to the drawer.

Trey quickly departed the bathroom, still dazed from the scene. His mind raced with questions but he would never know the answers. No one would ever be able to make him understand the logic and fervor of these cult members. He didn't want to understand, he just wanted to make them pay for what they had done.

The drawer unlocked with a soft click and slid open easily. Sure enough, a container of the green liquid rolled to the front of the drawer. It was Felicia's agent. Trey wished she could see how important her formula would become in the near future.

He began to tuck the liquid away in his belt but found a medical bag in the back of the drawer. He took it and put the liquid in the bag. Then Trey remembered reading that Dr. Killian was probably addicted to White Claudia or PTV. Maybe all these crazed people they happened upon were intoxicated with the drug. Trey had an idea.

After about ten minutes, Trey was ready to move on.

There was no mention of a time limit on the symptoms, but Trey was sure that Michael was experiencing some of those withdrawal symptoms, whatever they were. He knew he had to get the medicine to him and fast. All he could hope was that the next door he opened would lead him to Michael.

Trey slowly opened the door and stepped into the unknown.

III.

Heather pressed herself against the cold metal wall, wishing it would swallow her just like the floor had swallowed Trey. But she could go no further and the metal stood fast, holding her to her gruesome fate.

Where was her mysterious power now? She had unknowingly tapped into it earlier in the battle, but now she couldn't even muster the strength to strike the monster. This wasn't the way she imagined dying, not at the hands of some creepy monster in a cursed world. And she never got to see her father, if he truly was alive.

The monster Cybil breathed hard with anticipation. "I'll make your suffering legendary," it grinned.
Heather clenched her eyes shut, awaiting for the first rupture of pain but it never came. Actually, Heather screamed when she heard the shattering glass and the barrage of bullets sail through the air. They found their mark with deadly accuracy. The bullets hit the monster with several wet thuds. It danced back and forth from the force of the bullets at such a close range. Then it was over.

The monster teetered for a moment then gave Heather a final glance. No longer able to hold itself up, it fell forward and moved no more.

Heather opened her eyes and saw the monster staring at her lifelessly. But where had the bullets come from? It was too many at once to be Michael, so who? She turned to the mirror noticing that one of the panels hadn't been broken. Only now, it wasn't a mirror, but more like a window into an adjacent room. And there stood three people holding smoking guns.

Heather managed to stand, despite still feeling weak and drained. She simply stared at the three people, waiting for them to disappear, but they remained simply staring back at her. Hot tears stung her eyes and she blinked them away, but sat incredibly still. If she was simply imagining the three people now in front of her, she didn't want to wake up. Not yet.

The man was the first to move through the window. He jogged a few paces and stopped in the center of the room, with an expression that told Heather he felt the same as she did. Confused, worried, relieved, and disbelief all at once.

"Heather?" Harry's voice, mixed with doubt and trepidation, came out hoarse. A longing hand reached for his daughter, as if she would quickly float away if he got too close.

She didn't reply, simply stared at Harry. The last time she though she would ever see him, was when she discovered his dead body in their apartment. Now, he stood in front of her, calling to her, with the relief of a father who thought his daughter was lost forever.

But what if it was another trick? She thought Cybil was real, but she turned out to be just another monster. Samael could be toying with her again, but it was his eyes. They showed compassion.

Heather said nothing, but simply stood and ran to her father and threw her arms around him. When she fell into his embrace, Heather knew he was real, not some figment of her imagination and certainly not another monstrosity created by Silent Hill. It was Harry Mason. He was her father and now, he was alive. She didn't care how, when, or where. She only cared that he was there with her.

"Dad," she whispered in his ear. She tried to keep from crying, but the tears fell silently.

In that instant, everything faded away. Nothing else mattered. The monsters, Silent Hill, Claudia, Killian, nothing. The whole world simply faded, leaving only Harry and Heather.

"I—I thought you were dead," Heather's buried her head in Harry's shoulder, her voice muffled and low.

"I thought I was too," Harry replied. He didn't want to burden Heather with everything he had been through, not at this point. He simply wanted to enjoy this reunion. Everything else could wait.

Douglas Cartland and Cybil Bennett stepped through the window as well, but stayed reverently silent.

Heather finally looked up and noticed that Douglas and Cybil had stepped into the room. She slipped out of Harry's embrace and frowned at Douglas. "I thought you were going to wait for me at the amusement park? I was going to get you when all this was over."

"You young kids think you can handle the world. Well, you can't. So here we are."

Heather walked to him and gave him a quick hug. "I'm glad you're safe," she said.

"As safe as I can be in this place. I wasn't as beat up as I thought I was."

Heather then turned to Cybil. She stared at the woman, not sure if she could fully trust her.

Before Heather could say anything, Cybil began to speak, "I thought it was all over, but I've only been a pawn so this day could occur. I know that you all have seen this," Cybil threw the journal on the floor, "But it was a lie constructed by that thing." Cybil motioned to the fallen monster. "I've lost my son, the most important person in my life. I couldn't bear to lose Christine too. If you can't trust me, I understand, but I will fight alongside you until the end."

Heather searched Cybil's face. Her expression was as pure as her words. She was no longer under the influence of Samael, but a woman hoping to save the last person she had left to care for.

Heather stepped to her and extended her hand, "Cybil, I trust you."

Cybil shook her hand strongly, establishing the beginning bond of trust.

"I still have to find Tina," Harry said.

"We met her and a guy named Henry in the house. They may have gotten trapped here too," Heather explained. "Henry and Tina told me how they helped you. My friends, Michael and Trey are still trapped out there."

"We won't leave anyone behind," Douglas resolved.

Heather took a position next to Harry as they took the lead back through the window then through the door. But rather ending up back in the hallway, they found themselves somewhere quite unexpected.

IV.

Michael McNeal knew when he was in over his head. His freshman year in college, he was overloaded: full class load, class council, gospel choir, and track. It was simply too much for him to handle at that point. He felt the same way now: the situation at the college, the deaths, the strange priest, Silent Hill, Maria, and now the doctor. The situation suddenly seemed impossible and hopeless. Could they really defeat some resurrected evil god with the power to change the world?

But he had to try. Even if he did only meet his death.

Michael held his posture, the gun now pointed at Killian's midsection. The doctor hadn't howled in pain or tumbled to the ground, but simply glanced at the wound as if it were a slight annoyance, nothing more.

"What will you do next?" the doctor calmly asked, which only annoyed Michael. The doctor was taunting him. He was somehow impervious to conventional attacks.

He has a point, what am I going to do next?

Michael found it difficult to swallow and the room suddenly became unbearably hot. Everything blurred. Michael blinked hard, hoping when he opened his eyes things would be normal, but it only got worse. Michael suddenly doubled over from the feeling of lightning tearing through his insides. "What have you done to me?"

Killian sneered, "You're one of us. Don't you feel enlightened?"

Michael didn't understand what was happening. He hadn't been mortally wounded or implanted with anything strange, had he? The parasite hadn't escaped from the chest and bore into his body, the butcher hadn't cut him open and implanted a strange monster, but maybe the doctor did something to him while he was unconscious.

"What have you done to me?" Michael seethed.

Killian looked down his nose at Michael and replied, "Though I would like to take credit for bringing you to your knees, I cannot. But I will relish the sight of you squirming like the vermin you are."

Michael grunted and toppled to the floor. It was getting difficult to breathe and everything was spinning. He managed to crawl to a table and use it to get to his feet, although he was quite shaky.

"I won't give you the satisfaction," Michael said and raised his gun. He fired, but his arm wasn't steady. The bullet sank into the ceiling.

"Though you have attempted to take my life, I, Dr. Killian, offer you salvation with this," Killian pulled a syringe out of his pocket. It was filled with an iridescent liquid.

"Stay away from me," Michael growled.

Killian chuckled. "The fragments of our lord burn through your veins, just like Henry Mason."

"Liar!"

"No, he isn't lying," Trey Harrison stepped through the door and slipped an arrow behind him to stop the door from completely closed. He smiled confidently and aimed his crossbow at Killian. "Now, you can leave here walking or in a body bag, it's your choice."

"Trey?" Michael croaked. Leave it to Trey to make a grand entrance, if not for the pain, Michael would have laughed, both from relief and from Trey's sheer audacity.

"I know you missed me, but don't get too sentimental, bud," he kept a watchful eye on Killian, sure that he was the doctor Felicia referred to in her journal.

Killian cocked his head with unhealthy curiosity and said, "Another one of my lord's toys, Trey Harrison. I cannot understand the interest my lord has taken in any of you wayward children, but my job is not to understand only to obey."

"You didn't give me back the box when I told you. You really suck at your job," Michael weakly retorted.

"This," Killian motioned to the syringe, "will ease your pain and gain you favor with Samael. You children know it as White Claudia. This is the same but in its purest and raw form."

Michael dismissed the doctor with a wild wave, "Keep that damn drug away from me."

"It's already in your system," Trey explained. "His cult goons slipped some White Claudia into your drink at the party. You're suffering from withdrawal."

"No," he sounded defeated and hurt.

"If you refuse to offer your body to our lord, I have nothing more to do here. You will still be of use to our lord even if you are dead, which actually suits me fine. We have what we need," Killian said.

"Is that all I was? A carrier for your damn parasite?" Michael choked out.

"Yes."

"You let that guy take the parasite thing? Mike, you're getting sloppy," Trey joked. He noticed thick, black blood oozing from a bullet wound in his leg. "You should've just shot the guy in the chest."

Michael almost smiled in spite of the situation. Leave it to Trey to keep his levity, but Michael knew that Trey had some kind of plan. Trey was just waiting for the right time to launch it. At least, that's what Michael hoped.

Killian dismissed Trey's implied threat, "Your worldly weapons can't hurt me. I've gained the favor of our lord and thus am impervious to your feeble attempts to subdue me."

Trey looked puzzled, "Umm—so what you're saying is...what?"

"Imbecile."

"I knew you'd resort to name-calling eventually," Trey said then shot the doctor in the other leg. Twice.

The arrows jutted out of Killian's leg at starkly different angles, yet the doctor took a step forward without even a slight limp. "And you don't listen. I will dance over your decrepit bodies as the hellhounds feast on your entrails."

"Wrong, doctor. And who writes your script anyways? Geez. Dancing while hellhounds eat our insides? You've spent too many nights studying the Stupidest Lines Bad Guys Use manual."

"Your quaint wit falls on deaf ears, fool."

"Well hear this. You know those arrows I shot into your leg? I took the liberty of dipping the arrow tips in the antidote. Unlike White Claudia, this antidote travels trough the bloodstream almost immediately, negating the effects of the drug. And right about now, you should be feeling the effects."

"Nice bluff, infidel, but I—" suddenly Killian doubled over and grasped his stomach. "You—you—" he stammered. Killian's orange eyes were wide with both surprise and pain.

"Save it, doc."

Killian spun, the chest pressed firmly to his abdomen, and bolted from the room. As he dashed out, another syringe fell from his pocket.

"Trey, forget about me, go after Killian. He's going to—"

Trey picked up the syringe and pulled alcohol and a swab out of the medical bag he found. "Yeah, you're the big bad hero. Just relax for a second. We'll get him soon enough. You need this antidote."

"I don't like needles," Michael weakly said.

Trey gave him a half-smile. "We've seen otherworldly monsters, crazed butchers, demented doctors, and eerie rooms and you complain about a little old needle?"

Michael managed a shrug, "We all have our thing, right?"

He sat on the floor while Trey prepared the needle. Michael immediately looked away as Trey pulled up his sleeve and swabbed his forearm.

"You know what you're doing, right?" Michael asked.

"Just keep believing that and you'll be fine," Trey replied.

To keep Michael's mind off the needle, Trey pieced together what he knew about Michael's situation.

"So here's what I've found out so far about you. You suspected several students used White Claudia. You knew about the cult, but you didn't know anything about them. You confronted your roommate, Brent, about the drug, but Brent denied using it, but then he told someone that you were nosing around. Whoever Brent told probably suspected you of being a cop or something like that, so when you showed up at the party, they showed you a good time, giving Brent the chance to slip White Claudia in your drink."

"It was Brent, my roommate? I didn't agree with this whole drug thing, but I trusted him," Michael winced as he felt a pinch in his arm.

Trey continued. "Apparently, you had an adverse reaction to it, since it was your first time. You passed out, and Brent took you back to their room. He was supposed to figure out what you knew and if you intended to tell, I think they planned on doing something terrible to you."

"But then everything got out of control and we ended up here in Silent Hill," Michael concluded. "I only remember fragments of that party, which is why I didn't mention it earlier."

Trey opted to leave out the other part, at least for now. "What about the other incident at the museum?"

Michael heard Trey put away the needle, so he faced Trey and rolled down his sleeve. "Look, I don't know what it is, but I feel like I'm drawn to these strange situations. Almost like some kind of psychic connection. It sounds crazy, but that's why I didn't mention it before."

"Well can your power of the mind figure out how to stop all this?"

"We're close, I know that much for sure. We've got to find Christine and Heather. Her dad is still out there. Killian mentioned that he may have somehow infected Harry Mason with White Claudia too."

Trey finished packing everything back in the medical bag. "How do you feel?"

Michael realized the immense pain had subsided and he wasn't nearly as hot or weak. "I think I'll be okay. Thanks, Trey. I really—"

"Hey, didn't I say no mushy stuff. You psychology majors that have weird psychic powers are all too sensitive and soft. You're almost as bad as Christine," Trey suddenly went silent.

Michael realized that even through all his bravado, Trey was suffering too. "We'll find her just like you found me."

"I hope so," Trey replied. He cleaned the wound on his arm, used a cream from the medical bag, and rewrapped it with fresh gauze. "Are you ready to go?"

Michael nodded and headed toward the door behind Killian.

"Wait," Trey said as he jogged back to the door he came through. "This way. I have to show you something first."

Michael followed without arguing, primarily because he still felt hazy from the drug. When they walked through the door, Trey stayed behind and propped the door open with the same arrow.

"I know this place," Michael said rubbing his temple. "That's right. Felicia had her party here. We came here first then went to the club. After that we just came back here. I figured I was being overly suspicious of Brent and his friends."

"What happened next?" Trey probed.

Michael shook his head, "I think I passed out. Brent dragged me back to our room. But if what you said is true about him slipping White Claudia in my drink then it's definitely likely I passed out."

Trey collected the journals and passed them to Michael. "I think you should read these."

Michael read quite fast, so he was done in about a minute. Though he was brown-skinned, Trey could see how the blood had drained from his face. "Where's Felicia?"

Trey shook his head and replied, "You don't want to know."

"Where?" Michael demanded.

Trey motioned to the bathroom then averted his eyes. "Don't go in there," he warned, but Michael strode into the bathroom.

It was only a moment before Michael staggered out, his eyes wide and even paler than before. "Trey," he mumbled before collapsing to the ground. "I saw everything. I couldn't move. Oh, how she screamed. No one helped. They all cut her. Trey, they drank her blood. They chanted something strange around that symbol. But I broke free of the paralysis, I tried to help her. I tried to stop them, but I blacked out."

"Maybe it was that psychic stuff you mentioned earlier."

Michael calm demeanor vanished. He was panicked and scarred. The scene played over and over through his mind, his senses remembering every smell, hearing every scream, feeling every splatter of blood. "I remember now. I remember everything."

"Pull it together," Trey shook his shoulders, hoping to jolt him back to his senses. "I need you. Christine needs you. Heather's out there and she won't say it, but she needs you too. Not to mention Harry Mason, Tina, Henry, and anyone else that's out there. We know the root of this evil and it's up to us to stop it."

Michael breathed deeply and tried to push the thoughts from his mind. "I—I'm sorry. Everything came back with such a rush. And seeing Felicia like that—"

"I know. I know," he sympathetically said. He patted Michael on the back and helped him stand. "Are you okay?"

Michael nodded, still unsure of whether he was going to throw up or not. But in that moment, he had a flash of clarity. Something had clicked in his mind and he understood. He couldn't pinpoint what it was exactly that he understood, but he had focus and determination. More importantly, he knew what had to be done.

He reached in his backpack and pulled out a small Casio Exlim camera.

"Hey, I didn't know you had that," Trey said.

"I came prepared," Michael replied. He took a close-up shot of the symbol. "I think we're going to need this. You at least paid attention in art class, didn't you?"

Trey looked at him with mock appellation.

"I know, I know, you're a pro-artist, right? Just be ready to put those skills to use when we need them. Stacy Aspen and Felicia Drake. Their deaths won't be for nothing."

"Sure, what's the plan, boss?"

"We weren't separated accidentally, but something tells me we'll be together for the final battle. Each of us will have a piece of the puzzle, the way to defeat Samael and this is your piece. My piece is here," Michael tapped his mind.

"What about the others?"

"We'll know when we find them."

The two knew left the room with the knowledge that they were getting closer to the end and that there was no guarantee that either of them would live through the final confrontation.

Notes:

Any fans of Resident Evil should recognize the mixture of green, blue, and red herbs used in the counter-agent to White Claudia.

Rodarian: Thanks for the review! I'm glad that you liked the intensity of the chapter. I had quite a few slow chapters before—I figured it was time to step up the action a bit. The chapter explaining the appearance of the other Cybil is posted—let me know what you think. Actually, Eliza Dushku (Bring It On, Wrong Turn) would be a perfect Heather—she's got the attitude and the look. Millia Jovovich (Resident Evil, Fifth Element) might actually make a good Cybil. Jason Behr (The Grudge) would actually be a perfect Henry. I don't know about dear old Viggo—he seems a bit too rugged for Harry.

Crazyb1tch85: Thank for the holiday wishes—I hope you had a great Christmas. I know you'll have a great New Year too! Hopefully, this chapter answers some of your questions about why they got separated. Michael had to remember so he could awaken his otherwise latent psychic ability, Trey was meant to find the antidote, Heather was meant to finally meet her father, and Christine was set on a path to reconcile her past. Hopefully, this is offering up some closure for each of the characters before entering the final battle. Christine was left a bit safer than the others, but as you can see, she is going to have some trouble on her hands with Sara. The monster taking Cybil's form is explained in its entirety in the new chapter of Silent Hill: Harry Mason. It also ties into her strange behavior with Christine way earlier in the story. I remembered someone commenting about my decision to shed Heather's vest way back at the beginning of the story. I kept meaning to get it back to her, so finally, she has her trademark white vest! I do have a special place in my heart for the first few chapters—I think I got some of the best scares there, but these other chapters are getting on the same level, slowly but surely. Trey has really developed over the course of the story—he's the comic relief, resident bad-ass, and stable constant of the group. He's personally my favorite character to write especially now. I haven't seen the preview—I actually read that it was coming out a while ago. I read that some of the fundamental story elements were drastically changed. But I'll wait to see the preview before clarifying. And thanks for the huge-ass review. Here's a huge-ass response—a little late, but better than never, right? Merry Christmas.

Shortey: Thank you, thank you, thank you. As I said in my other response, keep me on the straight and narrow. I hope to continue to improving all the way to the end. I've really been focusing on painting a vivid picture for people reading. These next two chapters will really be defining for the characters themselves since they will be tested in ways they haven't been before. Hope this update was quick enough (I think I broke a record here)—let me know what you think.

DarknessinShadows: I'm glad you liked the chapter. The next few chapters will come out pretty quickly as well, so you will see frequent updates.

Fallen Angel-2009: Thanks for the review! I'm glad that you like the entire story so far. It's definitely become a much bigger project than I initially intended—and much more popular than I thought it would be. Thank you for staying with the story this long and I hope I can continue to keep a great story all the way to the end.