CHAPTER FOUR
"A World of Madness"

The radio calmed down after a few seconds. I tried my best to get my mind to follow suit, but I couldn't. Too much was happening too quickly, and I doubt that even under normal circumstances I could process so much at once. As it was, the only way I could force myself on was to try and ignore at least some of it.

I looked at the radio. I wasn't really sure what to do with it. Had it not been for that message, that one with Mary's voice, I'd have just tossed the damn thing. Hell, if I could have convinced myself that it wasn't her voice, I'd have left it, but I suppose my desire to believe was just too powerful, too consuming.

Plus, it was her voice. It was. And because it was, I slipped the radio into my pocket, leaving it on just in case I could hear her again. Maybe she was trying to help me, trying to tell me where she was, and I was too far to pick it up. In a normal world I would have dismissed all of this as nothing but a crock of shit. Of course, I'd have thought the same thing if someone had told me they saw a monster thrashing about in a bag of human flesh too. Maybe they would be right. Nevertheless, that nail stick was staying with me. This world was proving to be anything but normal.

I looked at the map, and decided it was time to strike out for Rosewater Park again. Back towards Lindsey Street I went, carefully and with even more trepidation that before, for now I knew something really terrible was going on. What it exactly was, I couldn't even begin to guess, but plainly, disaster had decided to visit Silent Hill today, right before I did.

I made my way back up Vachss Road, keeping a keen eye out for anything moving, though it was anything but easy. Not only did the fog make it difficult to see anything that might be coming my way, it also fooled the eyes into thinking something was coming my way, to say nothing of the damned headache I was getting. Here I was, scared shitless and growing more paranoid by the second, and I have this nice juicy thumper upstairs to make things even more fun.

Lindsey Street again. I squinted, scanning north and south as far as the fog would allow, but it didn't seem like anything was moving, nor did it sound like it either. All I could hear was that omnipresent sound, the one like a giant steel door swinging slowly on old hinges. I must have looked both directions five or six times, not at all sure I was happy that no warped, monstrous forms made themselves visible. The tension was as thick as the fog. My hands were gripping the edge of the wall so hard that my fingers seemed bloodless. The ever-so-slight breeze danced across my sweaty skin, making me shiver almost uncontrollably.

I finally had to force myself to leave the ersatz safety of the alley, lest I stood there forever. I didn't take off running, exactly, but I did head north on Lindsey at a hell of a brisk pace, my head constantly darting towards every possible nook where dark things could hide.

It was this lack of immediate attention in front of me that almost killed me, because while I was busy looking for boogeymen, I failed to notice that Lindsey Street presented a problem that was going to severely impede my progress, that problem being that the road stopped being there. Lindsey was supposed to empty onto Nathan Avenue, but instead, I was seeing it empty into a dark, empty chasm, one that went very far and very wide. It looked as though some giant shovel tore a divot right through this entire part of town, for the devastation didn't just take out the road, but also the buildings lining this part of the road. The line of storefronts and houses was severed just as abruptly as the street was. One of the houses was torn almost completely in half. The right half was completely wiped out, but the left half still stood more or less like it should, looking perfectly normal until the aluminum siding and roofing ended in a jagged rip that extended straight from the foundation to the roof, and still stood nice and erect, in what could only be a sick denial of several laws of physics. The fog made it impossible to tell just how wide the chasm was, but it didn't really matter, what I could see was still far too wide for me to even think about crossing, and too long for me to skirt it here.

When it rains, it pours, I thought, and it seems like in Silent Hill, when it pours, you get a hurricane. I'd only seen this one small stretch of town, but I couldn't even imagine that the rest of the town was anywhere near normal. The apocalyptic appearance of South Vale was terrible, far too much so to be contained just here.

And to my more immediate chagrin, my direct route to Rosewater Park was now anything but. I pulled the town map out of my pocket, noting that it had gone slightly damp with my sweat. The next closest conduit to Nathan was Neely Street, two blocks west. It was all I could do, for while things were getting crazier by the minute, I couldn't stop. Nothing was going to stop me.

That's what I thought at first. And the thought stuck with me for a few seconds. I didn't exactly dwell on it. It felt more like I didn't want to let go of it, not out of consideration but out of reluctance, I suppose.

That lasted until my ears alerted me to something, a noise that was very faint against the dinosaur sound of the huge metal gate, and the whispering of the wind that presumably moved it.

It was a tapping noise, the sharp, staccato noise evident even through the filter of distance. It was a deliberate noise, and it was most certainly getting closer. I gripped the stick tightly in my right hand and watched for whatever it was.

Before I saw it, however, I heard another. At first I thought the first had just gone arrhythmic, but the alternate sound was in its own rhythym… and then a third sounded in just as the first came into view. I broke out in a fresh sweat, and my breath caught in my throat, like a car slamming headfirst into a brick wall.

The monster was back.

The malformed thing came towards me in a shambling gait that seemed both unseemly and careful at the same time. And I saw that, perhaps ten feet behind, a second one. They looked more or less identical, both exactly the same size, both exactly the same proportions, both walking at the same pace. Hell, their movements were even the same, but in different stages of procession. It was like watching a mirror that returned an image on a time-delay.

I can't really remember if it was the appearance of a third shambling creature, or if it was the realization that the closest one had halted and was rearing back that finally snapped me out of my fugue. Either way, I rushed forward, desperate to avoid getting a direct blast of that acidic shit it was going to spray. Thankfully, I was quick enough, and when the first one let loose, the bile-green spray hit nothing, and instead splashed onto the macadam. Turning just for a second, I could see the asphalt smoking where the acid landed. The cold sweats renewed afresh. Couldn't let that stuff hit me, no way, buddy.

The second one started to rear back as the first recovered from its assault, and I did not wait around to see any more this time. I broke into a flat-out run. Fear and disgust prompted my stomach to prime me full of more adrenaline than I'd ever felt in my life, and I took full advantage of it, pumping my legs like machine pistons, switching my grip higher on the stick to avoid puncturing my leg with the nails.

The third creature made as if to cut me off, not coming towards me, but instead in a direction in which it would intercept me. And the fuckers were fast. But I wasn't about to be stopped now. My terror was great, but it wasn't exactly panic. I had enough presence of mind to remember that I was not helpless, that I did have the means to defend myself.

Without breaking stride, I lifted the board over my shoulder, gripping it with both hands. When I was just close enough, just as the thing began to rear back to launch its attack, I swung the board like Mickey Mantle with a Louisville Slugger. It connected with the creature's head squarely. The impact caused the weapon to fiercely vibrate in my hand for about a second, and the shock almost numbed me. The impact also obliterated the thing's head, the fleshy membrane covering it darkened with its inhuman blood, and if there really was a skull beneath that membrane, it was no longer intact. It folded inward, looking pulpy and deflated. It was a disgusting sight, but I felt just a little flash of triumph. It teetered on its booted feet for perhaps a second and a half, and then crashed suddenly to the pavement, not a folding, controlled collapse, but a sudden drop, like rocks.

I checked over my shoulder. One of them was still on my track, coming at me at a medium pace, but far enough away that it did not pose an immediate threat. The one further away seemed quite disinterested. It trudged around randomly, without a clear purpose. Not that I minded.

I turned, and began running south on Lindsey Street, the tap-tap-tapping of the two remaining creatures fading softly.

Suddenly, that tapping was drowned out by a terrible shrieking noise, not at all human and coming at me with incredible speed. It sounded like someone scraping two large pieces of steel together rapidly, an almost mournful moan of grief. And then I felt a sudden, sharp pain in my ankle as something heavy struck me right at the base of my right foot. It was powerful and I was caught totally unaware, and I lost my balance completely, falling backwards without enough time to shield myself with my arms. I fell flat on my back, my body bending like a whiplash, and ending with the back of my skull striking the pavement with a dull click. Thankfully, it wasn't a very hard blow. Had it been enough to blow my consciousness, I had no doubt that I would be dead, but as it was, I was just dazed a bit.

I sat up, shook my head and allowed my vision to clear. My right hand had never let go of the board, and the impact had driven a splinter or two into the palm and possibly a finger, but I didn't really register that. My attention was totally focused on what had struck me.

The monster, the disgusting thing in the fleshy straight-jacket, was lying prone about ten feet in front of me and aimed away. Suddenly, its legs churned impossibly fast, and it shot across the pavement like a bullet, accompanied by that same stressed-metal sound. A small trail of crimson marked its procession as it flew with insane energy back and forth, in every direction and seemingly at random.

Hoping madly that it didn't decide to come at me again, I leapt to my feet and stole a glance behind. The other two were back there, I could hear them faintly over the metallic shriek of their brother, but I couldn't see them, they were far enough away.

Keeping my eye totally trained on the quicksilver monster, I took off running again, wincing a bit at the pain in my head, and doing my best to ignore it. I had no clear idea of where I wanted to go, but it seemed as though Neely Street was the next best chance of accessing Nathan.

I turned right onto Katz Street, and not seeing any other immediate threats, I slowed to a jog. I could no longer see nor hear the three monsters anymore, and things settled back to wind and that odd deep metal noise. I was curious as to its nature, but I saw nothing to indicate what it was. It wasn't important anyway.

Neely Street wasn't very far, and it looked no less desolate than Lindsey. The coast seemed clear, and I sped up a bit, the desire to reach the park almost solid and tangible in my body. Surely, this nightmare was happening for a reason, right?

It didn't look like I was about to find out just yet though, for whatever terrible disaster that tore a path of destruction across Lindsey Street had not stopped there. It had plowed right on through and had torn a similarly ugly laceration right through Neely Street, destroying the adjacent buildings as it had over there.

What the hell is this?

Whatever had happened here was beyond terrible, but I couldn't shake the notion that something seemed out to stop me personally. It was ridiculous, of course. I was hardly so important as to be worth destroying a city over, but even still, the thought rattled around in my head anyway like loose change.

I let out a long sigh, full of physical exhaustion and mental strain, and looked at my map again. The next available access was Munson Street, another block west. I was going to try it, but I had this sinking suspicion I was going to find yet another annihilated road and more frustration. Likely I would, but I had no choice in the matter. I was here for a reason and damned if I wasn't going to try everything I could. There was too much at stake for me.

Back down Neely I walked, making no effort to hurry. I played football in high school, and I wasn't too bad, but that was over a decade past, and unfortunately, I wasn't nearly as in-shape as I was, or as I should be. The pace I had been keeping had me winded, and the fear and near-panic I'd been in was not helping at all. I turned west on Katz again a minute later.

To my right, the storefronts ended abruptly, replaced by a ten-foot tall chain-link fence that ran for quite a good distance. There was a large building behind it, I could have guessed that even without seeing it, but I had no idea what it was, for I could only see its vague outline through the swirling mists. It looked to be at least three stories high, making it a damn sight taller than many of the buildings I'd seen in the area so far.

Maybe thirty feet down I spotted an entrance gate. It was just as rusty and old-looking as the rest of the fencing, but this part was adorned with a dented metal placard which read "Woodside Apartments" in bold letters, and below that, "Visitors Must Register In Office!". It's the sort of thing one might see in a slum perhaps, but while South Vale wasn't exactly bright and bustling, it was far from what I considered a bad sort of place. Did it look this run-down when I was here with Mary? I couldn't remember. I thought I remember seeing these Apartments, as I knew the complex was directly opposite of Rosewater Park on the other end, and together, Mary and I walked every inch of the park. And we had walked through South Vale before! We had stopped at the Mexican restaurant a few blocks over. We even had drinks at a small bar on Neely Street. That I remember very well.

It was the second time we'd been here, maybe six or seven years ago, and we were here for our wedding anniversary. It was the height of spring; the trees were lush and verdant, the air pleasant and warm. It was full of the sounds of birds and the smell of blooming flower buds. We spent the first day at the park, I remember, it was an almost absurdly-gorgeous day, we spent hours there, until the sun set over the western edge of the lake. Mary, ever the photographer, snapped a picture of that, and when we got home, she had it expertly enlarged, and it was still sitting in a dusty frame in our bedroom, the fiery sun shimmering its dying glow over the placid waves of the lake.

Anyway, after the sun set, we walked the south side of Silent Hill. Tourist season had just kicked off, and it was very lively, all of the storefronts were well-lit and the streets were full of tourists and fun-seekers from hundreds of miles away. Mary and I visited several stores, bought a few insubstantial trinkets, and had my first chimichanga at that Mexican place, Gonzales'.

After all that, stomachs full, fat and happy, we held hands and walked some more. It was still early evening, and neither of us had any desire to go back to the hotel just yet. Eventually, we passed by a small corner bar called Neely's, presumably after the street it was addressed to.

The inside was elegant and so warm, the walls were paneled nicely, the bar itself was made of immaculate shined mahogany and didn't bear a single detectable scratch or mar. I would have thought the place was brand-new, but brand-new bars don't have the same smell to them. This place was well-established, and you could tell because the scent of beer and liquor was embedded in every solid object in the bar, noticeable even under the sharper, stronger odor of the fresh firewater. It wasn't packed, but it was pleasantly full, there were perhaps a dozen people in there already, and it looked like there was just enough room for two more.

Mary sat at the bar, and I went over to the jukebox in the corner. I dropped a quarter in the machine, and as I walked back over to join my wife, Clapton's "Wonderful Tonight" issued forth from the old Wurlitzer. If we ever had a song that we could call our own, this was it. She and I made love to this song in the car, and easily a dozen times otherwise in more traditional lovemaking settings, she and I danced to this song on our wedding day, and now, on our fourth wedding anniversary, we sat in perhaps the calmest place in the entire universe listening to it again, not dancing or making love, but enjoying each other's company and this most perfect of nights. She held a martini in her right hand, I held a glass of rocky bourbon in my left, and our other hands were locked in each other's tender grip.

What a tangent. Having this memory strike me out of nowhere felt like getting struck by that straight-jacket monster, only ten times more powerfully. A sob clenched my throat shut, but I couldn't let my emotions overwhelm me now. I had to press on.

But I didn't have to press on much farther, for as luck would have it, Katz Street was blocked off as well, not by a gaping wound as the other two, but rather by a tall construction barrier. It was odd to see such a thing here, it was as if they were constructing a building right across Katz Street. Fences and other buildings pre-empted any way around it, but…

To my right was a door. And beside that door was a message of some sort. It was written in blood-red spray paint (so I fervently hoped).

The door that opens in darkness leads to nightmares.

Well, wasn't that just cheerful? Heedless of the ominous message, I tried to open the door. The knob turned loosely, far too loosely, as if it weren't actually installed. Yet, the door was shut solidly, there was no place to grip, and it opened towards me, so I couldn't bash it though. Just my fucking luck.

Tapping noises, from behind.

Oh no…

I spun around, and, yes, the tapping was coming from those damnable straight-jacket creatures. I saw two of them, then three, and four, five! Five of them! They had fanned out while I was screwing with the door, and they now flanked me. Just as before, they all looked identical and going through the same freaking motions in different timing. I was able to bum-rush through three, but there's no way I could make it through five, they'd burn me for sure with that acid spray and I was in no mood for that.

My heart racing, I looked around in a near-panic for a way out, some escape from a painful encounter with these monsters. The only possible access was the fence, but there was no way I'd be able to climb it in time…

The gate!

Yes! There was a gate, and I would be able to reach it with a few seconds to spare. I ran towards it as fast as I could, hoping against hope that the stupid thing wasn't locked. I almost cried when I saw the rusty chain snaking through the links of the fence, holding them together, but I fortunately had the presence of mind to note the absence of a padlock. It was just a chain.

I grabbed one dangling end of the chain and pulled it with all my might. It didn't give easily, it was rusted and catching on the links, but it was luckily not tangled, and with a burst of strength, I yanked it right out. Tossing it aside, I fumbled with the latch, slipped through the gate, and slammed it shut again with the closest monster about ten seconds away. There was a small trash bin nearby. I pushed it across the path of the gate, and then I hastily retreated from the gate.

I could see no monsters in the courtyard of the apartment complex, but the five outside bashed angrily against the gate, screaming their inhuman gurgling scream and some of them spitting angrily at me through the fence. I was far enough away that the acid dissipated long before it got close enough to harm me, but I wasn't at all sure if it could eat through the old, rusty steel of the fencing, and I was in no mood to stick around and find out. So, I turned around and pushed open the front door, and entered the dark interior of the Woodside Apartments lobby.