Chapter Eleven
"The Child and the Butterfly"

The air outside was just as frigid as before and still shrouded in that inexplicable fog, but despite it all, it felt good to be out of the dead, hollow confines of those rotting apartments. It felt good to have some open space and sunlight, obscured as it was. I flicked my flashlight off, remembering this.

The town map was in my hands now, and it told me the best news I could have hoped to hear. The building I had just escaped was the Blue Creek Apartment complex, and the exit I found deposited me almost directly across the street from the park! Little jog around the corner and up the street and I'd be there, no problem!

That, of course, made me wonder what sort of problems I would encounter on the way, for something that looked so freakishly easy. Maybe there was an army of straight-jackets lying in wait around the corner. Maybe the ground caved in somewhere between here and there. Maybe Godzilla would make an appearance, just for the hell of it. I mean, if you're going to play crazy, you might as well go all-out.

I walked up the alley at a slow pace. The radio was silent and I could see nothing out of the unusual, but there was no such thing as too careful. It was at that moment that I decided to adjust my grip on the plank, as I had done almost constantly since picking it up…

…and it wasn't there. Then I remembered. It was laying in that stairwell in Blue Creek, laying with that twisted freak Pyramid Head was having fun with when I walked in on them. I thought of going back to retrieve it but decided not to. Certainly there was a suitable replacement out here somewhere, possibly something even better, and besides which, I had no desire whatsoever to go back in there. He might be waiting for me. I wouldn't go in even if I knew he wasn't, though. I had enough of that place for a lifetime.

Fortunately, no army of inhumanity lay in ambush around the corner. There wasn't much of anything, really. The alley continued far beyond my range of sight, and there was still nothing unusual. Damned if it didn't almost feel peaceful, strange as that sounds. It looked empty and also lonely, in a sort of way. I'd take it. Considering the company I'd managed to find lately, I'd definitely take it.

And then I heard something, carrying lightly over the slow, mournful howl of the wind as it glided down between the buildings (and that strange sound of the giant door swinging on its hinges, that was still here too, distant and yet omnipresent). It was hard to catch at first, floating just at the edge of my hearing like ether, but a few more steps forward brought clarity. It was humming. A child, humming a tune.

There was a wall on my left, maybe ten feet in height and nondescript in every way except that there was graffiti pasted all over… no, that's not entirely accurate. Not graffiti, but children's drawings, done in paint. I saw a large, happy sunflower and an equally large, equally happy bear, among other things. It was a mural, of sorts.

My eyes shot up to the top of the wall. A small girl sat on the edge, a piece of paper in her hand, her short little legs kicking lightly into the air.

I'll be damned…

I recognized her immediately, and anger welled up inside of me. She didn't appear to notice my presence. Good.

"Hey, you!" I shouted to her. I had hoped to give her a bit of a scare from that. I'm not normally an asshole, but she deserved it. However, she was one cool customer. She just looked sideways at me, and her look was far closer to annoyance than fright or even surprise.

"It was you back there in the apartment buildings, wasn't it?" I continued, with a little less intensity, "You stomped my hand!"

"Oh yeah? I dunno. Maybe I did, maybe I didn't." She smirked, by God. The kid certainly wasn't short of nerve.

"Well, why the hell for? I didn't do anything to you."

"Cause I felt like it. It's a free country."

I felt like showing how that worked both ways, but I declined. I was the adult here.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I ain't tellin' ya."

"How come?"

"Don't feel like it."

"What's that in your hand? Is that a letter?"

She stood up and faced me, her hands on her hips, as if to scold me. "What are ya, playing Twenty Questions? This letter ain't none of your business. You didn't love Mary, so why do you care?"

I felt stunned, absolutely stunned. I said nothing as she turned and climbed down the other side of the wall and out of sight. Finally I yelled to her, asking her how she knew Mary's name. There was no answer, not that I was expecting one.

How surreal that was. Could she have been talking about someone else, some other Mary? It's not as though it was an uncommon name, by any means. There were millions of Marys in the United States, you have to practically push them out of your way when you walk down the street. But there was no way I could even begin to believe that. She obviously knew my wife from somewhere, and me by extension. She was definitely talking about my Mary. But who was she, and where would she know this girl from?

Mary was a housewife, in the literal sense of the word. She didn't hold a job, she didn't need to. I did well enough for both of us. She held up the house while I did my thing, and since holding up the house was nowhere near a 24/7 ordeal, she had a lot of time for extracurricular activity. She did spend a great deal of that time working with the church, organizing activities, bake sales, pig roasts, that children's fair they held every spring. Maybe that's where she knew the kid from. God knows there were plenty around to get to know. But why on earth would the kid be here, hundreds of miles from home and on her own? How, why, all these questions, and the kid seemed absolutely reticent with the answers. Every new encounter with people in this town seemed to pile the questions on.

There was nothing to be done about it, though. The kid was gone, and the park lay ahead of me. Best to try and solve the problems with which I had at least a semblance of understanding.

The alley went on for no more than a tenth of a mile, and it was quite sudden when the buildings stopped and the stone-paved courtyard began. Earth-colored masonry formed the half-walls, and they were lined with bushes and shrubbery, and a little bit of litter, a cigarette butt here, a candy wrapper there. I hadn't been here before in such strange conditions, but I recognized the general design immediately.

Even if I didn't, I soon came to a large sign with "Rosewater Park" engraved upon it, to erase any doubt. I continued forth. The radio remained silent, and I wasn't even really concerned about the icky creature population at that moment, anyway. Going straight would take me to the edge of Lake Toluca, and with each step, my stomach turned circles and pirouettes, as if I could look inside and see a whirling dervish straight out of a 40s movie. An amusing thought, but what I was really feeling was this strange and strong anticipation. This sense of anticipation was locked in mortal combat with an equally-powerful sense of apprehension. That small, niggling bit of my mind that wanted to pretend it was still rational was telling me how crazy I was acting. Maybe it was right, but I was fifty country miles too far in now. There was no turning back.

The hedges and bushes gave way to iron railings and a concrete base. I stood at the railing, near one of those coin-operated binocular devices that were stationed every dozen feet or so, and I stared out to the lake. Through the murk I could just barely make out the waves of Toluca, softly lapping against the concrete below me. It was beautiful and calm, even now, but a lot of the appeal was lost without bright sunlight, warm air, and the sounds of other human beings. Still, I felt a wistful twinge, and suddenly I felt that wicked longing for Mary again, a forceful reminder of how much I missed her.

And what are you here for, Sunderland?

Of course.

I headed west along the lakefront, that mixture of fear and anticipation multiplying to the point where I thought I might lose it. I had no idea what to expect. I had little idea that I should expect anything. I mean, for Christ's sake, I'm here looking for a woman who's dead. Three years dead. And on the strength of one letter? One short letter that came from out of nowhere and could have come from anywhere? Maybe I was insane.

The closer I got, the more certain I felt I was getting closer to something. Something, whatever, I couldn't tell and I could only hope. Yet, that little bastion in my head, the rational regiment, kept shooting off warning flares in my skull, turn back now turn back now turn back now but that wasn't even an option. I don't know what awaited me, but I could not go back to my lonely, tired existence. It was worth nothing to me, and the more I saw here, the truer it rang. My future, whatever it might be, was here. I had to know, I had to know, dammit. Was there life for me beyond…

"Mary!"

Her name came out of my mouth completely unheeded, and hearing it shocked me just as much as if it had come from some unseen stranger behind me. Yet, my attention was completely facing forward.

It was her! Christ on his holy cross, it was her! Her size, her build, the shape of her body, I knew it like I knew my own God damn name.

She turned to me. And I think my internal organs picked this moment to all crowd into my chest and try forcing their way up my throat.

That fiery feeling instantly glazed over with a sheet of ice as Mary faced me. It was her, and yet, there was something strange, something wrong… She looked similar to Mary, extremely similar, to a scary degree, but…

"No… you're not…" I said.

She flashed a smile at me, one that showed amusement but lacking any illusion of warmth.

"What, do I look like your girlfriend, big boy?" she said. Her voice was sultry, and boy, did that ever fit. She was dressed in a way, well, definitely not in a way that Mary would dress. Mary was no prude, a fact to which I could personally attest, but she favored modesty in public, and this lookalike in front of me was wearing clothing that certainly skirted some borders of good taste.

"No," I answered, tentatively, "not my girlfriend, my late wife." She said nothing, just kept giving me that look that spoke of amusement and mild irritation, and I went on, circling her as I did. "You look so much like her, it's creepy. I mean, your hair, your clothes aren't anything like hers, but your face, your body… You could almost be her twin, you know?"

"My name," she said abruptly, "is Maria. I'm not your wife, and I'm sure as hell not dead." The smile dropped for a second, and then popped right back into place. She grabbed my hand and placed it on her chest, bare above the neckline. "See? Feel how warm I am? Don't feel like a ghost, now do I?"

I could indeed feel how warm she was. She certainly wasn't a ghost, no shit there. I felt distinctly uncomfortable touching her though, and she must have seen it, because she let me go, that smirking smile deepening if anything.

"You're really not Mary," I said, as if stating common knowledge. My new friend shrugged and brushed past me.

"I already told you, handsome. They call me Maria."

"Yeah. Sorry, I guess I got a little confused." Boy, if that wasn't ever the understatement of the century. Still very much in effect, actually. I felt all those emotions from before suck down into a pit somewhere deep in my bowels. That fear, that anticipation, the wonder that I might find closure here on the shores of Toluca Lake, and all I got for my troubles was a few brushes with death and this strange doppelganger that looked so much like Mary that I wondered if she wasn't some living, breathing punchline to the sickest joke I could conceive. I started walking away, with no idea whatsoever what I was going to do now.

Maria caught me from behind as I did, looping her arm around mine. I could tell that she didn't stay strangers with anyone for very long. That was probably true, and in more ways than one, if her manner of dress was any indication. She got familiar in a hurry.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm looking for Mary," I said, and I guess that was still true.

She looked at me sideways. "I thought you said she was dead. I'd think you would know exactly where to find her."

"Well, I don't know. I got a letter from her, without a doubt, it's from her, and she said she was here in Silent Hill, waiting for me in our special place." I felt silly telling her that, it was the reasoning of a mad man, no two ways about it.

If Maria agreed though, she gave no indication. "This is your special place? This park?"

"It was the first place that came to mind, yeah. Her and I used to come here all the time, and this was one of our favorite spots."

"Oh yeah? Well, I certainly haven't seen her around here. This isn't your only special place, is it?"

Suddenly, my mind flashed, and a memory came back to me. I saw Mary in that room, the same room we booked every year, 312. Nicest suite available, the manager told us that first year, and by God, he was no kidder. I suddenly remembered it inch for inch, as if I had been in there five minutes ago instead of three going-on four years ago.

"No," I finally said, "There's also the hotel, too, the one that's across the lake. I wonder if it's still there after all these years."

"The Lakeview Hotel?" she asked.

"Yeah, that's it."

"It's still there, last I saw." She paused, and that salacious grin appeared again, looking almost predatory. "So that's your special place, huh? I'll bet it was."

It wasn't so much what she said, but her tone was so mocking and almost condescending, it felt like she was toying with me and it was pissing me right off. The hotel? Consider me there. I started away from her again.

"Hey, wait a minute!" she called. I ignored her, until she grabbed me again. "Don't get so sulky, I was only kidding. You know which way to go, right?"

"Sure do," I answered, and kept walking. I heard her following me, and I tried not to acknowledge it. She didn't grab me this time, instead, she tried to get alongside of me, bumping me with her shoulder. I finally looked her way.

"What, you're going to follow me?" I said, not sounding quite as irritated as I felt.

She had less trouble hiding her feelings.

"Oh, I see, so you were just going to leave me here, all by myself, huh? Isn't that nice of you?"

"You were already here," I said, "I have my own way to go."

"Oh yeah, it's like that? There are monsters everywhere! Maybe you're a he-man, but frankly, they scare the crap out of me! You're just going to leave me here alone with them?"

The guilt trip. Classic. Yet, it was working. Damn it for her looking so much like Mary!

I stopped, and she leaned against the railing. "I'm all alone here. I haven't seen another soul until you came along." She paused, gauging my reaction, probably. I kept my expression neutral. She picked up on it right away. The salacious look reappeared like a mask. She wore it well, probably had plenty of practice. How many men had withered under that look? I wasn't going to be one of them.

Then, she swerved her body in a subtle motion, smooth as velvet it was, and it undoubtedly was intended to look sexy.

"You said I looked like Mary, right?" she said. My stony expression crumbled in an instant, and she knew it, she knew it and went for the kill. "You loved her, didn't you?" She smiled, and looked me dead in the eye, and it was a look of almost pure malice, a look I never once saw upon Mary's face. It was frightening.

"Or… maybe you hated her."

Now my expression was the opposite of stone. I was hot. Who in the hell did this bitch, this, this tramp think she was, that she could talk to me like that? I'd been taught from the get-go that striking a woman is one of the most dishonorable acts a man can perpetrate, and I followed that to the letter my entire life. I didn't break now, but oh, how close I came. How terribly close I came.

My anger deflated fast, though. Yes, this woman was a bitch towards me, and she was definitely strange in many ways, but she was right, it was a dangerous place we were in, and that same sense of honor that kept me from landing my fist in her face made me decide to keep her close, but only until I found a safe place for her. The sooner, the better. My conscience felt soothed.

She read it all on my face, I knew without having to ask. She was a piece of work, all right. Mary could do that, too. It was so hard to keep a secret from Mary, good or bad, she always knew, even if only deep down. It made surprising her a challenge, but a worthy one. There were too many similarities at work here, probably too many for stupid coincidence, but I decided that was the easy answer for now and I would stick to it. When I continued west through the park, Maria followed. I didn't say a word to her, but neither did I try to stop her.

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