Chapter Twenty:

"There was a HOLE here"

Outside again.

It was still warm going on hot and still muggy out here. The air was completely still. There was no fog and no wind anymore. Honestly, it felt a lot more like it should feel this time of year. That wasn't the reason I felt such relief, though.

My map told me that the best way to get to Neely's was by going south via Rendell and Saul. I was hardly certain if this route was actually useful, as so many others in town had some kind of blockage or obstruction, but I hadn't checked Saul Street. It might well have been open, but I never had the chance to see for myself thanks to that army of straight-jackets chasing me into the apartments. Besides, going back the way I came wasn't an option. No way in hell was I going to go back through those apartments again.

So I set off south along Carroll Street, keeping to the sidewalk and taking in what little I could of my surroundings. This is what caused me to feel a rush of relief.

To say things looked normal would be too much of a a stretch. However, everything still looked the same as it did before I entered Brookhaven and its malignant transformation. The grass was still freshly-clipped, the vehicles I passed looked recently used, and, as I could see in the distance, street lights were still operational. Didn't even notice that before, but then again, there was still sunlight out when I was last on the streets. So, the interior of Brookhaven had changed, and very dramatically. So why not outside? What was so special about Brookhaven? I remember before we went inside that strange feeling of deja-vu, when I looked at the building from the outside. It wasn't strong, really, but it was rather blatant. Yet, while I was inside, I felt nothing like that at all.

Except for that diary.

Ah yes, of course. The diary. It had no name, it didn't mention any names, at least, in the entries that I had skimmed. Yet, the writing style, physically and verbally, was too familiar for me to ignore. Shame that I never found it after taking that fall.

It didn't matter now, though. Brookhaven was behind me now, decrepit, diseased, and harboring what would surely come to be one of the worst memories of my life. Neely's Pub was in front of me, somewhere.

Down Carroll Street I went, trying to keep a decent pace. It was hard, though. With the red pyramid thing at my heels

at our heels

I had been so completely caught in the throes of fear and a desperate fight for survival that I was able to ignore my wounded knee. Now that I my body was slowly normalizing itself, now that the adrenaline high was wearing off, I more easily noticed the dull aching in my knee every time I took a step.

However, there was still a healthy element of fear present, and that made it easier to at least pretend to ignore my hurts. Elements such as the radio, which obviously had the ability to sense these monsters. I had no idea how that worked, but it had saved my butt too many times for me to simply take it for granted. Yet, as glad as I was to have this little thing in my pocket, just the sound of static sent a chill down my spine.

And it was picking up now.

I couldn't see anything, but the static didn't lie so far, and I could hear an arrhythmic tapping, sharp and easily-heard over the radio. I was fairly certain that it wasn't coming from anything I wanted to meet. Straight-jackets, I guessed. I had seen plenty of them wandering about the streets. I crossed over to the other side of Carroll to get away from it, and sure enough, the radio settled down.

It was perhaps another two hundred feet before I reached Rendell Street. I turned the corner and stayed on the left sidewalk as I moved east.

Chain-link fencing lined the edge of the sidewalk, cordoning off various lots. Some of them had parked cars, and looked to be a service station. An auto-parts store, a hardware store, havens of the manly-men to my left, and abandoned cars lining the street to my right.

I crossed over as the road emptied onto Munson, which I also crossed. Saul Street was but a few feet further. The corner here was obscured by high slat fencing, and there was a car parked halfway on the sidewalk. I couldn't even think of that as a sign of distress, considering how utterly tranquil most of the rest of the town had appeared. Granted, I had been in some broken places, but cars were still parked, storefront windows were still intact, and things in general seemed mostly undisturbed. Whatever happened to Silent Hill happened without any kind of warning. That is, of course, assuming something actually did happen to Silent Hill. The experience in the hospital really made me wonder about where I really was. I don't think I could survive this place without letting my imagination on a longer leash than normal, but if I let it run too far, I might end up in a laughing academy like Brookhaven myself.

So, the car was just parked strangely. The apartment building? Old and broken, ripe for condemnation. I could not explain the hospital, nor could I explain the gouges that tore through the town east of here.

And just as I was chiding myself about letting my imagination run free, I had lost myself in my thoughts a bit. I turned the corner onto Saul Street without paying careful attention.

A mannequin stood there. My flesh prickled and my stomach turned, so unprepared I was. But it wasn't just the presence of the thing.

It stood perfectly still, as if frozen, and this was all the more unnerving because it stood frozen in a very unlikely position. Only one of its feet touched the ground, the other was lifted slightly and bent. The arms, or upper legs, or whatever the hell they were, reached to the sky like a churchgoer in a Baptist free-for-all, trying to touch God. I had no idea how it was able to balance itself like that, it didn't seem possible, yet, it looked very much like a real mannequin in that it appeared to be posed.

I hurriedly pulled the steel pipe from its makeshift holster, and held it ready, waiting for it to move so I could clobber it. But it didn't move. It stood there, ignoring me, not even so much as twitching a muscle. I didn't know if these things had the ability to breathe, but if they did, there was no sign of it doing so.

I still stood at the ready, but seconds passed, and the mannequin made no attempt to attack me, and I eased my guard a bit. I was intrigued, and I know I shouldn't have been, but I was, so I backed up a step and poked it with my pipe. It made a hollow plastic knock when did, but it got no reaction from the monster. I struck it a little harder, giving a push. It was heavy, and it didn't shift at all.

Strange.

I considered attacking it anyway, just to make sure, but in the end, I decided not to. I instead decided to move on ahead. I took a step to move around it, giving it a wide berth, and I jogged past it a ways. Moving or not, I wasn't stupid enough to take it for granted that it was going to ignore me forever. Twenty feet later, I slowed down to a normal pace.

The silence was shorn by the shrill hiss of the radio, loud, fast, and sudden. I saw nothing in front of me, but something, instinct, maybe, told me that it wasn't in front. It wasn't to my side, either. I spun around…

How in the hell?

It was there. The mannequin was right behind me. It loomed large, not even being a foot away from me. I didn't even have time to think or to move, and it wouldn't have helped if I did, because the shock of seeing it there was absolutely paralyzing. So when it raised its arm/leg and threw its weight at my left shoulder, I was dumbstruck and powerless to do anything about it. The thick, oily chemical stench of the thing struck my nose first.

Its arm/leg struck my shoulder an instant later. When it did, it was hard and terribly convincing.

My shoulder exploded in a supernova of pain, and the hit was so powerful that it literally sent me spinning. I lost my balance and sense of place. When I fell to the sidewalk, I fell on the same shoulder. The agony was searing, and so intense that I saw spots. My teeth were clenched and my breath whistled through them, hissing as loudly as the radio.

No time to rest, no time to lie there, that bastard's going to put a hole in your face so MOVE

I did, and not a moment too soon. Its leg, one that it used to walk, was now used to try and stomp my head. No doubt it would have done me in had it connected, but it didn't. My shoulder throbbed harder as I rolled over it, but I did my best to ignore it as I leaned on my good arm and pushed myself back onto my feet. The mannequin was shuffling quickly towards me, and it wasn't a slouch. I took off running in the opposite direction, not even slowing down until I could no longer stomach the battle between my shoulder and my knee for attention.

I found myself underneath some sort of overpass. The street continued, but too narrow now to be anything but an alley. Nothing on the map indicated what it was.

It actually looked more like a tunnel upon closer inspection. The walls were made of old stone that had darkened with age and were covered in green moss over much of the surface. It was very damp and smelly, all the more thanks to the summertime heat. It brought the darkness a little closer to home, and the effect was claustrophobic.

Fencing had been erected inside of the tunnel. The fencing had a latch-door, and upon it were several old aluminum plates emblazoned with various warnings. It was a construction zone. I lifted the latch and entered.

The macadam of Saul Street ended about five feet past the fence. Past that was a pit, a dark and bottomless pit. Unlike the scarred knife-wounds that I had seen over on Lindsey Street, this was excavated. I had no idea what was being done here, but the pit extended far beyond my field of vision. However, the pit was covered with a vast expanse of steel grating, and it appeared to go at least as far as I could see. I took a tentative step on the grating, then another. It sagged just a bit, thin as it was, but it did hold my weight, and it seemed solid enough to walk over. Even so, I tread carefully, a decision that was even more justified as I advanced across, for there were several places where the grating was missing. The sound of my shoes on the grating was sharp and loud, piercing the otherwise thick silence. It made me feel exposed, and I didn't like it.

Strangely, the sound changed a bit as I proceeded. It sounded stronger, louder, and deeper. At first, I didn't think much of it. Maybe it was the strange acoustics. Enclosed areas would do that. I paused for a moment. And that's when the warning lights came on.

The sounds didn't stop with me.

cha-chunk

cha-chunk

cha-chunk

Deep, rhythmic at first, and then not. Something was coming. More than one something, by the sound of it, and whatever they were, they were heavy and moving with purpose. All over again, my body tensed and clenched. I stared hard into the distance, but while the sound got louder and noticeably closer, my eyes saw nothing that made the sound.

cha-chunk

cha-chunk

cha-chunk

Closer and closer. The radio came to life on cue.

It would have been right on top of me if it were really here.

But it wasn't on top. The sound was close enough now to make that clear. It wasn't on top of me, or even in front of me. I could hear where it was, and when I looked down, I saw where it was.

Something very large was hanging from the grating just a few feet in front of me. No, not hanging. Swinging. It was using the holes in the grating like a kid would use monkey bars. I couldn't see anything but its arms, if that's what they were. They were enormous, each one larger than Laura. They both connected to some kind of body, but I had no idea what it really was or what it looked like. And I didn't have any time to sit and think about it.

I waited until it was almost directly underneath me, then I leapt forward, running as fast as I could over the part of grating it was on. As I passed over it, I saw something shoot out from below. It looked like some kind of long lance that extended from the creature's arm. It was thick and black and glistening, it was very noticeably sharp, and it missed my right foot by a distance that you could bridge with a cigarette. The whole movement lasted less than a second but watching that spearing monster, realizing how deadly a threat it could be, how close it came to goring my foot, made it all go in dreadfully slow motion.

I landed on the next one, almost tripping. It sagged beneath me, and I had to fight to keep my balance. Once I did, I took off sprinting across the metal grating towards the other side. It was a battle against my balance, against the uncomfortably soft footing, and against my own fear. Had to run, had to run fast, but I had to be careful. I saw another one, and then yet a third approach me, and I had to run and I had to be careful because if I fell now, I wouldn't get up. They'd be on me too quickly, and they would skewer me with those spear-pointed appendages of theirs. What a way to go, just like Maria.

I had to fight even harder to force that thought out of my mind, and concentrate on the two underhanging monsters that were coordinating to intercept me. I couldn't circumvent them, they were moving too fast and there were missing grates on the side.

One of them was not even a foot away when I threw caution to the wind and took a flying leap forward. Almost simultaneously, both underhangers shot their spear appendages firing through the grating, hoping to get a piece of me, to make me fall so they could finish the job. They didn't make me fall, but they came far too close for comfort. My shoe caught on one of them and I stumbled as I landed on the other side of them.

I overbalanced, landing on my hands as well as my feet. Fear gave way to panic, and I didn't even take the time to stand up before I tried to get away. I scrabbled forward, gripping the holes in the grating with my hands and propelling myself forward along with my legs. The sounds of the approaching monsters and of the squealing radio echoed and amplified, and together with the painful protests of my injuries, I was being immersed in a sea of bad sensations.

I righted myself after a few moments and ran, just ran, no longer trying to be careful. All I wanted to do was make it to the other side

God send that there is another side

But of course there was. God listened to me this time. The grating stopped and the asphalt of the road began again. There was another fence here, this one with a concealed latch. I tried to pull it, tried so hard it seemed like a fight, with my terror as much as the latch itself, and finally it gave way and the latch-door opened.

I ran through and slammed it shut behind me, then I leaned against it so I could catch my breath and collect myself again. Behind me, through the fencing, I could hear the clattering of the underhangers on the grating, still advancing in my direction. I could also hear the monsters themselves, they were grunting with each movement. It was a chilling sound all on its own, never mind the rest of it. It was enough to get me away from there. I didn't know if they were able to pull themselves up and follow me, but I did know I sure as shit didn't want to wait around and find out.

After that grueling mad-dash through the hellish tunnel, it was nice to be out in the open again. The whole experience couldn't have lasted a whole two minutes, but it felt far longer. Now I strolled along Saul Street on the east side of town. One of the side-streets, Harris, was blocked off completely by construction work, and not far after that, an old ovular motorhome sat parked, not attached to any sort of vehicle. The door was open and swinging in the soft breeze, but I passed it right by. I felt too lucky to have made it out of that tunnel, and the hundred other scrapes I had found myself in so far, and at that moment you couldn't have paid me enough to tempt fate unnecessarily.

I turned the corner onto Neely Street, crossing over to the east side. The bar sat on the corner of Neely and Sanders. It featured a large window, but I could see nothing through it, because someone covered it entirely with newspaper. Interestingly enough, one of the newspapers had an article that mentioned one Walter Sullivan, and for some reason, the name sounded terribly familiar. Maybe someone I knew. Hopefully not, though, since apparently the guy was a serial killer of a particularly nasty sort. Dead now, anyway. I shrugged and opened the door to the bar.

It was a place that was familiar to me, as Mary and I had made several visits here before. It was a small bar, but a nice one, a perfect small-town watering hole. They even served food, and we had lunch here once or twice. It was one of the more comfortable places in town that I enjoyed. It was clean, well-kept, and had a nice atmosphere. No beer-soaked Eagle's Club-type joint, this. Neely's was a step above peddling to the average barfly. It's why I liked the place so much.

It's also why it was so terribly disheartening to see what it looked like now.

The place was bare of tables and chairs, of decorations and adornments. The walls were bare, pitted concrete, stained and filthy and chipped and ugly. The bar was still there, and the stools were still bolted to the floor, but the place was completely denuded otherwise. It was ugly now, ugly and empty.

Not all of the walls were bare, though. One of them had a message written in red. In fact, there was more than one, as I saw when I looked at the paper-covered window. Someone had written a few messages.

There was a HOLE here.

And beneath that, as if it were an afterthought,

It's gone now.

It certainly was. The place was bare of everything, and that included holes, except for the ones that pockmarked the walls here and there. It was on the side wall that the other message was scrawled, this time in smaller handwriting, for it was longer. It was also exponentially more chilling.

If you really want to SEE Mary you should just DIE.

My teeth chattered. I wasn't reading this. No way, baby. But it wasn't all, and what remained left no doubt as to whom the intended recipient of this message was.

But you might be heading to a different place than MARY, James.

I felt sick to my stomach, sick and angry, too. Who could have written this? Who would have? And why did they write such a nasty, vitriolic message? Who the hell even knew who I was, or who Mary was? This couldn't have been the letter that the note mentioned, could it?

A glance at the bar told me that it wasn't, for a small, cream-white envelope rested there. On top of it, acting as a paperweight, was the wrench that was promised to me. It went into my pocket, and I opened the envelope carefully, pulling out a folded sheet of paper.

Another note.

Or perhaps you are a fool. The truth usually betrays people. A part of that abyss is in the old society. The key to the society is in the park, buried in the ground at the feet of the statue of the praying woman. It's inside of a box, and to open that box, you'll need the wrench.

My patient buried it there. I knew about it, of course, but I did nothing to prevent it. I didn't like having it near me, so uneasy it made me feel. It wasn't the truth I sought, but rather tranquility. The happiness of ignorance.

I also saw that thing. I fled, but the museum was locked as well. Now, nobody tries to enter the place. Nobody even dares approach it.

If you still do not wish to stop, if you wish to venture forth, then I pray to the Lord to have mercy upon your eternal soul, James.

There was no signature, no name. Just a bunch of clues and a destination. The park. Rosewater, it had to be. I knew of the statue he mentioned, it depicted some religious martyr, I think. And apparently I would find a key there, a key to society.

I can't claim I really had a sense of where this would take me, but what else could I do? I left Neely's Pub, once a place of fond memories and good times, now a diseased sham of its former self, filled with bitterness and anger from a mysterious 'friend'. Rosewater Park wasn't the special place I thought it was before, but that's where fate was leading me again.

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