Chapter Forty-Four:

"The Dance"

Confidence.

Like so many things, especially the good ones, it was very fleeting. The moment they took that first step, my confidence was dashed, and pretty badly. I wasn't stupid. I knew what to expect. Every previous encounter with Pyramid Head had invariably ended with me definitely left holding the short end. I had managed to either defeat or avoid every other monster in Silent Hill, but Pyramid Head was clearly something quite different from the rest. Pyramid Head was darker, immeasurably stronger, and impossibly persistent. Perhaps he was immortal. I didn't know. What I did know was a rather simple truth; I was still alive only because Pyramid Head had never taken it upon himself to kill me. Oh, there were some near-misses, to be certain. On three occasions, Pyramid Head had specifically attacked me. Yet, he could have attacked at will, wherever and whenever he pleased. If Pyramid Head truly wanted me dead, well, I had no doubt that it would have already happened. He had me in the corner of that stairwell in the apartments. My pistol didn't even faze him, and it was out of ammo anyway. I had nowhere to run, and no way to defend myself. If Pyramid Head really wanted me dead, I would have died right then and there. Instead, he retreated. I lived to fight another day, but the point is clear; I was no match for even just one Pyramid Head.

And now there were two.

They were on both sides, converging upon me directly. I moved backwards and slightly to the left. Both Pyramid Heads turned as I moved, as if magnetically drawn to my position. Their movements were in a queer sort of synchronization. When they took a step, they did so in unison, like soldiers marching in parade.

I had the rifle. I knew it was powerful, and I had been saving it just for such an occasion. The pistol was slightly more effective than, say, shooting rubber bands, but not by any appreciable amount. The .30-.06 might actually do some real damage. It might actually kill.

But I had a problem. They were too fast. Maybe the rifle was powerful enough to put an end to Pyramid Head, but I would never get the chance to find out unless I had enough time to aim steady and take a clean shot, and I had a very small margin of error in that regard, because I still had only three of the four shells that I found with the gun itself. Three shots. If I missed even once, I was in serious trouble. If I missed a second time, I wouldn't live long enough to regret it.

It was a dance of death. I was faster than they were, but it was a small advantage at best. They didn't need to be as fast as I was. There wasn't enough room for speed to matter. I could dart out of the way, but the Pyramid Heads seemed content to stalk. Neither of them tried to rush me, neither tried to be deceptive. They had the advantage of numbers, and they had the advantage of reach. Their spears were both perched, both ready, and both quite long. They weren't fast but they were methodical. They wasted no energy. If I turned, they turned to match. If I suddenly doubled-back, they followed my move in a heartbeat.

It was a dance of death.

The first thing to die was my new-found confidence. It leaked out of me like I was a sieve, and the vacuum left behind was steadily filled with the dread. The sixth-sense was kicking in overdrive now, and it couldn't have picked a worse possible time.

I sidled along the wall. I couldn't stop because they wouldn't stop. If I stood still for even a second, it would be a second they gain on me. I did my best to try and get an opening, but they weren't allowing it. They seemed to realize what I was trying to do, and they were keeping abreast of me because they knew that would prevent me from doing it. They weren't stupid. Yet, I could only find a little hope in it, hope that the reason they were trying so hard to flank me was because the rifle really was a legitimate threat to them. Perhaps they realized that I had the power to kill them, and it was preservation instinct that had them coordinating. If that were true, then fantastic, but the only way I would ever find out is if I managed to throw them off long enough to fire a shot.

Unfortunately, that just didn't seem possible.

They were backing me into the wall, keeping at just the right angles to prevent a dartback. If this kept up much longer, I would be screwed. Either I would make a mistake, a small lapse of concentration, that would have me end up trapped in one of the corners, or I would simply tire out and slow down long enough for them to get me. Either possibly was likely, because the Pyramid Heads seemed untiring and unyielding. Every last step was perfectly synchronous. They were like machines. They had time on their side, all the time in the world.

That's when I made my mistake.

It was a stupid one, too. Totally stupid. I tripped over my own foot. My left foot hooked my right ankle, and not by much, either. I didn't lose my balance, nor did I fall over. Even if I didn't catch the wall nearby, I probably would have stayed upright.

Trouble was, even something as simple as a misstep was too much.

The second Pyramid Head took quick advantage and moved to the side, just a foot or two, but that was all it took to seal my fate. There was no escape now. I had the extremely bad luck to act the ballerina in the corner, and now both of the red pyramid things were basically on my right angles. My head darted both ways, but each time, I was rewarded with nothing but the visage of death, the formless face of my own destruction, concealed beneath those massive triangular helmets. I suppose it was appropriate for those headgears to be blood-red in color, because when they slaughtered me, one would never be able to tell just by looking at them. I wouldn't even have the pleasure of causing them that kind of inconvenience.

They both paused, and both of their spears drew backwards. Both black tips were aimed squarely at my chest. This was it. I saw the moment in complete clarity. This was…

This was my last chance.

The thought didn't come from me. I knew it then and I know it now. Not me. I was resigned to my fate. I had given up then. I had cheated death several times in the past two days, but I was betting certain that it wasn't going to happen this time. Without that intrusive thought, it probably would have been true. It was so ludicrous that I almost ignored it. There was no chance it would ever work.

So what? If you're going to die, die on your feet. Die in motion. Make them earn it.

I don't think my body was possessed. I don't think I ever lost control. I think what I did was definitely inspired by some outside source, but what I did was to my own credit.

The spears both shot forward in perfect unison.

So did I.

I tensed my legs for just a fraction of a second, just long enough for an adequate amount of kinetic energy to amass in the muscles. Getting around the Pyramid Heads was impossible, so I did the only thing I could; I got between them. I leaned forward and ran like holy hell.

The Pyramid Heads turned to perfectly match my sudden movement, and both monsters thrust their spears forward at the exact same moment. They had both perfectly predicted my position, but they didn't account for me ducking down. Even then it was a very close thing. I could feel one of the spears touch me, sliding along the fabric of my jacket and along my back. It could be nothing short of divine intervention that had me at just the perfect, exact angle where the tip missed puncturing the fabric. Had that happened, it might have snagged me and halted my dash.

But it didn't.

The spears didn't puncture me or my clothing. I didn't see what they punctured, but I could hear. I heard the horrible sound of steel scratching steel, the torturous scream that such friction generated. They had struck each other's helmets.

It took the longest three seconds of my entire life to cross the span of the lobby and reach the opposite corner. I turned around, not at all sure what I expected to see.

It worked. The Pyramid Heads had indeed stabbed each other in the helmets. No damage had been done, not that I ever would have expected such, but I was very willing to settle for what did happen. It was the best I could have hoped for.

They had halted. They had halted and they were too far away to reach me in time now. I had to force myself out of my reverie to take advantage of it. I brought the hunting rifle to my shoulder, positioning it just as my uncle had taught me so long ago.

The Pyramid Heads had recovered from their shock and were now both turned to face me. They started forward, but it didn't matter now. Now it was time for a reckoning. I trained the sight on the Pyramid Head to my right. His helmet made a chest shot impossible, but his abdomen was completely unprotected. It was an easy shot. He was moving, but making no attempt to dodge. I was praying, my mouth moving soundlessly, and in the heat of the moment, I barely even realized it. All I saw was my target. All I felt was my trigger.

I fired.

The rifle shouted triumphantly. The crack that issued forth was as powerful as it was loud. The recoil was equally powerful. Thankfully, my stance was decent, but even so, I was tossed back a full step with the sheer force of it. The rifle's butt slammed my shoulder like a Mike Tyson punch. It stung. I couldn't have cared less at the moment.

I saw that Pyramid Head stagger backwards, the slug blasting a fist-sized hole in its stomach and splashing thick red all over itself, more than blending it with the crusty old blood that already stained its outfit.

I didn't hesitate. I brought the rifle up again and aimed at the other one. The sudden retaliation delivered upon its partner had made it pause again, and this shot was even easier. Again the rifle spat fire and a cacophony of deafening cracks, multiplied by the close quarters and the echoes they generated. My aim was again true. This Pyramid Head was blown backwards too, striking the wall with a hollow clong. I could not recall a sound that was so damned satisfying. Hell, all of it was satisfying. I was the one dealing out the hurt now. I was the one in control. I stood tall and they slumped in defeat. All the fear, all the mortal terror I had been subjected to at the hands of the Pyramid Head was now reversed. They were mortal. They were strong, and they were hellishly intimidating, but they could be hurt, too. They could be killed. I felt like laughing. I felt like raising the rifle over my head and shouting my victory out loud, and…

…and they moved. First the one on the right pushed himself to his feet. He stood in place for a moment, and wavered on his feet, as if trying to regain his balance. I stood there in dumb amazement as he composed himself.

Then, he took a step towards me, spear at the ready.

never even dropped the god damn spear

I hurriedly brought the .30-.06 to bear, and again pointed it at the devil's abdomen, but it was harder now. Having that victorious elation ripped from me so suddenly and so savagely put a serious hurt on my confidence, and consequently, my aim. The barrel's sight jittered and shook as I tried to force my unsteady hands to comply.

And then, from the corner of my eye…

Horror washed over me in a black and stinking wave as I realized my folly. There was no victory to be had here. There never was. I made them pause, and that was a hell of an improvement over anything else I'd previously managed to inflict upon them, but it wasn't enough. It was light years short of enough.

The other Pyramid Head wasn't dead either, or even injured enough to drop his weapon. Now he was on his feet too, and it took only a moment for him to regain his composure and rejoin the hunt. They both bored down on me again, red devils of pain and torture, and now I truly was out of options. I had only one shell left, sitting in the rifle's chamber. Even if I had hurt them, even if another shot would prove fatal, even then, it didn't matter. I might possibly have the balls to pull together long enough to shoot one of them, and possibly kill it. Maybe it wouldn't die. Maybe I wouldn't even have enough doomed hero in me to try and find out. It didn't matter either way. Even if I killed one, the other would undoubtedly get me in the end.

I almost laughed again, for reasons completely unrelated to the last bout of laughter that had felt tempted to release. This laughter was drenched in cold, sour irony. I knew what was going on. I knew that Pyramid Head, and all the monsters for that matter, existed to torment me. I knew that they were putting me through hell to pay for the worst kind of sin, a debt which I could never repay while alive, and probably even after death. I fought them, killed them, but it was ultimately meaningless. All it did was postpone the inevitable. The fact that I had made this far might be nothing more than a fluke. Or, perhaps not. Perhaps that had been the greatest torture of all. False hope. Of course. Every step closer to my goal would make it hurt that much more when the hammer finally fell. I should have realized it before, but of course I couldn't have. That would have defeated the entire purpose. And this? The rifle in my hand was perhaps the worst example. The capper to that horrifying joke that was my desire to find my wife. The very idea that I might defeat this impossible, invincible executioner, it was laughable. It was absolutely ludicrous.

And that wasn't even the worst of it. No sir, no way. If I was to believe the note I found in the hospital, then perhaps it was my own mind responsible for the hell I found myself in. Perhaps all of it was the product of my own subconscious, my deeply-buried desire to be punished for the deplorable thing I did. There was something about Silent Hill, something different and mystical. I knew very little about it, but I was in no position to doubt it. I didn't know if the town itself had some influence in what was going on, but I do think it provided a way to allow my conscience to exact a terrible revenge upon me. It used Pyramid Head to attack me, to stalk me and terrify me and cause me pain and injury. And as terrible as that was, it wasn't enough.

No, simply wounding me wasn't a suitable punishment. The wounds had to be salted.

Enter Maria. It made perfect sense. In this world of concealment and danger and horror, cap it off with a woman who looks and sounds so much like my wife that I honestly confused them on multiple occasions. Her personality at times was nothing like Mary's, contentious and at times downright vindictive, but then, suddenly, she would soften, be compassionate and understanding, painfully similar to Mary. It was a good farce. She even feigned concern over Laura. I thought nothing of it at the time, but Laura's letter offered the truth. It was a sham, a deception of enormous proportions. She was the root of it. She made me feel naturally protective, and the similarities she shared with Mary amplified them beyond what they might normally be. It was all designed to be that way, designed so that I would form a protective attachment to her. That way, when Pyramid Head murdered her, I would experience the worst torture of all, beyond any that could be inflicted upon my body.

I had to watch her die, over and over again. I had to watch her die, and I had to mourn her, only to find her alive again, and that only because I had to watch her die again. That was the torture. That was the punishment. I killed my own wife, the person in this world I loved more than any other, and that was how I was to suffer for doing so.

But I'm not a murderer. I'm a killer, but I'm not a murderer.

Semantic nonsense!

No. That's bullshit. There is a difference. There is a profound difference. You ended her misery. You brought an end to her suffering, in a way that none of the doctors had been able to do. She was in pain. She was going to die.

Was that really true?

Maybe it was.

I did love her. That much I did not doubt. That never changed, not for even a split second. I did a terrible thing, I admit. I broke the first and most important Commandment. But, I did it because I loved her. I didn't remember every detail about all of it. Some aspects of those times, recent as they were, were still as foggy as the town itself was. I didn't have a play-by-play recollection of everything that went through my mind when I did what I did.

But I know I loved her.

I loved her.

Something happened.

They stopped. Both of them. Stopped right where they were, not even three paces away from me. They stood there, staring me down, but neither made any attempt to advance, or to attack. Just stood there. I still held the rifle, but I couldn't even aim it. I was too bewildered by this new development. All I could do was stare back, dumb as a rock.

And then, they moved. They took another step. Away from me.

I couldn't believe it. If I was struck dumb a second ago, it was beans compared to incredulity that seized me now. I couldn't believe my own eyes. They were walking away from me.

Towards the center of the lobby.

Once there, they moved in a turn, like Indians doing some kind of ritual dance around a campfire or something. They finally came to a stop and turned to face each other, so close that the fronts of their pyramid-shaped helmets almost touched. They raised their spears, adding further to the appearance of some kind of pow-wow, but then brought them back down, reversing grip and striking the floor with the butt. They landed at an angle now, both spears jutting out enough that they crossed each other with the tips almost touching. It looked almost like a sextant.

I had no idea what they were doing. I had no idea why they suddenly broke off the pursuit, and my assured destruction, in order to carry out this strange ritual. No idea at all. But never in my wildest surges of imagination would I have been able to predict what happened next.

They both stood, facing each other and holding their spears at an angle. Their heads jerked suddenly, as if they were nodding at each other. Then, in a perfectly synchronized motion, both Pyramid Heads lurched forward. Then, they fell still, perfectly stock still.

For, you see, they had done the absolute unthinkable, the one thing they could have done that was so far beyond my most positive fantasy that I had tremendous difficulty accepting what I had just witnessed.

They had thrown themselves upon their own spears, the points jammed underneath the jamb of their headgears and into their throats. I couldn't kill them, but they could die.

They could and they did.

They were dead. They were no longer a threat to me.

I wish I could say I felt relief, but then I would be lying.

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