Silent Days Chapter 6: Episode 4: With Bladed Arms, a School Days + Silent Hill Crossover fanfic

Episode 4: With Bladed Arms

Leitmotif: "Led into Madness" — Silent Hill unofficial complete soundtrack

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Once he was far enough away from the graveyard (and that strange woman), Makoto looked more closely at the maps his father had left for him. After some perusing, he found the one most relevant to him: South Vale, which had that observation deck as a starting point. As that woman had said, the road he was on was just the one road, cutting across Nathan Avenue and becoming Wiltse Road, which in turn intersected with Sanders Street.

Makoto noted, somewhat wryly, that near an intersection of Wiltse and Sanders was a flower shop. Maybe he'd get some bouquets as a peace offering… yeah, right. A bouquet might appease Kotonoha somewhat, but the others… Chie would make an ashtray of hers, while the others would throw theirs back in his face, with Setsuna and Yuuki kicking him in said face for good measure.

Makoto felt something cold land on his nose. When he looked up, he saw that it'd begun to snow. Figures. That flower shop would be out of season anyway.

-:-

Makoto halted by the street sign post, that persistent dread tightening its grip.

It was like that damn forest (and that fucking subway!) all over again. That feeling of being watched, the eerie silence… The fact that this was the town proper only added to those feelings. Why hadn't he seen anyone since that graveyard? Or any running cars? Yeah, this wasn't tourist season, but people still lived in Silent Hill, right? Right?

What little he could make out in the fog said otherwise. Buildings boarded up and in disrepair, no working lights, and most glaringly, still no people. Now Makoto was truly on edge. What could've happened here to make the place such a ghost town? The town wasn't cordoned off, so there couldn't have been an evacuation, and even if there had been, that still wouldn't explain the lack of animal life.

At least it would make that asshole easier to find.

Makoto took the map back out, and two places immediately stood out to him: the boat launch and Rosewater Park. He remembered how, in his childhood, his father would take him fishing along the seashore. His proudest moment was when he'd caught a particularly large whiting.

(That's my boy. A ruffle of his hair. No fish alive will stand a chance against you. He leans in, giving Makoto a stronger whiff of nicotine. Grins. Nor will any girl, for that matter…)

He'd actually loved that asshole back then…

As he walked further north on Lindsey, Makoto caught sight of what looked like a trail of blood. Could it be his father's blood? Frustration supplanted dread. Great. I come all this way and the asshole goes and gets himself mugged! He'd better not be dead right now…! The blood trail led Makoto west on Katz Street and then north again on Martin Street, which ended with a large wooden fence. With a body slumped against it.

At the gruesome sight, the young man looked around for something to defend himself with. After some searching, Makoto found a steel pipe and approached the body cautiously. In the corpse's chest was a sizable, visceral gash, the sight of which made the young man's stomach roil. But even that paled in comparison to the corpse's face… what was left of it. The head had been melted into a fleshy mass, reminding him of a nopperabo*. The only difference was its mouth, which hung open like a dying scream.

And the clothing… It was just like his own.

It was too much for Makoto. After a fit of dry-heaving, the young man stood back up, unable to look away despite his disgust and horror. Who… what could've…? A sudden crackle of static broke the young man out of his stupor. He took out his trusty pocket radio, which he'd forgotten about ever since Ashfield. "The hell?!" He shook the device, but the white noise persisted.

Then came the sound of footsteps. When Makoto turned around, a feminine silhouette was approaching from within the fog. He opened his mouth to call out to her, only for a scream to trap itself in his throat. Clad in attire resembling a girl's blazered uniform, the being could've been mistaken for a Sakakino student if not for her towering height, her grotty, deathly pale complexion, or the gargantuan blades constituting her forearms. Her face wasn't much better, resembling a cloisonné-enamel mask modeled after a slit-mouth woman.

The "schoolgirl" raised one of her blade-arms and began to charge. Thinking quick, Makoto ducked and rolled out of the way, pipe in hand. The creature grunted monstrously as she struggled, her blade having gotten stuck in the fence. Seeing his chance, Makoto gripped his pipe and swung at the Schoolgirl's back with all the strength adrenaline lent him until the creature collapsed. As it twitched and wriggled, he kicked its side until he heard a soft snap, and the creature fell still.

Panting, the brunet watched blood pool beneath the creature. But how? This thing wasn't human! But its screams had sounded human… He looked from the fallen Schoolgirl to the corpse that looked like him, felt the bile well up. Fuck this! I'm out of here!

Makoto ran back the way he came, retracing the blood trail until he was back on Lindsey Street. But when he got to the corner of Lindsey and Sanders, a wall that hadn't been there before now blocked his path. In pure desperation, Makoto whacked it with his pipe, again and again and again, but to no avail. There it remained, unscathed, as if mocking his efforts.

The brunet screamed and then sobbed as he let his head thud against the barricade. WHAT IS THIS?! Is this town trapping me here?! He turned and slid to the ground, putting his face in his hands as he sobbed quietly. No, this is a nightmare. It has to be…! C'mon, Makoto! WAKE UP! But for all his denial and wishful thinking, Makoto didn't wake up in the comfort of his bed or even the hotel. His back remained cold against the wall.

This isn't a dream! What's with this place?! It's only a matter of time now, isn't it? Sooner or later, I'll end up like that corpse…! The brunet ran his hands through his hair furiously. Dammit, Makoto! Keep it together, for fuck's sake…! With a shuddering sigh, he stood himself back up, using his pipe like a cane. One step at a time. There's still gotta be a way outta here!

As he scanned the apocalyptic horizon, Makoto's knuckles whitened around his pipe. There has to be…!

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*Nopperabo: a faceless ghost in Japanese folklore. (And yes, you can all thank Inori for Makoto knowing that.) Fun fact: in the original Japanese novelization of SH2, the Lying Figures reminded James of these creatures.