Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
A/N: I had issues with the action described in the first half of this chapter. Even after rewriting it a few times, I'm still not satisfied with it. But, I felt that I could do no better, so I'm presenting it anyway. I know a couple people put this story on their alert list, but I don't know if anyone is still actually reading it. If you are, please review and let me know what you thought of it. I don't care if you tell me it sucks -that would be fine - I just want to know how it was received. Thank you for your time and on with the story.
Chapter 8: A Star In the Morning
The elevator had been going down for quite awhile now, taking him to extreme depths. Inside, he was leaning against the back wall, his eyes resolutely fixed on the doors. His mind was running constantly with what he had learned. Alessa had apparently taken it upon herself to employ him as the one to discipline Brandon, to make him pay for treating her so poorly. He wondered how this could even remotely be considered fair, coming up with nothing to justify it. As it was, though, there was nothing he could do about it. Another factor he felt obligated to acknowledge was that he had come here on his own to find the truth. It stood to reason that he would've found himself in this very same hell, if he hadn't been targeted by Alessa. Still, it didn't change the fact that she seemed to be asking a very tall order from him.
Thinking of Brandon, some part of him buried deep inside, stirred. He wanted to track down his newly discovered brother and get to know him better. If he could take Brandon away from here, then maybe Alessa would approve of that and let him go. At that thought, something else surfaced in his mind. What about Charlie, the third triplet; the one nobody had expected or wanted? Sam sighed, knowing he still had a personal responsibility centered on this stupid town. The rate this whole thing was going at, he wondered if he would ever get to leave.
Time, which had passed at an unknowable speed, flowed on and on, his elevator ride seeming to never end. It was getting a little tiring to wait for it to reach the bottom. That didn't stop him from keeping his gaze focused -without distraction -on the doors, though. Just then, the cab ground to a halt, a horrendous sound emitting from the brakes. The cab shook terribly, before coming to a complete stop. A moment later, the doors slid open and got stuck at about the halfway point. Seeing as they weren't going to be moving either way any time soon, he squeezed through and took a look at where he had ended up.
Sam found himself in what looked to be a morgue; bodies were stacked up on a series of open steel shelves along the walls. There were several gurneys in neatly aligned rows throughout the room, shrouded bodies placed reverently on top of them. The room reeked of burnt and rotting flesh, cloying and stagnant in the uncirculated air. Even in his listless state, he had a hard time resisting the urge to vomit. In one corner, a furnace was burning furiously away, making the room hot and muggy.
The ceiling above was vaulted and his light barely caught it's upper element. Steel girders were interlaced about a quarter of the way up, a series of halogen lights dangling from them. The floor was concrete and stained with a severe amount of blood, all of it centered around the drains. It reminded him of that examination room with the sheet that had the message on it. He walked between the rows of bodies, looking for a door that would get him out of this forbidden place. As it was, he wasn't even sure if he was still in that strange Otherworld, or if everything had gone to what passes for normal around here. Sam didn't see anything with extreme deposits of rust coating it, so that was a pretty good sign. Still, he didn't want to commit himself to a belief on that.
About halfway through the room, he heard something that made him freeze. It was the loud sound of something large and metallic being drug across the concrete floor. The blood in his veins grew cold, close to frozen. Ever so slowly turning around, he saw it standing imperiously in his light. It was that damned thing that he had taken to calling Pyramid Head in his mind.
Pyramid Head was standing there, no more than five feet from his position. Apparently, it had been lurking in the shadows somewhere, staying out of sight. Sam raised the shotgun and aimed it at the monster, his grip steady and calm. Last time, he had barely made it out of a confrontation with this thing with his life. There was no room for mistakes in this situation. They stood there for a long time, neither making a single move.
After that little stretch of inactivity, both of them burst into action at once. It launched itself forward with surprising speed, while Sam fired off a shot. The sound rang out loud and powerful, deafening him momentarily. The buckshot slammed into it, blood and flesh flying away from the site. That didn't even come close to slowing it down any, it's body still propelling itself forward at a steady clip. Gurneys and dead bodies were forced aside, smashing into the gurneys in the next row over, as it charged through them. Sam knew that he only had a couple seconds before it reached him, choosing to dive out of the way when it did.
Both hands were gripping that enormous blade, as it was hitching it up onto it's shoulder. He saw a body fly clear of the next row over and smash right into the middle of four more gurneys, sending them rolling in all directions. Pyramid Head brought the blade up, arcing it through the air and using the weight of it to increase the speed and damage. Sam jumped away, rolling over a dead body and taking it with him onto it's side. The body ended up laying on top, it's limbs splayed around him in a macabre hug. He could hear the loud screech of the blade slicing through one of the girders on it's way to his prior location. His blood pumping fast, Sam pushed the body off of him and got to his feet.
Pyramid Head was dragging the blade back, while turning to face him once more. He pumped the shotgun again and fired, hitting it in where the spleen would be and getting the same non-reaction. This was starting to feel really futile and fear, something he had lost track of with his other emotions, made a grand re-entrance. Panic crept through his body, threatening to paralyze him completely. Looking around desperately for some way out of this, he spotted an opening in the wall to a corridor. It appeared to go around the corner and hug the wall to the room he was in.
As his only option currently, he made a mad dash for the hallway and ducking just in time to avoid getting decapitated as it swung the blade horizontally. He could feel the strong breeze it generated and heard the accompanying whistle. Getting back up, he continued his run to his only chance at salvation. A loud metallic groan echoed out through the room, sounding unlike anything he had heard outside of an action flick. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the girder that Pyramid Head had cut through was losing the fight to hold the structure up; the ceiling was about to collapse.
Sam just barely made it around the corner, when he heard the girders buckling under the strain and the lattice work of support failed. The sound of the ceiling crashing down was one of the loudest noises he ever heard. It made his ears ring in pain, while his body was thrown to the floor from the thunderous trembling caused by the ceiling meeting the floor. He got up when he was certain that it was done and poked his head around the corner to see the result.
It looked like a bomb had gone off, with twisted girders and chunks of concrete laying everywhere in the room. Bodies could be spotted all over the place, since the large shelves containing the majority of them had all been knocked over. Pyramid Head wasn't even visible; the area it had been in was buried in steel and concrete. He turned away and started down the hall. Sam had gotten a little further down, spotting a door at the far end, when the sound of rubble shifting got his attention. Just then, the giant blade burst through the wall directly in front of him, cutting through the steel wall like it was butter. He ducked barely in time, as the blade sawed through the wall in his direction.
Doing an impromptu somersault, one that probably could've looked a little smoother than he made it, Sam got to his feet and started running down the hall toward the door at top speed. He ran so fast, his body smashed uncontrollably into the door frame when he reached it. The pain was manageable, so he threw the door open and ducked inside. Turning back to see what was happening, he saw the blade cutting through more of the wall, creating an opening.
He turned his attention back to the room he had gone into. The room was large and rectangular in shape, with a series of stainless steel counters covered in blood. Blood, he noticed dimly, was a constant theme with this place; it was hard to tell if it was for effect or if it was because incredibly terrible things had actually happened here. Racks were set up over each counter, a large collection of knives and various dangerous implements were hanging from them. He had no time to guess at what this room had been used for, since he could hear the tell-tale sound of that cruel giant sword scraping against cement. That thing had gotten free and was coming after him again.
Looking around, he quickly spotted the exit and, of course, it was on the exact opposite end of the room. Still, it would provide him with some decent obstacles to get between him and Pyramid Head. Sam ran down the nearest aisle and turned around the corner, tripping over something in the process. He went flying and crashed to the floor, the shotgun getting knocked out of his hands. Pain shot through him from his entire collection of injuries, his ribs giving him the worst of it. The torturous sound of metal being torn by metal rang out, pervading the entire room.
Without giving it another second, he pushed himself back up and looked back. It had sheared off the top half of one end of the counter and was deftly making it's way over the twisted lump of the bottom half. As it was doing that, it was preparing to swing at the next counter. Sam continued for the door at the far end, the pain from the fall making him slower now. It wasn't much longer before he heard the next counter being cut apart.
He finally reached the door after an agonizing journey toward it, yanking it open ferociously. There was a short hallway on the other side, leading to a solitary elevator at the far end. Sam ran over there, frantically jabbing the call button over and over again. The sound of tearing steel was getting louder, his pursuer ever closer to him. All the while, the elevator cab was taking it's time in reaching this floor. He pounded on the doors in frustration, the composure that he had been forced with earlier, shattering completely. Soon, the sound of steel countertops being sliced off was replaced by the familiar metal on concrete. Time was running out for him to escape, so he pulled out the hand gun in desperation.
Sam faced the hallway and the door that his death was coming through, thinking of Greg and his chainsaw killer avatar just then. The odd pyramid-shaped crown that he had come to fear, entered his field of vision, poking through the open doorway. This was it; there was nowhere to run to, no way to escape. The elevator still didn't sound like it was anywhere close to reaching him, his would-be way out failing him in his moment of deep need. With the gun aimed at the incoming Pyramid, he tried to steady his nerves and not having much luck at it.
It was fully inside the hall now and turning to face him. Sam started firing, putting every single bullet in the clip into it's body. Not a single shot missed it's mark, some pegging it right in the legs. None of them made a single bit of distance though, the monstrosity moving steadily in his direction. He was out of all options, his death was assured. The elevator still sounded too far up, offering him no reprieve. A great deep hurt filled him inside and the knowledge that he was facing the end came with it. A single tear streaked down his face, as he lost the last of his hope and was made to accept complete and total despair. Throwing the empty gun at it, he let his body slide down the slick elevator doors until he hit the floor.
The grinding noise of the sword stopped, as it reached him, a deep cavernous silence washing in like a tidal wave. Pyramid Head lifted the sword up onto it's shoulder, the muscles of it's body tensing to swing it downward upon him. He lifted his arms instinctively, shielding his body. Sam could hear the swish of the blade as it cut through the air, his eyes clenching so he wouldn't have to see it happen.
It never came; he was still alive. For a full second, he refused to crack open a single eye to see why he hadn't died. Finally getting it into him to look, he opened his eyes and saw something amazing. Like the washing machine, he thought, seeing the blade frozen in midair. Tony had mentioned this ability to him when he was burying him alive and he recalled a few other occasions where it had occurred, as well. Sam had access to strange powers and the Devil just didn't give them to him and take them away, he only took credit for it.
Taking some initiative, Sam experimentally shoved back with his mind and Pyramid Head was launched backward across the hall in response. At that moment, the elevator bell rang and the doors slid open, causing Sam to fall back inside. He kicked at the floor, pushing himself into the elevator completely. Springing to his feet, he pushed the up button on the control panel and the doors started to slide shut. Through the narrowing gap between the doors, he could see that it was coming for him again. It was too late though, as the doors closed and the cab began ascending. He was safe.
As it was with the last elevator, this one took forever to get to it's destination. In this time, he sat on the floor with his back to the wall. Sam's mind and his very soul felt raw, as if someone had taken a wire brush to his psyche and scrubbed it to nothing. Tears flowed freely from his eyes and he felt nothing but total anguish. He had gone into that damned hospital for knowledge, having found it with a whole lot more on top. So much had happened in there, and in Silent Hill in general, that he was certain he would never recover from it. The pain and suffering this place caused was unimaginable; it had cut into him and removed a piece of his humanity.
It went beyond facing his own mortality, beyond the things he had witnessed, it was what he had turned into in there that utterly destroyed him. When he was killing those nurses, he was starting to enjoy it and with one, he practically tried to rape her in his fury. Disgust and self-loathing settled in when he thought of that, consuming him thoroughly. Just then, the elevator ground to a halt and the bell chimed. A second after that, the doors opened up and he could already tell that he was above ground.
The elevator let out into a smallish building, windows letting in outside light from the far end. Getting to his feet, he stepped out and looked around the place he had ended up in. It was a single room structure filled with tools and equipment of all sorts. This place must've been some sort of maintenance shop, possibly for the hospital. It didn't explain the elevator to that weird morgue/kitchen he had come close to death in. His stomach went a little sour at doing the math on that odd room combination, coming up with an extremely sick conclusion.
He started poking around the place, mindful of his injuries and his precarious mental state. The entire room was covered in a thick blanket of dust. Sam searched the place over, finding nothing of interest, except for a large heavy-duty pickaxe. Taking it, he left the shop and tried to get his bearings outside. The fog was as thick as ever, something that didn't really come as a shock to him. He pulled out the town map and looked it over, noticing how dirty and smudged it was with blood and grime. There was nothing on it that showed him where he was, nothing at all. Thinking it over, he realized that he couldn't have been too far from the hospital, but the map showed a drastically different set up from the one he found himself in, so he wasn't sure.
The shop was set in the side of a massive culvert, leading him to wonder what it's purpose was. To the right, the way was blocked off by a giant sluice gate, giving him only one direction to go in. Both sides were unclimbable, being straight vertical lines up about fifteen feet high. Sam, sighing, started to walk down it, his new weapon clutched tightly in his hands. He could hardly see ten feet out in front of him, making his way down an indistinct frame created by the culvert walls. Without any scenery around him, he couldn't help but feel that he wasn't making any progress. It really did seem like he was walking on a treadmill, doomed to travel it forever without getting anywhere.
Sam tried not to let his mind wander, fearing the path that would take him on. He needed to stay focused on putting one foot in front of the other and just repeating that action until he got to where he was supposed to be. There was no doubt that this walk would get him to the proper destination, but he had no way to tell how long it would take to get there. His body was sore and his muscles on the verge of a major catastrophic failure. Exhaustion was making his legs and his eyes heavy, the urge to stop and rest close to irresistible right then. But, he had to keep going, there were no breaks for him anymore.
As he walked further, the culvert started to slowly curve to the left. It was running noticeably downhill now and he could see growing collections of wet spots on the cracked cement basin. At first, he gave it no further consideration, not thinking of what it could have to do with him. When the culvert straightened out again, he was stopped in his tracks at the sight of what was in front of him.
Water had collected along this portion of the culvert, completely blockading the path. He could see, just barely, that the culvert continued underneath some sort of enclosure, possibly a bridge. It was difficult to make out in the fog, being at the outer threshold of his limited vision. The water was murky and filled with trash, a faint scent of decay rising from it. Sam didn't think the water was very deep, but was a little reluctant to find out. While it seemed a little ridiculous to be stopped by a bit of water after having gone through so much, he was still forced to stop and think about it for awhile.
Sam stood there awkwardly for several minutes, feeling more and more foolish as he did. This was getting stupid and he decided to force himself to take a step in the water. It came up to the top of his soles, not yet high enough to soak through his shoes. Taking a couple more steps, the water got slightly deeper and he could feel the water on his feet now. The water was ice cold and irritated him, but he managed to keep himself from chickening out and started marching through the stagnant pool.
By the time he got to the enclosure, the water was up to his knees. Inside, it was preternaturally dark and the smell of decay intensified greatly. He realized then that his flashlight had been on and he had forgotten to switch it off. The beam of the light appeared dim and had a hard time illuminating anything. Sam took it out of his pocket and slipped his backpack off his shoulders. Holding it in one hand, he unzipped the bag and rummaged through the contents. After a full minute of digging through the things he had collected, he finally found what he was looking for. Way back in time, shortly after he had woken up on that city bench in front of the police station, he had found a few items to take with him that had value in their functions. One of the items he grabbed was a pack of batteries for his flashlight, something he had taken only as an afterthought; this was what he was looking for. It was a little awkward, shuffling everything around, as he changed out the batteries in the light. Eventually, he finished the task and put everything back where they belonged, before moving forward.
About midway through, he saw something that dropped his spirit into somewhere around his stomach. Steel bars were poking up out of the ground and connecting with the roof of the enclosure, blocking his path any further. He had come to a dead end, a fact that infuriated him deeply. If he was supposed to get somewhere specific, then he was not being given a clear path to it. Sam slowly spun around, looking for something, anything, to tell him what to do next. Looking all over, he discovered some sort of hatch on the side. It wasn't tall enough for someone to stand in, but if he ducked down it would be sufficient. All he had to do was open it and see if it even led anywhere at all.
Sam walked over to the hatch and saw that it had a padlock on it. Looking down at the pickaxe he was carrying, he lifted it up and brought it down on the lock. His first strike missed the lock entirely, digging a severe scratch in the white paint of the steel door. He gave it another try and struck it dead on, but only managed to make a pock mark in it. After a few more attempts, he finally knocked the lock off. The hatch swung open slowly, revealing a shallow cramped space on the other side. Metal bars were poking out of the concrete, making rungs for a ladder.
Crouching down, he slipped inside and looked up. Light was shining down faintly from the top, revealing a tight passage up. Sam awkwardly began climbing up the ladder, having difficulties with the pickaxe on the way up. It took awhile, but he eventually reached the top. Sam swung open the hatch above, thankful that it wasn't also locked up like the one at the bottom. He set the pickaxe on the ground and climbed up the rest of the way.
Grabbing the weapon, he got to his feet and took a look around. He was standing next to a small bridge along a gravel road, surrounded by woods. On the other side of the bridge was a sign, but he couldn't make out what it said. Walking across, he saw that the sign read: Pleasant Valley Children's Care Home. It was an orphanage, he realized, some connection being made in his mind at that. Brandon, Charlie, they were here, his long lost brothers. Sam wanted nothing more than to take them out of here, to take them with him. Logically, he knew that they should be his age, but Brandon was inexplicably years younger than him. It was something he hoped to have cleared up at some point in the near future.
Not feeling nearly as lost as he did before, Sam followed the road up into the woods. The path was windy and long, leading him to wonder why an orphanage was built in the middle of nowhere. While curious, he didn't think it was really all that important, not when he was so close to his objective. He needed to focus and keep his eyes on the prize, not let himself get distracted by such details.
Sam rounded a corner and came upon the orphanage. It was large and ugly, the paint peeling and the eaves sagging drastically over the sides. This must've been a bad place to grow up in, his heart going out to Charlie, who he figured was sent here after he was born. This entire situation angered him, how the whole universe seemed out to completely screw him over. What did he do wrong? Did God hate him? It all seemed so unfair, a flaw in an otherwise perfect system that had singled him out and brought his life to ruins. Hatred and bitterness threatened to consume him, something that had been threatening him ever since his 21st birthday. Sam never spoke of this to Sock or Ben, not wanting to burden them with his issues anymore than he already did. Plus, Sock was notoriously unsympathetic to other people's problems, and Sam was no exception to that rule.
He walked passed a small playground, the equipment rusting away from disuse. A jungle gym about six feet in height was bent on one side, leaning awkwardly toward the building. The steps up the porch creaked dangerously underfoot, as he walked up to the front door. Sam grabbed the handle and was about to open it.
"Sure you wanna go in there, Sammy?"
Sam froze in place, a cold sensation crept through his nerves when he heard that voice. His heart pounded as his blood pumped furiously. He slowly turned around in the direction where the voice came from. Leaning against that jungle gym he had just passed by, was a familiar face, one that had a special breed of hate that Sam kept reserved for it's owner. From his beautifully polished shoes to his perfectly coiffed hair, the Devil was looking as classy as ever with that trademarked grin plastered wide across his tanned features.