Chapter Nine
Under the watchful eye of a stranger, one could be almost entirely certain that the mother Rose had laid bullet to her companion, however unintentionally, resulting in the sharp cry that had been emitted into the air from the young officer's throat; to the more observant stranger, the bullet had missed the cop's foot by mere inches, the shock of which had resulted in the cry. Rose opened her eyes and dropped the gun as the black substance shriveled and disintegrated along the edges of the puddle, and relinquished its acidic hold on Cybil's boot; toward the center of the puddle formed a great lump, which quivered and convulsed, eventually taking the form of an armless entity, whose ribcage stretched the thin covering of skin near to the breaking point, and whose thin, crooked legs twitched and writhed. They had seen its kind before, and though Rose had gathered the general impression that there was only one of said figure, Cybil knew otherwise; when she and Rose had first arrived there in Silent Hill, she had killed a being of similar appearance, and had seen others on their way towards her at the time. It seemed that Silent Hill was home to a multitude of species, not only individuals.
The cop fell to the ground as the mass released her foot, tearing off the boot and examining her leg; Rose looked down at the gun on the ground, and realized just how much of an idiot she had been to drop it after firing—the safety naturally wasn't on, seeing as she had just used the weapon, and it could have gone off and caused some serious damage. She was reminded why she had never complained about her lack of a weapon during their previous time in Silent Hill—she would have been more dangerous than the brutes they were trying to shoot. Reaching down and picking it up, she moved to stand beside the hurting woman on the ground, kneeling so that she might better see the damage inflicted, whilst putting the safety on the gun and sliding into the holster as Cybil poked and prodded the opening on her leg. The blue irises that inhabited Rose's eyes watched curiously, though her face contorted into a cringe more than once as the woman continued to examine her injury; the mother marveled in the fact that Cybil could remain so ultimately straight-faced with what must be a painful wound indeed. Obviously the cop wasn't too worried about infection, for she didn't pour any water on it, as she had done on Rose's injuries; the heat of the substance seemed only to have burned the wound shut, for the most part—perhaps this aided in her decision to leave it bandage-free.
Within the next few minutes, the blonde cop reached for her boot, examining it just as she had the wound, and noting the small hole the substance had left in it, and upon seeing it, she let out a snort of disgust and frustration, to which Rose responded by way of an inquiring gaze; quite obviously she didn't understand what would have made the woman apparently care more for her boot than anything else, and although she had said nothing that would have provided evidence to such a declaration, the voice that cut the silence in the next moment did indeed provide that evidence.
"These were custom made."
She held up the boot in a weak gesture of resignation, and then at last slipped it back onto her foot, loosening the laces as she did so and making certain she was able to replace the boot with the least amount of contact with the burn. Once she had finished, she stood, and for a moment glanced about desperately in search of her pistol, only to remember that Rose had returned it to its proper place in the holster; pulling it out, she double checked the safety, and then turned to the mother. Before she could say anything, however, Rose literally leapt into a run, spitting out something which Cybil could not discern; she looked to have completely forgotten the problem with her knee, for she continued running after some unknown entity; Cybil called out after her but to no avail. Rose's figure disappeared around a bend in the road, and was lost to the ashen fog.
Rose's breath came in quick, short gasps as she forced herself to run through whatever pain was shooting up her leg; the form that she'd seen before her was still within her range of sight, fleeing at an alarming pace, and drawing farther away with each passing instant; 'twas not Alessa, no. She had vanished into Sharon now, it appeared. In all truth, Rose didn't even know what she was chasing after, be it friend or enemy, and more than likely enemy; her emotions had gotten the better of her and led her astray, and by the time she finally couldn't stand the pain any longer, she had long since left Cybil behind. Tripping into a walk, she curved her upper torso and placed her hands on her thighs, attempting to catch a few breaths of the poisoned air; once her oxygen supply was satisfied to an acceptable level she spun around with widened eyes, suddenly realizing just what she had done. She'd taken herself out of range of safety; Cybil had a weapon whilst Rose did not; if whatever she had been following decided to change direction and follow her, she'd have no method of defense whatsoever, and she certainly wouldn't make much of an opponent even if she did, seeing as she couldn't run.
Thoughts of Sharon wove their way into her mind, and she half considered dropping everything and fleeing back to the safety, the sanctuary of her home, silent and still and cold though it was, tortured though they were, and lonely though she was. She'd only once thought of her husband since she had been here again in the Hellish pit that was Silent Hill, a town so overcome by the same grief and fear and loneliness as she herself was experiencing, that 'twas almost unthinkable to believe she wasn't comfortable there, where she could relate. But her love for Chris, and her love for Sharon were far too intense to allow her to wish to remain in this place, and as she had decided and undecided, and decided again, she would fight her way until she found the answers she had indeed come searching for, and until she saved her family and had returned to the life she once knew.
Her mind strayed even further with the thought of Cybil, and how she had truly turned death upside down and inside out to return to Rose's side and aide her in whatever foolish journey she aimed to take next; 'twas still just short of surreal to the poor mother's aching mind, having been put through so many trials and sufferings and twisted into the utmost state of total confusion, but she nonetheless went along with it. What else could she possibly have done? She turned around again and walked in the direction of the now vanished figure, noting the fact that she was now in a section of the town she hadn't visited in the past; 'twas an eerie feeling, and one which triggered the adrenaline to be released from the pores of the glands in her brain, flowing vivaciously and purposefully through her veins and arteries, pumping through her heart and gaining energy, placing her into a state of constant alertness and keeping her from falling into the darkness of the unimaginably thick layer of fatigue that had abruptly washed over her.
She strode down the streets with slow, cautious steps, favoring her sore leg and shaking her head at the realization of just how many times she had been injured thus far. Scuffmarks upon the earth led her to a pause in her movements; they were crooked and angled toward a narrow alleyway running between two decaying stone buildings, and lit by a pulsating orange-ish light; she instinctively followed them, if that was the way in which her actions could be described; a smell so foul wafted about the stagnant air of the alley that she very nearly vomited on the spot. She'd smelt it before, when Cybil had shot the beast after the incident with the bridge, and the fear that something of a similar form was within reach of her led the woman to retrieve a shard of broken, tainted glass from the soot-coated cobblestone beneath her feet and hold it out before her as she would have done a blade; though 'twas evidently insignificant, and a poor excuse for a weapon, it provided her with a sense of comfort that had been absent only moments before. She was rather amazed at how severely she was shaken and stirred when beyond the protection of the armed lady deputy.
At the end of the alleyway there lay a door, cracked open to reveal a shaft of the orange light which illuminated her way throughout the smoky air; stepping up to it, the young mother peered around it, the glass still held before her, and, seeing nothing of an immediately threatening nature, kicked it open with her good leg, cursing herself in the same moment for shifting so much weight to the poor leg; no creatures lunged for her upon her entrance, which was somewhat encouraging and reassuring at the same time. The floor beneath her feet was no longer cobblestone, but neither was it the wood or stone material she might have expected just out of everyday experiences—instead 'twas a floor composed entirely of iron grates expanding out over a fiery pit below, much like the one she had scrambled across in the Midwich Elementary School while attempting to flee that creature with the pyramidal cranium. Walking with her legs splayed out to the sides, so as to distribute her weight to the sides of the grates which appeared much stronger—as the centers of some sections were entirely rusted through—'twould have been quite a comical sight for one to spot the blonde haired woman making her way through the narrow hallway of the building.
Her ocean-like eyes shifted so as to see around a corner when she at long last had reached one, and in addition had reached the point where the grate-made floor ended, and was replaced with ash coated marble, a slippery surface she soon discovered, but nevertheless proceeded to cross. Abruptly, a horrid screech was heard as the grates from which she had just removed her weight faltered and failed, crumpling inward on themselves and disappearing into the Hell below; Rose was caught off guard and stumbled, but managed to catch herself on one of the walls. The instant at which her hands were placed against the wall, a spread of vine-like appendages spewed forth, clinging to the surface with crimson tentacles and pulsing growths, like a series of veins composed only of disease; she cried out and ripped her hands from the wall, letting out a short wail of horror at the messes of blood tainted flesh that were her palms. The veins dispersed along the height and length of the wall, and down onto the floor beneath her feet, at last traveling up the other wall and expanding onto the ceiling, entirely encompassing the woman in a tunnel of a living plague; she shrieked again and broke into a weak, limping, stumbling run, forcing herself onward and she found she was not able to keep ahead of the clinging veins.
The swarmed the surfaces and tripled their length and tripled that length, and so on and so forth, until she realized she would not escape the terror they quite obviously had intended to inflict upon her; yet they did not envelope she herself in their escapade, but then, perhaps 'twas because she had apparently been the cause of the spread in the first place. At last there was able to be viewed a light of a variance from the orange and red illumination in the building, and Rose dashed toward it with renewed vigor; there was a moment whereas the earth beneath her seemed to have vanished into absolute nothingness, and then she lay outside, an outrageously strong grip had been placed upon her upper arm and dragged her a good distance from wherever it was she had previously been. She struggled without stopping, kicking and lashing out with her limbs, ignoring yet again the pains which shot through them, and upon feeling her heeled boot connect with something solid, a great dizzying blast swept through her, originating at a particular point on her skull; no doubt she had been bludgeoned; silence ensued, and she knew no more.