"It is not the healthy who need a doctor, but the sick. I have not come to call the righteous, but sinners."
Mark 2:16-18

Sarah stared at the rusted iron gate, her nose burning from the sickly sweet scent of death. Her companion had led her in and out of alleyways, through overgrown backyards, and right up to the wrong hospital gate. A crooked sign hung above the door; faded red letters clearly spelled out, 'Brookhaven'.

"Wait a minute," she said as Jared stopped to unlock the gate.

He ignored her, his fingers deftly maneuvering the half rusted lock and key until there was a loud click. The gate creaked open on reluctant hinges.

"This is the wrong hospital," she protested, "You promised you'd take me to Alchemilla."

The smell was stronger here, she realized. She pinched her nose and tried to breathe through her mouth as she scanned the fog for the source of the stench.

"We're stopping here first," Jared said.

"Why?" she asked.

"Because I want to stop here," he said, "I keep a change of clothes in a locker in the doctor's lounge, and you stink. I'm not taking you anywhere smelling like that."

She bristled under the insult.

"You're not exactly a rose yourself, buster," she said.

And he laughed, "That may be, but I'm not the one who'll be attracting scavengers."

Two dog sized lumps lay near the far side of the building, half obscured by the fog. Both were a brown rusty color with bits of smooth, white something poking out of the surface. As she drew closer, her stomach lurched. Flies buzzed around the lumps in swarms, the dead almost unrecognizable mongrels. Their mouths, what was left of them, were split open wide to reveal two rows of jagged, deformed teeth. A perfectly formed hole rested between their eyes, the cause of death unmistakable.

"Who would do such a thing?"

The words were out before she could think about it; Jared stopped to give her a wry grin.

"They weren't ordinary house pets," he said, "Come now. Don't lose your head over a few monsters."

He was right of course; she knew that. Briefly, the images of the creature she'd killed in the church flooded her mind. Silent Hill was no ordinary town with ordinary creatures. It changed everything, altered it somehow until it was warped and evil. How long did it take, she wondered, for the town to take hold of someone, to change them.

Jared ducked inside, leaving her to scramble after him. She barely made it through the door in time to see him disappear around the corner. The floor squished beneath her heels but she hurried after him, unwilling to face the darkness alone.

"Don't run off like that!" she said as she caught up with him.

He stood with his shoulders hunched, his head bent as he wrestled with a door knob. She watched, wondering whether or not she should offer to help. Just as she was about to give in, the door clicked and swung open.

"That was odd," he said.

"What was?" she asked.

"Never mind," he said, "Let's hurry and get out of here."

The room was dirty but relatively well intact. The walls were yellowed and spotted with dark mold. The floor tiles were cracked and stained, and the furniture was torn and overturned. But still, it would have been usable. Jared hurried to the lockers on the far side of the room.

"Put these on," he ordered, tossing a crumbled up shirt and trousers.

The shirt was blue, long sleeved and buttoned down the front, and the trousers were ordinary blue jeans but far too long. As she studied them, the hair on the back of her neck prickled. She looked up, her eyes locking with Jared's.

"Well," he began, "What are you waiting for?"

"Turn around," she ordered.

He smirked.

"Why should I do that?" he asked.

He crossed his arms over his chest, his head cocked to one side.

"If you don't," she said, "I'm not changing."

"If you don't," he said, "I'm not taking you anywhere."

"Turn around," she ordered.

He shrugged, "As you wish."

She waited for him to turn completely before turned her back and shrugged out of her filthy coat, her hands trembling as she unbuttoned her blouse. Both shirt and coat were stained and encrusted with the foul muck from the cafe. She doubted anyone could get them clean again, and that smell! It was like rotten food or human waste or roadkill; every foul thing she could think of rolled into one could not truly describe the nastiness that clung to her shirt. She tossed it aside, wincing as bits of the blackness flaked onto her skin. She quickly slipped her arms into the sleeves of the soft blue shirt, hurriedly buttoning the front. In her haste, she skipped a button and had to start all over again.

"Sarah," Jared prompted, "Have you finished?"

"Just a minute," she snapped.

She held up the jeans, her heart sinking as the waistline proved to be much, much too tiny. Her own disgusting trousers would have to do.

"Sarah," Jared repeated.

"Alright already!" she said, turning to toss the jeans at the back of his head.

When he caught them, she realized he'd been waiting. Probably turned around to watch the moment she'd turned her back. A chill swept over her.

"You're a real creep, you know that," she said.

He shoved the jeans back into the locker. Shadows danced across his back, darkening, moving closer; it seemed to follow the cold, wrapping him and pulling her along. He turned back to face her, but her gaze drifted behind him. A single piece of the wallpaper flaked off the wall; it floated upwards as though caught in a draft, blackening and shrinking. Another piece followed, and another. The whole wall seemed to smolder and flake. The floor cracked and splintered, also flaking away in places.

Jared's eyes widened, his face paling. He stumbled towards her, his bony fingers catching her wrist.

"We have to run," he said, his voice cracking as he looked down.

Her breath caught in her throat as something brushed against her ankle. It skittered by on the ashen floor, almost too quickly for her to see. But what she saw made her stomach lurch up into her throat.

About the size of a large cat and the color of mud, the thing had six spidery, fuzzy legs and the body of a cockroach. But as it paused to turn, to wiggle it's fuzzy feelers in the air, it's eyes looked at her and it had the face of a man.

Distantly, she heard herself screaming. The bug creature scuttled towards her, fanged mouth open and ready to bite. Images flashed through her mind, of the muck pit at the cafe, the monster in the church, even being chased by the Cleaners down that long tunnel in the Labyrinth; it all merged and blended, warring for dominance in her mind. It all came together, blinding her for a long, cold moment until...

Her heel crashed down on the bug creatures exoskeleton. One. Two. Three times, crunching and grinding it into the ashen floor. Yellow bug goo splattered across the floor, and mottled bug guts squirted out from under her shoe.

Jared stared at her, a shocked expression on his face.

Then, he caught hold of her wrist, flung open the door, and bolted for the hospital exit. Figures appeared in her peripheral vision; women in dirty, white uniforms, twisted parodies of nurses and doctors. They had no faces, and they shuffled with their heads bent down at unnatural angles. The cold was unbearable now, and she found herself wishing she'd thought to grab her coat.

At once, Jared came to a stop, letting go of her wrist as he tugged at the door handle.

"No, no, no!"

He pounded on the door as it stuck fast. She slid her hand under his and pulled. The door groaned.

"Come on," Jared shouted, and he slammed his body against the door.

Footsteps shuffled behind them, closer. Sarah could hear a strange wheezing moan, growing louder. Jared pulled harder, straining until the muscles in his neck bulged and the veins pulsed out, throbbing.

The air behind Sarah's head moved suddenly as something narrowly missed her. She turned, ducking instinctively as the wheezing moan became a wail. A red streak raced towards her head, barely giving her the time to reach up, to block. Something cold and hard hit her arm hard, but she twisted and caught hold of it, ignoring the pain. One of the deformed nurses snarled and tried to pull back, to strike again, but Sarah held fast to the thing in her hand.

A hammer.

She jerked it out of the nurse's hands, ducking as the woman took a swipe at her with her free hand.

"Don't just duck!" Jared shrieked, "Hit her! Hit her!"

The hammer connected with the nurse's head with a sickening thud. The nurse lurched forward, clawing, her arms a frenzy of movement.

"Hit her again!"

But adrenaline had taken over; the hammer connected again and again and again until the deformed, mutated nurse collapsed twitching at Sarah's feet. She fought to catch her breath as Jared gave the door one last sharp tug. It creaked and groaned but it came open. They hurried outside, barely pausing to slam the door shut behind them.

It was then Sarah realized the sky was as black as coal. She shivered, leaning closer to Jared.

And, she thought as a bit of white coldness hit her face, it was snowing.