Chapter 8

The metallic noise she'd heard earlier became a steady rhythm. It wasn't the Executioner; there was no deep metal groan and no chatter of bugs. Every few seconds, three clangs arose in a repetitive noise. She passed through another small corridor, by another room that still held wooden boxes ready to transport product from decades earlier.

She rounded a tiny alcove and held her breath until she nearly fainted. She was afraid it would vanish and become another rusted antiquity. She reached out and gingerly slid her finger across the cold surface of a thoroughly modern door. Who cared if she had to go through five more levels? It just didn't matter. Maybe she would survive. Maybe she would make it.

She opened the next door and walked into a refrigeration room. It needed some cleaning, but appeared fairly modern. A large plaque on the wall read, "Silent Hill Processing." It couldn't be more than a decade or two old. The fonts were too contemporary, the paint looked recent.

She picked up her step and exited the next metal door. She walked into a chilly room filled with sides of both beef and pork that were suspended from the ceiling. However, the room didn't hold much of an odor. The floor was clean and looked relatively sanitary. No trace of the old construction was noticeable in the newer areas. There was no rust anywhere that she could see.

The clanging grew louder as she'd dodged the hanging carcasses. She came to a portly blond kid sitting with his legs crossed in the center of the room. He was knocking a side of meat back and forth, its hook clanged against the metal apparatus that held it. He was older, had to be at least a high school kid. "Hello?"

"Hi." He didn't look up from the floor.

"I didn't think I'd ever see anyone again."

"That's easy to do here."

"I'm Katrina."

"Eddie," he didn't offer his hand and she hadn't extended her own. Something was wrong. Her stomach knotted and her pulse quickened. She tried to alleviate the impending dread by talking, "I was just in the prison and I didn't think I'd make it out."

"No one goes in the prison, it's locked and sealed up. You're lying to me… you're just like that guy-"

"But, I was. I…" Her words faded when she walked around. Eddie's face wasn't normal. She could see his profile. His features were distorted, his body distended, she backed towards the door on the opposite side of the room. "I'm going to get some fresh air."

"You do that." He barked. "Like you're any better than any of us."

She didn't wait to hear the rest of his words and wasn't surprised when gunfire rang out behind her. She bolted through the next door and the next. She emerged on a dock, the fog still heavy, she fell to her knees and nearly sobbed. Here she was. She was alive. She was outside.

She heard a boat in the distance and looked out. A man drove a boat in the opposite direction. He drove towards a tiny light in the distance. She ran towards him with her arms waving. "Hello?"

He couldn't hear her over the boat's motor. She studied him a moment. Was that Sunderland? Laura was right. He really was in the town.

Well, there was no way to land from where she stood without swimming. There weren't any other boats docked. The dock jutted out over the lake, but there still wasn't any solid land to cross. Eddie continued to yell inside, he fired the gun repetitively. He approached. How many bullets are in that damned thing?

She dove into the water and rose back up beneath the shelter of the wooden dock. She quietly swam to the opposite end to watch what happened. She looked back and Eddie stepped outside, his pistol drawn. "I know you're out here." He charged.

She heard a sound and froze. The long groan of metal sounded like it was on top of her. She trembled as she slowly raised her eyes. God, it can't be. He can't be there. I didn't hear him. The massive steel blade splintered the dock's wood overhead as the Executioner dragged it along. Splintered fragments of wood rained down on her and the water's surface below. He couldn't just appear. He couldn't. It was impossible. Why didn't she hear him approach? She had every time before.

She slowly sank until only her eyes were above waterline. She quietly clung to a post so she wouldn't make any splashing noise. The Executioner had almost reached Eddie. The bizarre confrontation was only compounded by Eddie's arrogance. "Who the hell are you?"

The Executioner drew the blade back and Eddie fired a few bullets at him. They pierced his flesh, but didn't make him flinch. The creature moved as if nothing hit him. The Executioner swung and, despite Eddie's rotund physique, he ducked and missed the blade. "Is that all you got?"

The Executioner reached out a massive arm before Eddie could speak. He raised Eddie high off the ground by his neck. She heard his choking from where she hid. The beast drew the blade back again and lunged into his abdomen. Eddie, despite evisceration, continued to ridicule the monster. How was that possible? He didn't cry. Half his insides were now outside and it didn't force him to miss a breath. He continued insulting the beast killing him.

What was wrong with those people? Everyone was mad. They were stark, raving mad and she was in the middle of it. The Executioner pulled the blade out; gore splattered on the wooden railing, and he next went for Eddie's head. She heard the thump and bit her lip to avoid screaming.

The Executioner dropped the headless corpse on the dock. Blood spilled over the side of the dock and into the lake when the body hit the deck. A pool must have formed under them from the evisceration. The Executioner paused a moment. She was ready to dive under the waves as soon as he noticed her.

He turned, he looked at her. She didn't speak. He continued to watch her a moment and, instead of moving towards her, he simply went into the building they'd just exited. She had the strangest sense that her running had been pointless. He passed her by. She knew he saw her. She knew he watched her, even if only for a moment. But, he let her live.

She was alone. The Executioner was gone. Eddie was dead. And the guy in the boat sailed off into who knew what. She glanced across the lake and noticed the familiar railing. She'd fallen from there when she came out of the well. She began swimming towards it.

Why did he let her live? Why didn't he kill her? If he could appear like that, he could've killed all of them before they even knew it. He didn't. Maybe Laura was safe. The weight of that guilt lifted from her shoulders. Maybe the child survived.

She didn't care if that really was Sunderland. He obviously had a reason for staying there, that was none of her business and she was through with it. She had no interest in Silent Hill. Any hunger for adventure or action had long been satiated and she now looked forward to boredom and monotony. If Sunderland was running from something, and he wanted to stay with those things, more power to him. She wasn't.

Maybe that was best. Maybe there really were things in Silent Hill that needed to remain quiet. Perhaps Macon had a valid reason for creating the publication his way. She needed to talk to him. She needed to tell him everything. He'd been at work far too long not to notice. Perhaps he had answers where she had none.

She climbed the embankment yet again. Her clothing was now muddy. She walked the same route and returned to the highway. She walked in the opposite direction to get to her car. She looked ahead and noticed a familiar figure walking to her. She picked up the pace. She ran to the little girl and hugged her.

"You scared me to death." Laura charged.

"What?"

"Where did you go? I just came out to see if I had any money in my teddy. I tried to go back in and you locked the door."

"But, the door was locked inside. I tried to get out."

"You know your car is still at the building? How'd you get out?"

"I had to go out through… several basements." She couldn't tell her everything. She wanted to forget most of it herself. "So, where do you need to go?"

"I don't know. I can go anywhere."

"I can't take you anywhere, I need a destination."

"Fine. I want to go to the Happy Burger." They found the car and the gentlemen at the historic society building let her use the restroom to tidy up. She glanced in the room she had just been in earlier, there was no hole in the wall. The building appeared perfectly intact. The front door now opened both ways with no hesitation.

The elderly man in the building looked at her strangely, as if he already knew what had happened. She had a strange feeling about him. She promptly left and took Laura into town.

"I thought I saw James Sunderland on the lake."

"Probably, he's around."

Silent Hill was free of obstruction and barrier. She marveled at the modern condition of the town when earlier in the day, it looked like a bomb had exploded. "The barriers are gone."

"Told you."

They pulled into the Happy Burger and Laura jumped out of the car. "Last one in is a rotten egg."

Laura said she was just running to the restroom after they ate, she disappeared a second time. She looked all over, but none of the staff said they'd seen her. They thought summoning the police would be a waste of time. She couldn't find anyone to make a report of any kind, the police station was closed when she drove by.

She gave up and returned home. It was good to be back. She didn't think she'd see her apartment again. She called the Sheriff's office in Silent Hill, but they informed her that Laura was sitting there with them. At least she was safe. She stayed out of work the next day, but couldn't procrastinate the entire week. She walked into the Portland Gazette and Macon waited for her. "Visited Silent Hill?"

"Yes."

"Would you like to talk about… your findings?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I did."

He motioned for her to follow him into the office. He closed the door behind them and poured her a cup of coffee. "You know, Katrina, I run my paper the way I do for a reason."

"Yes, sir. To maintain the positive image the community has came to associate with the town and the newspaper," she'd heard it a million times since she started there. She wasn't expecting him to laugh when she finished.

He sat down across from her and continued to laugh a moment. "I'm sorry," he eventually calmed. "I'm sorry. I'm so used to being the one saying that. I'm surprised anyone else even remembered it."

"That isn't the reason."

"I can't help, but see every other media outlet in the world so caught up in portraying the worst society has to offer. You can't watch the evening news without murder, violence or rape. I like to think that this tiny publication can at least shelter our town from complete abasement. So, that much is true."

The conversation silenced a moment. Macon paused to gather his thoughts, "I already know, Katrina. I know about the disappearances. I know about the mysteries."

"But, how did you..?"

"I noticed your compiling missing person's cases. And I know you. You're very ambitious and very bored with the ordinary work here."

"But, I-"

He held up his hand before she could finish. "That's precisely what you need to be right now. I was the same way. Silent Hill is a different place, Katrina."

"Tell me about it."

"It's like two places on top of one another. A place of today and a place of fire and metal… but you never really know which is the real town."

She watched him a moment. He knew. He already knew everything. She opened her mouth to speak slowly, but she couldn't stop. She began talking so fast, she could hardly get the words out. She had someone to talk to. She confessed to everything, the well, the historical society, the prison, even the Executioner. She couldn't hold back. She hadn't been able to tell anyone anything and she was about to burst if she couldn't get it out.

She slowed, the desperate need to be heard was satiated. Macon smiled, "most of my family's generation at the time of the recital fire, were burned alive in it. We stayed there until I was grown, I moved out, and then my family came to Portland. There have always been oddities there and nothing we do will change it. They've always been there. The Native Americans avoided that area for a reason. The lake is no better."

He stood back up, "I take it you won't be writing about your experiences there?"

"No, no. I'll do the missing persons articles, if you would still like them, from my desk."

"Of course, they will be good for the community. It's best if you just stay away from it. The people who live there do so at their own risk. I'm not telling you what to do, but as a former resident, you need to be prepared for the… unexpected."

The spoke a moment longer and she left. No, she was not going to Silent Hill any time soon. It was likely she'd never return. She would miss Laura, but the child seemed to be as much a mystery as the Executioner. She wasn't prepared to encounter any of it. A dangerous curve. The thought was laughable now. To think those disappearances could stem from something natural or organic… she'd been so naïve.

There was a letter on her desk, her name and the paper's address was written in crayon. She opened it up and pulled out a piece of notebook paper. A child had drawn a cartoon of a big stick figure and a small stick figure. A scrawl of words went across the bottom, "Thank you for the food. -Laura" She shoved the picture in her desk drawer and started the article on the strange disappearance of James Sunderland.