Chapter Five

1

 

     Before her the stretch of hallway rippled, churned with a growl and bleed like watercolors. She slowed in her footsteps, her fingers clutching rusted divider and sinking into decayed wood as the strength guiding them tightened its hold.  Her eyes itched, burned and somehow saw beyond walls, beyond closed doors and even further still. However possible, it wasn't her sight exactly.

 

     And like faces behind these corridors and voices locked within sound itself, death bends to my will.

 

     Metal grinding against metal sent chills down her spine. Two steps toward the bend she swallowed hard. Then she turned and there he stood: a blatantly masculine, sallow man obscured with a white, blood-soaked robe reminiscent of a butcher's smock. His large red, triangular head tilted her way.

 

     My blessed executioner, the time draws nigh.

 

     "Listen," Heather heard herself speak, but it wasn't her voice. Her lips moved, her throat pulsed and still the words slipping from her tongue were uttered in a bass tone dripping malice.

 

     The Red Thing straightened at once and grunted painfully.

 

     "Gather the Books," she said. "We must resurrect the army."

 

     2

 

 

     She wandered from them, following the whisper of memory into another room, another time.

 

     Salty brown pools cradled by flaky walls transfixed Dagger. Adjacent to its borders, an abundant slab of meat married herbs and creamy cheese sauce. Leisurely she panned left where a basket lined with colored tissue sat and imagined the dinner rolls inside, but even their warm deliciousness failed to stir her interest. Through unshed tears she surveyed the great hall. Maroon marble trimmed gold accented an arched ceiling as instrumental melody resonated off timber rafters. She pushed back from the table.

 

     She darted between two men. Posed by the entrance their rigid stances and pressed uniforms made them somehow less human. So as she swept by it was no surprise they remained rooted in place like trees. A dim corridor then welcomed her. Framed photographs that forever captured her youth and other familiar faces decorated the rosy stretch. She passed them all without a glance.

 

     A capacious staircase was a well-favored exhilaration that greeted her with fragrant velvet carpet under her feet and a smooth railing her fingers curled sweetly around. It ascended to a second level of rich décor, but most importantly her bedroom. It was her only refuse from upturned faces and hearty laughter at others expense. Now as she climbed upward it was behind her.

 

     With its glossy timber the first door froze her in her tracks. Her hand hovered over the crystal knob. Basked in seventy-five watts of illumination its sleek diamond shape glinted beneath her gaze. The room beyond was shadow consumed. It was not her beloved sanctuary, but a place where she discovered serenity. As her eyes adjusted she closed the door and ventured inside.

 

    An opened window's view drew her close. Taking a rain-scented deep breath, she wrapped her arms about her. Dark firmament churned with jagged electrical bolts, opened seconds in obscurity and erupted blinding webs, before thunder announced its fury.

 

    Her gaze shifted to the granite ledge overlooking the inlet. Usually she could see for miles across the channel, but tonight with a hidden moon gloom enveloped nature. Unceasing poundings of the surf told of the beach below. Wind tugged at her silk hem and freed strands of auburn hair from their gem studded clips.

 

    One step after another in the direction of a curtain revealed a desk tucked in a corner. With hesitation she turned away from dusty low hanging fabric to acknowledge it. Readily she searched its underside for a drawer that slid with resistance as she pulled. Inside a gold twinkled arrested her attention and she claimed the key there.

 

     Again her gaze wandered. Now the curtain shimmered in unison with the sleek metal tingling her palm.  Soon color and shape shifted and she discovered herself somewhere deep in the heart of nature.

 

    3

 

     Along a highway devoured by midnight, dirt kicked up from her flat heel boots. Jagged rock mountains towered in the horizon. Scattered cactus clusters gave dry earth an unsatisfied touch with weaves of petrified bristles in sickly gray bushels and weeds to finish a dismal view.

 

      Softness melted around her. Shadows flanked walls as they ascended and enclosed her in familiarity. At her feet golden fibers illuminated the book as its pages wildly flipped until a satin cord arrested parchment. Its medal connector slid toward a corner.

 

      "It's an amulet," she whispered.

 

      O neyy upic Wekon, a voice said.

 

      Dagger repeated, "O neyy upic Wekon."

 

      On her tongue the words tingled. She swallowed hard.

 

     O burric dwaa zmir dwl dwmica.

 

    "O burric dwaa zmir dwl dwmica."

 

     O ockiva dwaa.

 

     "O ockiva dwaa," Dagger repeated.

 

     Like a snake the cord slithered around her wrist, climbed up and up until securing itself around her neck. Darkness flapped wings over her and before she knew it something stepped forth into physical being.

 

     O er dwa piham dwed yokan eyhelb.

 

     In the spinning void she became vaguely aware of something...

 

     And her eyes opened to see Henry, Dyne and Lisa staring down at her. She bolted upright, eager to disclose what she learned and started, "Krosnos used the amulet. Heather discovered it in her father's library where he kept in one of the books he took from Silent Hill. That's how he's controlling her!"

 

     Dyne's eyes lit up. "I bet she doesn't even realize she's wearing it."

 

4

 

     Henry followed the child Dagger, lips trembling and eyes begging for answers, as she closed the door behind them and motioned for him to sit.  Reluctantly he took a seat and had only started to wonder if he might ever see her elegant adult beauty when her voice captivated him.

 

     "I do not conform to one shape, Henry."

 

     Henry looked up. The voice, soft but full of melancholy and grief seized him. He glanced next to him. The being who called herself The Doll sat there. Her face was tilted skyward, those brilliant sapphire jewels sparkling though fog choked any light beaming from the gray heavens above.

 

     "So what do we do now," he asked.

 

     "We prepare," she replied.

 

     Henry swallowed hard. Against his ribs his heart hammered. His mind became a tangle of questions but his mouth disobeyed as he tried to form words. His lips pressed into a fine line then parted as his jaw stiffened. Burning inside his stomach was bitter spit.

 

     "I will bestow upon you wisdom unnecessary for a mortal man," she whispered and her sapphire pools sparkled. "Only with wisdom can one defeat his enemies. Skill and cunning strategy will save you from becoming another lost soul. These are gifts I give to you with a kiss."

 

     She leaned and pressed her lips gently to his. Sparks flew behind his lids and a rush of heat overwhelmed him. Her sweetness was an elixir he knew then was his addiction. It swirled about him in potent waves.  Her voice drifted through the clouds and plucked him from them as she said, "And you will be nothing without a mighty shield to reflect darkness and its tricks. I give this gift with a whisper of my breath."