Waylon Park 3A Chapter by Sarah J DhueMy Outlast (and Outlast: Whistleblower) fan-fiction. I wrote it before playing Outlast 2. I want to share it with other Outlast fans.As I reach the ‘Mount Massive Asylum’
sign, I can see that the front gate has been knocked off its hinges. I carefully maneuver my SUV over the gate so
as not to puncture my tires. I drive on
past the guard shack and see the second gate also knocked down and a red Jeep
parked practically on the front steps. A
red Jeep? I suddenly have the strangest feeling
that I am experiencing déjà vu… That’s
right. When I escaped Mount Massive, I
left in a red Jeep that someone had left parked out by the front gate. There was a press pass hanging from the
rearview mirror, a press pass belonging to… goddammit, why can’t I remember…
Miles! Miles Upshur! Is he the man who was in my house, the man who
killed- no, that was the Walrider. But
why is that name so familiar? “Someone’s
been telling stories outside of class.”
Jeremy Blaire’s voice in my head causes me to jump. “Shut up!” I yell aloud, still startled. But wait… I got caught sending emails to
journalists to create an exposé on what was going on at Mount Massive… press
pass… Miles Upshur… I put a hand to my mouth. My God, I led him here. The night that the Variants took over, he was
here… no wonder he would want to hurt me, with or without the Walrider’s
influence. After what he must have went
through, he is probably bat s**t crazy.
Not that I am much better off, I mean, I hear the voices of the ghosts
of my past in my head all the time. I take a deep breath and climb out of
my car. I close the door behind me and
hit the lock button on my fob, pocketing my key. I begin up the stairs to see that the front
door is hanging open, slightly splintered.
Yeah, he’s here alright. I look
into the foyer and realize just how deterred by the place I am, how badly I do
not want to set foot inside. “It
seems like a dream now, being here with you.
Darling,” Eddie’s voice mocks me. “Shut up, I’m not here for you,” I
reply, taking my first step inside the asylum.
My footsteps echo off the empty walls.
I wonder where he could be in the vast complex, seeing as I have no idea
of his reasoning for returning here. “Who’s this?” A voice comes from my left, real this time;
not in my head. I whirl to face the
speaker to see a completely naked man lumbering toward me. He is bald, with a thick neck and arms. I swear I’ve seen him before. “He looks nervous,” a very similar
voice says from behind me. I look over
my shoulder to see a man nearly identical to the first, only this one black
hair. F**k. I do remember these two, from the basketball
court; at least this time they don’t have machetes. “I would like to kill him,” the bald
one states. “It was the Walrider’s instruction.” I feel a chill run down my spine. “Yes.
Yes.” “When we kill him, we kill him
slow.” The one behind me grips my
shoulder, spinning me to face him and wraps his hands around my throat,
squeezing and lifting me up into the air. “Such patience.” Pain shoots through me as I try to scream, but
all that comes out is a gagging sound.
My neck aches, the bruises on my neck no longer visible but not
completely healed. “I want his liver and
his tongue.” “They are yours,” the one strangling
me replies. “Mine.” I grip the man’s thick wrists, kicking
my feet frantically. I start to see red,
my eyelids are growing heavy. “F*****g die already!” I hear Jeremy yell
inside my head. Behind my assailants, up on the second
floor, I notice a silhouette walking behind the tempered glass. I hear the buzzing of a saw; I cannot tell if
it is real or inside my head. The
silhouette reaches a broken area of the glass and I can see that the lower half
of his face is covered in a beard. The
buzzing picks up in frequency and intensity as he raises a buzz saw above his
head. Oh Christ, not you too. “You are mine!!” he screams, jumping
down from the second floor and landing like a cat. He charges the twin who has me in a
stranglehold. The lug turns to face him
as Frank Manera lifts his saw, burying it in his shoulder and neck. The twin lets out a groan, releasing me. As I fall to the ground, I see him
kick the twin’s leg out from under him, continuing to saw at his
collarbone. I grasp my neck, gulping in
fresh air in large breaths. I have to
get up, I have to get the f**k out of here.
Thankfully the other twin is staring on in disbelief at his brother
trying to fight off the cannibalistic Frank. I press my palms flat against the
floor and get up, running for the stairs.
I go down one flight, then lay flat against the stairs in the darkness,
hoping none of them saw where I went. I
hear the saw cease its whirring and I think I hear someone choking; not a dry
cough, a wet and sickly sound. I peer over the edge of the steps and
see Frank looking around the foyer. He
stomps his foot, letting out an angry cry.
“No! You were mine!” he
shouts. He lowers his tone, crouching
and looking around once more, “You will be still.” He looks down at the twin he attacked, dark
crimson blood flowing from the deep wound where his neck meets his
shoulder. “You stay there, meat. All mine.”
The other twin is still staring blankly down at his brother. Frank revs the saw a few times and begins
hunting around for me. God this guy is
persistent. And I don’t even think the Walrider
put him up to it. He starts down the
hallway to the recreation hall, revving his saw from time to time. “I know you’re close!” he yells, but it is
distant. I think I have successfully
evaded him, for now at least. I turn my
attention back to the twins. The bald one has fallen to his knees
beside the black-haired one. He puts his
hands on his chest, shaking him. He does
not move, his eyes staring blankly off in the direction Frank went. The bald one furrows his brow, shaking him
harder. “Get up,” he says, shaking him harder,
“Get up… GET UP!!” he screams, his
voice showing some inflection. He
removes his left hand from his brother’s chest and submerges it in the puddle
of blood. He brings the blood-soaked
hand to his face, staring at it, a frown forming on his face. “Oh no,” he says, his monotonous voice tinged
with sorrow. His expression softens as he
slowly stands, still staring at his hand.
“Oh no oh no oh no,” he keeps repeating as he lumbers like a drunkard
over to one of the broken office doors, almost tripping and falling. He looks down at the floor and bends over. When he stands upright, I can see he has a
large sliver of glass clutched in his hands, fresh blood dripping onto the
floor from him gripping it so tightly.
He walks back over to his brother, standing over him, still repeating
his mantra, “Oh no oh no oh no oh no.”
He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, clasping the glass between his
hands. It looks almost as it his is
praying. His eyes suddenly come open and
he buries the glass into his stomach, letting out a grunt as it enters his
body. I cover my mouth to avoid letting
out a yelp. He twists it around, blood raining
down on his brother’s already bloodied corpse.
He finally brings it across to the side, spilling his guts onto the
floor. He gurgles as dark red blood
begins issuing from his mouth. His grip
on the glass loosens and his knees buckle as he begins to fall. He lands on his brother with a wet
smack. They both lay still, dead " two
more victims of Murkoff. I pity
them. I really do. I try to stand, but the buzzing in my
head starts up and my vision is blurred by the vision of a Rorschach. He’s close.
I grip the staircase banister; I can tell that the ‘signal’ seems to be
coming from below me. I squint to see
down into the darkness. I can barely
make out a doorway and yellow sign with a large black lightning bolt displayed
upon it. A power room. I doubt he would be down there. I feel a pit form in my stomach as I realize
where he must be. The lab, the lab
beneath the asylum. That would make some
form of sense, seeing as that is the location of the Engine. I try to ignore the throbbing inside
my skull and make my way to the elevator doors.
I hit the button and hear the pulleys whir to life as the elevator is
brought up from the sub level. He must
be down there. I climb in - the door
closing behind me " and press the button, the elevator screeching dangerously
as I descend into the birthplace of the Walrider. © 2018 Sarah J DhueAuthor's Note
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Added on February 18, 2018 Last Updated on February 18, 2018 Tags: SarahJDhue, Sarah J Dhue, Dhue, story, fiction, fan, fan fiction, Outlast, Outlast Whistleblower, Whistleblower, Red Barrels, Miles Upshur, Waylon Park, Walrider, twins, Frank Manera, Murkoff AuthorSarah J DhueIn the author's lair, ILAboutI am Sarah J Dhue. I am an author, as well as a photographer & graphic designer, currently going to school for web design. I've been writing since I was in elementary school. I live in Illinois. My f.. more..Writing
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