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antaxzantax · 4 months ago

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Umbrella Pharmaceuticals - Chapter 59

Summary:

Alexia Ashford and William Birkin in Silent Hill. The chapter takes place before Silent Hill 1. Canon: Silent Hill 1, Silent Hill 2 (Original), Silent Hill 3 and Silent Hill 4: The Room.

William awoke to a knock on his bedroom door.

“Mr Birkin, may I come in?”

“Yes, go ahead.”

A nun dressed in nursing attire entered the room. She was carrying a plastic box with various sanitary utensils. The nun placed the box on the bed and moved to the wall to pull back the curtains. The faint glow of dawn streamed through the narrow window to illuminate a room characterized by its virtual absence of ornamentation, save for a crucifix hanging above the headboard of her bed and the bed itself, plus a worn but sturdy wardrobe and a simple desk and chair. There was no radiator, so William must have survived the frigid subarctic night covered with an abundance of thick cotton blankets. Fortunately, he had a brand-new mattress and pillow, so he was able to enjoy his genuine comfort without back pain.

The nun, very young and jovial, sat next to William with the plastic box on her lap, from which she took out an ointment to treat skin irritation. William rolled up his sleeves. The marks of the leather restraints had been imprinted on his epidermis like his jailer's signature; like a bitter reminder of who he belonged to.

“Did you sleep well?”

The nun spoke in English with a strong French accent.

“Yes, better than yesterday. Thank you.”

The young woman spread the ointment gently and expertly. William felt his nervous system suddenly relax as his brain's anxiety at being in a safe space subsided. The nun smiled candidly at him, as if from a world devoid of evil; from a reality where the Ashfords did not exist.

He finished spreading the ointment and closed the box.

“Breakfast is ready for you. Are you sure you don't want to participate in our first prayer?”

“No, thank you. I'd rather not.”

The nun said goodbye to William and left the dormitory.

Alexia had brought him to a Benedictine abbey in northern Quebec. He didn't believe it when they landed in Montreal, for Alexia's very existence antagonized that of the religion, but the Ashfords were Catholics and Alexia received the sacrament of confirmation from the Pope at the Vatican. She had chosen the abbey because she had been there for three months when she was 15. She assured him that the abbess would keep their escape and their whereabouts secret, even though she was a member of Jacob's Circle, and that she would provide them with the means to continue their journey to America.

William made it a non-negotiable point to return to his family. Alexia agreed. However, the family reunion would be a long time coming, for Alexander had already mobilized the soldiers of Jacob's Circle. Nor would their stay at the abbey last any longer. After William's remarkable recovery, they would leave that evening for Maine, where they would temporarily hide out. William had never been to Maine, so he didn't know where they would land. That was less of a concern than living with Alexia.

He had experienced a fraction of the Ashford way of life and what he had seen had distressed him. He knew about butlers and servants from television, but this was qualitatively different. A legion of servants devoted body and soul to satisfying the desires of three individuals who wouldn't even look them in the eye. The butler, Scott Harman, and his assistant, Michael, along with the head cook and the head of security, Martin, were the only employees who received friendly and dignified treatment. The other workers swarmed around the mansion undifferentiated and anonymous under the inescapable scrutiny of the security staff. He watched Alexander's tea being served without him bothering to say thank you. He heard Alfred complain in a rather vexatious manner about an employee who forgot to press a suit, and saw Alexia order Michael to pick up a piece of paper she had dropped on the floor. But what surprised him most was the absolute complacency and happiness with which all the staff acted towards the Ashfords, as if they were semi-divine beings and not human beings who happened to be born with too much money.

Maybe it was culture shock, but his American upbringing did not justify tolerating such smugness. Or maybe he had lived in a bubble of complacency and selective blindness, and now he was taking the shock without anesthetic. For one reason or another, William swore to himself that he would not allow Alexia to cross that red line. If she was so keen, she'd better know and respect his boundaries.

He got out of bed with the intention of showering and dressing. Before leaving, he would take a few bars of the chocolate the nuns made, which tasted like the sweets his parents bought him when he was a child. What had become of his parents? He didn't know. At this point, perhaps they regretted having fathered an only child who had not visited them since his admission to the Training Centre. What a pity.

The abbess accompanied Alexia for a stroll in the garden after completing her chores for the first half of the afternoon. In the intervening eight years, the abbess, a member of the Inner Circle, had grown old and half-blind, but she retained her good judgment and excellent diction in Scottish Gaelic. Alexia came to her on the recommendation of Mary-Anne Campbell, who was accustomed to holding her retreats in such a space. The abbess welcomed Alexia as a daughter and, knowing of her distress, took care to provide her with emotional support and to protect her from her family. This second time Alexia had come to her company, but for the same reason: to flee from her family.

Alexia helped the abbess sit on a stone bench. A thick blanket of snow had settled on the ancient monastery grounds, freezing the water and burying the trees.

“I have committed more sins since I left the abbey,” said Alexia in Scottish Gaelic. “God has not willed that I should elucidate a new path.”

“Trust God to inspire you, but you must discover the new path for yourself,” said the abbess in the same language.

“I have not found the way. I rejoined Umbrella with this belief, but my doubts have grown. I feel the embrace of my ancestors more and more strongly, but I do not aspire to a life like my father's and my brother's. I have never settled, despite my commitment to them. I have never been contenting, despite my commitment to them. I aspire to my own answer, not a predetermined one. That is why I made a decision that has led me back to you.”

“Were those sins you committed very serious, my child?”

“I have killed a man with my own hands, and I have ordered the death of dozens of men and women in a laboratory. God has forsaken me, Mother.”

“God's grace is with you because He knows that you are acting out of the legacy of your lineage. Therefore, you must continue to trust in Him, so that one day you will be able to overcome the mistakes made by your ancestors. Your family must remain united, my daughter, for this is how God has ordained it, and this is the only way you will be able to bring light back to where darkness reigns. And tell me, this man who accompanies you, William Birkin, have you chosen him because he will help you in your task?”

“I chose him because I interpreted him as an opportunity for me. I invited him to Ashford Hall. My father left him alone for a week in our house to see if he was worthy of our trust and his forgiveness. He went mad and escaped, but my father captured him and tortured him to break his will and make him surrender to us. Finally, he obtained my father's forgiveness, but I did not wish William to become his minion. He felt a rage equal to mine at the destruction of his greatest creation. I may have erred, Mother, but I am not willing to continue this barren and insignificant life. I intend to prevail.”

“You have not changed in these eight years. You were born consecrated to God, but within you burns the fire of Satan. I looked after you in this abbey for your salvation, but I see that you reject my recommendations.”

“I was born with this curse that forces me to be aware of what I should not be. God has given me an understanding that does not annul me by unhappiness but impels me to rebellion. I do not wish to destroy my family, only to exist for and by myself.”

“And don't you long for a life of peace and integrity? Don't you want to enjoy your privileges with your family? Don't you want to bring about change out of true love?”

“The only true love I have ever known was my brother hugging me to protect me from the cold as we walked to nowhere starving. Everything else has consisted of circumstantial love and hatred. I was not born to be loved.”

“Do you intend to give yourself up to hatred, my child? Know that Satan is plotting against you!”

“It's not hate or love, it's nothingness.”

“The nothingness?”

“Nothingness is Paradise, Mother.”

“Your mind is full of confusion, but perhaps one day you will attain clairvoyance, my child. I have faith that you will ingratiate yourself with divinity and repudiate these strange thoughts. In the meantime, I will pray for the salvation of your soul until the end of my earthly existence.”

“Thank you, Mother.”

“God bless you, my child.”

Alexia gave William a US passport and driver's license with his new identity: Damien Thorn. She adopted the name Carrie White. A mechanic friend of the nuns chartered a Chevrolet Cheyenne for the second phase of their journey. In the bed of the truck, under a tarpaulin cover, Alexia and William stowed petrol, tools and suitcases of clothes and other belongings. Under the row of seats, Alexia hid the duffel bag containing $1 million in cash she had stolen from her father's safe.

“I guess I don't have to shave your hair off,” William said as he scrutinized the photo of a random person who vaguely resembled him, but who, in Alexia's and the forger's opinion, would be good enough to get him across the border. “Although we can consider entering illegal. We're white and we have a million dollars, I don't think they'll shoot us.”

Alexia threw a road map into his hands. The passport fell to the ground along with the map.

“Warning is not your thing, genius,” William complained.

“I drive to the first stop. You drive to the next stop.” Alexia climbed into the driver's seat.

William picked up the papers and took his place as co-pilot.

“I remind you that we are not in your father's domain. Here we rule equally or, failing that, I rule because I am the eldest.” William asserted himself.

Alexia started the engine and switched on the lights. As she pulled her hair into a ponytail, William unfolded a map of the road map on the dashboard and began to look at possible destinations.

“Shall we go to Twin Peaks? Or would you prefer to see my hometown Baltimore? Or maybe rent a flat in Manhattan overlooking Central Park? Or why not Beverly Hills? Sunbathing would do me good. Lack of Vitamin D causes me to feel sluggish and mood swings. When I was a kid, my parents used to stuff me with supplements. I think they might have poisoned me, but hey, here I am, alive and kicking. Haven't you taken supplements? I doubt it. At your house even the cat eats à la carte.”

“There is a place. A small, little-known town by a lake. A nun friend of the abbess once visited it for charity. The town is outside the Jacobite area of influence.”

“What is the name?”

“Silent Hill.”

The road.

A straight line to infinity.

The horizon.

The border between heaven, ether and earth.

The van.

A spacecraft meandering among supernovae.

They took detours to avoid motorways and other main roads. The five hours the route would have taken turned into eight.

At midnight, they stopped at a dingy tavern on the right-hand shoulder of a side road that disappeared into the mountains. A joint idly frequented by truckers, prostitutes, drug dealers and the like. For her personal safety, Alexia stayed in the car.

William bought two takeaway menus and, when they were finished, it was his turn to drive to the Canada-US border. Neither of them dared turn on the radio, so a tense silence settled between the two travelers. William felt like a fugitive on death row. Alexia did not express any distress at his current circumstances.

At the border, William handed the passport to the officer, trembling with fear. Alexia told the officer that they were friends and on holiday. The officer swallowed the charade and raised the barrier. William's trembling did not stop until a couple of hours later, more than 62 miles away from the border and facing a landscape of rugged mountain foothills.

Alexia checked the map on the road map.

“Silent Hill is about an hour from our location, bordering Ashfield and passing Brahms.”

William nodded.

“And what do we do when we get there? Do we stay in a hotel? Hotel? Apartment block? Detached house with porch and garden? In a doghouse?”

“Brahms Road leads to the old part of the town: Old Silent Hill.”

“So what, we try that direction? The abbess told you your father's influence didn't reach this far? That's right, that damn town's up the ass. Raccoon City's the farthest I've ever been from civilization.”

“William.”

“What?”

“Go.”

William accelerated. After half an hour, they joined a side road that ran along the edge of a gorge. Dawn was breaking over the tops of the pines.

They made an emergency stop on the hard shoulder to change the wheel chains. Alexia helped William and between the two of them they finished fixing the problem in less than a quarter of an hour. Back in the car and with the heater on full blast, William stepped on the accelerator.

A couple of miles later, they spotted a battered greenish sign: Welcome to Silent Hill.

Bachman Road.

William parked in the car park of a supermarket located next to the exit of the tunnel leading to the town. Alexia held out the road map for the Toluca Lake region.

“We are here. Alexia pointed to a pink square at the northern end of the town.”

William examined the map legend to find out where there was accommodation. To the south was a holiday area and to the south-west was the Lakeview Hotel, next to an amusement park.

“Heh, fancy a trip to the amusement park?” William joked.

“We can't stay in a hotel or a motel.” Alexia looked at a square labelled Jack's Inn at the southern end of the map. “We'd register our names and there are security cameras. We'd make it very easy for the Circle.”

“What do you suggest?” William spread the blueprint on top of the steering wheel.

“A dwelling.”

“Sure, and we hire a lawyer to arrange the sale and purchase of the property. Better idea than registering your name with a hotel, of course.”

“There are two flat blocks here.” Alexia pointed to them: Blue Creek Apartments and Wood Side Apartments. “Which one do you prefer?”

William evaluated the proposal based on the simplicity of the plan.

“So what's your idea? Do we knock on the door of a random flat and take out the occupants, keep the corpses in the fridge and impersonate them? If the corpses were married, we can pretend to be the perfect Mormon married couple, no one will care that you look like my niece.”

“Bribing the concierge for an empty flat.”

“Okay. I understand.” William pulled the plane away from the steering wheel. “That's your nature. I'm just a poor upper-middle-class bastard with a 20% tax burden, in your father's literal words.”

“Continue along Bachman. Then turn right onto Sandford Street and continue straight ahead to Nathan Avenue. Turn left at the junction of Sandford and Nathan and continue to Katz Street. This is where the building is located.”

“Great, thanks for acting as my GPS.”

William put the car in reverse and they drove out of the car park. As they passed Bachman's, William remarked that there was not a soul on the street. Alexia shrugged and told him she preferred that kind of quiet, decadent atmosphere. William remarked aloud how much Alexia reminded him of the Wednesday Addams character.

“You would have been best friends.”

Alexia shrugged her shoulders.

William parked a few distance from what he thought was the gate of the gate surrounding the building.

“Well.” William unbuckled his seatbelt and dismounted from the vehicle.

As William stretched out on the pavement, Alexia took the opportunity to put the road map in the glove compartment and pull $5,000 in cash out of the duffel bag. She got out of the van with her hands in her jacket pockets.

“You were in Antarctica, weren't you?”

Alexia entered the compound, ignoring the outburst. William locked the van and went after her.

The hallway was dark and musty. William coughed at the lofty accumulation of dust on the floor and on the sparse furnishings. Alexia approached the back to locate the caretaker's booth or something similar, but the door opened into another corridor. She went to close it, but William stopped her.

“The concierge lives in a flat like the rest of the tenants. Usually on the ground floor.”

William stepped into the shadowy corridor. 101. 102. 103. 104. 105.

“Give me a number.”

“103.”

William went to flat 103. In front of the door, he tied up his hair and clothes and pressed the doorbell. The sound of a bell rang in the background. After a few seconds, no one answered. William looked at Alexia. She pressed him with her eyes to try again. William pressed the doorbell a second time.

“I'm coming!”

A thunderous voice as hoarse as a cave troll's came through the septum and pierced William's eardrums. Alexia pretended not to be startled. The bolt was unlocked and a fat, hairy man greeted them with a grumpy face and a cigarette to his lips.

“Who are you?”

“Eh... We are tourists. We wanted to know who the building manager is in case there is an empty flat to stay in for a while.”

A middle-aged woman emerged from the shadows to join the man in welcoming him.

“Who are they?” said the woman.

“Fucking tourists. If you want accommodation, go to the fucking hotel!”

The man slammed the door shut, ruffling William's hair.

“A nice guy... Give me another number.”

Alexia nodded in the direction of 101. William pressed the doorbell.

“Yes?” A cascading feminine voice was heard. “Who is it?”

“We are tourists. We wanted to know who the building manager is in case there is a free flat to stay in.”

The sash was opened with the bolt chain on. An old woman peered through the crack.

“Oh, but you're a young couple. Why are you here?”

“We are on holiday and we were thinking of staying in this town for a while because... because we like the lake and the mountains.”

“Are there no rooms available in the hotel?”

“Uhm... No... It's because... Well, we're more into flats. Hotels are too conventional for us. Are there any vacancies in this block?”

The old woman assessed William and Alexia as if she were subjecting them to a thorough examination. Then she turned her attention to Alexia.

“You are a very pretty girl. Are you married?”

Alexia looked sideways at William with visible discomfort.

“No, no. She is my niece. I am her uncle. We go out every summer.”

“Aha, you have a beautiful niece. What's your name?”

“W... Damien. Damien.”

“What about your niece?”

“Carrie.”

“Wouldn't you like to have a coffee?”

“What? No, no, we don't want to disturb.”

“We're in a hurry,” said Alexia.

“What's with the accent? Are you a foreigner?” said the old woman.

“He... Her family is Irish. Ma'am, we don't want to bother you any longer, but could you tell us...”

“There is a vacant flat on the third floor. The 302.”

William nodded. Alexia leaned against the wall opposite the old woman's field of vision.

“And it's for rent? Who is the owner?”

“The neighbors,” said the old woman. “Do you want to rent it?”

“Yes, we would like to. Is there a deposit to be paid?”

“It's $50 a month, but it's not furnished. Only the kitchen and bathroom are left. The previous tenant disappeared.”

William took his wallet out of his coat pretending he hadn't heard that the previous tenant had disappeared.

“Here you are. 50.”

He passed the note through the hole.

“All right. Just a moment. I'll get the keys.”

The old woman closed the door. William bit his lip. Alexia had leaned her head against the wall as if she was about to die from the boredom of dealing with the old woman.

The old woman reappeared in the doorway.

“Here. It is a copy of the original key. Enjoy your stay.”

William took the key.

“Thank you very much, madam. I didn't ask you what your name was.”

“Mrs Powell. Have a nice day.”

Flat 302 smelled like shit. Alexia retreated into the corridor while hyperventilating. William, in a fit of self-preservation, ran to the balcony door and opened it wide to ventilate the room. He inhaled and exhaled deeply. Alexia crossed the doorway, holding her nose with a handkerchief.

The flat smelled like shit because rats had shat on the floor and a legion of cockroaches had expired in the kitchen sink. Alexia, tearing up at the stench, stepped out onto the balcony to breathe in the less stinking, polluted air of the street.

“50 dollars... The old woman has swindled us.”

“I can't live here,” Alexia confessed.

William laughed.

“Well, my dear, it's not so bad. It's only 50 bucks and overlooking the road. Always look on the bright side of life. Besides, think of it as an adventure in the Amazon rainforest. When you get back home, your father and brother are going to flip out.”

Alexia leaned against the railing as she dramatically wiped away tears. William glanced inside. Indeed, there were no furnishings other than the kitchen and maybe the bathroom. However, the walls and floor were actually in good condition. A thorough cleaning and they would be ready.

“Alexia.”

“What?”

“Have you ever done anything like cleaning a house?”

“No...”

“Well... I'll teach you.”

They surveyed the state of the flat and stole the cleaning materials from an alcove with washing machines next to the entrance to the floor. William was exhausted, but he wouldn't stop scrubbing until he saw the Virgin Mary reflected in the tiles because he deserved a long, deep rest in a place that smelled clean. Alexia put as much effort into cleaning as William, motivated by exhaustion and her strong opposition to living in a space that was even the slightest bit unsanitary.

They finished cleaning at dusk. Alexia was hungry and William's back ached as if he had been whipped. They threw the spent cleaning products into a rubbish bag and took the utensils back to the hole with the washing machine. The next step was to unload the van. William went to dump the rubbish bag while Alexia unloaded the luggage. On his way to the dumpster, he detected the presence of what appeared to be two people chatting. At this distance he couldn't make them out and didn't think much of them.

The luggage was brought up at once and, last of all, the duffel bag with the million dollars. Alexia locked and bolted the door.

“Which room will be your room? The double room?” said William.

“I choose the other bedroom.”

“Really?”

Alexia went to put her suitcase in her chosen bedroom.

“As you wish.” William left his in the double bedroom.

After the thorough cleaning, they had dinner at the Happy Burger fast food restaurant. Alexia ate her hamburger with a knife and fork, and William ate his with his hands. Then they returned to Blue Creek to sleep. They drew lots for a place to sleep. Alexia got the bathtub and William got a couple of blankets spread out as a mattress.

Still in tremendous back pain, Alexia and William struggled into the van and drove to the nearest furniture shop. There, they bought the cheapest, most practical and easy-to-assemble furniture. Back in Blue Creek, it took them a full day to make the flat a livable space.

They then took care to buy clothes and supplies they lacked, plenty of food, and even allowed themselves to improve their appearance. Alexia got a haircut, and William finally got his hair done and shaved off his beard. They sold the van for a pre-owned Chevrolet five-door sedan and a Ford of the same type. Finally, Alexia went to an electronics shop where she bought a desktop computer and a router. William picked up a couple of handguns, two double-barrel shotguns and two hunting rifles with numerous boxes of ammunition at the mall.

Alexia managed to connect the computer to the internet by hacking into the flat's telephone system so that she could send emails to Alfred via an encrypted client she developed two years ago for the twins' exclusive use. Alexia wrote a message to her brother with the simple sentence: “We are alive”.

“Alfred will tell Annette. My father tapped your phones and bugged you at home to keep an eye on you.”

“Wait, what? Your father did what?”

“He sent a Circle soldier disguised as a technician who tapped your phones and bugged you.”

William put his hands to his head. It all fit together now.

“That's why... That's why your father knew these things...”

“I was in no way involved in the invasion of your privacy. That was my father's obsession.”

“But listening is still active?”

“Yes, so you should not contact Annette. This email is the only secure means at our disposal.”

“God…”

William went to the kitchen to drink as close in taste to brandy as they had.

A ghostly force prevented them from crossing the threshold of flat 302 to the outside world as if a wall of invisible chains had sealed the door. They were deprived of sunlight, except that which they received through the frost-fogged glass; of being embraced by the cold air blowing down from the mountains; and of listening to the cacophony of natural and man-made sounds that the city emitted from dawn to the next sunset, so that it was the gloom of day and the darkness of night that regulated the circadian cycle of flat 302.

The seclusion did not come about by choice, but by implicit mutual complicity. It began after the last outing to the outside world, when they both completed their to-do list to make the place their temporary refuge. The two went to bed in their makeshift beds as usual and the next morning neither wanted to leave. By the inertia of his past life, William was the only one who dared to timidly break the vow of closure with a mock escape that ended in the rubbish chute, located in the same hole as the washing machines. A gesture that, however, did him no favors. Alexia, for her part, quickly got used to the monotony and quiet of confinement. However, their confinement was not limited to the spatial, but mainly to the mental.

The silence of contemplation reigned in flat 302; a silence occasionally broken by the shrill noise of a television on, by Alexia's panting as she exercised, things accidentally crashing to the floor, William's footsteps as he paced the living room, the words articulated by two solitary voices. Sometimes these words reached their destination and sometimes they were lost in the void; sometimes they were launched with meaning and at other times emptied of it. In this way, flat 302 became an extension of the secluded, half-hidden spaces in which William and Alexia had often met at the latter's request. These were places where soliloquies were shared and conversations on a wide range of scientific and metaphysical topics, generic and intimate.

But flat 302 was different. In this kind of non-place, the sum of all places, the soliloquies and preservations took on a tautological nuance. Three themes recurred: self, existence and family.

“I was diagnosed with depression, agoraphobia and social anxiety,” said Alexia.

“Social anxiety. I think I got to feel something similar during my first and only year of high school at the age of eleven. They put me in a senior class expecting me to deal with the situation. After all, you're the wunderkind, you're the problem solver,” said William.

“I would have ended up in a similar boarding school to my brother.”

“Is it that bad?”

“My brother was physically and emotionally abused by teachers, carers and pupils. They break you to make you what you are expected to be. My father and brother went to the same boarding school, which my great-great-grandmother Veronica founded. There they learned to be what they were required to be.”

“Your father is a dangerous man. He's not right in the head. He tried to kill me... And then he kidnapped me and tortured me. That's not right. Your father is crazy.”

“He wanted to possess you.”

“I am not his slave.”

“Reality was unchanging and peaceful until you broke the fantasy.”

“He almost broke my neck.”

“A slight subversion is enough to enrage the beast.”

“You are sick in the head.”

The strap marks disappeared from William's wrists, and he threw the ointments in the trash. Alexia would wake around noon and stay in bed until she was hungry, absorbed in a waking state in which her thoughts followed no common thread. William cooked lunch and dinner for both, but Alexia had grown accustomed to eating them reheated from lying in bed during the dead hours. The opposite was true: Alexia had grown tired of doing, while William had grown tired of not doing. Alexia didn't even feel like reading, while William kept busy cleaning, doing laundry, watching TV and taking out the trash. Alexia prioritized ennui, while William longed to regain control of himself.

“I don't understand,” said William.

“What?”

“Why don't you just leave. You are a billionaire, remember. Your family has as much money as the GDP of several countries.”

“It's not about the money.”

“And why is that?”

“It's a question of power. You didn't leave Umbrella when you had the chance.”

“Because I wanted to know why the hell you fucked me up like that.”

“And because you might not have thought you would have had access to the same resources to succeed as you did in Umbrella.”

“Well... It's true that I want to succeed, but that's because I'm ambitious.”

“Because you are a normie.”

“Alexia, don't start with that bullshit. You still haven't answered the question.”

“Do you really believe in starting a family and retiring with several obsolete publications and a few decorations? The American way of life.”

“Is there supposed to be nothing wrong with starting a family? Or aspiring to a quiet life?”

“Working in a clandestine laboratory for two war-loving managers?”

“You haven't answered my question.”

“You answered it for me.”

Supplies were running out at a steady pace. William cooked the same dishes, again and again, and Alexia reheated them in the microwave, again and again. He did, however, make one change. Alexia replaced the bed with the computer to program he didn’t know what. William, for his part, had started writing in a notebook, but it wasn't a diary, it was just the things that came into his head jumbled up. Neither of them had been out in the outside world for about a month, until almost the beginning of spring. Alexia's hair extended down her back, and, for the first time, William sported a full, untouched beard.

“Why did you kill John... Did he deserve it?” said William.

“He annoyed me.”

“Is human life worth so little?”

“Less than any other animal's life is worth.”

“If you hadn't intervened, would Alexander have killed me?”

“Yes.”

“And you wouldn't have felt any remorse?”

“No.”

“You didn't feel any remorse either?”

“No.”

“But murder...”

“William.”

“What?”

“Be aware of what you have done.”

“What have I done?”

"You killed, William. You killed the guys Spencer sent you. Do you know where they came from? Who they were?”

“No...”

“Ordinary citizens, mostly from the lower classes. Anonymous and poor, but with a life and illusions. You killed them, William. You turned them into biological weapons, into monsters. You did it because you were ordered to, to fulfil your role.”

“Uhm...”

“That's what we do, William. My family does it because death is our raison d'être: the foundation of our privilege. You do it because, whether forced or not by circumstance, you wish to do it. Giving death is, in the end, what we do.”

“I didn't want to be like that... I only signed a training contract.”

“James Marcus was your mentor: you knew exactly where you were going and what you were doing. All of us know what we're doing and yet we keep going.”

“The logical conclusion is that I'm a son of a bitch, isn't it? Is that what you mean, that I'm a son-of-a-bitch motherfucker just like you?”

“Interpret it as you wish, but I insist that projecting your shortcomings onto me will not resolve the dissonance.”

“Oh, wow.”

“I have begun to discern.”

“He, where has your gift for clairvoyance led you?”

“I have discerned Paradise.”

“Ha ha ha. Don't fuck with me, Alexia.”

“I was once on the verge of creating a virus. I called it T-Veronica.”

“When?”

“At twelve years old.”

“So what? What did you do with it?”

“It disappeared. My father destroyed it with the Antarctic base. Do you know why?”

“I don't know.”

“The employees of the base rebelled against him. My father mistreated them. He cut their food rations and heating, doubled their working hours and deprived them of sleep. It finally came to a head when my father publicly laughed at an employee who crushed himself while operating a packaging machine. I was in my lab when it happened. The first thing I saw when Alexander came to pick me up was his look of hatred. Absolute, unrelenting hatred. At that moment, I realized that hatred was what had driven me to create the T-Veronica. The same kind of hatred my father felt: the hatred of powerlessness. My father wanted to kill and destroy, and so he did. He took hate as volition. If hatred is will, Paradise must be attained through it.”

“Is that a biblical passage?”

“Paradise... There was an anthill in the laboratory... If the human species were at least this orderly, this efficient, I wouldn't feel this hatred... The T-Veronica could have been a way...”

“Luckily it seems it never was. Is that why you're in Umbrella? To resurrect your virus?”

“No, that is unrepeatable.”

“So?”

“I am a scientist. Besides, if I could remake the T-Veronica right now, I would do it for a different purpose.”

“I'm afraid to ask, but which one?”

“Exterminate humanity.”

William started going out on the balcony as temperatures rose. The first time the sun came out it scorched his skin and burned his retinas. Alexia had decorated her bedroom with drawings of vortexes and similar patterns. She said the sight of them comforted her. She told William that she had initiated the development of a computer virus and had adopted the name T-Veronica as her hacker pseudonym.

“Is that why you brought me here, Alexia?” William said to himself in front of the mirror. “To turn me into a monster and take revenge on the world? He, he, he, he, he... I want my revenge too. I want revenge on your father, on Spencer, on my parents, on the kids in the neighborhood, on the teachers... I want revenge.” William gesticulated exaggeratedly to emphasize his sneer. “I want revenge on you, Alexia. I want to destroy you the way you destroyed me. I want you to sink as I sank,” he muttered. “I want to destroy the world.” He sniffled. “I'm pathetic.”

He heard her singing through the partition. A lullaby-like song that told the tragic story of an evil queen and a naive king. The king died, but there was no mention of what the queen did after his death. Perhaps revenge?

“Throw myself out of the castle window. Slash my wrists with the broken glass of a bookshelf. Hang myself in my bedroom. Drown myself in the bathtub,” said Alexia. “But my most creative intrusive thought was when I considered the possibility of, if I completed it, trying T-Veronica on myself.”

“What about your brother? Would you have left him alone with your father?”

“I don't know.”

“Cruel, considering that he is the only person in this world who loves you as you are. Just as Annette is the only woman who dares to be with me.”

“I wanted to convince myself that I didn't need it, but...”

“But what, you realized that in your black heart there was room for love, that you even have emotions and everything? Nobody is an island, no matter how much you pretend otherwise. I don't know you very well, but my impression is that you need your brother because otherwise you would be completely alone, and not alone without friends, but absolutely alone. With no one to confide in and to feel loved. That's what I miss about Annette. You admit it yourself: if it wasn't for Alfred, you would have killed yourself.”

Alexia went out onto the balcony for the first time in over a month. She sat down next to William, who had wrapped a blanket around himself. The influx of passers-by had increased slightly since the winter. The town now seemed inhabited.

“About what we talked about in the sewers that time,” said William. “I don't know what I want to do.”

“We can find out.”

“Sherry doesn't deserve for me to be her father... I'm out of my mind... But I love her. What should I do?”

“Find out.” She sighed. “I think it's time to return to the outside world.”

“Yes...”

The chains sealing the door of flat 302 came undone and fell to the floor.

The supreme Power hurled him headlong, engulfed in flames, from the ethereal vault, loathsome and burning, he fell into the bottomless abyss of perdition, to remain there, laden with diamond chains, in the punishing fire; He, who had dared to defy the weapons of the Almighty, lay and wallowed in the fiery abyss, together with his infernal band, nine times the space of time that day and night measure among mortals, yet retaining his immortality. His sentence, however, had in store for him a greater misfortune, for the double thought of lost happiness and perpetual sorrow tormented him without respite. He wandered about with his dismal eyes, in which were painted dismay and immense grief, together with his deep-rooted pride and unshaken hatred.

Alexia finished reading as the Protestant pastor finished the service. The parishioners rose from their seats and marched out of the church. Alexia approached an icon on the side of the nave, a Virgin Mary with the baby Jesus. Alfred turned to spirituality for self-acceptance. Alexia, on the other hand, felt nothing in the presence of those caricatures immortalized in wood. When she needed him most, God ignored her prayers because he was always dead. However, she believed in Paradise. She wanted to be the maker of her own Paradise.

She noticed from the accumulation of dust that the virgin's garment had not been washed for months. She touched it. The touch was strange. She pulled back the fold of the robe. The paint had faded from much of the figure. It looked like an intentional lack of maintenance considering the good condition of the building and furnishings.

“Are you a newcomer?”

An elderly woman in a dark brown dress with a thin white veil spoke behind her. She crowned the ensemble with a red and black striped tie.

“Yes, I am.”

“I saw you reading during mass. What were you reading about?” As she spoke, the old woman fixed her wide eyes on Alexia and hovered over her as if to catch her.

“John Milton's Paradise Lost.”

The old woman gave him a nod of approval.

“Do you believe in Paradise?”

Alexia began to distance herself from the old woman.

“I believe in the word of the Bible,” she answered evasively.

“The road to Paradise is paved with pain and suffering.”

Alexia suppressed her revulsion for the old woman.

“I see it in you,” the old woman continued. “The fire that burns inside you. The hatred that consumes you.”

“You don't know anything about me.”

Alexia turned and left the church.

“I know all about you,” said the old woman.

In the evening, Nelly's bar was attended by two scattered groups of co-religionists, apart from the two waitresses and the cook. William was drinking a beer alone in a corner of the bar.

Nobody paid any attention to him.

The world sucked.

Stinking, noisy, stultifying and stupid like that bar.

A teenager approached the bar.

“Another one!” His voice trembled from the high level of alcohol in his blood.

William smiled at his deplorable state. The teenager spotted him and approached him.

“What are you laughing at?” The teenager leaned on the bar to support the weight of his inebriated body. “Do you want me to break your mouth?”

“I didn't laugh at you.”

“You laughed at me.”

“No, I haven't.”

“Enough!” said one of the waitresses. “Don't scare the customers away from me!”

The teenager walked away from the bar grumbling.

“You fool,” William muttered between his teeth.

He asked for the second round.

A woman with dark circles under her eyes and a drug habit asked him for five dollars and passed him a leaflet. William gave her a five-dollar note and thanked her for the second. The brochure advertised the Silent Hill UFO Association. Sightings had increased in the region and especially in the lighthouse area. It seemed that one of the members of the association had discovered a talisman with which aliens could be summoned, but it had not yet been tested. Below was the address for receiving letters and for applying for membership for ten dollars a month. If he had had a pen handy, he would have filled it in, even though his favorite aliens belonged to another franchise.

He threw the leaflet in the bin.

A man entered the bar. He activated the jukebox first.

A letter to my future self, am I still happy, I begin

Have I grown up pretty? Is daddy still a good man?

Am I still friends with Colleen? I'm sure that I'm still laughing

Aren't I, aren't I...?[1]

The man ordered himself a well-filled whisky. He gave William a sidelong glance.

Hey there to my future-self, if you forget how to smile

I have this to tell you, remember it once in a while

Ten years ago, your past-self prayed for your happiness

Please don't lose hope...

The man sat next to William. He had a slim, trim appearance, piercing light eyes, neat curly hair and a neatly trimmed beard. He reminded him of a cross between John Lennon and Jesus Christ if he were dressed in jeans and denim.

Oh, oh what a pair me and you, put here to feel joy not be blue

Sad times and bad times see them through

Soon we will know if it's for real

What we both feel

“We haven't met. I'm sure you're new in town,” said the stranger with charming formality. “What's your name?”

“Damien.”

“Leonard Wolf.” He held out his hand.

William shook it at him.

Though I can't know for sure, how things worked out for us

No matter how hard it gets, you have to realise

We weren't put on this earth to suffer and cry

We were made for being happy, so be happy

For me, for you, please...

“What are you doing here? Are you sightseeing?” said Leonard.

“Yes... A season of retirement.”

Oh, oh what a pair me and you, put here to feel joy not be blue

Sad times and bad times see them through

Soon we will know if it's for real

What we both feel

“On your own?”

“No... With my niece.”

“Oh, you must like each other very much.”

“Well... We'll take each other. It's just to hang out.”

“Aha, and how long ago did you arrive?”

We were put here on this earth, put here to feel joy

William took a swig from his glass of beer. In small towns like this, everyone knew everyone else, and rumors spread at the speed of light. Lying was not the best option.

“Approximately one month. We rent a flat.”

“Ok. I hope you had a good rest. Hey, do you want to go for a walk? Do you know the town?”

We were put here on this earth, put here to feel joy...

“More or less.”

“Let's go.” Leonard urged. “Lucia! Tell Nelly I'll buy whatever the newcomer's had! I'll see you later.”

William followed Leonard into the street.

Compared to the histrionic hustle and bustle of Raccoon City, the streets of Silent Hill were quiet. A group of five children played on the pavement with sticks and bricks. A couple of grandparents walked their dog. A busy work crew was repairing a broken steel fence at one end. There were no drug addicts wandering around, no police violence. There were no people shouting nonsense at the top of their lungs, and no pockets were not being touched in case a friend of the unwanted had thought to rummage in their trousers.

“You come from a city, don't you? You can tell. You city-dwellers boast that you have a lot of work and services, but the real life is in the towns, that's where the authenticity is; that's where you feel your roots. You come from the capital?” said Leonard.

“From the state? No. I come from further south.”

Leonard held his tongue because he was waiting for a more elaborate answer. William swallowed hard. They were supposed to be safe from Alexander in this place, but lying was very difficult because of the context and his character. A half-truth? But how long would they stay in Silent Hill, and was there even a plan?

“Raccoon City in Ohio. That's where I live for work.”

“Is your niece also from there?”

“No, he's from another city. I'm just there for work.”

At the end of the avenue, Leonard told him to turn left onto a dirt road.

“Over there is a ranch and beyond that is the cemetery. As you can see, it's a small town, but very cozy.”

“Yes, it looks like it. Maybe I'll move to a town when I get bored of the city. And what do you do around here?”

“Everyone makes a living as best they can. Some open businesses, others do repairs, others farm and so on. We do what we can to survive. As I say, there is little work, but that is compensated by a strong sense of belonging to the community. That's what you city dwellers lack: a sense of belonging. You live in shoeboxes and spend your days driving from one place to another for nothing but work and consumption until you die and nobody remembers you. Isn't it a shitty life?”

“I guess you're right. What do you do?”

Leonard smiled.

“I do a bit of everything here and there, but I'm a mechanic. Sometimes I repair cars. Other times I'll do a little fix for you, and if I like you I'll do it for free. I don't let myself be fooled by the devil's tricks. My shop is in the north, in the business district. Drop by if you need an oil change or get a flat tyre. First time is on me.”

“Thank you, you're very kind.”

The road led into a tunnel adorned with a profusion of obscene graffiti. At the end of the passage, Leonard opened the gate and they entered the promised dirt road.

“Now it's my turn to ask you what you do for a living.” Leonard lit a cigarette. “Do you want one?”

“I don't smoke. Uhm... I work in a company.”

“Officer?”

“In a laboratory.”

“And what can you do?”

“Chemicals. We develop and test them. It's not very exciting, but it has its charm.”

“Chemicals such as what? Pesticides? Fertilizers?”

“Pharmacy.”

“Oh, you work for a pharmaceutical company. I hope they're paying you well for poisoning us with their cheap drugs and vaccines. God didn't create man to be dependent on such tidbits. No offence. But you're not evil, are you? You are tricked into working and you believe the lie for survival.”

“It's a job. I need it to eat. I haven't yet been lucky enough to live on rents like others I know.”

“Ha ha ha.” Leonard laughed out loud. “God forbid, Damien, God forbid... By the way, I noticed your wedding ring. Are you happy with her?”

“We've had our ups and downs, like all couples...”

“Why isn't she with you?”

Leonard leaned against the wooden fence of the ranch. William looked at the horses in the background eating and trotting.

“Uhm... Because I'm with my niece. It's a habit. My wife also works.”

“You can't lie.” Leonard sat on the fence.

“Why do you think I'm lying?”

“You hesitate too much. The truth admits of no hesitation.”

“Believe what you want, but it's true.”

“We'll see. Why don't you tell me the real reason?”

“Because I am on holiday with my niece while my wife works.”

“Do you hate your wife?”

“No! What's the connection? Are you Mennonites or something?”

“No, not at all. I'm just curious. You know, most of the people who come here on holiday are a pain in the ass. Young couples who go off to the hotel to fuck their brains out, litter our streets, and get in our way with their modern-day talk of equality and sexual freedom. Then they complain that we hate them, but they have never respected us. Every place has its culture and traditions. We have ours, is it so hard to ask for a little respect for them?”

“I don't know. My mentality...”

“You look different. You spent a month with your niece locked up in Blue Creek. That's news to us.”

“How do you know...”

“It's a small town, Damien. We know each other here and we talk to each other.”

“Yes, of course. We needed it.”

“Curious. Hey, it's starting to get dark. I have to go. Would you know how to go back by yourself? Nobody's going to rape you!”

“Yes...”

“Great. Come by the shop tomorrow at ten o'clock.” Leonard handed him a business card. “I'll recommend places to visit with your niece.”

“Okay.”

“Goodbye.”

The local library of Silent Hill was small, narrow and nondescript. Most of the volumes on its sparse shelves she had already read, with the exception of the few copies of popular literature, which she disliked for their terrible quality. There was not much scientific literature and the few references available were out of date, which made her suspicious of the economic and educational level prevailing in the region.

The only interesting part was housed on the upper floor of the reading room. Unlike the section reserved for scientific literature, the esoteric section boasted a bulging number of well-preserved and rather thick tomes. Surprisingly, she recognized many of the authors from her great-great-grandfather Stanley's collection. Malleus maleficarum. The Necronomicon. Tarot manuals. De Vermis Mysteriis. The Book of Eibon. Cultes des Goules. Herbology of Toluca Lake.

That last one interested her. He turned random pages.

CLAUDIA ALBA

Perennial herb that grows in the vicinity of bodies of water. It reaches a height of 10 to 15 inches. Its leaves are oblong and the flowers are white. The seeds are hallucinogenic. It is recorded to be used in religious ceremonies for its hallucinogenic effect.[2]

He closed the book and put it back. There was another one: Lost Memories.

One feature, only rarely mentioned and disappearing, is that of ritual sacrifice.

"Pray. To pierce a man's chest with a copper stake. To soak the altar with the blood that flows red from the heart to praise and show allegiance to God".

In another sacrificial ritual mentioned in the same book, the victim is burnt alive. The latter was a more dignified ceremony in which prisoners and sinners were not allowed to participate. Only the clergy could be sacrificed. There is no similar rite among the other religions of the region. It is possible that it was associated with a sun god as the main deity.

Although this religion extols redemption, its history is dark and sectarian.[3]

She recalled the sacrificial altar in honor of great-great-grandfather Stanley's Ancients.

No religion has remained unchanged from the time of its foundation. This is no exception. When this religion fell into the hands of the immigrants, it was deeply influenced by their Christian beliefs. For example, the representatives of these primordial gods may be given the names and descriptions of Christian angels. (There is also a rare example of the chief deity, the Creator of Paradise or Lord of the Serpents and Reeds, being nicknamed after a demon. Of course, this is not the work of the believers, but of their adversaries).[4]

One page showed an illustration of a symbol consisting of a larger circle and three smaller circles inside it.

It represents the deity known as the Halo of the Sun. In heraldry, it symbolizes a religious group. The two outer circles represent charity and resurrection, and the three inner circles represent the present, the past and the future. It is usually drawn in red. Occasionally it is also painted in black or other colors, except blue because it reverses its meaning and makes it a curse to God and is therefore forbidden.[5]

It continued:

AGLAOPHOTIS

Red liquid or blood-like crystal. According to the Kabbalah, the name comes from an herb with the power to dispel evil spirits. It is said to grow in the Arabian deserts. It can be steamed or applied as a poultice to ward off demons. It is powerful, but because it is rare, it is extremely difficult to obtain.[6]

Lastly, she read a description of a talisman:

This magic square, with strong protective and dispelling properties, is called the Shield of Virun VII or Seal of Metraton. It will work regardless of whether the target is good or evil. Therefore, its strength places a heavy burden on the conjurer. As it is also difficult to control, it is rarely used. This is why it is called Metraton, after the angel Metatron (or Metraton), also known as the Agent of God.[7]

A syncretic and apocalyptic cult operated in the region, yearning for the redemption of mankind with the coming of Paradise.

That sounded familiar.

The Hyperborean Brotherhood founded by Stanley Ashford started from a similar premise, although his goal was not the coming of any gods parodied from Christian mythology, nor the establishment of Paradise. What her great-great-grandfather desired was the return of the Great Old Ones to Earth for the reinstatement of their rule over all creatures. To accomplish his task, the high priest Stanley performed rituals involving the sacrifice of human beings and pilgrimage to sacred places such as Irem, City of Pillars, and the search in dreams for the unknown Kadath. Since the Great Old Ones had not yet manifested themselves, Stanley seemed to have failed in his mission, although he is said to have triggered some unusual events such as the impact of a mysterious meteorite in Northumberland and the sighting of humanoid amphibious creatures off the coast.

In any case, the point of the matter was that Stanley, as a strong believer and prominent occult leader, had no qualms about sacrificing whoever was needed. Similarly, according to what she had read, the cult generically called The Order might bear some resemblance to the Hyperborean Brotherhood in its practical vocation. If that was the case, there would be evidence and at least one high priest heading the organization.

Alexia returned the book to its place and went downstairs to ask the librarian for access to the newspaper library. The librarian granted her access and opened the door. Alexia turned on the microfilm machine to consult the front pages of the only local newspaper. Looking through the headlines, she found two that caught her eye:

The suspicious deaths continue. First the anti-drug mayor, and now a narcotics officer dies of sudden heart failure of unknown cause.

And:

A fire breaks out in the city. Six houses destroyed. Charred body of Alessa Gillespie (7) found. Preliminary investigation points to a fire in the basement of the Gillespie house. The fire is believed to have been caused by a boiler malfunction.[8]

Alexia turned off the machine and left the library.

She guessed why Jacob's Circle was repelled by the region.

William turned on the microwave to preheat the umpteenth container of convenience food he had bought at the nearest convenience store. A strange mixture of rice with vegetables and sauces that smelled of overripe soybeans and expired fried chicken. He was trying hard to improve his diet, but the talk with Leonard and his walk back to the flat had exhausted him. Alexia was content with leftovers from the day before.

William sat at the table burning his fingers. Alexia was tearing the fish apart with her fork. Since their final exit to the outside, each had been intent on going their own way. In fact, William could have driven to Raccoon City, but he felt tied to Alexia to protect him from Alexander's threat and because his mental state had declined, and he didn't want Annette and Sherry to panic. He would not return until he resolved the issue that tied him to Alexia.

“There is a cult in this town. The Order.” Alexia gouged out the fish's eyes with her fork.

“What about it?” said William.

“It reminded me of my great-great-grandfather Stanley. You were in his dungeon.”

William's hair stood on end. The sacrificial altar with traces of dried blood.

“The Order bears a resemblance to the Hyperborean Brotherhood.”

William focused on eating.

“Human sacrifices.” Alexia removed the plate.

“Do you want to investigate? I'll be Fox Mulder and you be Dana Scully.”

“Where did you spend the afternoon?”

“At the bar on the corner. I met Leonard Wolf today. He invited me to drop by his shop tomorrow at ten o'clock.”

Alexia was fingering a lock of her hair.

“Who will be the high priest?” she whispered.

William shrugged his shoulders.

“While you find out, I'll go and see what Mr. Wolf wants. Maybe he'll buy us lunch and everything.”

“There was an old woman in the church who approached me.”

“Uhm?” William went to the fridge to get dessert.

“She asked me about Paradise and said she knew who I was.”

“Your real identity?” William sat back down with concern. “Have we been discovered?”

“No. The Circle will not discover us in this town.”

“So?”

“She is a member of the cult.”

“So what? Are we leaving?”

“No, not yet. But be careful. Watch who you associate with.”

Alexia got up and went to the kitchen to put the dish in the dishwasher.

“Fuck,” William muttered.

Silent Hill Central.

William parked in a free spot near Leonard's garage. He went over to the garage to have a look around. One of the mechanics saw him and went into an adjoining room. Leonard then went out the same door.

“Damien, I'm glad you came. Come in, come in. Do you want a beer?”

“If you have coffee, that's fine.”

Leonard led William into the workshop office and poured him a machine coffee that tasted like shit. Leonard uncorked a bottle and invited him to sit in a wide, frayed armchair.

“Have you visited the town?” said Leonard.

“No, not yet.”

“Better. There are a couple of places you could go with your niece. Actually, three. Lake Side Amusement Park, the Historical Society Museum and Rosewater Park. They're all good.”

“We'll go, then.”

“Hey, Damien. I'm sorry if I was too abrupt last night, about your wife. You see, this is a very small, close-knit town and sometimes new things take some getting used to, you know?”

“It's ok. I understand.”

“It's because I'm worried about you. You look exhausted. Are you running away?” Leonard lit a cigarette.

“Uhm... No.”

“You doubt too much, Damien. It's because of your wife, right.”

“No. That's not why.”

“You're running away from someone who hurt you, aren't you?”

William bit his lip.

“I'm not running away,” said William.

“Yes, you are. And I can help you.” Leonard finished his bottle. “I can help ease the pain you're feeling. Trust me.”

“No...” William got up to leave.

Leonard stood up and grabbed his arm to stop him.

“You're hiding, but you don't know if your stunt is going to work, do you? You're hiding from the police? A domestic violence warrant?”

“No.”

William wrenched his arm out of Leonard's hands.

“Leave me alone.”

“The police patrol very often these days. They're not looking for someone.”

William made for the exit, but Leonard grabbed him violently again and ripped the wedding ring off his finger.

“Give it back!” William shoved Leonard, but the latter took a few steps back to inspect the ring.

“William. Annette. William, that's your real name, isn't it?”

William blanched.

“Give it back to me...”

“And the woman you are with is not your niece, is she? Is she your lover?”

“No!" William shouted, fed up with Leonard. “Give it back!”

William angrily lunged at Leonard and punched him in the face, but did not get him to drop the ring. Leonard wiped the blood from his mouth with his hand.

“You're playing with fire, William. Don't piss me off.”

“Fuck you, you freak!”

William kicked Leonard hard in the legs. Leonard staggered and collapsed to the floor. The ring fell next to the couch and William ran to pick it up, but Leonard got up and lunged to tackle William. The two tumbled to the floor, with William face down. Leonard pinned his arms to the floor.

“Fuck me?! You're gonna pay for this, motherfucker! Randy!!! Where the fuck are you?! Randy!!!!”

A man came to the scene, attracted by the noise of the peeling and the voices.

“What's going on?”

“Help me with this bastard. Hit him in the head!”

Randy grabbed the first thing he could grab: the bust of a bear, and hit William over the head as he struggled to free himself.

The impact knocked him unconscious.

Alexia ordered takeaway for lunch. No sign of William.

She was beginning to worry.

She left the gun on the dining room table.

If William didn't show up by 10 p.m., she would go looking for him.

At 7 p.m., the phone rang in flat 302.

“Who is it?”

“Good afternoon, are you Carrie White? We're calling from Brookhaven Hospital. Your uncle, Damien Thorn, attacked a person this morning and was admitted to our facility as a precaution. Could you meet with Dr. Davies tomorrow at 10:00 to find out what happened?”

“Yes, I can.”

“Very well. Thank you for your attention, Miss White. Good evening.”

Alexia walked to the hospital at the end of Carroll Street.

She warned.

A curly-haired man in a denim outfit sat smoking on the stairs leading up to the institution.

Alexia stopped in front of the double doors and breathed in deeply. She focused all her willpower on suppressing the anxiety that was beginning to regurgitate from the memory of when she had been in a similar place. She promised herself not to be overcome by emotions and crossed the threshold.

She looked down at the floor to navigate among the medical and security staff. She ignored the occasional shouts from unidentifiable places and dared not raise her eyes above the wheels of the stretchers. The only time she allowed himself to raise her head was to read the map and find out where Dr Davies' office was located.

She knocked on the office door. A middle-aged man in a doctor's coat greeted her.

“Miss White? Come on in.”

Alexia and Davies sat in armchairs.

“As she was told on the phone, her uncle, Damien Thorn, was brought by the police to our institution after he attacked a man. Fortunately, the incident was reduced to a confrontation and bruises, but your uncle was delirious and aggressive. For that reason, the police assessed her for remand at Brookhaven. We called her to collect his personal effects from reception and get a preliminary diagnosis,” explained Davies.

“What is the diagnosis?”

“Depression, mainly. Once he calmed down, his thoughts started to become coherent and he asked to leave, but we fear about his aggressive outbursts. Tell me, was your uncle ever aggressive towards you? Did such an incident happen in the past?”

“No, it's the first time. And where did it happen? Who did he attack?”

“The incident occurred at a garage in Central Silent Hill. He attacked one of the mechanics. According to his uncle, it was because the mechanic started threatening him and stole his wedding ring, which, by the way, shows a different name than his.”

“William is his older brother. He died in an accident at work. He kept the ring as a memento.”

“I'm so sorry. That could partly explain the attack. However, we think Damien should stay in the institution for at least a couple of days for his safety and to start treatment.”

“He was in treatment. It could have been a momentary relapse.”

Davies nodded.

“I'm not taking up any more of your time. Thank you for coming in.” Davies stood by the door and invited Alexia out of the office. “We'll keep you posted.”

“Could I visit him?”

“Come by tomorrow from 5 p.m. onwards. Call before you come to let us know.”

“Which is your room?”

“The M6. You share a bedroom with another man, so you must let us know. Good afternoon.”

Alexia went out into the corridor. She consulted the map. M6 was located on the first floor at the end of the corridor connecting the patient rooms. There was a lift accessible from her area.

She went to the lift. She got in with an elderly lady carrying a drab bouquet of flowers and a male nurse. The lift stopped on the first floor and Alexia decided to follow the old lady with the bouquet of flowers. The old woman stopped in front of electronically locked double doors. She went to open them, but they were locked. A code was required to open them.

“Would you like me to help you, madam?” Alexia offered.

“Yes, young woman, how do you open the door?”

“You need a code. I'm going to ask the nurse.”

“Thank you, darling, thank you.”

Alexia stepped back and asked the first nurse she saw around the place. She asked for the code. The nurse asked if she had a scheduled visit. She said yes and for the same room as the old lady with the bouquet of flowers. The nurse swallowed the lantern and inserted the code. The old woman, assisted by Alexia, entered the area. She stopped in the second room, while Alexia made her way to the last room of all. Without knocking, she entered.

William had sat up in bed. The man he shared a room with was lying in his room and noticed Alexia as soon as he entered the room.

“Alexia!”

William inadvertently revealed his real name. He had a black eye and a bandage on his head.

“Alexia...” muttered the roommate.

“Carrie.” Alexia sat on the bed next to William. “I snuck in. What happened.”

“Leonard Wolf. That son of a bitch set me up in his shop... He started trying to get the truth out of me and ripped off my wedding ring. I got pissed off. I was furious.”

“Leonard Wolf? What does he look like?”

“I don't know... Curly hair, beard, denim...”

“Like the one who was smoking on the stairs of the hospital?”

William clenched his fists.

“Son of a bitch...”

“Did he say anything else?”

“That he wanted to help me. He told me that he had the solution to all my problems. He gave me some messianic bullshit for I don't know what he wants to achieve.”

Alexia felt the roommate's eyes on the back of her neck. She shivered.

“The wedding ring, remember? The one that belonged to your older brother, William, who died in an accident at work.”

“Okay.”

“The doctor wants to treat you for a couple of days. Be good, be polite and take your medication. I'll come again tomorrow from five o'clock.”

“Be very careful.”

“I have considered moving to the hotel. I doubt that flat is still safe.”

“Yes... Move to the hotel.”

“Damien.”

“What?”

“Be careful.”

“Okay.”

Alexia got out of bed. As she left the room, William’s partner did not take his eyes off her for a second.

The next day, William was reunited with Alexia.

“I have moved to the hotel along with our things. Here, your wedding ring.

“Thank you. How are you?”

“Alone, I suppose.”

“Apart from.”

Stanley, William's partner, returned to the room. He lay down on the bed and continued to manufacture a kind of doll without taking his eye off Alexia.

“We're leaving...” William looked behind him.

Outside, they sat down on a couple of free chairs.

“Have you spoken to the doctor? How many days am I going to be locked up here?”

“Until the day after tomorrow. In the afternoon you will be released, in principle.”

“I'm sick to death of Stanley... He makes me sick.”

“Yes.”

“Have you found out anything?”

“A couple of things. The woman who approached me, Dahlia Gillespie, works in an antique shop downtown. The librarian told me.”

“Anything else?”

“Your friend Leonard is supposedly a father and a member of The Order.”

“Oh, how did you verify the latter?”

“The librarian. She may or may not be a member of the cult too.”

“Don't you want to tell your father? He can get you out of here.”

“No. I don't want to go home.”

“Why not? This is not your place. You are in danger here.”

“I know.”

“Alexia... It won't be one of those ideas of yours... They're going to kill us.”

“Do you want to leave?”

“Of course I want to leave. I want to go home to my family and forget about your father.”

“Why don't you want to go home...?”

“All right. We'll leave. When you're released, call me or go to the hotel. I'll be waiting for you.”

“Well... Okay... Fine... Great. You'd better not come. Stay at the hotel. I don't like this place.”

William and Alexia said goodbye. William returned to the room alone. Stanley had finished his doll: a miniature, poorly made reproduction of a blonde woman in a purple dress. William didn't want to think badly of the doll and held back his nausea.

He wouldn't go another day in Silent Hill without shooting himself.

William dressed in the new clothes Alexia had brought him the second time he visited and cleaned his wedding ring. He said goodbye to Stanley with a curt farewell and went to Davies' office to be discharged.

“Take care of yourself, Mr Thorn. Continue your treatment and stay out of trouble. Be careful out there.”

“Thank you, Dr Davies. I will be careful.”

William left the institution. The cold wind aired his nostrils, congested with the stench of human and disinfectant. He inhaled sharply to clear his lungs. Alexia wasn't expecting him, so he would go to a phone box and call her to pick him up.

William descended the stairs. He saw a car approaching. Suddenly, the vehicle cut him off by pulling up onto the pavement. Through the window he saw Leonard Wolf in the passenger seat.

Run.

William shot off in the opposite direction. Three men got out of the car armed with ropes. Leonard stayed in the car.

William ran with all his might, but fatigue from lack of exercise began to take over. The three men closed the distance before the indifferent gaze of passers-by.

Finally, one of the three men grabbed him by the hood of his hoodie and pulled hard. William choked and fell to the ground on his back. The three men tied him to the ground with ropes and taped his mouth with duct tape. They then dragged him back to the car and laid him in the boot.

They closed the door.

They threw him on the cold tiled floor and removed his hood. Leonard stood in front of him.

“You got your ring back. Good for you. I hope your work as a chemist is not a lie.”

William tried to free himself from the ropes that bound him, but they were firmly fastened.

“Are you a chemist?” Leonard drew his gun and pointed it at his head.

William crawled towards the wall, but Leonard kicked him in the ribs. William's mouth narrowed in pain and hatred for the prick.

“I ask you a second time: are you a chemist?”

Leonard took the safety off the gun. His finger rested on the trigger.

“Yes...” He coughed. “I'm... a chemist. That's right.”

“Okay... I believe you. God commands us to forgive sinners, and I will do that with you. I take your word for it. Can you synthesize a substance?”

“What kind of substance?” William hunched over, lying on the floor in deep pain. He had hit him with vengeance.

“PTV. It is synthesized from a local plant. Your job is to improve the formula. If you succeed, you will be saved, and we will consider releasing you.”

William burst out laughing. Leonard looked at him in confusion.

“And how much are you going to pay me? I warn you, I was very well paid at Umbrella,” he continued, laughing loudly.

“Umbrella? Hey, Randy, doesn't a company by that name ring a bell?”

“The heart pills my grandmother takes are that brand,” said Randy.

“Is that the company you work for? You bastard, you'll all burn in hell for subverting God's work with your dark arts. And you too, Randy, for allowing your grandmother to drink the poison of those damn corporations.”

“If you say so.” Randy shrugged.

William chuckled. Leonard pointed it in his face.

“So, Umbrella employee, are you going to help us with the PTV or not? You don't know us, so be careful how you answer,” said Leonard.

“My niece told me that there was a cult in this village that made human sacrifices. Are you part of the cult?” said William as he sat down.

“Your niece is a meddlesome busybody with a know-it-all attitude.”

“He just comes from an extremely anti-social family. Will you sacrifice me?”

“Do you want me to shoot you?”

“I'll help you with PTV. Is it a drug?”

Leonard holstered the gun.

“You have one chance, Umbrella employee. One chance, or you'll end up fertilizing the garden of Eden with your corpse.”

“Of course. I understand the religious reference. Are you going to untie me?”

“Randy, lock him in the lab. Little devils like you don't deserve my hospitality.”

“You don't know me either,” William muttered. “You haven't the faintest idea what I'm capable of in a laboratory…”

Antique Green Lion.

A sad sign hung on the façade. The stairs descended to a semi-basement. Mould flourished in the corners of the walls.

A lone halogen spotlight illuminated her way to the front door. She pressed the bell.

The woman from the church allowed her to enter.

Alexia glanced inside the shop. She stopped to examine a grandfather clock with the hands stopped at 9:15 p.m.

The woman watched her with wild eyes.

“You sacrificed a child for Paradise,” Alexia whispered. “My great-great-grandfather did too, but for a different concept of paradise.”

“You could have been the mother of God... I see it in you: an immeasurable hatred. A hatred ready to beget God. But you are not like her. You're not a psychic.”

“And what am I then, Dahlia?” Alexia opened the glass door of the clock to touch the cylinders.

“You are His Envoy. You have been sent by God as a sign prior to the consummation of my greatest work: the return of Paradise. God has heard my prayers and sent you to cleanse the Holy Place of corruption for its birth. You are his archangel.”

Alexia closed the glass door.

“Where is the Holy Place?” said Alexia.

“Under the amusement park... The entrance is in a booth nearby. I will tell you where it is and how to get there.”

“Is that where my companion is?”

“The blond man? Yes, he’s there.”

Alexia turned and faced Dahlia. Dahlia crossed herself as Alexia approached.

“I have seen Paradise. Do you know what I saw?”

Dahlia shook her head.

“A place of darkness and silence where only my brother and I exist.”

Alexia took a map out of her jacket and spread it on the counter.

“Tell me where it is and how to get in.”

The Envoy of God, but God did not exist.

Darkness and silence. The hotel room became a dense forest, a patch of woodland in the middle of the greenish Northumbrian wilderness. There was nowhere to go but to wait for the death perpetrated by hunger and cold. With no one else to turn to, the twins held each other tightly. For the first time in her short life, Alexia wept inconsolably. Not for the immediacy of her extinction, but to vent; to find peace before the end. Alfred had forced her to achieve her greatest desire: to escape from her family.

But the escape was narrow, dark and endless. The road twisted back on itself like the uroboro. Again and again, it returned to the starting point. The path unraveled, as the mist invaded the horizon. In that wasteland, it was nothing.

But she wanted to be something more.

She wanted to live, that was the only idea that remained among all her fragmented selves. But which of them was the real one?

None of them.

She did not feel attached to any of the Alexias she had been to in the past.

In that place, she had run away from her family, but also from herself. She had run away from what she was to make a choice: whether to become like them again, or to give birth to a new being.

And, at last, she got an answer.

She recalled shooting practice with her father.

An assault rifle, a combat shotgun, two pistols and numerous boxes of ammunition were piled on top of the bed.

She put on her black leather trench coat.

To be nothing: to be everything.

The tunnel extended into the heart of the Earth.

Stained by the evils of this world,

We keep our sorrows within ourselves.

Only you can heal us from these wounds.

Every morning, noon and night, we call upon your name

and we pray for the day of the Miraculous Descent.[9]

The light bulbs were flashing as she passed by.

I give you my body and my eternal soul without reserve.

Whatever darkness comes upon me, I will bear it with you by my side.

The echo of her footsteps echoed off the walls.

As proof of your miraculous power, guide our obedient and willing souls to the Road to Paradise, Oh Lord.

We will not yield to the power of temptation as long as we have you in our hearts.

The clinking of guns sounded like a chorus of apocalyptic trumpets.

Oh Lord, save us with your compassion.

Oh Lord, bless us.

Oh Lord, favor us with your abundance.

The gateway to the Holy Place.

This gate leads to the Road to Paradise.

Embrace the bosom of the Holy Mother.

Admit your sins and be forgiven. Eternal tranquility can be yours.[10]

She opened it. A mass was being celebrated. The man presiding was the high priest of the Order.

Removed the safety catch on the assault rifle.

The parishioners ascended to Paradise with blood in their hands.

One by one, the screams and cries died down. The high priest fell silent during the first scuffle. His lackeys succumbed during the second.

She shot with pistols all those who lay there to ensure the eternal rest of their souls.

The Holy Place was silent.

The laboratory was in one of the adjoining rooms, not far from the altar.

She heard no human voice as she entered the next corridor.

Silence.

A blow.

She opened the door and shot five other parishioners.

Silence.

Steps.

A parishioner alerted by gunfire.

Shot in the head.

The lab was locked. She used the key Dahlia gave her.

“Alexia! How the hell did you get here?”

Alexia did not respond. She handed William a pistol. William noticed the drops of blood splattered on her trench coat.

They went out into the corridor.

William saw the first body shot in the head. He saw a door ajar.

Saw.

He saw the altar.

William vomited.

He did not see Leonard Wolf among the casualties.

The Holy Place had been cleansed.

William ran after Alexia, mindlessly, his mind blank.

Alexia opened all the doors and, once outside, led him to the car. All his things were in the boot.

Alexia went to discard the weapons and saw someone.

A dark-haired girl in a blue and white dress. She was looking at her. She was pointing at her.

Alessa was disappointed.

William called Alexia.

Alexia got into the car and drove off.

They left Silent Hill.

Notes:

[1] Akira Yamaoka & Mary Elizabeth McGlynn - Letter - from The Lost Days (Silent Hill 3 Original Score). [2] Silent Hill 1 "White Claudia". [3] Silent Hill 3 "Lost Memories". [4] Silent Hill 3 "About syncretic religions". [5] Silent Hill 3 "About the cult's symbol". [6] Silent Hill 3 "Aglaophotis". [7] Silent Hill 3 "Otherworld Laws". [8] Silent Hill 1 "Newspaper article about house fire". [9] Silent Hill 3 "Prayer to God". [10] SH3 "Church door".

#resident evil #silent hill #alexia ashford #william birkin #dahlia gillespie #alessa gillespie #leonard wolf #the longest chapter #halloween gift #silent hill 2 #silent hill 4 the room #resident evil code veronica #resident evil 2 #silent hill 3

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