Chapter Four

AN: Oh. Wow.

Is anyone still here?

If you are, I'd like to say, sorry. And I mean that. I've kept you waiting.

Things have changed. It's been five, nearly six years. I just found this story back on an ancient external hard-drive.

I was much younger when I started writing this. You should realise that. Everything from this point on will be different.

If you're still here, thank you. You're the best cult following any writer could ever ask for. If you're new to this story, welcome.

It's been five years. No, nearly six.

Let's get on with it, why don't we?

Garry grimaced, still leaning against the wall. He tried to focus, and found that he couldn't. The only thing he remembered was the morphine. Maybe he'd overdone it.

Oh, and the pain, of course. Why was he hurting again?

His daughter. Cherry.

No, he wasn't hurting because she was gone. That much he knew.

He'd lost a toe. He'd been run over by a German Party Bus. He'd passed out, he'd had a dream he didn't really remember, but he did remember he'd stopped breathing.

Why was he here again?

Oh. Right. Cherry. She was here.

Okay, so why was he here again?

Garry Mayonaise screamed, turned around and ran to the school's front door as fast as he could, ignoring the pain and grateful for the numbness the morphine had provided. That numbness, however, didn't stop him from feeling sick when he reached the door.

It was locked, from the inside.

"Oh, come on!" Garry yelled. "This isn't fair!"

There was crackle, and the school's intercom system came to life. "Garry Mayonaise, please report to the principal's office," a deep, metallic voice boomed. In the background, there was some sort of lounge music. Actually, it sounded more like the soundtrack to a porn movie he'd once seen.

"But I didn't do anything," he told the intercom, thinking about that movie. It'd had that blonde actress in it, the one with the big knockers. Then again, which porn movie didn't have a blonde actress with big knockers in it? He was starting to confuse himself.

"Principal's office, Garry Mayonaise. You're in deep trouble," the voice said again, the porn music growing louder.

Shit. "But... I didn't do it," Garry sulked. "Whatever Mrs Gillespie says, I didn't set fire to Toby." Toby had been the class hamster, back when Garry'd been twelve. And of course he'd been the one who'd set it on fire, but the principal didn't know that. Mrs Gillespie, the teacher, had always suspected Garry, though. Did that old cow tell on him?

Wait, wait. He wasn't twelve anymore. At least, he didn't think he was. Was he? No, twelve-year olds wouldn't have vivid memories of porn movies. Well, of course, he would, because that one time, when his dad wasn't home, he'd taped one and...

Damn it. He was getting confused again.

"Get a grip, man!" Garry told himself, the sound of his own voice in the deserted school hall frightening him. He slapped himself, because he'd seen people do it in movies when they were confused, and it added a touch of drama. In this case, it only added a touch of pain to his face.

So, what was the situation here? He'd come to Noiseless Hill, trying to get rid of his daughter. They'd been in a car accident, and he'd lost her. So far, so good. But he still hadn't got rid of her. She was here, in the school/casino, and somehow, invisible forces working against him had drawn him here as well.

"Damn you, invisible forces that work against me!" Garry screamed, shaking his fist at the ceiling, another thing he'd picked up in movies. He didn't actually expect a reply, but he got one, anyway – the metallic voice over the intercom giggled.

"I see what needs to be done here," Garry grunted, taking out his gun. If he wanted to get rid of Cherry, he'd have to take matters into his own hands. He'd survived turkeys, poodles, dumb cops shooting him in the foot, aliens (he wasn't sure about those, but it sounded cool), teddy-bears and a German boys band.

Whatever was beyond the door leading past the hall, he could handle it, even if it was his daughter. Especially if it was his daughter. The morphine was making him reckless – he didn't care anymore how he got rid of her, as long as he got rid of her. Even if he'd had to shoot her in the face.

And then, after he'd done that, he would not go to the principal's office.

Yeah.

Garry felt very defiant, the weight of the gun reassuring him of his superiority. He pushed through the door, except that said door didn't open, causing him to smash his face against it. He cursed, then pulled.

For a moment, the bright lights blinded him. The porn soundtrack was still blaring, louder here than it had been in the hall. When his eyes adjusted to the lights, he was appalled to see just how pink everything was – the floor, the walls, the ceiling, everything in different shades, but still very pink.

There were lines of slot machines. This confused him, until he noticed a sign on the wall, reading "Welcome to Noiseless Hill Elementary School for the Mentally Retarded/Casino!". Ah. Of course.

It made perfect sense now.

"Mayonaise, principal's office, I'm not fucking around here," the metallic voice said again, in a sing-song tone this time.

"Yeah, in a second," Garry lied absentmindedly. His eyes were fixed on a huge plasma-screen, attached to the wall at the far end of the room. It showed midgets dancing seductively to the porn music.

One of the midgets wasn't a midget, though. It was Cherry.

"Damn," Garry muttered. "She's got the moves." He'd find out where she was, later. Now, time for some gambling!

At least the slot machines weren't pink. They operated on quarters, and Garry Mayonaise was no fool. It didn't take him long to tie a plastic wire (which he just happened to have in his pocket, okay? Stop asking.) around a quarter, so that he could trick the machine – pulling his quarter back out after it'd been swallowed.

That's how it usually worked on TV, anyway.

It wasn't any different in real life. Garry was pleasantly surprised when the machine's display informed him he had one credit, and he pulled the lever. The reels spinned.

Bar.

Ooh.

Bar.

Come on, come on...

Bar!

Garry let out a loud yelp of glee as he heard the sound of the coins clattering down. Finally, things were going his way. About damn time, too. He really deserved this. Reaching down to collect his money, he wondered if his luck would last long enough for him to shoot his daughter.

Something was wrong. There was no money in the tray.

Oh, Garry thought, pulling back his hand. Shi- Not fast enough. With a loud clang sound, the tray snapped shut.

He didn't feel any pain, probably because of the morphine, which allowed him to keep at least some mental distance from what had just happened. Blood spurted out of his left hand, more specifically where the tips of his index and middle finger had been only seconds before.

"That's not good," Garry heard himself mutter. He agreed. First a toe, and now two fingertips. "This is starting to get ridiculous," he went on, still staring at his hand. "I mean, I'm sure I can afford to lose even more body parts, but, you know, where does it end?"

The porn music had stopped. Soft, metallic chuckling sounded through the intercom.

Of course, the door to the school/casino's infirmary was locked. Big surprise. Not that he had any idea about what he could possibly do. The slot machine had eaten his fingertips, but he thought maybe he should disinfect it. Or something.

"Mayonaise, if you ever want those fingers back, you will report to the principal's office," the voice blared.

"But I don't wanna!" Garry screamed at the intercom. "You can't make me!" He was giving serious consideration to throwing a tantrum, something he hadn't done in nearly three weeks now.

"Yes, I can," the voice replied.

"Go on then," Garry said sulkily. "Do your worst!" Somehow, even after losing his fingertips to a slot machine, asking some mysterious observer to 'do his worst' still seemed to Garry like the appropriate thing to say.

Nothing happened.

"Ha!" Garry shouted. Mayonaise emerges victorious! he thought defiantly, still spraying blood out of two fingers.

There was a click, and Womanizer, Britney Spears' newest 'hit' started playing at an unbearable volume. Garry instantaneously fell to his knees and started crying, trying to cover his ears and painting his face with his own blood in the process.

"Stop it!" he bawled. "I'll come to the stupid principal's office, but just stop! Have you no heart?"

The music didn't stop. Whoever this was, they were very clever to see through Garry's cunning lies. He realised he didn't have choice. Miserably, Garry started crawling towards the door ominously marked "Principal's Office/Casino Management".

When he finally reached the door, he pushed it open, leaving a bloody hand-print on its smooth surface. The morphine was wearing off, and a jolt of pain went through his arm. The music stopped, but Garry couldn't stop crying.

Really, he thought. Britney Spears, of all things!

"Took you long enough," the metallic voice said.

Who is the Mysterious Stranger in the Principal's Office?

Is he/she handsome, and a potential new love interest for our poor, struggling protagonist?

Will Garry's fingertips be restored to him, or will he lose even more body parts as the plot thickens?

Will the story actually be about Silent Hill in the next chapter, and not about casinos and midgets?

What is it with those casinos and midgets, anyway?

What about Cherry?

And where did Sybill run off to, anyway?

For this, and more, tune in next week – or next year, with my track record – for another episode of Noiseless Hill!

(If you read this and you've actually been around since the start, drop me a comment to say hi!)