This, Harry Mason decided, was getting old.

He had once again been attempting to enter what he believed from the appearance of the door to be a hospital room, though he hadn’t technically been in Alchemilla Hospital. That wasn’t particularly strange, though—he hadn’t been in Dahlia’s antique shop or Midwich Elementary School, either, but somehow he’d managed to visit rooms from both of those locations.

He’d taken to calling the incoherent mess ‘Nowhere’.

He’d believed Nowhere only encompassed areas from Silent Hill, but Harry was fairly sure Silent Hill had no wooden huts.

“Goddamn it,” he exclaimed, throwing his metal pipe across the room out of sheer frustration. “Not again!”

The pipe almost hit a man on the head, though he managed to dodge at the last moment. Instead, it smashed into a wooden crate and knocked the green potted plant that had been inside it to the ground.

The man was heavily armed, dressed in combat gear and holding a large, dangerous-looking shotgun.

But, he wasn’t Leon.

“Who,” he demanded, “are you?” Glimpsing movement out of the corner of his eye, he slid his gaze over and saw that the man was accompanied by a woman wearing a purple vest. She held a handgun.

“We’re BSAA,” the man said, pumping the shotgun.

He said ‘BSAA’ like Harry should know what it was.

“But you! Who are you? Why are you here? How come you aren’t infected?”

Harry blinked. “Infected with what?”

“Don’t play dumb!” the woman shouted. “You’re working with Irving, aren’t you? Why else would an American be here?”

Harry rubbed his forehead. That migraine that had developed during the last Otherworld shift was suddenly back in full force. “I’m looking for my daughter.”

The two traded glances, lowering their guns slightly.

“She isn’t blonde, is she?” the man finally asked. “A teenager? Because, uh . . .”

“No. She has short, black hair. She just turned seven last week. Answers to ‘Cheryl’.”

“A seven year old girl?” the woman asked incredulously. “Out with all those Majini?”

Didn’t ‘Majini’ mean ‘evil spirit’? Now there were evil spirits attacking?

“Where am I?” he demanded again, raising his voice and taking a step forward. Their guns flew back up into his face, even as they looked at each other once more, questioningly.

The woman shrugged. “The Kijuju Autonomous Zone.”

“’Kijuju Autonomous Zone’?” he repeated. What kind of name was that?

“In Africa.”

“Africa?” Africa? By stepping through a door, he’d gone from a small, seriously disturbed town in America to a village in Africa? He’d jumped continents?

By walking through a goddamn door.

Harry felt something inside him snap.

“How can you not know where you are?” the woman continued. “How did you get here?”

“How did I get here?” His voice had a hysterical edge to it. “How? I found a fucking evil teleporting door, like that one in the hospital that took me to Spain with Leon with the evil geriatric cattle! Or that one in the school that took me to the second floor and completely ruined my sense of perception! Why?! Why, why did this happen to me?! ‘Let’s take a vacation, Daddy’, she says, and what do I do? I take her on a goddamn vacation! To hell! We should’ve gone to Hawaii! But noooo, ‘I want to see Robbie the Rabbit, Daddy’! ‘Silent Hill’s so pretty, Daddy!’ Too bad she didn’t know about its fucking death cult! ‘Foretold my gyromancy’ my ass! And how old was Dahlia when she gave birth to Alessa, anyway? I don’t buy it! And Lisa! How can you not know you’re dead until you start bleeding from every orifice on your body? Tell me how!”

The man blinked. “I don’t know, but I do know a guy who came back to life after being eviscerated.”

“And now,” Harry continued, unheeded, “I’ve run around like a chicken with my head cut off for I don’t know how many days trying to save Cheryl from being, I don’t know, sacrificed to Silent Hill’s god or whatever it is they’re trying to do to her, but somehow I wind up in Africa! And I’m completely out of health drinks!”

Both the man and the woman suddenly looked pained.

“We’re out of herbs,” she said sadly. “I love herbs.”

“I love health drinks,” said Harry, sniffling. “They give you this little . . .”

They nodded in understanding, all abruptly giggling as if they were elementary school girls sharing a secret.

Then they cleared their throats, turning away from one another.

“Not an addict,” the man muttered under his breath. “I’m not.”

Shouts suddenly rang out, coming from somewhere in the distance. Harry couldn’t make out the words; they weren’t spoken in English.

“Majini!” the woman declared, suddenly perking up. “Let’s go, Chris!”

Smiling widely, Chris pulled a grenade off his vest and followed her out a broken window. Explosions and gunshots soon followed, along with what sounded like perhaps a small nuclear missile detonating and a building collapsing. A chainsaw roared.

Harry stood and listened until a stream of men began slowly approaching the window, axes and sickles held in their decaying hands. Their eyes were yellow.

“Well . . . this is different.”

Harry bolted for the door, flinging it open and stumbling through. He slammed it behind him, and almost gave a sigh of relief upon realizing he was staring at a filthy, purely Silent-Hillish wall.

For a long moment, he had no words.

Finally, all he could manage was:

“Goddamn it, Cheryl. We should’ve left you at an orphanage!”

_

_

Author's Note: Why, Anna? Why are you continuing this oneshot story when you should be trying to update stories you haven't for years?

I don't know, voice. I don't know.

Anyway, this is the *last* part of this apparently two-part story. Since I had Harry meet Leon, I guess I couldn't resist having him meet Chris.

Anna