Who: Chase [Narrative] What: The Anxious Adventures of Chase Hawthorne! Where: in town When: Late morning
To say that Chase's "escape plan" wasn't exactly going according to plan would have been a gross understatement. The area surrounding the house had been a clusterfuck of overgrowth and rough terrain. He'd tripped twice, soiling and soaking his jeans up to the knees, before stubbornly aiming himself back toward the road leading to where he'd only just escaped from. Hardly ideal, but it did help that he knew which direction he'd at least come from. It was really just a matter of aiming himself in the opposite way and walking as briskly as possible. The way to freedom. That, of course, also meant that if anyone was going to come looking for him this would be precisely the path they'd take to do so. That was enough to keep him off the main road itself, struggling in the foliage a few feet from the pavement. Prickly and uncomfortable, but it gave him at least a small advantage if he needed to duck and hide. Somehow it occurred to him that he had no idea what poison ivy, or any related problematic plant life looked like, but dealing with an irritating rash was certainly more preferable than....whatever the hell was going on.
And damn, it was a long walk. His watch was still working, but he hadn't thought to trying timing the distance. It had to at least have been an hour of twists and turns, tripping over branches and into the burrows of some unseen critter or another. He'd picked up a rather sizable stick, intending to use it for defense if it came down to it, but in the end it was the only thing keeping him upright by the time he got to the sign.
WELCOME TO SCENIC MOUNT ZENITH
Considering what had transpired already that morning, it seemed almost disturbingly cheerful. The top line alone was enough to tell him that he was likely smack dab in the middle of fucking nowhere, but beyond that he had absolutely no idea where Mount Zenith was even remotely located. He sighed, leaned against the stick as if it were the only solid thing in the world, and squinted at the population number as he caught his breath. He couldn't tell at all what it had been before, but the more recently added number "24" caused something in him to curl up into a prickly little ball.
From his first look at the town proper, the number "24" had seemed to be a bit of an overestimation. Dread had filled him before he'd even gathered the nerve to step off that winding road and into actual community. Almost instantly he thought of the videos he'd seen of cities and factory towns completely abandoned by their residents. Old mining communities in Russia, or that fake city in North Korea that no one actually lived in. No one was taking care of this place, and they obviously hadn't in decades. More importantly, there wasn't a sign of those twenty-four labeled occupants as he wandered through the first block of houses, remaining on the sidewalk despite the utter absence of cars. The lack of activity didn't give him any incentive to explore the buildings further than a long scan as he passed. He'd seen people in the boonies living in conditions that were somewhat comparable to this...or so he thought...and the last thing he needed was some hick with a shotgun chasing him off his lawn.
Still, at least that would have been something. Someone.
But there was someone. Halfway down the block, attached to the decrepit mailbox of one of the houses ahead of him, was one of those soulless, dark eyes. He slowed in his steps, before he stopped altogether, watching the camera as it shifted and focused in on him. For a few seconds he simply stood in befuddled wonder, his brain trying to calculate why the hell someone would put a camera there of all places. Almost despite himself, he glanced back at the winding road he'd emerged from, then back at the camera.
No one was coming. They didn't have to. They knew precisely where he was.
He swore loudly and nearly threw the stick away from him in his frustration. He paced in a small circle for a second, as if trying to decide what to do, which direction to go, before his eyes fell on the camera once more. Fuck it. Fuck everything. Fuck them. He took five long, purposeful strides up to the mailbox, slamming the heavy walking stick down on the camera and pulverizing it with a few swings. Three....four....five blows, and then he stopped, feeling the stick begin to shift and splinter with the force of the assault. He was panting again, anger and exertion, but with a hint of satisfaction. At least it was gone now.
Wrrrrrrrrrrr, went the second camera, propped on the bloated gutter of the same house as it turned to gaze at him.
Chase took a step back, shaking his head as the stick nearly dropped from his hand. Another one?? And now he was really looking, his eyes scanning roofs, windows, streetlights. A million eyes poised down on him, almost accusingly as he stood over the carcass of his second technological kill that day.
His steps had felt heavier then, his body aching from the journey through the brush and the falls he'd taken. The effort he'd expended in trying to remain off the radar felt so wasted now. He was more exposed now than ever, but he wasn't giving up. He strode down the center of the road now as a blatant violation of common law, though he wasn't even certain that applied here.
Home. He just had to find a way out.
Years of finding decent places to camp out in first person shooting games reminded him that his best bet was to find high ground to get a clear view of the field. In this case, all he had to do was gain his bearings, figure out which direction was out, and go. A quick scan of the horizon showed him that there was a tall building a few blocks away, beyond the split in the road ahead. In what felt like almost no time at all, he found himself stopping in what appeared to be deserted community heart, at the bottom of a stairwell leading to the desiccated town hall. Perhaps in the back of his mind he was growing accustomed to the poor state of area, the dated, worn down and decomposing community that had once been the home to, he assumed, more than the twenty-four people claimed on that damn sign.
It was because of this that he found himself frozen in place even as his peripheral vision told him that cameras were focusing in on him as he stared across the street. The park was immaculate, existing in stark contrast to everything he'd seen since leaving the mysterious mansion. The gardens were perfect, the lawns seemingly freshly mowed and healthy. Even the baseball diamond was pristine. Colorful, fresh, inviting.
Quiet. Abandoned. Part of him realized this was what he'd always hoped for when he went venturing outside. To have a lovely place all to himself without all of the complications of other people and everything that came with it. It wouldn't hurt to just go look, would it?
He nearly took a step forward before he stopped himself. Cameras. Home. This wasn't where he belonged.
He dared another glance back at the town hall before he counted not one, but three cameras watching him from various points near the top floor. Even if it was tall enough to provide him with the view he wanted, he didn't trust the condition it was in. The whole thing looked like it could tip over like some cartoon prop. Besides, wandering into a place like that was how nearly every Silent Hill game started out, wasn't it?
His mind nearly choked at that thought, taking several good looks around before he reminded himself that there was no fog, no ash in the air, and that Pyramid Heads didn't actually need cameras to stalk their victims. That didn't actually make him feel much better, but the idea that the world could come crashing down around him at any second and lead to some demonic alternate universe was enough to get his feet moving again. It didn't help that the next point of reference on his journey down the street took him past an old, run down elementary school, and vision of demon ghost-babies only spirited him along further.
Mount Zenith. Not Silent Hill. Mount Zenith. Not Silent Hill.
It was both odd and embarrassing how comforting that thought was.
He could see the tall building clearly now, less than a block away over the trees, but his steps slowed as he realized that the establishments around him seemed to be improving in their condition. The closest building, apparently a gym, looked dated but well-kept. It was as if someone was taking just as good care of it as they had been the park only half a block back. His target building seemed to be in the same state, which was both comforting and unnerving. It would likely be a hell of a lot more stable than the others, but did that mean they were using it for something? Would people be there? Were these buildings somehow more important to whoever lived here than both the school and the town hall? What the hell kind of place was this?
Zenith Towers was the name aptly giving to what was apparently the tallest building in town. Chase stared up at it with both dread and hope, peering at the windows for any sign of movement or life. It felt like hours before he actually managed to muster the will to move, his knuckles white as his hand gripped onto what was left of his walking stick. Edging toward the door, he cupped his hand against the window to peer inside, knocking the end of the stick twice against the glass and waiting for something, anything to happen. He did it again, louder this time, yielding the same results.
His pulse thrummed in his ears as his hand moved for the door, willing himself to pull it open, but the muscles in his arm seemingly freezing in place. Panic set in, and for a few moments his eyes remained fixed on the glass, staring and listening, until he realized what he was doing.
Idiot. No fucking zombies are going to pop out at you. Even if they did, what are you gonna do with a fucking stick. He followed that up by reminding himself that he'd done the noise check, as if that somehow validated anything. No Silent Hill. No demon babies. No zombies. Just home. The door opened a little more easily than he'd been expecting, and the stiffness in his legs caused him to stagger back slightly. Composing himself again, he leaned his head in to glance around, his eyes slowly adjusting to the difference in the outdoor and indoor light.
Weird. Really, really fucking weird.
It felt like stepping into the Daily Planet from the old black and white Superman television show. The lobby was fairly unspectacular, aside from the fact that it was so obviously dated. He strode carefully across the shiny floor, his head tilting as he listened and looked, his eyes finding several more cameras watching him as he moved toward the front desk. Everything was in its place, right down to the neatly folded papers and stacked pens, vintage typewriter and white-out bottles. No phone. Odd. With newfound eagerness, he slid around the long desk to flip through the paper there, looking for any sort of clue on where he was, who was running the cameras, anything, but grunted to himself as he found they were all completely blank.
He exhaled through his mouth, his lips vibrating in an unintended farting sound as he tapped the edge of the stick against the desk thoughtfully. He opened a few drawers, but in the end only pocketed a small, blank notepad and two ballpoint pens. He wasn't even entirely certain what he needed them for, but all three items fit easily enough into his pockets. Better to have them and not need them.
His journey continued as far as the old fashioned elevator, reaching for the button before he stopped himself. What if they trapped him inside? That would be the easiest way to get him, wouldn't it? Until now he'd been wandering around in the open, and even within the building he could likely find a way to break through the glass if need be. But in the elevator he'd be trapped, and who knew if the bastards who had done all of this would leave him there afterward. Considering all the apparent trouble they'd gone through already, a tiny voice in the back of his mind assured him that the idea was likely improbable, but the fact that he'd had it at all was enough to deter him.
Chase was used to stairs, deftly avoiding the elevator in his own building for the simple fact that he just didn't want to get trapped into an awkward conversation with any of his neighbors. He hadn't used the damn thing since he'd moved all of his stuff in, and even then it had been at David's behest. The thought of his best friend, likely his only real friend, suddenly brought on another wave of anxiety, and surprising loneliness. David probably would have figured out a way out of here by now. David would have understood what was going on.
But David wasn't here. David was somewhere safe, somewhere having a life. The only person who could save Chase now was himself.
Hopefully.
He was probably fucked.
That thought occurred to him the instant he finished traversing all four flights of stairs, ignoring the doors that led to each of the various floors on the way up, bursting through the exit at the top and into the fresh air beyond.
"AAH!" Almost instantly he skidded to a stop and froze as the army of cameras lining the roof all turned to face him in intimidating unison. He backed up into the hall once more, turning the corner to force himself out of view, stick in hand, holding it up as if he intended to use it against some unseen enemy. It was only then that he noticed another camera directly above his head, pointing down at him in a perfect line, the empty lens seemingly scoffing at him in disgust.
The fuck are you doing, idiot?
It took a surprising amount of self-restraint to not smash the damn thing, though in retrospect he really could have if he'd wanted to. Perhaps part of him refrained from doing so for fear of angering its numerous friends outside. Stupid.
After gathering his courage he stepped out with no overabundance of confidence, edging out as if he were waiting for some sort of retaliatory gauntlet to commence. The cameras followed him as he moved to the building edge, his stiff stride causing his toes to bump against the railing as he looked out over the edge.
Mountains. They seemed to stretch out in every direction, towering over the town like an impenetrable wall of stone. Technically that's what mountains were, but he'd never seen them look so foreboding, so daunting. It felt like he were some sort of toddler trapped in a giant playpen with no adult in sight to remove him. The view to the right at least different, but his heart only sank further. Water, so vast he couldn't see the other side of it. Were they on a coast? How far had they taken him? Was this Lake Ontario? He didn't even realize he was panting in panic until he leaned over the edge to peer toward the water, looking for boats, anything, any sign that there were people on the water. Nothing. No movement in the town, either, though somehow that didn't surprise him.
But that was all there was. The town. The water. The mountains. Nothing else. No people, no cars, no boats. No help to call, not way to know where he was. There were cameras, however. He could see them on every roof, every streetlight, and right now they were all pointing directly at him. He'd never felt so exposed, so small, so powerless in his life.
And then, far in the distance, beyond the school, and the town hall, and the houses he'd past on the way in. Over the sign he knew was resting in the trees beyond that, and up the winding road he couldn't see at all from this vantage point, he could barely make out the faintest hints of a building. The mansion. The furthest point he could make out.
"Well," he breathed after a few seconds, feeling lightheaded and nauseous, letting the stick drop from his fingers and clank onto the concrete. He didn't even hear it. "Shit."