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Dead Voices part 20 - Welcome To The Lakeview Hotel...

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July 22nd, 2005


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z0mb1
05:41 pm - Dead Voices part 20
i started writing today, but got cut-off by the real world. thought i'd post what i have since i haven't posted anything in a while.



Mac read over the letter several times, without saying anything. After a long pause, he took a deep breath and asked, "Where did this come from?"

"The apartment building that I met you in front of," Neil replied. "I'm guessing it was meant for you."

"It's my wife's handwriting." He was silent for another moment. "What does it mean?"

Three minutes later, Neil's tape recorder was hooked up to his laptop. He wound the tape into position and clicked Play. "Two Twenty-Seven at Forty Five Hertz," his voice emitted from the computer speakers as the recording played back. He paused the tape, adjusted the playback frequency to 45 hertz, tuned out as many other frequencies as he could, upped the volume a bit, and pushed Play again.

"You're gonna have to explain to me how all this works sometime," Mac said, as he lit a cigarette.

Through the muffled static, Neil heard the odd harmonics of what he guessed to be a door creaking open. He remembered the coin puzzle, and shook his head at the ridiculousness of it. There were another several minutes of static, and then the telltale sound of dead voices began to emit from the speakers...

sssssssssshhhhh haaaaaaah shhhhhhh shhhhhhhh sssssssssss teeeeeheeeeeeerrrrrrrn ahhhhhhhhhhounnnnd. shhhhhhhh haaaaaaaaaah noh shhhhhhh ssssssssss haaaaaah graeeeeeeeeev shhhhhhhh haaaaaaaaah gheraaaahl noh shhhhhhhhhhhh graeeeeeeev shhhhhhhhh haaaaaaaah

After another few minutes of static, Neil stopped the tape, rewound it to where the voice began to speak, and played it back while recording it onto the computer.

sssssssssshhhhh haaaaaaah shhhhhhh shhhhhhhh sssssssssss teeeeeheeeeeeerrrrrrrn ahhhhhhhhhhounnnnd. shhhhhhhh haaaaaaaaaah noh shhhhhhh ssssssssss haaaaaah graeeeeeeeeev shhhhhhhh haaaaaaaaah gheraaaahl noh shhhhhhhhhhhh graeeeeeeev shhhhhhhhh haaaaaaaah

He stopped recording, stopped the tape, and then sped up the digital audio a bit. It took a couple tries before the words were clear, but when he found them Mac turned visibly white. The voice was distinctly female, and there was panic in the words: "Turn around. No grave. Gerald. No grave."

Mac put out his cigarette and leaned back in his chair, rubbing his eyes.

"It's her, isn't it?" Neil asked.

"Yeah," Mac croaked in reply.

Neil stood up and motioned to the laptop. "Spacebar makes it play and stop," he said, then went out to the front porch to have a cigarette of his own. On his way out, he grabbed his jacket from the coat rack. As he closed the front door behind him, he heard the recording begin to play back from the living room and the sound of Mac lighting another smoke.

The night was cold and smelled like rain. A car driving by on the wet road ensured that reality, as Neil used to know it, had returned for the time-being. He finished his cigarette and sat on the top step of the porch, figuring that he would give Mac a bit more time to do whatever he had to do. He was considering lighting up again, when his cell phone rang in his jacket pocket. His caller ID told him that the number on the other line was unlisted.

"Hello," Neil said into the phone, after flipping it open.

"It's Dwayne. Where are you?"

"At a friend's house."

"Who?"

"Jack MacDuff. I believe you're acquainted with him."

"What are you doing at his house?"

"Detoxing," Neil replied dryly.

The line was silent for a minute, the Dwayne asked: "Did you get out of jail alright?"

"That's kind of a long story. I'm assuming your contact missed me."

The line was silent again, the Dwayne said "Yes. He must have. Do you have your recording equipment with you?"

For some reason Neil didn't trust Dwayne's tone, or the abruptness with which he changed the subject. "Yeah, it's here," he said cautiously.

"Stay where you are," Dwayne said. I'll be there in twenty minutes.

"Uh. I think I should check with Mac on that, first..." But it was too late, Dwayne had already hung up. Neil closed the phone, flipped it open again, and dialed *69. The number would not connect. He stood up, cautiously opened the front door, and stepped back into the house, clearing his throat to make his presence known. He looked into the living room. Mac was sitting silently in his overstuffed chair, fiddling with an unlit cigarette. He looked like he had been punched in the stomach. There were no tears, but his sullen expression showed that he had run out of those a long time ago.

"It's OK, kid. You can come in," Mac said after noticing Neil lingering in the entryway. "I ain't gonna go to pieces on you, here."

"I think we might have problems," Neil said.

"How's that?" Mac asked, putting his unlit cigarette back into the pack.

"Dwayne Eldridge is on his way here."

"Huh. I haven't seen him in a while. Why's his coming here a problem?"

"I don't know," Neil replied. "He just sounded weird on the phone. Something wasn't right."

Mac looked at Neil for a moment. "Well, if he's coming here we have home field advantage. If he pulls anything funny, I know where the guns are. It may be something important. I say we take the risk. If he shows up in a Sherman Tank, we always have the option of slipping out the back door.

Neil thought for a minute, and then shrugged. Mac was right, he guessed. Besides, if Dwayne was up to something, better to find out on safe ground than in the middle of the other side of Silent Hill.


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