Heather followed Alex down the dark, rusty corridor of the alternate Silent Hill world. But everything Heather saw along the way, trailing behind Alex, were monster corpses stretching the entire length of the long hallway. She couldn't even count how many creatures had been killed—there were too many. Their bodies lay in unnatural poses, covered in rust and their own black blood—but she understood perfectly well: there really were a lot of them.
Her gaze involuntarily drifted to Alex's back as he walked ahead. Heather was fully aware: Alex had single-handedly slaughtered all these monsters just to find and save her. She still couldn't fully comprehend why he was protecting her so diligently. Even the words he had said to Alessa—that he would protect the bright part of her soul, which was Heather—still felt somehow unreal and incomprehensible to Heather herself.
Trying not to fall behind Alex and not to step on yet another monster corpse he had killed with his own hands, Heather thought back to her conversation with Alessa—about being the bright part of Alessa's soul. Heather didn't know how to feel about this information: was Alessa now her mother who had given her life? A sister? Or was she also Alessa, just another version?
These questions kept surfacing in Heather's mind one after another—and she couldn't fully figure out how to react to what she had learned. But no matter how hard she tried to find an answer—she understood: she wouldn't get one right now. She needed to focus on more important things—namely, finding her father so they could leave the city.
Alex, walking ahead, occasionally turned his head to glance at Heather. And every time he did, he noticed the thoughtful look in the girl's eyes—and he perfectly understood what was going on in her head. After all, it's not every day you learn you're a part of someone else.
Soon Alex and Heather reached a fork. On one side stretched a trail of monster corpses—on the other, an empty corridor consisting of rusty iron walls, a grate floor with pitch-black darkness beneath it, and barely glowing red lamps that flickered on and off.
After a moment's thought, Alex headed down the empty corridor—because the one full of corpses was the way he had come from. Now he didn't need to search for Heather; he needed to get them back to the surface from this strange place.
Heather noticed Alex going the opposite direction and raised an eyebrow slightly—she followed, not understanding why he wasn't taking the path he had used to get here.
"Why are we going this way?" Heather asked, catching up to him.
"We need to get back to the surface, and that way's a dead end. Unless you can crawl up walls like Spider-Man," Alex said, lighting a cigarette.
"I see… And thank you…" Heather said, glancing at Alex a little shyly.
"What's with the thanks all of a sudden?" Alex asked, raising an eyebrow and exhaling smoke.
"I saw how you immediately ran after me. And it must have been really hard for you to find me," Heather said, lowering her head and walking beside him.
"It wasn't that hard. I've been in much worse situations. Finding a teenage girl who got kidnapped in a creepy alternate world isn't exactly rocket science. Monsters are just monsters. Doesn't matter if there are a lot or a few. The main thing is that you're okay," Alex said, gently patting Heather on the head.
"Mmm… So how do we get out of here? And where are we even? Are we still in the school, or somewhere else now?" Heather asked, nodding slightly and feeling Alex's hand stroking her hair.
"I think we're still in the school—just in the basement level. I had to jump down a couple of times and leap over chasms. So yeah, I'm pretty sure we're in the school basement," Alex said, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.
Looking around, Heather couldn't tell exactly where they were. She had woken up in a classroom where she met Alessa. And walking through this creepy rusty corridor made it impossible to figure out their exact location.
Alex occasionally peeked into rooms they passed—searching for a way up. The only thing that annoyed him about these alternate dimensions was how everything turned into a damn maze you had to wander through to find an exit.
Peeking into yet another room, Alex and Heather saw one completely filled with barbed wire. In the center hung a person crucified—wrapped so tightly in wire that it cut into the flesh. Alex and Heather exchanged glances—already unsurprised by anything they saw in this place.
As Alex closed the door, he noticed the crucified corpse twitch slightly. While Heather wasn't looking, he pointed a finger at the body—and a small fireball sparked at his fingertip. It flew toward the corpse and touched it. The body instantly erupted in bright flames. Alex calmly shut the door.
He knew perfectly well: corpses like that loved to come back to life at the worst possible moment. The simplest solution was to eliminate them ahead of time.
While Alex was preventing a future problem, Heather noticed rust crumbling off one of the walls—revealing a door behind it.
"Look, a door just appeared here!" she called, turning to Alex.
"Really? Well, that's even better for us. Might be the way up," Alex said in a carefree tone.
Of course, he immediately understood: the door appeared because of the monster he had just burned. But Heather didn't know that—she thought it was pure coincidence—and simply waited for Alex to open the suddenly materialized door.
Alex approached, pulled the handle—and looked inside. Before them stretched a long staircase leading upward into darkness. Heather shone her flashlight—and saw only endless steps disappearing somewhere above.
"Alright, hop on my back. I have a feeling this is gonna be a long climb," Alex said, crouching so Heather could climb on.
Seeing no reason to refuse, Heather climbed onto his back and wrapped her arms around his neck. Adjusting her position, Alex began running up the stairs—understanding that the ascent really would be long. Heather shone the flashlight ahead so he could see where he was going.
As Alex ran, they heard strange voices coming from all sides: whispers, crying, fragments of children's songs. Alex didn't keep track of time, but to Heather the climb felt like eternity.
After a couple of minutes the corridor with the stairs began to change: rusty walls turned into ordinary concrete, the grate floor became stone steps. Sitting on Alex's back, Heather immediately realized: they were returning to the normal Silent Hill. That made her happy—the alternate world filled her with the most unpleasant feelings.
And soon, at the end of what had seemed an endless staircase, they saw a simple door.
Alex sped up slightly to reach it. Right at the door he set Heather down and grasped the handle. He looked at her—Heather nodded, signaling she was ready.
Pushing the door open, Alex stepped through first—and saw they were back in the normal Midwich Elementary School. Heather followed and let out a relieved breath.
Alex calmly closed the door behind her—and read the sign above it: "Janitor's Closet."
"We're still in the school. Do we need to go to the Clock Tower or not?" Heather asked, looking at Alex.
"Yes. We need to find out what's there. We didn't find that Clock Tower key for nothing," Alex said, spinning the key on his finger.
Heather nodded and followed Alex into the central courtyard of Midwich Elementary.
They entered the courtyard—it was eerily quiet. Looking around, they immediately spotted the Clock Tower and the doors they needed.
Approaching the tower, Alex inserted the key into the lock and turned it. The Clock Tower emitted a low, resonant sound—as though marking the time.
Heather looked up—but the thick fog prevented her from seeing the top of the tower.
Alex paid no attention to that—he calmly pushed the doors open and stepped inside. In the center of the room gaped a deep hole. On the far wall hung a painting: Pyramid Head about to execute the guilty.
Heather stepped in after him and began looking around, not understanding what to do or where to go next. Her gaze also stopped on the single hole in the center.
"Do we really have to jump down there?" she asked cautiously, pointing at the hole.
"Do you really want to hear my answer?" Alex asked calmly, looking at Heather.
"Ugh, not really… We just got out, and now we're going down again. I don't even want to imagine what's down there," Heather said, carefully peering into the dark hole.
"We'll find out soon enough. Now hold on tight and try not to scream—so you don't bite your tongue," Alex said, scooping Heather into his arms.
"Wait! Wait! I'm not ready yet! Hold on!" Heather shouted, trying to wriggle free.
"Nope. As one toy astronaut once said: 'To infinity… and beyond!'" Alex said, stepping into the abyss while holding Heather.
Heather didn't manage to break free—Alex had already stepped forward and fallen. She clung to him in a death grip, feeling the wind roar in her ears from the fall.
"YOU IDIOOOOT!" she screamed.
In response, Alex just laughed—because he already knew where this path would lead them.
Heather squeezed her eyes shut tightly—and opened them only when she heard the splash of water, as though they had fallen into a sewer. They really were in a small, old room. Cautiously looking up, Heather saw the hole in the ceiling—and then looked at Alex. A wide grin was spread across his face—he was clearly enjoying her frightened-confused expression.
Heather clenched her teeth in irritation and jumped down from his arms, continuing to glare at him angrily.
Alex calmly lit a cigarette with a flick of his lighter. When the flame briefly illuminated the room, Heather saw old concrete walls and one single old iron door.
"So where are we now?" Heather asked, looking at Alex.
"We'll find out soon. Let's go," Alex said, walking toward the door.
Heather nodded and turned on her flashlight—so they'd at least have some light. Alex opened the door—and they stepped into an old room that looked like a reception desk in a place people don't come to willingly. Small, abandoned, with peeling concrete walls.
Alex approached the only desk and saw a clipboard with a document. On the paper was an inmate number—and at the top, the name of the place they had ended up in. Alex picked up the clipboard and turned to Heather—she was looking around, trying to figure out where they were.
"Looks like we're in Toluca Prison," Alex said, addressing Heather.
She immediately perked up at the name.
"Really? So my father might be here—and we can find him?" she asked in an excited tone.
"I'd say—probably. But we still don't know if he's actually here. And we don't know what's going on in this prison either. So better not get your hopes up too high just yet," Alex said calmly, placing the clipboard back on the desk.
At his words, Heather's shoulders slumped slightly—her excitement dimmed. She quickly realized: she shouldn't hope too much yet. Seeing her mood, Alex reassuringly patted her on the shoulder and walked toward the door.
Heather glanced at Alex. Even if her father hadn't been sent to prison—he might be in another place, like the hospital. And refusing to lose hope of finding him, she stepped after Alex.
Alex opened the door—and they entered the next room. They were greeted by the familiar smell of dampness and mold, old chipped concrete walls streaked with water stains. On the walls—windows covered by thick bars—definitely a prison.
Walking a little farther, they reached a narrow corridor leading in two directions. Wagging his finger, Alex led Heather to the left—without even glancing at the doors on the right. He already knew there was nothing there.
Moving farther down the narrow corridor, barely lit by dim ceiling lamps, they reached thick iron doors—resembling those of solitary confinement cells for particularly violent inmates.
Alex pulled on the rusty doors—and they opened with a long, drawn-out creak. When the doors fully opened, they were greeted by an empty solitary cell with rusty iron walls—and another dark hole in the floor.
"Down again?" Heather asked with a tired look, glancing at Alex.
"Unfortunately, down again," Alex said, nodding and looking at the hole in the center of the cell.
"Just don't tell me we'll have to go back up afterward…" Heather said, flashing a weary smile.
"Not right now, young lady. I like this as little as you do. But places like this have their rules. I once had to smash a hole in the ceiling to get to another place. And guess where I ended up?" Alex said, looking at Heather.
"Where?" Heather asked with interest, crossing her arms.
"In a moving elevator. So if you're ready—same old rules: hold on tight and don't scream," Alex said, lifting Heather into his arms.
Heather could only sigh in resignation and wrap her arms tighter around Alex's neck—so she wouldn't slip off if something happened. Feeling that she was holding on securely, Alex stepped forward and fell into the abyss. Once again feeling the sensation of falling, Heather squeezed her eyes shut tightly—and opened them when she heard the splash of water, as though they had fallen into a sewer.
She was still in Alex's arms. Quickly shining her flashlight around the room, Heather realized where they were: circular walls like the inside of a deep well, uneven brick walls with peeling plaster, piles of viscous sludge mixed with trash floating underfoot. Not a single hint of where to go next.
Heather understood: they were literally trapped. She looked questioningly at Alex—he was scanning the area with a thoughtful expression. While Heather wasn't looking—a barely noticeable bloody inscription "This way" appeared on one of the walls—and immediately vanished.
Alex saw where to go—and still holding Heather, walked to the wall. Heather didn't understand what he was planning—when Alex kicked the wall and knocked out a chunk of brick. In the next moment, a small source of light appeared from the other side—indicating there was a room beyond.
Seeing the glimmer of light, Heather only gripped Alex tighter—so she wouldn't fall while he broke through the wall.
With the next kick, Alex collapsed the wall—the bricks crumbled, revealing a passage forward. Alex, still carrying Heather, ducked slightly to pass through—and when there was no more water underfoot, set her down on the floor.
"So where are we now? In the prison sewers or somewhere else?" Heather asked, standing next to Alex in a very small dark room.
"I'd call this place something like a passage between two points. A tunnel connecting one place to another. And at the other end, the prison is waiting," Alex said, opening the only door.
Heather nodded and turned on her flashlight—so they'd have at least some light.
Alex opened the door—and they stepped into a flooded corridor that looked like an old catacomb passage. Heather followed—and the moment she stepped into the water, a wave of cold instantly spread through her body.
Ignoring the chill, she moved after Alex—who walked forward at a slow pace. The water came up almost to her knees—Heather tried to watch where she stepped. Especially because of the unpleasant crunching underfoot. She didn't even want to guess what exactly was crunching—because of the murky water, it was impossible to see.
At the end of the corridor they saw two old rusty doors—identical to the one Alex had just opened.
Looking at both doors, Heather glanced at Alex—he was thoughtfully tapping his finger against his chin, deciding which one to open first.
"Maybe the one on the left?" Heather asked, pointing to the door next to her.
"Alright, let's see what's behind it. If it's a dead end—we'll take the other one," Alex said, grabbing the handle of the old rusty iron door.
He pulled—and slightly misjudged his strength—literally ripping the iron doors off their hinges.
Heather took a stunned step back—so she wouldn't get hit by the flying door. It wasn't hard to guess: that door really was heavy.
Alex clicked his tongue in irritation and tossed the torn-off door aside. There was a splash of water—and a sound like something soft being crushed. The murky water immediately took on a reddish tint—clearly showing that Alex had accidentally killed something.
"Guess I didn't imagine something crawling behind us in the water," Heather said, looking at Alex.
"Whoever it was—its own fault. These monsters could have learned to stalk people quietly by now, but all they know how to do is act creepy and make weird noises when you kill them," Alex said, shrugging.
"You're scarier here than all these monsters," Heather muttered quietly, lowering her head.
"I heard that, young lady. It's not polite to call someone creepy when he's helping you," Alex said, pinching Heather's nose.
Heather scrunched her face in irritation and swatted Alex's hand away, starting to grumble under her breath and push him in the back. Alex smiled slightly and let Heather shove him into the open passage.
Heather pushed Alex into yet another corridor and stood beside him. At the end of the corridor a dim lamp burned, and next to them was another rusty, ordinary-looking door.
Alex didn't even glance at those doors—he headed toward the source of light.
When they approached, they were greeted by a rather interesting sight: in the floor—rusty prison bars locked with a padlock. And below stretched a long corridor lined with prison cells.
Heather looked at the rusty door behind them and thought: maybe the key was there? But before she could go check—Alex grabbed her hand and shook his head, signaling not to bother looking for a key. He had a better option.
Alex pulled an aluminum soda can from his backpack and handed it to Heather.
"I don't want to drink right now," Heather said, refusing the drink.
"Drink it. I need the aluminum from the can," Alex said, rolling his eyes.
"Another chemistry lesson?" Heather asked, taking the can.
"Exactly. And this time—a lesson on how to make thermite in field conditions. Thermite burns at nearly 3000 degrees Celsius. That's enough to melt even concrete. You need aluminum shavings and iron oxide—which is very easy to get in a place like this. Everything here is literally rusting. The downside is that making thermite in the field is very dangerous. One wrong move—and boom. But we don't have much choice—we'll have to be careful," Alex said, walking over to the rusty iron door.
Heather drank the cool soda—and watched Alex closely. He was scraping rust off the door with his knife. Having collected enough on a sheet of paper, Alex walked over to Heather and held out his hand.
Heather understood what he wanted—she finished the soda in one gulp and handed him the can.
She stood behind Alex, shining the flashlight and watching. Alex quickly cut the can into thin strips and began making an improvised thermite packet. Mixing everything with extreme caution, he wrapped the mixture in duct tape, waved at Heather to step back.
Heather nodded and quickly retreated several steps.
Alex carefully stepped onto the iron bars and placed the thermite mixture on the lock. He ignited it—and quickly stepped back, pulling Heather with him.
"Better close your eyes. It's going to be very bright," Alex said, dragging her farther away.
Hearing his words, Heather immediately covered her eyes. The thermite mixture flared up brightly with a characteristic hissing sound. A couple of moments later came the crash of iron doors flying open. Heather opened her eyes and looked at the result. The lock had literally melted.
Noticing her gaze, Alex smiled slightly, scooped Heather into his arms again—so he could jump down once more. Heather wrapped her arms around Alex's neck in the now-familiar motion—and braced herself for another leap.
Alex stood at the edge and glanced once more at the inverted corridor stretching deep below. What he was hoping for at that moment—was not to land on his back. In the next instant Alex took a step forward—and fell.
Heather felt the falling sensation again—squeezed her eyes shut tightly. Alex saw burning lamps and prison cell bars flashing past. And a moment later Alex felt himself land on his back, and still holding Heather in his arms, he tiredly looked up at the ceiling—where there was simply a ceiling with a burning lamp.
When Heather felt the impact—she opened her eyes and realized she was lying on Alex. Realizing this, she quickly stood up, straightened her denim skirt—and offered Alex her hand to help him up.
Alex took her hand, stood—and looked around as he did. At first glance it was clear: they were in the prison cafeteria. Dirty dishes lay scattered across numerous tables.
"I really hope we don't have to jump down anymore," Heather said, letting out a heavy sigh.
"No, now we're officially in Toluca Prison. But the way here wasn't exactly pleasant," Alex said, brushing dirt off his already filthy coat.
"We need to find a map to figure out where to go. If I understood correctly—we're back in the alternate world, which means this place could be huge," Heather said—already starting to understand what to do and what to look for.
"Ah, look how fast kids grow up. Just recently she didn't know what to do—and now she's figuring it out on her own. I'm so proud of you, Cheryl," Alex said, wiping an imaginary tear from his eye and smiling at Heather.
Heather gave him an embarrassed-irritated look because of the inappropriate jokes. Alex just smiled.
Chuckling lightly, Alex walked forward—to leave the prison cafeteria and figure out where they were and what they needed to find next.
Heather, meanwhile, hoped they would find her father in this place. Alex was thinking about the reason they had ended up here. Because as far as he understood, nothing connected Alessa to Toluca Prison.
Walking farther through the prison cafeteria, Heather noticed the silhouette of a body behind one of the tables. If not for the dim light—she wouldn't have seen it at all. Heather tugged Alex's sleeve and pointed at the corpse.
Alex looked—and was slightly surprised. It was a man in a blue-and-white striped sweater and a blue cap. The corpse lay with its head on the table—in one hand an old revolver, on the other side clear blood splatter indicating the cause of death.
Alex, of course, recognized the corpse—it was Eddie. The guy who ended up in Silent Hill because of guilt, an inferiority complex, and many other factors.
Alex cast only a brief glance at Eddie's corpse and walked on—not seeing any reason to pay attention. Eddie's life story didn't seem particularly captivating or interesting to him. Eddie, like many people like him, had been bullied for being overweight and clumsy.
At one point he snapped, grabbed an old revolver—and instead of taking revenge on his tormentor, shot his dog. Terrified of police pursuit, Eddie ended up in Silent Hill—and ultimately his path led him to Toluca Prison, where he couldn't cope with guilt and fear—and shot himself in the head.
"That man doesn't look like a resident of this city. He looks like he came from outside," Heather said, following Alex and casting short glances at Eddie's corpse.
"Just another idiot summoned by Silent Hill. Even just looking at him you can tell what happened to him," Alex said without turning his head, continuing to walk.
"And what exactly could have happened to him that he ended up in prison and shot himself in the head?" Heather asked, walking beside Alex and turning her head toward Eddie's corpse.
"We're in a prison—which means he was afraid of what he did and blamed himself. And the revolver in his hand is direct proof. Most likely he killed someone, got scared, and ran. That's the whole story," Alex said, stopping at the exit doors of the prison cafeteria.
"So he was an escaped criminal?" Heather asked, looking up at Alex.
"More like an idiot. Now be quiet. We're in a prison—and we don't know what or who lives here. I don't want monsters jumping us the moment we step out," Alex said, shaking his head.
Heather nodded and gripped her pistol tighter—showing she was ready to continue. Seeing that Heather was prepared, Alex pushed the double doors open—and stepped out of the prison cafeteria first.
Ahead of them was a short corridor—leading into a very spacious room with a lit guard booth.
Seeing the booth, Alex immediately led Heather there—because that spot felt like the safest place in the entire prison. He could sense it clearly.
Entering the guard booth, Alex immediately saw the control panel for the prison cells. Despite the place looking abandoned, there were clear signs someone had been here recently: distinct footprints on the floor and no dust on the panel.
Alex spotted a switch on the wall—and immediately pulled it. For a moment the entire room flared with light—and then went out again.
Heather flinched when the light appeared for a second—but soon the room plunged back into darkness. Except for the guard booth.
"Looks like there's no power," Heather said, looking at Alex.
"Maybe there will be. Sit tight for now—I'll figure something out. If I can get the lights on—we won't have to wander through dark prison corridors," Alex said, pointing to a chair.
Without a word, Heather sat down and began looking around—while Alex tried to restore the electricity.
Heather's gaze fell on boxes of documents. While Alex fiddled with the wiring—Heather decided to see who had been held in this prison.
Opening the first box, she began reading the files.
Meanwhile, Alex found the right wires and rerouted the power. Connecting them, he closed the electrical panel and pulled the switch again—it sparked. But a moment later the lights came on—and stayed on.
The moment the lights appeared—echoing screams of monsters rang through the entire prison.
Hearing the screams, Heather immediately turned to Alex. But he just stretched lazily and lit a cigarette.
Alex wasn't surprised at all that Toluca Prison was full of monsters. And most of them—former inmates.
Smoking his cigarette, Alex thought about where to start the search. But at that moment his radio once again showed signs that someone was trying to reach him on the general channel.
"Sam… Sammy… You there?" came a crackling male voice from Alex's radio.
"Dean? What the hell?" Alex said, grabbing the radio and switching to the general channel.
"Alex? That you? How the hell did you get on this channel? Don't tell me you're already done?" came Dean's surprised voice.
"No, not done yet. I'm in Toluca Prison right now," Alex said with a slight smile.
"In prison? Me, Sam, and our tag-along are in prison too. But what the hell—you didn't say we'd have to crawl through goddamn holes in walls to get to other places? And don't even get me started on the ghosts in the cursed room. We're lucky Sam brought holy oil—otherwise our only safe spot would be crawling with ghosts too," Dean said calmly at first, then switched to an irritated shout.
"Hey, hey, not my fault. How was I supposed to know you'd have to crawl through wall holes? I had to jump into holes in the floor—I'm not complaining," Alex said in a cheerful tone.
"Go to hell. Better tell me—did you find any living missing agents? We've only found Alvarez and Phillips so far. And they were damn unlucky. Those victim names you gave us—fucking useless. We saved two of them, and that psychopath killed two agents as sacrifices for this shitty ritual," Dean said in an irritated voice.
"So the ritual victims were agents. Shit… Got it. What the hell is going on over there? You said you're in prison?" Alex said in an irritated tone.
"We're trying to find a way out. Not going so great. This place is a goddamn maze. Nobody said we'd have to solve puzzles in this fucking alternate world. Now we've split up and are looking for clues on how to move forward or at least get down. Because as far as I understand, we're in some kind of round prison that can rotate—like Sam said. How's it going on your end?" Dean said, describing what he thought of the alternate world.
"As far as I can tell—Cheryl and I are at the bottom of the same prison. I interrogated one Order member, we met Alessa, and I had to kill a ton of monsters. In short—same shit as on your side. We're constantly getting thrown from one point to another mixed with monsters in the way," Alex said, leaning on the desk and holding the radio.
"Damn… You really turned this into a family road trip in the Mystery Machine. First a goddamn space clown, now we're playing Sherlocks while fighting off monsters. Not a vacation—a dream," Dean said, chuckling slightly.
"When we're done—I'll give you my good whiskey," Alex said with a light smile, exhaling cigarette smoke.
"Minimum two bottles. And not less. Or I swear—I'll kick your ass. Alright, talk later. Looks like Sam and Henry are back with clues on how to move forward," Dean said, ending the connection.
Alex just smiled, shaking his head—perfectly understanding the reason for Dean's irritation and what it was connected to.
Heather had been sitting to the side the whole time, listening to Alex's conversation with someone on the radio. She immediately understood: it was one of Alex's colleagues. But she didn't understand who the psychopath was or what ritual they were talking about. What she did understand clearly: Alex's colleagues were in another part—but the alternate world was the same for all of them.
And once again, Heather had even more questions—for which she had zero answers.
To be continued…
(It's been a really weird day. I've been desperately sleepy this whole time. I even drank two cups of coffee, and I still felt incredibly tired and sleepy. Anyway, as I said, I'll try to speed things up a bit so as not to drag out the plot any further. I'm still planning on showing what happened to Dean and Sam, and the girls as well. As for the prison, there will be traces of the psychopathic killer there. And as I mentioned, there will be some interactions between Alex and the others, but only via radio, and the prison is one of those places.)
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