Phantasmagourmet

Everything was blurred, fading in and out. Deep darkness surrounded Will as he came to consciousness. Shades of pink and red clouded his vision. He felt numb, completely numb. He couldn’t move his fingers or toes until a few silent minutes later. He noticed his wrists and ankles strapped to an old gurney. Struggling against the bonds, the floor and gurney creaked. In the darkness, he heard faint, feminine moans. There were several of them, perhaps five or so. Where exactly was he? He struggled again, joined by the sound of a creaking floor and women’s moans. Then there was a new sound, like that of a wet cloth being rung tight. He stopped. His vision adjusted but parts were still fuzzy without his glasses. He saw figures in the shadow and noticed light above him. There was an industrial fan high in the ceiling, but it was completely still. The light that came through made the room look blood stained. Will twisted on the gurney, freeing one of his hands, but the figures moved, and again the sound of women’s moans. He saw their heads twist and he froze. They had no faces, only gaps and scars and blisters on rotting skin with the faint outline of a nurse’s cap. Their uniforms and skin were nearly the same color, covered in dirt and grime and long since dried stains. How many were there… Will counted eight. This was another nightmare, just another dream, he told himself.

Shaking, he tugged the thick buckle at his other wrist. He worked on his legs, hoping to stifle the creaks of the floor as much as possible. Sitting on the edge of the gurney, he carefully looked at the women around him. They were blurring in and out of focus, but he could see the horror of their contorted bodies and bludgeoned faces. At first, he assumed they were the victims of Hobbs with their sameness and lack of identity. He wasn’t sure now. Eyes to the ground, he noticed there really wasn’t any ground. Only grates made the shoddy floor, but below that was darkness. He slid off the gurney, the nurses twitched at the sound and shuffled about till Will kept still. The floor grates were rusty but somehow held his weight. The room was cylindrical, only slightly bigger than the diameter of the fan high above. The walls were dilapidated and the only exit was a pair of large doors in as poor condition as the rest of the room.

“My name is Will Graham…” He whispered, as quiet as possible. “I’m in… a nightmare. In a dream. There's light outside, but..." He looked at his watch. It wasn't working. "My watch stopped on 3:47 am."

Not willing to give up, regardless how much he believed this to be just another nightmare, he chose to go after the doors instead of wait and rot in that room. The nurses twitched and groaned, straightening themselves as they hobbled towards the noise Will was making. Will slammed into the door and struggled with the handle. He was shaking, just like he had in the kitchen with the Hobbs family. The handle wasn’t budging. Will pulled a gun that wasn’t there before and shot the door over and over. He was too shaky to aim properly. He reloaded his gun and turned around. The nurses were closing in on him. He shot at one, but it didn't relent. He emptied that clip too as he was surrounded, stifled by rotting hands that smelled like vinegar and blood.

Will woke with a start in his own bed, drenched in sweat. His clock said 3:52 am. He looked around, lost for a moment. His dogs were awake, wagging their tails. "Good dogs... Good," he muttered. He pulled his shirt off and laid a towel down and went back to sleep.

His lecture went as usual, talking about the latest tragedy: the second murder of a family, and the rape of the mother and wife. Shards of mirror replaced their eyes. The bureau had made molds of teeth marks they found and one snarky student called it shark-like, not that he was wrong.  The day was mostly a blur until he found himself at Hannibal's waiting room.

"Will, come in," Dr. Lecter said with his usual cheer.
"This dream. You think those girls, the nurses, were the victims of Garrett Jacob Hobbs?"
"I don’t know what else it could be, but they didn't look human, really human."
"You said there were eight girls. But the eight was the victim of the copycat, was she not?"
"Yeah. At least, I guess. I don't know anymore, I do know she was the copycats victim but," Will sighed, agitated as he scratched his neck.
"But you feel you could have prevented her death just as much as the other girls."
"Yeah, that."
Hannibal paused. "Maybe it's Abigail. A tragedy, really."
Will took a deep breath, rubbing his hands in his face. "No. None of them were Abigail. They couldn't be."
Hannibal stood from his seat and walked to Will's side, a hand on his shoulder.
"Did they kill you?"
Will turned to him, brow furrowed.
"When they surrounded you, did they kill you?"
Will blinked a few times, having to think back on the dream. "No, no I woke up. But I'm sure they were going to." He laughed bitterly. "I was honestly scared. Haven't been that scared in a long time."

"With a job like yours that's surprising. You seemed scared when you killed Garrett Jacob Hobbs. Was it the same fear? That you may need to kill them to save yourself?" Hannibal put his hands in his pockets.

Will crossed his arms in thought. "I shot them, without even thinking," he mumbled, as if disturbed by how easy it was to do.
"But they still went after you."
"Yeah."
"You're certain they would kill you? That they weren't simply looking for someone to save them? It would be cruel, don't you think, to attempt killing them when they only seek your aid."
"They were feral, savage. Mindless, even."
"Like animals?"
"No, no, animals aren't like that. They were diseased, sick, not in their right mind. I'd almost compare myself to them."
"Are you diseased, Will?"
"No... But I'm definitely not in my right mind."
"Delusions and nightmares such as these could also be the effects of your diminishing encephalitis. When is your next scan?"
"Next week."
"And Jack?"
"What about him."
"Does he think you're well enough to continue working for the FBI? Even after everything?"
"You mean after... Abigail. After she killed herself."
"Yes."
"Do you think I'm well enough to continue working for the FBI?"
"You seem as stable as you were on the Hobs case."
"I'll take that as a 'no' then."
"Has that ever stopped you?"
Will laughed, genuinely this time. Hannibal smiled.
They broached the subject of the Tooth Fairy, the name given to the killer-rapist who murdered the Leeds and Jacobi families. Hannibal had no other patients and allowed Will to stay and talk until late.

Will had a decent night of sleep.

At the bureau, after the lecture, it turns out the Tooth Fairy had struck again. It had been nearly a month since the first murder, but the set up was the same. All the mirrors were broken, the Leeds’ killed, the wife and mother raped. Jack had consulted Dr. Lecter on a psyche eval on the murderer and called Will in at the same time.

“No, no, I've been there, at the crime scene. He doesn't like something about himself, about the way he looks. He smashed all the mirrors. One or two would be enough for the small pieces he used on their eyes. No, it's... They can't turn him away because of his appearance, because he's in control."

"So just the average power trip," said Crawford.
"No, not really. Not just quite. There's more about him, Jack, I know it. And it's gotta do with these families."
"Will," started Hannibal. "Do you think he knows either of those families?"
Crawford interrupted. "No, it's impossible. We tried looking for any time these two women could have met or seen the same guy or been anywhere near the same area. They're completely different except that they're pretty and have families with pets."
"The pets... They were the first to die," Will muttered, somewhat grieved.
“So you’ve also considered the possibility he may be disfigured, or that he believes he is disfigured,” Hannibal added.
“The mirrors,” said Will.
"A man on a pilgrimage it seems."
"Pilgrimage," Will echoed.
"Yes. It seems he is using specific times of day, does it not?"
"You can't exactly get away with murder in broad daylight. He's not that good."
Hannibal chuckled. "No, Will. But it appears he is fond of the moon phases."
Will thought about it. Both murders had happened around a full moon.

Jack spoke up this time. “Will, this freak seems to be in phase with the moon. He killed the Jacobis in Birmingham on Saturday night back in June, full moon. He killed the Leeds family in Atlanta night before last. That's one day short of a lunar month. So if we're lucky we may have a little over three weeks before he does it again.”

Hannibal added, “This pilgrim’s special relationship with the moon may help us. Blood appears quite black under moonlight. The wives to the families were raped, yes? It would be better to have outdoor privacy for that sort of thing, being nude in the moonlight, covered in blood.”

Jack shook his head. “You managed to make a gruesome murder-rapist sound like some poetic Shakespearean concept.”

“Sorry.”
Jack waved his hand. "Well, let me know if you come up with anything else." Hannibal and Will headed to Hannibal's home. On the drive there, Hannibal's asked, "How did you sleep, Will?"

Will took a moment before answering. "Fine. Just fine. No nightmares or any flop sweat."
"Good to hear."
Hannibal prepared food for the both of them as they sat opposite of each other.
"On the subject of nightmares, Will,"
Will nodded, eating a delicious plate of what he was told was a veal piccata.
"Have you had nightmares about Hobbs? Or Abigail?"
Will looked up and put his fork down.
"I didn't mean to ruin your appetite-"
"No, no, it's great. But, uh, no I haven't. Not until that... Nurse dream. Nightmares yes, but not about Hobbs. Or Abigail."
Hannibal's nodded, taking a bite of food himself.
"I still can't believe she did it... I mean, I literally can't believe she killed herself, I honestly think someone murdered her."
"The copycat?"
"Maybe. If he has any connection with Hobbs personally, or even knew him, I'm sure he knew Hobbs real target was-"
"Abigail."
"Right. And her protected at the hospital or by us or the FBI, it wouldn't work. He needed her to isolate herself from everyone."

"She also killed Conan Doyle. Do you think the guilt of not using every part of him made her think her murder was unjustified? Perhaps she couldn't live with knowing she killed a man."

Will picked up his utensils and continued eating. "I don't know..." He mumbled.

After dinner, Will excused himself and left back to him home. He was tired. He almost fell asleep in his car when he reached his house. Dragging himself inside he's kicked off his shoes and lay in bed. Only a couple hours later did he take off his pants.

Will walked through a thick and heavy fog. There were noises around, like dogs fighting. He tried to follow the path. It was leading directly to the noise. He found himself at an old cemetery, but the sounds stopped. He sighed. There was a figure by a grave stone. Will drew his gun, finger on the barrel. He approached it and it gasped. It was Abigail, red faced like she had been crying. He put away his gun and hugged her.

"Abigail. Abigail, are you alright?" He stroked her hair and she nodded.
"Sorry, uh, I think you're mistaking me for someone else!" The Abigail lookalike pushed Will away and stepped back. She was more skid dish, more emotional than Abigail.
"Oh, I'm... I'm really sorry I didn't mean-"
"No, it's alright. What's your name?"
"Will Graham."
"Adelaide. Adelaide Hall."
Silence between them.
Will cleared his throat. "What are you doing here."
"I was just, looking for my mom. I can't find her. I guess my grandparents kept her or something. She was cremated"
Will nodded. "Well, uh.. Do you know where this place is?"

Abigail... No, no, Adelaide. Adelaide looked at him funny. "You don't know where you are? Didn't you read the sign? Silent Hill. The cemetery right now."

Will apologized. Funny, he was so preoccupied with the noises that he didn't bother remembering to check where he was.

"Where you from?"
"Wolf Trap, Virginia."
"That's not too farm did you drive here by yourself?"
Will thought for a second.
"I, uh... I don't know."

Adelaide nodded almost knowingly. "We get a lot of your kind around here. You should check out the diner or something if you're hungry. I could, uh. Show you around."

Will was going to say no, that this place felt unsafe even for his worrisome mind, but he felt compelled to say yes.

"Uh, sure. Yeah, that'd be great."
"Alright, come on, let's go."

Will wasn't sure what had happened but he suddenly woke up in the middle of the street, just standing there. The fog was as thick as ever. What caught his eye were the streaks of blood on the pavement. He looked down and saw none on himself. His first thought was hoping it wasnt Adelaide. The next, he hoped he didn't do that to Adelaide. Now, he wasn't sure.

He saw a figure in the fog, hoping it was her. He ran to it, but slowed down to a up job before stopping. It hobbled back and forth, not only its feet were pigeon-toed but it's kneed were bent inward. It was a strange creature, but Will didn't want to go near the thing. He needed to find Adelaide.

"My name is Will Graham. It's.. 7:23 am. I'm on..." He looked around. "Koontz street, in Silent Hill."

He avoided down the street with that strange figure and turned towards an alleyway.  There was blood there too, but it seemed to have dried a long time ago. He followed the alley down and the walls grew narrower. He reached a dead end. He turned around but choked on a gasp as he was now trapped by a sea of nurses and those hobbling, armless things. They were still, unmoving. He stepped back against the wall. He looked around, hoping to find a way to hop the wall or even a door, but when he looked back they were closer. His legs started shaking and his breathing was hitched. He put his hand on his gun but remembered what Dr. Lecter said, what if they wanted help.

No, he was sure they were malicious and reached his hand out. All at once they moved, moaned, groaned, growled and Will immediately regretted his decision.

Will woke with a start in his own bed, drenched in sweat. His clock said 7:53 am. He looked around, lost for a moment. His dogs were awake, wagging their tails. "Good dogs... Good," he muttered. He pulled his shirt off and laid a towel down and went back to sleep.