Waylon Park 3

Waylon Park 3

A Chapter by Sarah J Dhue
"

My Outlast (and Outlast: Whistleblower) fan-fiction. I wrote it before playing Outlast 2. I want to share it with other Outlast fans.

"

As I reach the ‘Mount Massive Asylum’ sign, I can see that the front gate has been knocked off its hinges.  I carefully maneuver my SUV over the gate so as not to puncture my tires.  I drive on past the guard shack and see the second gate also knocked down and a red Jeep parked practically on the front steps.  A red Jeep?

I suddenly have the strangest feeling that I am experiencing déjà vu…  That’s right.  When I escaped Mount Massive, I left in a red Jeep that someone had left parked out by the front gate.  There was a press pass hanging from the rearview mirror, a press pass belonging to… goddammit, why can’t I remember… Miles!  Miles Upshur!  Is he the man who was in my house, the man who killed- no, that was the Walrider.  But why is that name so familiar?

Someone’s been telling stories outside of class.  Jeremy Blaire’s voice in my head causes me to jump.

“Shut up!”  I yell aloud, still startled.  But wait… I got caught sending emails to journalists to create an exposé on what was going on at Mount Massive… press pass… Miles Upshur…

I put a hand to my mouth.  My God, I led him here.  The night that the Variants took over, he was here… no wonder he would want to hurt me, with or without the Walrider’s influence.  After what he must have went through, he is probably bat s**t crazy.  Not that I am much better off, I mean, I hear the voices of the ghosts of my past in my head all the time.

I take a deep breath and climb out of my car.  I close the door behind me and hit the lock button on my fob, pocketing my key.  I begin up the stairs to see that the front door is hanging open, slightly splintered.  Yeah, he’s here alright.  I look into the foyer and realize just how deterred by the place I am, how badly I do not want to set foot inside.

It seems like a dream now, being here with you.  Darling,” Eddie’s voice mocks me.

“Shut up, I’m not here for you,” I reply, taking my first step inside the asylum.  My footsteps echo off the empty walls.  I wonder where he could be in the vast complex, seeing as I have no idea of his reasoning for returning here.

“Who’s this?”  A voice comes from my left, real this time; not in my head.  I whirl to face the speaker to see a completely naked man lumbering toward me.  He is bald, with a thick neck and arms.  I swear I’ve seen him before.

“He looks nervous,” a very similar voice says from behind me.  I look over my shoulder to see a man nearly identical to the first, only this one black hair.  F**k.  I do remember these two, from the basketball court; at least this time they don’t have machetes.

“I would like to kill him,” the bald one states.

“It was the Walrider’s instruction.”

I feel a chill run down my spine.

“Yes.  Yes.”

“When we kill him, we kill him slow.”  The one behind me grips my shoulder, spinning me to face him and wraps his hands around my throat, squeezing and lifting me up into the air.

“Such patience.”  Pain shoots through me as I try to scream, but all that comes out is a gagging sound.  My neck aches, the bruises on my neck no longer visible but not completely healed.  “I want his liver and his tongue.”

“They are yours,” the one strangling me replies.

“Mine.”

I grip the man’s thick wrists, kicking my feet frantically.  I start to see red, my eyelids are growing heavy.  F*****g die already!” I hear Jeremy yell inside my head.

Behind my assailants, up on the second floor, I notice a silhouette walking behind the tempered glass.  I hear the buzzing of a saw; I cannot tell if it is real or inside my head.  The silhouette reaches a broken area of the glass and I can see that the lower half of his face is covered in a beard.  The buzzing picks up in frequency and intensity as he raises a buzz saw above his head.  Oh Christ, not you too.

“You are mine!!” he screams, jumping down from the second floor and landing like a cat.  He charges the twin who has me in a stranglehold.  The lug turns to face him as Frank Manera lifts his saw, burying it in his shoulder and neck.  The twin lets out a groan, releasing me.

As I fall to the ground, I see him kick the twin’s leg out from under him, continuing to saw at his collarbone.  I grasp my neck, gulping in fresh air in large breaths.  I have to get up, I have to get the f**k out of here.  Thankfully the other twin is staring on in disbelief at his brother trying to fight off the cannibalistic Frank.

I press my palms flat against the floor and get up, running for the stairs.  I go down one flight, then lay flat against the stairs in the darkness, hoping none of them saw where I went.  I hear the saw cease its whirring and I think I hear someone choking; not a dry cough, a wet and sickly sound.

I peer over the edge of the steps and see Frank looking around the foyer.  He stomps his foot, letting out an angry cry.  “No!  You were mine!” he shouts.  He lowers his tone, crouching and looking around once more, “You will be still.”  He looks down at the twin he attacked, dark crimson blood flowing from the deep wound where his neck meets his shoulder.  “You stay there, meat.  All mine.”  The other twin is still staring blankly down at his brother.  Frank revs the saw a few times and begins hunting around for me.  God this guy is persistent.  And I don’t even think the Walrider put him up to it.  He starts down the hallway to the recreation hall, revving his saw from time to time.  “I know you’re close!” he yells, but it is distant.  I think I have successfully evaded him, for now at least.  I turn my attention back to the twins.

The bald one has fallen to his knees beside the black-haired one.  He puts his hands on his chest, shaking him.  He does not move, his eyes staring blankly off in the direction Frank went.  The bald one furrows his brow, shaking him harder.

“Get up,” he says, shaking him harder, “Get up… GET UP!!” he screams, his voice showing some inflection.  He removes his left hand from his brother’s chest and submerges it in the puddle of blood.  He brings the blood-soaked hand to his face, staring at it, a frown forming on his face.  “Oh no,” he says, his monotonous voice tinged with sorrow.  His expression softens as he slowly stands, still staring at his hand.  “Oh no oh no oh no,” he keeps repeating as he lumbers like a drunkard over to one of the broken office doors, almost tripping and falling.

He looks down at the floor and bends over.  When he stands upright, I can see he has a large sliver of glass clutched in his hands, fresh blood dripping onto the floor from him gripping it so tightly.  He walks back over to his brother, standing over him, still repeating his mantra, “Oh no oh no oh no oh no.”  He closes his eyes and grits his teeth, clasping the glass between his hands.  It looks almost as it his is praying.  His eyes suddenly come open and he buries the glass into his stomach, letting out a grunt as it enters his body.  I cover my mouth to avoid letting out a yelp.

He twists it around, blood raining down on his brother’s already bloodied corpse.  He finally brings it across to the side, spilling his guts onto the floor.  He gurgles as dark red blood begins issuing from his mouth.  His grip on the glass loosens and his knees buckle as he begins to fall.  He lands on his brother with a wet smack.  They both lay still, dead �" two more victims of Murkoff.  I pity them.  I really do.

I try to stand, but the buzzing in my head starts up and my vision is blurred by the vision of a Rorschach.  He’s close.  I grip the staircase banister; I can tell that the ‘signal’ seems to be coming from below me.  I squint to see down into the darkness.  I can barely make out a doorway and yellow sign with a large black lightning bolt displayed upon it.  A power room.  I doubt he would be down there.  I feel a pit form in my stomach as I realize where he must be.  The lab, the lab beneath the asylum.  That would make some form of sense, seeing as that is the location of the Engine.

I try to ignore the throbbing inside my skull and make my way to the elevator doors.  I hit the button and hear the pulleys whir to life as the elevator is brought up from the sub level.  He must be down there.  I climb in - the door closing behind me �" and press the button, the elevator screeching dangerously as I descend into the birthplace of the Walrider.



© 2018 Sarah J Dhue


Author's Note

Sarah J Dhue
My Outlast (and Outlast: Whistleblower) fan-fiction. I wrote it before playing Outlast 2. I want to share it with other Outlast fans. That being said, if you have not played the games or do not have an extensive knowledge of them, the story will likely not make sense, seeing as I literally picked up my story where they left off.

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Added on February 18, 2018
Last Updated on February 18, 2018
Tags: SarahJDhue, Sarah J Dhue, Dhue, story, fiction, fan, fan fiction, Outlast, Outlast Whistleblower, Whistleblower, Red Barrels, Miles Upshur, Waylon Park, Walrider, twins, Frank Manera, Murkoff


Author

Sarah J Dhue
Sarah J Dhue

In the author's lair, IL



About
I am Sarah J Dhue. I am an author, as well as a photographer & graphic designer, currently going to school for web design. I've been writing since I was in elementary school. I live in Illinois. My f.. more..

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