Conclusion

Michelangelo listened at the door for nearly five full minutes, straining to hear the tiniest scuff or rustle. When there was nothing, he unlocked the door and turned the handle, pulling the door open an inch. Finally satisfied, he drew it the rest of the way and looked down the long railing and the courtyard, then out to the road. The town was darker now, not night but late evening perhaps, but he didn't need to see to hear the absolute lack of sound. Nothing. For now.

"We're just gonna make a run for the lake," Michelangelo said softly, staring at the edge of the nearest building visible through the dense fog. "Then follow the water 'till we hit the boats. Then we just sail away."

His big brother, still seated on the bed, tilted his neck to work out the kink from sleeping on his back. Though sore, he looked up with clear eyes. Sleep had helped the fever go down, but the real boost to his strength was Michelangelo with him, planning a way out.

"You don't want to follow the waterline all the way around?" Leonardo asked.

"That's plan B," Michelangelo said. "If we don't find anything that floats."

"And plan C?" Leonardo asked, half smiling.

"We swim."

Leonardo blinked. He hadn't expected an answer to his teasing, but it seemed like Michelangelo had spent time planning their escape. It didn't make him stop worrying, but seeing his little brother put away his playful antics and truly get serious made him feel like they might actually get away from the town.

"Ready?" Michelangelo asked, turning to him.

"Yeah." Taking a deep breath, Leonardo stood up and limped a few steps until he could lean on his brother. He winced at how slow he was. Michelangelo couldn't even help beyond giving him a shoulder to rest against. The metal restraints on his wrists would have been easy to slice through, but his swords were busy killing everything in sight.

"Try not to worry too much," Michelangelo assured him. "We'll hear anything coming way before it gets to us."

"Comforting thought," Leonardo said.

Step by laborious step, they moved down the stairs to the cracked sidewalk, crossing the dead ground and dry grass. At the wire fence, they paused as Michelangelo listened again.

"I don't hear anything," he grumbled. "Including anything like waves or...what do lakes sound like? Seagulls?"

"You won't hear it," Leonardo said. "There's no wind, so there's no waves."

"Then how do we find it?" Michelangelo said. He laughed ruefully at himself. "Geez, I'm lame. How the hell do you lose a lake?"

"Don't beat yourself up," Leonardo smiled. "I was all over this part of town yesterday. That's the only reason I know where it is. Just go left and then right. I think there are docks."

"Straight?" Michelangelo said. "Okay...here we go."

Heading straight down the street, even the store fronts were hard to make out. Had the fog turned black? Michelangelo started to wonder if they were even moving. The cracks in the street were the only way to tell they were making any progress. Looking up at the sky, he mentally kicked himself for thinking he might hear seagulls. There wasn't a bird in the sky. Or a sun. Just a dismal shadow that grew thicker. He wished he had a flashlight.

Even leaning on Michelangelo's offered arm, after a only a minute, Leonardo wished they could stop. Favoring his ankle could only go so far. It was probably broken, and if their positions had been reversed, he would have insisted on carrying his brother piggyback.

Not that Michelangelo would have let him. And he'd as soon as break both legs as be carried himself.

Didn't make the walking any easier.

At one of the corners of the streets, Leonardo came to a stop, which made Michelangelo stop.

"Here," Leonardo said softly. "Now we go right."

"Really?" Michelangelo turned and started heading that way, but he frowned as they walked. "I don't know how you can tell what's around here."

"Police station," Leonardo said, nodding at the building across from them. "I remember the dock was two streets down."

"Yeah, but the fog makes everything look alike," Michelangelo said.

"I had a close look," Leonardo said. "It was unlocked, and I heard my swords moving around, so I ducked inside."

Nausea welled up in Michelangelo's stomach. How close had he come to losing Leonardo during those cat and mouse games? He dreaded the thought of something finding them right now, and here he was to keep his brother safe. Imagining Leonardo wandering out here alone...

"You still with me?" Michelangelo asked, giving him a nudge. "You're slowing down. If you want, I could carry-"

"Like hell," Leonardo grumbled. "I'm fine."

Michelangelo grinned, about to tease his sibling until he agreed to be carried, when Leonardo halted. He stopped as well. He knew that look and listened, holding his breath.

A high pitched tang of metal tapping metal. The scrape of steel on pavement.

"Where is it?" Michelangelo whispered.

"Other side of the river," Leonardo said. "I think."

They started moving again, faster now, and Michelangelo forced himself to keep up the pace no matter how hard it was to hear his brother forcing back each groan of pain. Slowing down out of misguided kindness would only get them killed, and his brother made no complaint.

One crossroad passed by...then another. By the third street, the sound behind them was loud enough to set their teeth on edge, scraping like someone dragging a sword behind them. Leonardo had a habit of doing that when he wanted to intimidate the streetpunks who couldn't see him in the darkness of a New York alley. To have it used on them was an insult.

"Maybe we should hide until it wanders off," Michelangelo said, looking around. The only useful hiding spot was the huge building they passed, a gray mass of steel and bricks. "How about here?"

"It's a prison," Leonardo murmured, not even lifting his head.

"A prison?" Michelangelo gave it another look. The heavy duty security doors made it obvious now that he knew what it was, but he wondered why a resort town had a prison smack in the middle and so close to a school. "Yeah, okay. Not in there. Who knows what's in there."

"We're almost to the docks," Leonardo said. "We're almost there."

That they could be so close and still not see anything reminded Michelangelo a little of home. For his entire life, he'd been used to living in New York's underground, getting by on the distant subway lights or the faint moonlight from the open gutters trickling rain. So he only realized that they were in similar darkness when they came upon a truck tilted into an open ditch in the road, its headlights shining into the ground. Michelangelo blinked as his eyes adjusted.

"Almost as dark as home," he said. "I'm sure that isn't an accident."

"Why're its lights on?" Leonardo wondered. "Are there other people here?"

"Who knows?" Michelangelo said. "Wouldn't have seen them if there were. Or maybe they thought we were the freaks."

A plank of wood had been set over the ditch. Michelangelo went first to make sure it would take their weight, and Leonardo followed after. As he stepped on the other side, the tik-tak of steel behind them grew so strong that he turned and saw his swords, rusted and blackened with blood, the leather of their hilts tangled and wrapped around each other. He kicked the plank aside and stared at his decayed katana, and as they stood still for a moment, it felt like they were looking back.

Then the crumbling shell of the truck door flew from behind him, nearly taking off his head, and slammed into the swords. Leonardo stood in shock, then glanced over his shoulder at his brother. Michelangelo grinned and hurried around the truck to him.

"That should hold 'em," Michelangelo said. "Bet we can get them untangled now."

Leonardo met his eyes and, after a moment, shook his head. "Leave them."

Michelangelo paused. "Are you sure? We could probably use them to get those cuffs off."

"No," Leonardo said. "Look at them. They're rusted through. If we tried to use them, they'd break in half."

Michelangelo still hesitated. Leonardo had never neglected his swords or let them go one day without careful polishing or sharpening. "You wanna leave 'em here? In this town?"

Turning his back on the swords, Leonardo nodded. "I don't need them to fight. I'll steal another pair when we get home."

"Okay," Michelangelo said, gently taking his arm. "Let's get out of here then."

The docks were not much farther. They found the waterline easily and followed it to the wooden piers that jutted into the dark green lake. The planks of wood were shrunk and warped with gaping holes in the middle, and Michelangelo left his side to examine the first boat they came to. A second later he was back.

"Didn't start," Michelangelo explained. "Lemme see if there's a rowboat."

Leonardo followed after him, picking his way over the more sturdy boards, leaning on one of the wooden posts supporting the piers. He saw four or five boats tied up, and his brother went over the side of one to another. If they didn't find one, he'd suggest taking the smallest and use some of the broken planks as makeshift oars.

He heard the rats before he saw them. Scratching, squeaking, sounding like spiders walking on violins-he scanned the pitiful amount of ground that he could see and still-nothing. Giving up, he limped down the line of boats and found his brother in the last one, hefting the oars into position. Michelangelo set one down and raised his hand, carefully helping Leonardo step down.

Not waiting for his brother, Leonardo turned and grabbed the mooring line in both hands, lifting the heavy rope off the post. Steel on pavement came after them-not as small as his swords but louder, like a massive weight. He grit his teeth and pressed his metal cuffs against the post, gasping in pain as he pushed as hard as he could.

The rowboat knocked against the boats beside them as it slowly floated forward. Michelangelo used the oars to push away further, and they cleared the dock just as the creature came into view.

"Whoa," Michelangelo breathed.

In the black fog, the creature was a light spot of gray with a bloody knife as tall as it was. Its strange heavy helmet cast a long shadow over them that slipped away as Michelangelo set the oars in the water. Rats spilled over the pier and splashed as they sank. Leonardo thought that maybe the thing could wade out into the water after them, but it didn't move, watching them slip out of its grip like a grim sentinel.

"That's what almost got you?" Michelangelo whispered.

"Yeah..." Leonardo breathed out.

It raised its knife, and for one horrible moment Michelangelo thought it would fling the blade straight at them. How the hell could it be strong enough to lift that? He reached forward and grabbed Leonardo's hand, about to take them both over the side. Then the creature let the knife fall, slashing the pier in half. Both of them flinched as they felt the force of the hit even from afar.

"Damn..." Michelangelo said. "I don't think either of us could take that."

They watched it until the fog swallowed it, and then they were alone on the lake, a small bubble in the midst of a thick black cloud. A moment passed. There was no sound but the water lapping against the boat. And then Michelangelo breathed out and sat back.

"Oh man," he sighed. "We did it. "We're-"

"Don't-" Leonardo cut him off. "Don't jinx it."

Michelangelo smiled. "Yeah. Okay. We'll wait 'till we're sure."

Hefting the oars, he started rowing them deeper into the fog. Leonardo turned and quietly listened to the oars touching the water. How easy it was to sit back and let his little brother do the work. They were leaving, and he no longer had to do anything.

"Thanks," he said softly.

"Huh?" Michelangelo said. "For what?"

Leonardo half-smiled. "Finding me."

Pride welled up in Michelangelo's heart. Was the fog growing lighter? He thought it was. The sun was pale and tiny, but at least he could tell where it was now.

Long minutes passed. Neither of them spoke. It was enough to be on their way. If they didn't find the road at first, they would simply stay in the boat and drift along, safely out of the reach of anything in that town.

"Hope I'm not going in circles," Michelangelo murmured.

"You're not," Leonardo said.

"You're just saying that."

Leonardo shook his head. "Listen."

Michelangelo paused in his rowing and raised his head. In the distance, he heard a faint high-pitched cry. A bird. Smiling broadly, he rows towards the sound even harder.

They jolted as the boat ran aground. Michelangelo turned around and found the fog turning to wisps between pine trees and grass, real grass and green growing things. He heard crickets chirping and the wind rustling the leaves like chimes. No doubt in his mind now that they were safe, he stepped out of the boat and pulled it higher up on the sand, then helped Leonardo out with him.

"Even the air feels better," Leonardo said.

"Never thought I'd be so glad to hear a cicada," Michelangelo said.

The way through the forest was slow going but short. By keeping right, they came to the interstate within only a few hundred feet, and the sign by the side welcomed travelers to Silent Hill.

They walked on the shoulder. The sun dipped under the trees and the stars came out, but after sharing a look, neither of them wanted to stop walking. No one would notice them, and the bushes on the side of the road were tall enough that they felt they could hide if they suddenly had to.

When the headlights came into view, they only shifted slightly to the side. The glow was so dim they could see the red brakelights in the back, so there was no way humans would notice them. They didn't even lift their heads as it passed by, which is why they both froze as the van slammed on its breaks and a familiar voice yelled from the driver's seat.

"Mikey! Leo!"

The van pulled a tight u-turn and stopped in front of them, idling as Raphael and Donatello both ran out. Michelangelo grinned and exchanged "where the hell have you been"s with Raphael while Donatello hugged Leonardo and then looked him over, immediately letting him lean on his arm to the back of the van. Throwing the doors wide made the van's floor into a convenient seat with the flickering electric light overhead.

"Damn," Michelangelo said, "that's a sight for sore eyes. Real light."

"What're you talking about?" Raphael grinned, still with his arm around Michelangelo's shoulder as if he was afraid he'd disappear. "Friends of Humanity took you to a resort. You can't tell me you didn't ride the roller coaster."

"Oh, it was a roller coaster all right," Michelangelo grinned. "There was this-no, wait. Let's get going. I'll tell you on the way home."

"Take shotgun," Donatello said, helping Leonardo up into one of the van's back seats.

For some reason, Michelangelo felt a spike of fear as he slammed the rear doors and locked them. The split second that his brothers were out of sight felt like he was inviting that wailing air raid siren and the creeping fog. He ran around the side and jumped in, looking over the seat and relaxing when he saw Donatello sitting beside Leonardo and Raphael settling into the driver's side.

"You okay?" Raphael asked as he put on his seat belt. "You look like you seen a ghost."

Smiling, Michelangelo shook his head and closed the door. He put on his seat belt, leaned back on the head rest, and felt at ease as the inside light went out and the stars spread over the headlights. Home. They were going home. His brothers' presence all around him felt like a shield between him and the town.

"Talk to me," Donatello said, snapping a cold pack and holding it against Leonardo's ankle with bandages. "How long've you been walking on this?"

"Couple days," Leonardo admitted, hissing as Donatello touched the hot swelling. "Didn't have a choice."

"And this..." Donatello gingerly put his hands under the metal restraints, studying the lock. "Geez, looks like it's melted. I wish I had my gear here. It'll have to wait 'till we get home."

"It's fine," Leonardo shrugged. "It's probably keeping anything broken from moving."

Donatello shook his head. "I wish we had your swords, but I guess those got lost." He noticed the longing look but didn't comment on it, distracted when his hand brushed his face. "Mikey, does he have a fever, too?"

"It's not that bad," Leonardo started, leaning back from his hand.

His smile fading, Michelangelo craned his head so he could see him. "Yeah, he's sick. Sorry, bro'...I should've carried you no matter what you said."

Leonardo laughed once despite his pride. "Don't. You were carrying me, kind of."

"Mikey actually did something right?" Raphael said in mock amazement and dodging Michelangelo's swipe.

"Yeah," Leonardo said, looking at his little brother. "He's the one who got us out. I...I'd all but given up."

Raphael's smile faded to match Michelangelo's look. "It was bad?" he asked over his shoulder.

Leonardo nodded. "But it's all right now. It's just...this time he saved me."

About to agree that any of them would feel weird being rescued by Michelangelo, Raphael fell silent as they all heard a soft click. Leonardo looked down as the restraints slipped open and clattered to the floor, crumbling upon impact.

end