SILENT HILL
PART I – INTO DARKNESS
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CHAPTER 1 – CYBIL
Sgt. Cybil Bennet's head felt as if it were likely to explode any minute. She had been trying to fall asleep at her desk for the past hour and a half, and the only thing still keeping her awake was the forsaken throbbing in the center of her forehead and in her temples. Her head was cradled in her hands; her long, golden hair dangling in front of her face.
She reached for her Styrofoam cup and took another sip of coffee, emptying the pathetic container. She stared into the empty bottom for a second, then crumpled it in her fist and tossed it into the gray trash bin next to her desk.
Leaning back in her chair, she folded her arms and allowed herself to close her eyes. She had been at the Brahms Police Station since noon that day and it was now… what time was it anyway? She listened for the ticking of the clock hung above her door, then reluctantly opened her eyes and looked. 11:45. She had spent most of the day in her office working on a couple case files and reviewing some other documents.
It wasn't the job she had hired in for ten years ago. She chuckled when she thought of herself back then, fresh out of High School and the police academy. She was much different now – she'd seen and experienced too much to possibly find anything similar between the Cybil now and the Cybil back then. She rarely got out on the streets anymore – a few patrols a weak. Other than that, she was both the boss and the desk jockey. She casually brushed her blonde bangs out of her face, closing her eyes once again.
The room was still silent, save for the incessant and repetitive ticking of the clock as it neared closer and closer to midnight. It was pitch black outside, but Cybil might not have known better being cooped up in her office all day.
Lit by a dim, yellow light in a fixture dangling from the ceiling, her cramped quarters had an eerie glow about it. Papers and files were strewn about her desk, important-looking files and papers suggestively covered in random coffee cup rings and cigarette ashes. Suggesting what she didn't know, but they seemed suggestive of something. After all, everything had to suggest something.
And her damned persistent headache suggested that she needed a day off. Yes, she would be grateful for just one day away from the force and all the moronic people her job entailed dealing with on a day to day basis.
She unfolded her arms, and sat up again. She reached for her pack of Pall Mall Menthols, retrieved one from the package, and placed it in her mouth. She kicked her legs up onto her desk and crossed them as she dug for her lighter in her pocket. She flicked it open with a chink. There was a soft scratch as she ignited it, and a bright, orange flame leaped from it. Shadows danced upon the walls as the tip of the cigarette glowed orange and hissed with the crackling of burning paper and sweet tobacco; When she was satisfied it was lit she closed the lighter and threw it back to the desk in one fluid motion with a satisfactory clunk.
She brought the cigarette from her lips between her index and middle finger, and let her arm dangle at her side. She exhaled from her nose and mouth simultaneously as she leaned back in her seat again. The fragrant smoke hung in the air and formed a thin cloud under the sickly yellow light.
I really do need a day off… she thought. I need to get out of this place, even just for one day. Hell, even a couple hours would be great.
She brought the cigarette back to her lips, and took another deep drag. The room was so quiet and still that she could recognize the slow hiss as she inhaled the rich smoke. Placing the cigarette in one of the notches in the black, plastic ashtray sitting on her desk, which was already littered with a mound of gray ashes and butts, she tilted her head back and blew the smoke upward from her open mouth.
She wasn't getting any work done, and she needed some sleep, so she made a call. "I think it's time to call it a night…" she said to herself, bringing her feet back down off her desk and to the floor. In an attempt to tame the chaos of her desk, started sorting the papers back into their proper folders, and making a neat pile of paperwork off to the side of her desk.
She got up from the chair which protested and squeaked at the release of her weight. She grabbed her keys from the hook on the wall by the door to her office, pocketed the cigarettes and lighter, snatched her radio from her desk, which she clipped to her belt, and finally her still-burning cigarette, which she placed in her mouth. She pulled her black, tight leather gloves from her pocket, and stretched them over her hands.
The room was plunged into darkness as Cybil flicked the light switch off, and opened the door to her office for the first time since her last trip to the coffee machine about two hours ago. She let the door close behind her as she stepped into the main office of the darkened Brahms Police Station.
A few streams of moonlight shone in from the open blinds in front of the large windows looking out onto the street to her left. The creamy luminance formed odd shadows on the walls and cut strips of light onto the carpet in front of Cybil. Everyone else had left hours before now, somewhere around ten probably. The place felt like a daguerreotype, a photograph with no color, of a place long abandoned – devoid of life, which, in fact, it actually was.
She walked to the main exit, which was to the right of the large windows along the wall to her left. She made sure the door was locked, and then stepped outside into the cool night air.
It tasted good; felt good as she breathed it into her tarry lungs. She was standing on the sidewalk of Main Street in the small town of Brahms, and as she looked up she noticed the stars were in full display; not a cloud in sight. Not that she could see much, thanks to the emanating bright glow shining from the street light in front of her. She took another drag from her cigarette, then brought it from her lips to her pointer finger and middle finger again. She turned right and walked down the sidewalk to the parking lot, where all the police force personnel parked their vehicles while they were on duty. As she did, she observed the sky above, and exhaled.
She took another right turn, and she saw the wire gate which sealed the parking lot off from the street. The gate in question was closed and locked, but she walked up to the concrete wall that connected the security booth and the gate and keyed her passcode into the panel that was there. The gate hesitantly began to retract, squeaking and complaining, but it made it. She walked through.
Her motorcycle was the only vehicle remaining in the parking lot. It was sitting in a pool of light coming from one of the lamps that lit very little of the parking lot. She approached it and stopped, taking her last drag from her cigarette, and crushed it under her boot.
She had begun to saddle up, and had put the key in the ignition when her radio began crackling with static.
At first, she thought she was hearing things, but then she heard it again. She pulled the radio from her belt, and put it to her ear, listening carefully. A voice finally spoke.
"This is John Stevenson, from... Hill PD… problem on this end… strange… town… anyone listening… assis… requested immediately… I repeat, this is John Stev – Oh shit – what the f… that!?"
There was gunfire, more radio noise, and then the voice spoke again.
"This is John Stevenson, Silent Hill PD… there is a major… something… happening… everything has gone wr-"
"Officer Stevenson, this is Cybil Bennet, Brahms PD. I don't know how I'm receiving a transmission from this far away, but I read you. Repeat, what is your status, over?"
"Officer… thank God… problem… need assistance… oh shit!" There was more gunfire. "Oh shit. Oh God -" Then a bloodcurdling scream, static, and then silence.
She shoved the radio firmly into her belt. "Oh, hell…" she said aloud. "No rest for the wicked…" she said with a light laugh.
She didn't know anything about 'wicked' yet.
She pulled her helmet from the back of her cycle, placed it on her head hand locked the strap under her chin into place. She turned the key and ignited the cycle's engine, and backed up. She accelerated forward to the panel again, punched a few keys, and the gate began to shut. She accelerated through it before it closed and turned right out of the parking lot heading east heading for Silent Hill. From here, it was a straight shot. Not much would impede her progress because there was no traffic on the roads, and Brahms was so small there were no traffic lights in the entire town.
Once she got outside of Brahms, there was nothing but her and the road. The air sharply whipped at her face, and it felt damn good. It didn't do a whole lot for her headache, however, but she didn't care anymore.
This occurrence bothered her – but simultaneously she was not surprised. Over the past two months she had been hearing strange stories about things happening in Silent Hill – tourist scares, apparitions, real spook tale material. Not that she had believed any of it, but they were certainly entertaining anecdotes to hear over coffee. In Brahms, everyone knew her, so whenever she stopped into Cindy's diner off Taylor street people made a point to converse with her. Therefore, she heard things.
She didn't let the thoughts take away from her ride and before long, she was on the long road that ran parallel to a mountain on the right of the road - the road would take her straight into Silent Hill.
For the first time since she had gone into work that day, she saw taillights in front of her. She was surprised; she hadn't expected any vehicles out on the road at this time of night in an area with a small population like this area had. She sped up to gain on the car, which as she got closer, saw was a red Jeep.
She passed it in the left lane, and looked back as she did. She nodded her head as a friendly gesture, then resumed her position in the right lane in front of the Jeep, and then dared to increase her speed even more. She didn't know what the hell was going on in that town, and she was being called upon for assistance, so she had no time to waste.
Letting her thoughts return to the upcoming task at hand, she remembered the tales that went farther back than coffee talk. They were stories about a secret cult that had lived there ages ago, and a curse they left on the town. She had even heard about an orphanage in the forest just outside of Silent Hill where children supposedly lived as slaves to the survivors of the cult. Regardless, she had been to Silent Hill, and still believed the view of Lake Toluca from any point in the town was one of the most impressive and magical things she had ever seen in her life.
In a split-second, a girl appeared in the middle of the road, jolting her back to reality like an electric shock. The girl didn't even seem to be real, almost like a ghost, or the mirage resulting from heat on pavement. Cybil only had time to react by jamming the handlebars to the right, causing the bike to careen out of control and flip, subsequently throwing her off it. She remembered flying forward and rolling right onto the shoulder of the road. When her roll stopped, the pain was the only thing she found manageable to process.
Staring up at the stars in the cloudless sky, she thought of a book title – As I Lay Dying, by William Faulkner, and managed a chuckle that came out as a throaty, wet choking sound.
The last thought that managed to pass through her mind was a solemn one – here is where I die - alone, on the side of a road. After that, there was nothing – Cybil Bennet was unconscious.
A stroke of luck would have been had by this poor woman had death come calling then.
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Update (03/28/2008)
Well, my writing has certainly matured since the first publishing of this fic. I came across it the other day in my files and as I was reading through it, I could not bear to leave the problems and inconsistencies in my writing alone, especially knowing that this was on the internet. So I have corrected and added quite a few things, hopefully equating to a much more enjoyable reading experience. XP Look for more soon… maybe.
Author's Notes
Well… what do you think? I had started writing this fic a looong time ago, but had given up. I wanted to go back and finish it, and I didn't want to work with my earlier material, so I just gave it a fresh start and, in fact, started with something completely different than before. I had begun with Harry and Cheryl before, but this time I chose to begin with Cybil before the game even begins. Go me!
Thanks for reading, and stay tuned for updates.
Disclaimer: I do not own Silent Hill or any of the contained characters. Everything (including the plot) belongs to Konami and all creators of the game. (I'm too lazy to name them all.)