NOTES: Jill Valentine is owned by capcom, Silent hill is owned by Konami, but the plot of redemption is mine and only mine. Also Dean Cartland is a relative of Douglas Cartland of Silent Hill 3, also owned by Konami. This is only fan fiction

Chapter One:
"The Journey to Silent Hill" (Two Views)

Act One: "The hole to another world"
The rain seemed to drop infinitely. I didn't care. It was only me, a map, the radio, and my gun. Name's Dean Cartland. I'm a paranormal investigator--excuse me, ex paranormal investigator... If you look at me when I stroll around South Ashfield (if you live there), I look about...forty. No, I'm not. I'm even barely in my thirties. In my life I had a wife once, but she had this illness called AIDS, so it was painful to take care of her, expenses, the frequent needs, and most of all, it felt like I was a slave. A slave of my wife.... Three years before, she died, and at her first death anniversary (and our wedding anniversary) I quit my job. But then I get nightmares about this town called 'Silent Hill', and recently I have received a letter from my wife's doctor, Michael Kaufman, that she is still living.

My life in South Ashfield was a cycle of despair. My romantic life is in a blur, my work in a place called hell.

Days before he leaves....
Dean woke up from yet another dream. He muttered, "Oh God...what a dream..." His apartment was the South Ashfield heights, room 302, that was said to be cursed, and that a baby was born there. The previous room tenant had left to reach for his dreams. He and Eileen Galvin in 302, who was a friend of his before the previous tenant called her up. He also left a message to me, a letter with a medallion attached to it (along with the letter that Kaufman gave). He got up, washed his face, and took a shower.
The kitchen was next to the front door. Although he felt that everything was all right, the air in the room felt heavy, like an unholy presence was in the room. He walked to the kitchen to know why...
What he saw made his glass of water crash to the ground. A group of chains were attached to the door, locking it.

"What the hell? Who put these locks here?"

There was a bloody note on the door under the peephole: This Starts your journey to Silent Hill... which made him shiver. He went to the living room, nothing but a TV, a bookshelf with a radio, a computer on the other side. He didn't want to use it now. He panicked, tried to open the windows, but he was not victorious. He grabbed a chair and tried to smash the windows, but they were like diamonds.
"SOMEBODY HELP ME!!!!!" He screamed. Suddenly, a siren bellowed. A loud thud came crashing down, and he looked to the bathroom door... He ran to it, and slammed the door open. There was a hole. But there was something else...it was around 36 inches big, with a three-foot steel pipe stuck in the middle of it. He pulled it out. And found himself entering the hole...

He woke up in a subway. It was the subway next door , but it smelled filthy, like rotten corpses were once decomposing on the floor. He quickly ignored everything and ran, ran for the Lynch street line—where the exit was located. On the way,

A woman, dressed in a blue tube top, black mini-skirt and a white sweater wrapped around her waist.
"Ma'm?" Dean said; interested on who this woman is. She turned to look at him. She was a short-haired woman, brown locks of hair trailed down to her neck. In her hand was a Berretta 9mm, he could identify it clearly.
"Who the hell are you?" Jill Valentine said.

ACT TWO: "Crossover between two worlds"

No…this is just a dream… I can't believe this… where am I? I seem to be in this other world. Oh, fantastic! I'm talking to myself. This place… its like the subway… is it still South Ashfield?

It was all a dream, I thought. I had thought wrong. I was still there, in that horrid version of the subway. Dean must have passed out—the headache had resulted from it. My vision blurred, though I could see a green-furred creature. The thing closed up on my dizzy body, running on its four legs.
"Wake up!" the woman said. He looked into those blue eyes, no, gazing into them. She slapped him awake.
"Who are you and what the hell are you doing here?"
"I could have asked the same thing." Dean said, smiling. The brunette I was staring at was standing two feet away. "What is this place? It's damp, dark, helplessly isolated from the surface. I could still hear the cars above. Where are we?"
"I…." I muttered. "I'm Dean, Dean Cartland. I got here through this crazy hole in my bathroom." I showed no sign of fright, but truly, I was frightened.
"I'm Jill." She said, trying not to shiver from the eeriness of the subway.
"So, what the hell can we do here?" Jill said.
"I actually know this place; it's next to mine." I spoke, "Maybe if we can find our way out..."
Jill smiled. "Okay. You're the best thing I've got."

I wanted to go to the Lynch street train, praying to God that it was there, Jill had no choice but to follow.
"I'm all out of ammo." she said. "Ever used a gun before?" she asked me.
"I was a detective…I retired on my wife's death anniversary…"
"Oh…" she said, obviously embarrassed at me opening up to her, "I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay. And yes, I have. Now I have a damned steel pipe to protect me and a pretty face like you."
"Its that the only thing you have prior to crawling into the hole in the bathroom?" Jill asked. Suddenly, I remembered. There was a chest in the living room—the chest where I put my compact M1911. I smacked myself in the head and spoke; "Damn! I forgot! My gun's in my apartment!".
"Oh well," said Jill, "I hope there's nothing but us inside this subway…"
"Jill, you haven't told me your story…"
[END CHAPTER]

Act Three
The end of the hall to the Lynch Street line was enshrouded with darkness but as far as I'm concerned, I could hear something in it. A siren… I could hear the wails of the loud thing, like the sirens from the Attack at Pearl Harbor. It was a hopeless feeling, like the world was not the same, that I, and this new acquaintance were the only people that lived there. Suddenly, the world shifted.

First, there was a consuming darkness, like smoke, it enshrouded us. Jill was reaching out for something, I could feel it. Suddenly, a small flame brought back light to the subway. Jill had a liter that she held in her hand. She looked at me.
"It's my lucky liter," she said, "I never go away without it." And she smiled. I found myself smiling, too—like a ray of hope was just above a looming nimbus cloud of Gloom. We moved forward, putting the liter in front of us. The light was enough to verify that the walls had turned. The walls leaked blood, rusty streaks ran through it, and an odor kept climbing onto my nose. We walked forward.

I could hear a cracking sound—static. Like a radio of some sort. Under all of the static was music. I could sense that there was. As we walked forward, deep into the subway, the static increased. Then there was a thumping sound. No, it wasn't, more like a—Dum-dum-dee-dum-dum-dum-dee-dum-dum, repeating itself over and over again. "Do you hear that?" I managed to blurt out. "Music." She placed her hand in her pocket and got a radio. "I found this earlier, I decided to stick with it…" In the dark, there was a moaning sound, like a child weakening, trying to call his mom and dad because he was dying.

There was a figure of a child. It stood barely four feet, pinkish in for, with no clothes. I looked at the child's face: nothing. Its head was twitching, and I could see blood running down its body. When it raised its hand, I could see a small blade. I had an impulse to attack this hideous creature—it wasn't human. Too late, it attacked me first. Its arms hugged my thighs, and with one arm removed, it tried to stab me. I closed my eyes—and heard a loud 'squish!' By opening my eyes, I could see that Jill had kicked the things' head.
"What the hell is it?" I asked.
"What ever it is," Jill replied, "it's not a zombie," she said, fixing her voice.
I looked at her and said; "What Zombies?"
"I don't feel qualified to tell you all about it." She said.