Silent Hill 2: Return to Silent Hill
Disclaimer: The conceptual ideas, new, dialogue and otherwise are the property of yours truly. Silent Hill, the town and its characters are property of Konami. Inc. It's possibly not a new idea and many have had thoughts on a movie sequel. But I am going to write my own sequel with my own idea of what the second film should be. And like I said before, I own the story itself and my version of characters, but not the characters and Silent Hill itself.
"Think you of thee who cast the first stone. Lambs without a shepherd, shepherd without a flock. It's your sins which hold you here!"
-Dahlia, Silent Hill 2007
By: VampireQueenAkasha
"Welcome Back."
Part One
"Miss. Da Silva, if you can hear me, please come out! We have no intention of hurting you!"
The voice carried behind a megaphone carried richly down the empty, filthy streets of Silent Hill. This is not the Silent Hill that those who are "taken" by it were familiar with. While they were, in fact, silent, they were also empty with no signs of life from anyone or anything. The buildings were covered in a rusty, blackened tint from the fire that had scorched it so long ago.
The setting sun was beating down on the carrier of the megaphone; officer Thomas Gucci. He had aged somewhat and was amazingly not far from physical prime. He was getting tired and close to giving up on his search of finding the missing Da Silva woman. He took a quick break in his announcement and glanced at his watch; he pressed it to his forehead for a brief moment, shutting his eyes and then pulled down his coat sleeves, concealing peculiar bandages on his palms. There were other squad cars and policemen behind his car, watching and looking around warily at the town. They seem uneasy, conflicted.
"Miss. Da Silva, please do not be afraid! We are here to help!" Thomas continued, calling out to the town, "Please! Come out! You have no reason to hide anymore!"
He sighed and turned back to his vehicle, putting the megaphone down on top of the hood and rubbing the back of his neck of the sweat that had begun to form there. One of the police officers approached him and looked to be eager to leave.
"Thomas, we've been here for almost two weeks now looking for this wife of Chris'," the officer said, "I think it's time to pull the plug."
Thomas looked a little reluctant to carry out the order to depart. Chris had been rather insistent for a long time now. Thomas couldn't really recall just how many times Chris had called to check up on his progress. But every good officer knew when it was time to close the case, no matter how much they didn't want to. Maybe it was time to end it here. They had not come up with anything since the start of the investigation.
Thomas sighed and prepared for the worst. "Alright, call it in."
Da Silva Home
Ohio
A corded telephone inside the home of Chris Da Silva rang loudly. And on cue, Chris came rushing from around the corner to pick the phone up. He carried it to his ear since he was cradling a television remote in his other hand and a small hand-held radio underneath his arm. His white T-shirt was covered with grease stains. His face was covered with a light stubble, his hair messy and out of shape.
"Hello?" he said. He paused and brightened at the sound of Thomas' voice on the other end. "Yes!"
The anxiousness then began slowly draining away from his face, revealing pain, desperation, and even anger. Obviously, what Thomas was telling him was not entirely what he wanted to hear at the moment. He placed his objects down onto the end table and rubbed his mouth with one hand, shutting his eyes and struggling to keep his calm.
"I'm sorry, Chris, but we have to assume the worst." Thomas told him.
Chris shook his head angrily, glaring down at the phone. "No, you don't! Don't give me that crap!" he shouted, "She's still out there somewhere! She - - " He winced as he banged his leg against the corner, trying to turn it. He swallowed a curse and held his sore limb.
"And how can you be sure, Chris?" Thomas asked, voice gentle and soothing, "We've spent over two weeks on this search and we've got nothing to show for it."
Chris took a moment to let this horrible truth sink in. He looked as if he was trying to be reasonable while struggling not to be angry at the same time. It couldn't be true. He wouldn't let it. He couldn't let it. His wife and child ... they were all alone in that town, possibly hurt and hungry and who knew what else? He couldn't sit by and wait for a miracle.
"I just can't give up on them. I can't," he whispered, leaning his forehead against the pale, white wall, hating the weakness in his own voice, "They're still alive. I know they are."
There was a brief, almost disquieting pause on the other end of the phone. Thomas was contemplating his next words, deciding on the right kind to say to a man in this state of mind. He sighed after a while, his Adam's Apple bobbing.
"Just try and get some sleep Chris. It's over ... " he said, gently.
There was a hum of an open line to follow and Chris dejectedly hung up the phone, slumping against the wall. After a moment of contemplating on tossing the phone through a window, he paused and began thinking very hard about his next plan of attack. He leaned against the end table and sighed, glancing out to the sound of nature outside. It was supposed to be peaceful, but it merely tormented him even more.
O
Chris was sound asleep in bed that night, his left hand holding onto a photo of his wife and daughter that had slid somewhat between his fingertips due to the restlessness of his sleeping movements. His features were restless even in sleep and the television across from his bed was turned down very low, playing the National Anthem. Suddenly, the images faded into a screen filled with static. Chris shifted somewhat in bed and rolled onto his side.
On the static - filled screen there were suddenly various hyper inserts of empty streets; through concrete, steel, rust, and into a horrible flaming abyss. A distorted collection of voices suddenly filled the air, a woman and child screaming.
Chris suddenly jolted upwards in a cold sweat; his breathing was heavy and loud in the room and he looked around. There was nothing there. He was alone, as he had been for a long time now. The television was playing a black and white show I Love Lucy episode and there was nothing wrong with it now. Chris wiped his forehead before dropping his head on the pillow once more with a frustrated sound. He watched the ceiling for a few moments before looking down to the photo of Rose and Sharon Da Silva.
"Rose ... Sharon ... " he whispered, sorrowfully.
Outside the trees were moving slightly with the wind. Then, the wind slowly filled with soft, musical moans a pitiful reflection of Christopher Da Silva's longing and his pain.
O
"GOOD MORNING, CHRIS!"
Chris walked into the bar that morning and sat down on one of the stools. There were dark circles under his eyes and his hair was messy from what seemed to be a lack of brushing. He had lost most interest in even his basic hygiene habits since his family had disappeared. At the bar was Neely, late thirties, large and heavy - set with a constant smile on his face. Neely's great grandfather had once owned a bar in Silent Hill, but due to the fire and reputation of the town, he had to move. Neely himself took over the bar a few years ago and had been a great bartender, just like his family members before him.
"Jesus, Chris ... " Neely said, surprised and sympathetic, "You look like hell."
Chris gave him a half sour, half amused look. "Yeah. You try going for days without sleep," he muttered, rubbing his jaw with one hand, "See how you look in a while."
Neely smiled sympathetically and placed an empty glass cup in front of Chris. He began to pour some whiskey for him, understanding that Chris would need something to relax after what he was going through.
"I heard they stopped the search," Neely said, "I'm sorry, Chris."
Chris really couldn't say anything to that - - but his throat tightened - - otherwise he was worried that he would throw up or start crying. After all, it wasn't becoming in public. If you were going to let out your emotions, it was best to do it when no one else was around to see you crumble and take advantage of you. He didn't need any drama like that right now.
The front door of the bar suddenly flew open and a woman in police uniform walked inside, carrying a chubby, heavyset younger man in her arms. She shoved him into a chair and gestured viciously with one finger.
"Stay there and don't you move." she ordered.
Neely laughed and began to wipe down the bar counter, getting into the spirit of what was a common practice with the man. "Hey! Lace!" he called, "What's going on? Eddie give you another chase again?"
The officer known professionally as Lacey Duvall walked up to the bar and shook her head. She was rather thin with some muscle to her, mid-forties, and somewhat attractive looking despite her age. She had a roughness to her voice that made her seem much older than she was. A knife fight had left her throat scarred and her voice box damaged somewhat. But she was still as rough and course as Neely knew her to be.
"My damn squad car has a flat. Damn potholes," Lacey muttered, slapping her palms down onto the counter top, "Eddie gave me quite a chase before I could get back to the station."
Neely smiled and laughed, glancing over at 23 year old Eddie Dombrowski, even Chris couldn't resist the urge to look back either. Eddie was dressed in a t - shirt that was covered in stains, jeans with rips in them, and a black baseball cap turned backwards. He looked like your average gang punk member to Chris and not someone who would be anyone special. He did seem like the type who would look for trouble when there was none.
"HEY! DOMBROWSKI!" Neely hollered, across the bar. Eddie looked over at him. "How fast do you think you were you goin' on your bike this time?"
Eddie made a goofy, muscular gesture, the handcuffs hindering it somewhat and making the gesture all that more silly. "I was doin' 80, man!" he bragged, laughing in his seat.
Lacey scowled at Neely and snapped her fingers at him. "Keep encouraging him and I'll bring you in for fraternizing with the criminal," she said, a somewhat sour joke, "Now can you watch him for me while I phone headquarters?"
"Sure." Neely replied, still giggling somewhat.
Lacey turned to the pay phone in between the men's and women's bathroom doors and then glanced back at Eddie, pointing a finger at him, a warning gesture should he try anything.
"Make a move and I cap you!" she said, almost too comical for it to bee a threat.
Chris shook his head and chuckled, amused. He looked up at Neely skeptically. Obviously, he didn't get the jokes that had gone around about Eddie. "Heh. Is he always a problem?"
Neely smiled and waved one hand. "Nah. Eddie gets into trouble all the time, but it's mostly just harmless stuff." he told him.
Eddie was fidgeting with a small salt shaker on the table with cuffed hands. He dropped it and salt poured everywhere. Eddie looked around both ways before he turned in his chair, pretending like he had done nothing wrong. Chris laughed softly and shook his head.
"He's always running around, rambling on about how he escaped from Silent Hill too," Neely continued, "The kid's got a lot of guts. I wouldn't take any step in that town even if you payed me."
Chris' eyes went wide at this knowledge. He looked back over to Neely now, intrigued. "He's actually been there?" he asked.
Neely nodded, thinking nothing of what he had just said. "Sure. Many times," he replied, "The boy knows the place up and down and likes to brag about it to folks too afraid to go there." He leaned in and whispered his next words now. "Some even say he saw things too."
Chris thought this over for a few moments - - no doubt planning on something he could do with the man's experience - - before he got up and walked over to Eddie, sitting down next to him. He took out a small photo of his wife and daughter.
"So, you've been to Silent Hill, have you?" Chris asked.
Eddie nodded, a little jumpy around Chris. He did not seem like a very brave man at all. He reminded Chris of a junkie who had just gotten lucky or someone who talked a lot of trash but did not back it up. But he was all he had right now so he would have to make due.
"Yeah?" Eddie said.
"I need you to take me there."
Eddie scoffed and jerked from him, wriggling in his cuffs like Chris had just stung him. "No way, man! I ain't never going back there!" he snapped, "I seen some crazy shit! You're - - "
Chris grabbed him by his shirt and yanked him close to his angry, contorted features, holding up his photo of his wife and daughter. Eddie gave a quick yelp of surprise and unease before he glanced down at the two smiling faces in the photo.
"Do you see this?" he whispered angrily, "They are out there in Silent Hill somewhere, and I need your help to show me where they are!" He released Eddie and looked at him desperately, sorrowfully. He spoke more gentle now. "Please ... "
Eddie looked reluctant, a little piteous for the moment. He leaned forward to see if he could spot the cop among the crowd. He did not want to do this, Chris could tell and that made him visibly upset and angry. Lacey was walking up to him before he could say much of anything else.
"Sorry, man, I can't." Eddie said softly.
Chris could only watch in frustration and sadness as Lacey took Eddie away.
O
Chris was on the road again, on his way back home to make another attempt at finding his wife and daughter. His features were grim, frustrated, and determined all at once. The passing trees and small houses seemed to go on forever as he passed down this road. Chris' eyes began to blink rapidly, as if he was trying to stave off sleep. He hadn't had that much to drink, but his eyes felt heavy all of a sudden.
Finally, the road itself seemed to change before his eyes. The concrete was replaced with steaming rust and metal; the clouds were darkening and the trees were rotting away into bare bony, dried wood. There was nothing but the Darkness of the Otherworld before Chris; a darkness that he wasn't entirely familiar with in his time.
His eyes went wide and he blinked, wondering if he was hallucinating from the alcohol or just daydreaming where he shouldn't.
"What ... ?" he gasped.
Finally the illusion stopped and the road became normal once again. Chris stared ahead in shock, blinking a little to rid himself of any sleepiness he might have catch up to him during his trip back home.
"Chris ... you're losing it ... " he said, softly, to himself.
O
On the way home, Chris had stopped at a local grocery store to pick up some necessities for his house. Once he returned home, he collected his mail from the mailbox and tossed it casually onto the countertop, not really eager to sort it out just yet. Most of them were probably bills anyway and he didn't feel like going through them again. He started to put some of the things away and listening to his phone messages at the same time.
"Mr. Da Silva, this is Blockbuster calling. I want to remind you that the following DVD's are late as of now. Mona Lisa Smile, House of the Dead 3, and Valkyrie."
Beep.
"Chris, it's Dr. Kauffman. I've, uh, been really disappointed that you missed two sessions today this week. I thought we were making pretty good progress lately. But...I'm sure if you come into my office, we can talk about it sometime. I know this hasn't been easy for you. Please, give me a call back soon."
Chris heaved a heavy sigh, realizing what he had been trying to deal with on his own and its severity to others. But he had to do this, he had to figure out how to find Rose and Sharon in that town. And having someone tell him to move on was not entirely going to help him. He was determined and he was going to do this with or without help if he had to.
He picked up his stack of mail and began to leaf through each letter, deciding on what was worthless and what was otherwise worth keeping on hand. With a sigh, he tossed the entire stack into the trash. Just as he started to take a drink of water from his glass, something caught his eye at the mail that he had tossed into the garbage. Furrowing his brow, he noticed a white letter atop the pile marked with a single name:
ROSE
Chris put his glass down and reached into the trash, taking out the envelope and studying it for a few moments before he tore the side open and removed a neatly folded letter. Something metallic hit the floor and Chris jerked his head down to see what had fallen. He bent down and picked up a small metal key. It was cold and charcoal black. It looked to be a really old key.
Chris turned attention to the letter in hand and opened it.
WE'RE STILL HERE, CHRIS.
Chris dropped the letter with a sharp gasp, stunned. He stared at the paper for a brief moment before slowly taking it close to his chest. His soft whisper filled the quiet house.
"Rose ... "