Chapter 1

The town calls to all sinners that have had any connection to it, past or present. Some, perhaps wisely, ignore it and continue on with their lives until the weight of their crimes inevitably crushes them in the Afterlife.

Most, however, do not. They heed the Call, thinking perhaps that somewhere inside this town lays the answer to why they can't seem to escape a slight nagging of their conscience or a sinister presence that haunts their dreams. Such a one was James Sunderland.

He arrives at the rest area early in the day. I will not allow the Damned to bring their own vehicles in so the roads are always closed or blocked. He knows the rest area well; he's walked with Mary from town to there many times. There was a foot path that ran between the area and the town so despite the roads being blocked, he could probably make his way into town on foot.

He used the toilet and as he washes his hands and looks in the mirror, he wonders for the last time (as all who answer the Call do) if it is true. "Mary, could you really be in this town?" he muses.

The letter had come to him unexpectedly two days ago. The envelope was addressed to him and both the writing on the envelope and on the letter were definitely Mary's delicate cursive. But Mary had been dead for nearly three years. And James had been mourning her loss for nearly that long. It read:

"In my restless dreams,

I see that town. Silent Hill

You promised you'd take me there some day.

But you never did.

Well I'm alone there now...

In our 'special place'...

Waiting for you..."

For James, there had been no hesitation about whether or not to go to the town. The letter could be wrong. But if there was the slightest possibility...well, he would not pass it up. So he decided to come. And I was waiting for him.

He stops to admire the view from the rest area. It overlooks Toluca Lake, the town, and the forest all at once. He and Mary have spent some time here. He looks at the picture of her that he has carried with him for almost three years. It was taken long before her illness and her blue eyes sparkled as she gave the camera a coy little smile. He puts the photograph away as soon as he feels tears begin to well-up in his eyes. Three years and the photo still puts him in tears. But he cannot deal with tears right now. He straightens up, checks to be sure he has the map of town with him, locks his car and starts down the footpath leading into the forested area below.

Our "special place"? What could that mean, he thinks. The only answer that comes to him is Rosewater Park. He and Mary always went there when they were in Silent Hill. Several times they had spent an entire day there just watching the water. It has to be Rosewater Park, he assures himself.

A fog develops as he descends into the forest and it becomes thicker and thicker as he progresses. Occasionally he thinks he can hear sounds coming from somewhere in the fog, but whenever he stops to listen it is always quiet. The fog has grown so thick he cannot see much beyond either side of the path and he hopes he is going the right way. Eventually he passes a dried up well and if he remembers correctly, about a hundred yards down there should be a road that leads into town. But instead the path dead-ends at a cemetery gate.

Damn, he thinks, my memory must not be as good. He opens the gates and steps inside the cemetery. He sees headstones of varying types in front of him and then the figure of another one of the lost souls wandering the mists materializes from amongst the gloom.

"Hello?" he calls. The figure is a woman and she gives a startled cry when he calls to her.

"Oh! You frightened me." she says

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you; I'm James." he says as he walks closer. He can see her better now. She has black hair and brown eyes. She wears a white, baggy sweater and that, combined with her pale complexion, makes her almost blend into the mist like a ghost. Which, in a way, she is.

"I think I'm lost." He continues, trying to put her at ease with a sheepish tone.

"Lost?" The woman says abruptly, seeming slightly alarmed.

"Yeah, I'm trying to find my way into town."

"Oh," she says, relaxing a bit, "You just go out the other gate and make a left, the road there goes right into town...but..."

"But what?" he asks.

"There's...I don't know...something wrong with the town."

"Is it something dangerous?"

"Maybe, I don't know...why do you want to go there?"

"I'm looking for someone...important to me." Conversations about Mary are always difficult for him and he doesn't feel like talking with a stranger about her.

"Oh...yeah, I'm looking for some one too...my Mama--I mean, my mother. I thought my father and brother were here too but it looks like they're not." He wonders if she is talking about finding their names among the headstones but does not ask.

"Well," he smiles, "I hope you find them. Thanks for the directions, uh...I didn't catch your name..."

"Oh, it's Angela...are you...you're still going?"

"Yes."

"Even though it might be dangerous?"

"Yeah, I guess..." he pauses, "...I guess I just don't care if it's dangerous or not."

"Well...good luck."

"Thanks." And they both turn to leave. He makes his way across the cemetery, the swish of his feet on the grass the only sounds in the mist and the headstones. He gets to the road outside and makes a left as Angela has told him.

The road is unpaved, but not many of these roads are. James walks down the road for about ten minutes; the forest has begun to thin out and he reaches some road works signs and a pedestrian underpass leading into town. Maybe they're paving some of the roads, he thinks, that might explain why the main road was blocked. He walks through the underpass. It is not as misty underneath, but it is not as clean either and the smell of oil sticks in his nostrils until he finally makes it to the stairs leading out.

He comes out on what he thinks is Saul Street, but he cannot be sure because the fog is still so thick. He walks on for a bit, the sound of his shoes on the pavement the only thing he can hear. He passes a few shops that appear closed or abandoned. But he does recognize a florist shop and is pretty sure he knows he is on Saul. He double checks his map to be sure. And then he heads to the intersection of Lindsey Street which should not be much further up the road.

Once they've entered the town itself, it does not take long for a soul's unconscious guilt to begin to manifest itself physically. As he reaches the intersection James sees a large streak of a crimson liquid he can only assume is blood. It seems like it is fresh, still wet with a dim shine. He looks around and to his right he sees a shadow fade into the fog.

"Hello?" James calls, "Are you okay?" There is no answer so he walks to where the shadow has been but finds only another streak of blood heading up the street. James still cannot see anything beyond a few yards so he simply walks up the street. He finds an alley on his right with another streak of blood leading into it. He cautiously walks down the empty alley. Beyond it, there seemed to be a construction area. He gets to the end of the alley and sees one last streak of blood before the pavement ends in the dirt of the construction site. James walks into the site, though he cannot see any signs of a building in progress. There are plenty of lumber materials, construction vehicles, a cement mixer, and portable toilets, but nothing else.

"Hello?" James calls again. There is still no response. But he does hear some kind of noise. He cannot quite tell what it is until he moves deeper into the construction area where he notes that it sounds like static. As he moves closer he determines it is coming from what would eventually be another pedestrian underpass; at the moment though, it just seems to be a tunnel with a few caution signs and discarded pieces of wood around it. As he approaches, James cannot see very far in but he is able to make out a small metallic object sitting on two wooden crates against the right side of the tunnel wall.

As James gets closer he realizes it is a portable radio and is emitting the static that he hears. He walks over and picks it up. He tries adjusting the tuner but he does not pick up anything other than more static. Suddenly a flicker of movement towards the back of the partially completed tunnel catches his eye. He sees a body lying on the floor and there is something bending over it.

Something not human.

It is thin, gaunt and bipedal but with an armless torso. Its skin is the color of dried blood; it seems to cover the thing like a tightened sheet, and the torso and head twists and writhes as if trying to tear itself free of its own skin. The head doesn't seem to have a face, just a very subtle bulge that might have been a nose underneath the membrane of its skin. It makes a deep-throated gurgling noise as it straightens up and turns toward him.

He looks around for some kind of weapon and picks up a thick piece of wood with some nails protruding out of the end. The creature takes two shambling steps towards him, the movement of its legs based more around the rotation of its hips than the bending of its knees, seems to almost limp with each leg. A thin slit of a mouth opens on its head. The creature makes another deep throated gurgling sound, gives a violent twitch of its head and spits a brownish mist at him.

He instinctively puts his hand up and turns his face away. Most of the spray lands on his jacket and sleeve but some gets on his hand where it stings like a hot needle. He swings the piece of wood and hits the creature squarely on the head. It makes a high pitched squealing noise and staggers. Its thin legs seemed ill-suited to balancing itself and he strikes it again before it can recover. The creature falls straight to the ground and starts to twitch. He smashes it again with his make-shift club and it lets off one last squeal and lays still as blood the color of tar slowly drains out of its mouth and pools underneath it. The static of the radio fades.

His other hand still stinging, he sets the wood down on the crates and takes some tissues out of his jacket pocket. He wipes the fluid off of his hand and jacket. The stinging in his hand stops but the affected area is still reddened and chapped. He normally hates littering, but he is loathe to put the dirty tissue back in his pocket so he drops it on the ground.

Not wanting to look at the thing's corpse, he steps around it to check the body it had been bending over. It was a man and one look tells James that he is dead. His clothes are almost completely soaked with blood; he has two large gashes on his neck; his face is blistered and chapped almost beyond recognition and a thin coat of the liquid James had wiped off his hand covers it. The smell of the tunnel, a combination of axel grease, vomit and blood, starts to get to him and seeing there is nothing he can do for the man, walks over to the crates and picks up the radio.

It was small enough to easily slip into one of the pockets on his jacket; he can probably take it with him. The tunnel was not the best place for reception; maybe if he went somewhere else he could get a broadcast out of it. But suddenly it does begin to broadcast, it is a voice, but the static is so thick he can only make out bits and pieces of what it was saying: "Ja... I'm...e. Come to...s...ting...f... id...you k... Jam..." Then it goes silent.

"Huh." he says. After trying in vain to work the tuner he puts the radio in the inside pocket of his jacket and then takes up the piece of wood. Angela was right, he thinks, there is something wrong with this town and it is dangerous. The piece of wood isn't much of a weapon, but it is all he has at the moment.

He leaves the tunnel and checks his map. The main street he had just left was Lindsey, if he went to the north up that street all the way to Nathan Avenue and make a left, he will eventually come to the park. The Damned always think it is that simple. But it never is.

He puts the map away and takes one last look at the mouth of the tunnel. From here it just seems like an ominous hole. He shivers and not wishing to dwell on it, makes his way back to Lindsey Street.

The fog is still thick on Lindsey and he still cannot even see across the road. He heads north, sticking to the sidewalk until he suddenly finds his way blocked by a large wall composed of metal girders draped with tarps and enveloped by a chain link fence with barb wire. He swears, and crosses the street, hoping to find an opening. The wall looks like a partially completed office building but the tarps and fence seem worn and there is no sign that the building has been worked on recently.

Time to give him the Warning.

He stops when he is almost across the street. There is another body lying against the fence. It is a dark haired man, but his face is so dirty James cannot guess his age. He wears a tweed coat and striped tie that are splattered with mud. His eyes are closed and his head lies at an odd angle. "Hello?" James says to him. No response. He walks over to the man, kneels down and puts his fingers on the man's throat. There is no pulse and he is colder than the fencing he is lying next to. James is not a doctor, but he sees some of the man's vertebrae protruding from the skin on his neck and assumes that the man's neck has been broken.

He looks down and sees the man's hand holding a key ring with two keys. He picks it up and sees that the ring also has a piece of plastic attached to it marked "Woodside Apts." He puts the keys in his pocket. The name sounds vaguely familiar and James is about to get his map out when he notices a white envelope next to the man's knee.

On it is written "JAMES S." in big black letters. With a slight chill, he bends over and picks it up. It is a square envelope, slightly bigger than one that would hold a greeting card. He opens it and finds seven folded pieces of paper. He unfolded the first one; on it, in black ink, was written:

If you want to be safe, James, turn back now. There may still be time before the demons find you. If you're reading this, they've already found me. Please don't let them take you.

He unfolds the second note which is also written in black ink but the handwriting is much less steady:

They were there, I'm certain. But my friend says he didn't see anything. If that's true, does that mean that what I saw was an illusion? But whether that thing that ate human beings was real, or whether it was just some kind of hallucination that my mind dreamed up... one thing I know for sure is that I'm beyond all hope.

What the hell? He wonders. Faintly, the radio began to emit static as James unfolds the third note. This one is in blue ink and the handwriting is again different:

It seems that they're attracted to light. That's why people who need light to see are their natural prey. They also react strongly to sound, though they can't hear the radio. If you want to go on living, you'd be better off just sitting in the dark and staying quiet. But even that probably won't save you.

James ignores the static as he reads the fourth note:

If you're trying to fight them, the best thing to do is relax. It's no good fighting if you're crazy with fear. They don't stand well, and I think most of them can be killed, even if they seem tougher than most people.

The fifth note, written in the same unsteady hand as the second read:

you can't fight them all! you shouldn't fight them all! that's impossible! no one can fight them all! don't fight them at all! the best thing to do is run away!

The sixth note simply said:

Run away!

The static is coming in quite loud as James opens the last note. Written in red ink were two words that had been written over and over until they covered the page:

Run away!Run away!Run away!Run away!Runaway!Run away!Run away!Runaway!Run away!Run away!Run away!Runaway!

Runaway!Run away!Runaway!Run away!Run away!Run away!

Run away!Runaway!Run away!Runaway!

Then James sees it; a shadow moving slowly out of the fog; a shadow that had the same awkward gait as the thing in the tunnel. "Shit." he says, dropping the papers and bringing up the piece of wood. Then, off to the side, he sees another shadow moving in unison with the first. He begins to back away along the wall throwing glances behind him, painfully aware that if he is not careful he could trip over the sidewalk or worse, back himself into a corner.

It is with one of those glances that he sees the third and fourth figures come from out of the fog behind him, effectively leaving him surrounded. He can hear their gurgling over the static of the radio. "Shit! Shit!" he curses, and tries to think. The wall is behind him, he cannot possibly climb it. He cannot fight them all off. He starts to panic as they came closer, their bodies writhing beneath their blood coated skin, but he quickly gets control of himself. Maybe he need not fight them all off. He does not think they can possibly run all that fast with their spindly legs. The thing in the tunnel did not have very good balance. If he ran at one of them and hit it hard, he could probably knock it down and then make a run for it. But he will have to be quick before they all get too close.

He selects the fourth creature as knocking it down will put the most distance between him and the others. And with that decision made, he simply charges at it, swinging the wood like a baseball bat. He puts his hips into the swing, trying more to push the creature over than to actually hurt it. The combination of that and his momentum easily knocks the creature down, though his momentum carries him farther than he thought and he nearly trips over the creature's form.

But he does not waste any time and takes off down the street as fast as he can. The static of the radio grows quieter and quieter as he runs. When it finally stops altogether, he pauses to get his breath and check the map.

Lindsey Street was blocked. But if he goes to Katz, makes a right and stays on Katz until he gets to Munson, he could take Munson north to the park. He notes in passing that Woodside Apartments is also on Katz. He hopes the man with the key had not been running away from Woodside. But Katz is the fastest way to get to Munson and to the park. And he doesn't really care if it is dangerous.

Suddenly the radio starts to emit static again. He does not think the creatures could have caught up to him so quickly. He looks back but cannot see anything. Then he hears the gurgling noise to his front. He whirls around and the thing moving out of the fog is slightly to his left. He runs past it, narrowly avoiding its spray. Christ, he thinks, how many of these things are there?

There are always as many as it takes but They never seem to realize that.

He runs to Katz and makes a right. The radio has gone silent again and he starts walking, trying to catch his breath again. He continues to walk for another two minutes until he hears static on the radio again. Jesus, these things must be everywhere, he realizes. Screw it, he thinks, I'll just have to make a run for it. He does not wait for anything to appear, he just runs. He sometimes sees the shapes briefly in the fog, but they cannot keep up with him.

He is running so fast he almost smashes into the wall that blocks Katz Street from Munson. He looks at for a second in disbelief and then screams, "No! No! Fuck! No!" He kicks at the wall a few times before composing himself and quickly searches for a way around it, conscious that things could come for him at anytime. He finds no way through and then silently curses and takes out his map.

All wasn't lost, he saw. Woodside Apartments spanned the two streets and would probably have a Munson Street entrance, or at least a fire escape that came out there. He still has the keys; he can probably cut through the apartment complex and get through to Munson. He races back on Katz, hoping he won't have to go too far or else he might run into some of the spitting things he'd passed. Luck is with him this time, because he hardly goes a hundred feet when he sees a large wrought-iron gate, with the letters "Woodside Apartments" above it. It is shut and padlocked. He tries the keys on it and the second one opens it. He pushes the gate open with a creak, steps in and then quickly closes and locks it behind him. The things didn't have any arms and he was pretty sure they wouldn't be able to open the gate, but he still wants to get inside, out of view and out of the fog. The building is large; he can't see the ends of it in either direction, though the fog is so thick that it doesn't mean much except that the building is probably more than one story. As he walks closer he can see the walls around the main entrance are painted in a wood grain that has faded somewhat. He walks up to the door. There may have been a directory and intercom box next to it at some time, but they have both broken off.

He uses the other key to open the door and enter the lobby. It isn't really a lobby. Just a small room with a door on the far side that reads "Courtyard," a staircase going up, a wooden bench, and a notice board--empty except for an apartment map. After checking to see if the room is secure, James sits down on the bench to take a much needed rest. He is going to need it when he makes his way through the apartments.

There is now no going back.

Were it up to Me, I would simply have Them roam the streets, letting the demons of Their own devising torture and haunt them. But such things are not at my discretion. The Path to Redemption must never be blocked, They must choose to remain in the town, They must be given the Warning, and the demons must not be allowed to take them by surprise. James has chosen to remain and chosen to ignore the Warning. They always do. Nevertheless it must always be delivered to Them.

Metatron will allow no less of me.