Chapter Four

I scan the empty street before me. Fog blankets the road, illuminated by my flashlight. I cannot see more than a few feet in front of me. Small dark particles drift slowly down, like snow. Catching some, I smear a fleck of it on my glove, leaving a tiny gray streak. I smell it. Ash. I look around once more. I do not smell a fire, yet there is ash floating through the air. I do not know of any active volcano in the vicinity. Frowning at the mysterious ash, I press on deeper into town.

About one block into the town stands a closed gas station. I am about to pass it up when I notice a kiosk under the awning covering the gas pumps. On the kiosk it says, Welcome to Silent Hill. Shining the beam over the letters, I walk closer, my footsteps echoing over the stretch of asphalt. Unlike the booth at the bridge, this is not the site of some gruesome death. It is an innocent information stand. I rifle through the pamphlets available, some of them listing the sights of Silent Hill. Others listed seasonal festivals. One of the slots for the pamphlets holds the last of its kind. I pick it up and study the front. It displays a cozy motel situated on the bank of a serene lake. Opening it up, I notice this pamphlet contains a map of Silent Hill. I am surprised at the negligible size of the town. There are no more than three or four main streets. On one of the edges of the town is a cemetery. On another edge lies Toluca Lake. Naturally, the motel pictured on the front of the pamphlet is circled in red, obviously to point out the location. However, I find it strange that the creators of the pamphlet would deem it necessary to circle something so easily spotted on the tiny map. Then I notice something. Tilting the paper a little, I realize that the circle is not part of the printing of the map. Someone has circled it by hand.

Stumped by the peculiarity, I store the map in my belt. I have not forgotten that someone was following me as I walked along the cliff. He or she had been following me in the woods, even though the person avoided being seen. Scanning the streets reflexively, I walk along the path I know will lead me to the motel.

I discover that all stores are closed, as though the town has been completely evacuated. I even try to get a look inside some of the stores with windows that are not boarded up properly. Nothing but darkness lies within. When I shine a light inside, it reveals nothing more than a mundane shop or some place of business. Nothing of interest lies around here. I must get to the motel.

Progressing slowly through the dark streets, my flashlight struggling against the fog, I keep an eye out for street signs. This town is so small that the city council did not even deem it necessary to have street lights. Even one of the biggest intersections in town is not equipped with one. But then I see why. The intersection is gone. Just like that, the road drops from view, and when I shine the light down, I see a gaping chasm at my feet. Just then I let out a breath of air. I realize how tense I am. How tightly wound I have been the whole time. My heart pounds in my chest as I see just how close I came to falling into the giant hole. It is so vast that I doubt that my grapple gun will even be able to reach the other side. On the other hand, I cannot even see the other side. From where I stand, it appears to go on forever, as though the earth has suddenly turned flat, and I am at its end.

I lean slowly over the edge. Some rocks are dislodged from under my feet and they fall in. I listen to hear them hit the bottom, but the sound never comes. Knowing that my hearing is not mistaken, but also knowing that it must be the only explanation for me missing the sound, I pick up another rock and drop it down. The noises of it hitting the side as it falls fade away. They do not just stop. This hole appears to be miles deep. What could possibly do that? And who would do that in the middle of a town?

I search around for construction equipment, but see nothing of the kind. It is as though a meteorite crashed down and disintegrated completely, leaving a deep gash in the earth.

Then suddenly, about a half a block behind me, I hear stumbling footsteps. I look over my shoulder, but of course, in the darkness, I can see nothing. The flashlight is next to useless in the fog, but it is better than nothing.

Abruptly, the radio I picked up earlier crackles to life. The static is muffled by the utility belt's compartment.

I walk toward the footsteps. The static grows louder and louder, even though I have not even touched the volume dial. In the quiet of the night, it is deafeningly loud. The sound is a distortion on my senses, distracting me from the sound I want to focus on—the footsteps.

Squinting through the fog, I finally notice the silhouette of a drunken person, staggering on his feet. I continued closer, realizing that the person was moving far too erratically for a drunk. His movements were more akin to a string of seizures. When I am about ten feet away, I am amazed that he is still able to stand. I stop walking nearer and watch him warily.

The static's volume reaches its height just then, and the person turns around with a guttural growl. In his spastic way, he stalks closer. I raise my flashlight up a little and my stomach turns over. My blood runs cold like it never has before. Its face is almost disfigured beyond human resemblance. Thick stitches of sackcloth are crisscrossed into its very skin in place of eyes. The jagged folds of flesh that give the mouth an opening are sewn shut and the skin twitches incessantly, drawing black blood. The eyes leak blood as though they were tears. Its skin is slimy like a corpse that has been rotting for days, discolored by decay. Its skin is spread tightly over its entire body, stretching down over the chin and keeping its arms folded in place, like a straight jacket. A huge opening lies over its chest, the ribs practically tearing through its flesh. I take a step back, repulsed. It writhes ceaselessly, its head twitching so fast I think its neck might break. It is as though it is trying to free itself from its own skin, like it cannot bear to spend another moment within. It stumbles forward a couple of steps. I move away quickly.

As the radio static screams in my ears, my heart is hammering in my chest. And as the humanoid creature arches its back, I realize that I am shaking from a rush of adrenaline brought on by fear. Making retching noises that seem to originate in its belly, it straightens forward from its arch. It swings from side to side as it advances toward me, and I jump back some more. Suddenly a black fluid like putrid bile launches from its open sore, catching me right in the chest. I stagger back with a cry as the creature gurgles disgustingly. I drop the flashlight and it skids away, the light facing away from me.

All of a sudden I hear a gentle hissing, and realize that the black fluid is eating away at my armor. I have no time to waste. The thing is arching back again to release the acid at me. This time I am ready. I dodge the flying liquid and it splatters on the asphalt behind me.

As I flank the creature while it recovers, the acid stops eating through my armor. Feeling a momentary burst of relief, I bash my right fist in the side of its head. My fist thwacks loudly against the head, as though it has no skull. The creature's head whips to the side, and it starts turning toward me. Before it has a chance to face me, I use my left hand, dealing a blow to the other side of its head. My fist leaves a dent in its head. It twitches and sinks to the ground, writhing uncontrollably at my feet. Panting hard, I watch it as it struggles to get to its feet. As it manages to get to its knees, I kick it back down. It growls in protest. Instinctively, I raise my foot and stomp on its head, sending decomposed brain matter and blood spraying everywhere. At last, it stops moving. The static on the radio stops dead.

Freeing my boot from the mess, I stare down at the creature, aghast. What is this thing? I think.

I lick my lips nervously, and taste my sweat on my upper lip. I wonder if it will wake up. But as I wait for something even more nightmarish to happen to the corpse, it does not.

Rachel. She is out there. I feel a surge of fear for her. What if she is in danger?

I bend down and pick up the flashlight. I catch a whiff of the acid that is on my chest, and the stench almost knocks me out. I cough, my eyes start to water. I have nothing with which to clean it away. So I wander into someone's yard and find some laundry hung out to dry. I use a T-shirt to wipe the stuff away, and watch it eat away at the shirt. My armor is ruined. The symbol of the bat is gone. In its place is the uneven texture of which the acid ate away at the plating.

I use more laundry to wipe my fists clean. There is a slippery residue left over from hitting the creature. As I turn to leave, I notice an old axe leaning against the fence. I walk up to it and pause. I pick it up after a moment. This might come in handy.

I spend a moment getting my bearings, and I try to circumvent the giant gaping hole. After several tries all throughout the town, which is practically perforated with such holes, the last route I decide to take lets me reach the entrance to the motel. The parking lot is sparsely filled with cars.

I look up at the windows. There are two floors. All the lights are off save for one window. But then I realize that the light is flickering. It is a flame.

I stand there, thinking, wondering if Rachel is there. The fog swirls mysteriously.

Then the silence is broken as the radio crackles again. Instantly alerted, I look away from the window. Far off somewhere, in apparently more than one direction, I hear the same unsteady footsteps. They are coming for me again. I look up at the window. To my shock, there is no light. Now all the windows lie in darkness.

As the static grows louder, I decide to take refuge in the motel. My heart already quickening, I go inside the dark lobby and close the door behind me.

The static continues gently. When I look out of the window I see about three of the creatures gather in the parking lot.

To further assure that they cannot come inside, I use a heavy umbrella from a nearby stand to push through the door hands. Even if they decided to break down the door, at least I will be given a warning.

I turn away from the doors and gaze around the dark lobby. I have to find Rachel.