Chapter four

The road to the one, singular truck stop had been washed out, in the night's passing rain, "Maybe it was worse than we thought," Peter contested, as he surveyed the damage.

"It didn't sound that bad," Olivia said, scratching her head as she surveyed how wide the washed-out chunk of dirt road was, "But I guess it doesn't matter. I'm sure they'll have someone out to fix it soon enough."

"Walter, stay away from there," Peter warned his father, as he strayed close to the edge of the ravine to look down, "Maybe there's a shop in that Silent Hill place."

"I hope so," Olivia sighed, setting her hands on her hips, still bewildered at what seemed like damage to the road far too extensive to have been caused by the night's rain. She shook her head again with disbelief.

"It looks like someone stole the culvert," Walter mused, mostly to himself as he kicked a clod of dirt over the edge, and it slapped the sandy mud below dully.

Olivia glanced at him, then to Peter, who was already climbing back into the Station Wagon. With a final look at the wash out herself, she retuned to the car, calling, "Come on, Walter."

"Sabotage," Walter whispered, and followed after her.

"And, in any case," Peter continued as he started the car, grinding the gearshift into reverse, "We can make some new friends, I guess."

"All I want to make are some s'mores," Olivia said, "You know, with the graham crackers and the marshmallows. I used to have them when I went to girl scout camp, I haven't had them in ages."

Peter nodded, "Sounds good, especially with the fireplace, we could have them tonight. What about you, Walter?" Peter questioned, glancing in to the rearview mirror at his silent father, whom was gazing quietly out the window, as if in deep thought, "What do you want?"

"A piece of ass," Walter replied casually.

Peter and Olivia both looked taken aback, and Walter grinned, flushing slightly, pleased, "Bacon, get it? Bacon. From the hind-end of a pig. The ass."

"Yes, Walter, we get it," Peter frowned, returning his eyes to the road, "Remind me not to ask him again, will you?" and Olivia grinned, shaking her head, "Damn," Peter suddenly exclaimed, "What's with all this fog?"

Olivia looked up, at the changed lighting of her surroundings, the interior of the car dim. Thick fog was interrupted only by the lines of passing tree trunks, and the yellow dashes of the highway only a few yards in front of the car.

"Ground fog isn't uncommon in this part of the country," Olivia reasoned, "especially after a passing rain. There must have been a lot more rainfall than we though, to wash out the road and for something this thick…" But still, a feeling of unease swept over her, and she swallowed.

The car suddenly gave a shudder, the engine beginning to wind up and the trees pass more quickly, "Peter, why are we accelerating?!" Walter demanded, fear peaking his voice.

"I don't know!" Peter retorted, removing his foot from the gas petal entirely, "the gas line must be screwed up!" he pushed on the break as the needle of the speedometer passed 100, "God damn it, it's not stopping! What the hell?!"

"Peter, we have to stop," Olivia warned, "There's a bridge-" and as she looked up, there was a chain-link gate before them, and they gave a cry. Sparks flashed off the hood, and the Station wagon jolted, the tires screeching shrilly and the smell of burning rubber filling the air. The engine sputtered and backfired before dying, clouds of stream wafting from under the hood. A hubcap rolled on ahead of them.

Walter released the emergency break from over the driver's seat, giving a sigh as he sat back heavily, "Quite the adventure," he mused wryly.

"Peter, what in the hell was that?" Olivia asked, as he was kicking open the driver's door, and her hands were shaking as she scrambled to unlock the door and follow after him.

Peter was stooping to look under the wheel wells, shaking his head, "I think something got lodged up under there, and screwed it up."

"I didn't feel anything," Olivia said, but her comments were hesitant as she saw the look of angry confusion forming on his face, "Do you think it was messed up when we were parked?"

"Maybe," Peter replied gruffly, as he was hoisting open the hood. He coughed slightly and waved the steam and smoke away, the sweet smell of antifreeze cutting through the burnt rubber and oil, "Damn. This thing is totally shot."

"What did you do to my baby?!" Walter demanded, slamming his door as he emerged from the car. His jaw dropped as he surveyed the steaming, smoking damage, "Peter, what did you do?!" his hands jumbled over the grill, and he burned his fingers, "What did it ever do to you?! It's a family man car!"

"Walter, calm down," Peter growled, rolling his eyes, "It's nothing we can't fix…"

"I'll call a tow truck," Olivia reasoned, but regretted her words, as she drew out her cell phone, "Crap. No service."

"Listen, you guys stay here, and I'll walk back-" Peter started, before a pause. Olivia followed his eyes, to the faded, painted wooden sign:

WELCOME TO SILENT HILL

"Lucky," Walter chirruped.

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