By: Ayame

Silent Hill : A Novelization

~into the unknown~

~Intermezzo

With a start, she looked up. Her soft blue gaze shifted about the area, with an almost confused quality, almost as if she didn't remember where she was. A soft moan passed her lips and she brought her palm to her forehead. She needed some rest, that was for sure. The last shift she'd worked was an all night stake-out, and almost immediately after they'd caught the criminals they were after, she'd been called to work at the sub-station just outside of Brahms. And now this -- this strange communication loss from Silent Hill. Scratching her chin a bit, she thought about how she probably should have taken that cup of coffee the detective had offered her. Sighing, she looked down at the oak colored table and to the radio she'd been working on.

As she stared at the object made of chips and wires, her thoughts slowly went back to how she'd gotten here in the first place. The memory wasn't too clear in her mind. It was somewhat clouded over by a haze of white… She'd been led on a chase. The jeep she'd passed on her way to Silent Hill hadn't been too much of an attention getter. They were out pretty late, but she had more important things to do than wonder what they were up to. Besides, she didn't have a reason to even try and pull the driver over. And it wasn't too peculiar that it had been the only vehicle on that lonely county maintained two-lane highway. From what she'd heard, the roads to Silent Hill weren't traveled too often until tourist season, which was coming up very soon. She'd moved passed him at her accelerated speed when she'd noticed some strange activity in the brush to her right. Then there was a gunshot. Not a loud one. It had been muted by a silencer, and it had been accompanied by the slight spark of the bullet leaving the barrel. The slug flew just inches in front of her nose and pummeled into the wall to her left. She wasn't exactly sure just how she'd seen or even heard that coming, seeing as how most other sounds were drummed out by the humming engine of her bike, and then she had those sunglasses on. That had definitely been a silly idea; wearing sunglasses at night, but she supposed she was trying to be the cool cop. She's nearly leapt off of her bike after the incident and rolled across the highway into the trees. Throwing off her helmet, she pulled her automatic and advanced with precaution, not to mention she'd removed her shades.

There had been no sounds for quite a while after that. No rustling of bushes from an escaping convict… no harsh breathing, or even quiet breathing for that matter… Not even the sound of that jeep she'd passed minutes ago coming around the bend. Nothing. Wrinkling her brow, Cybil had moved further into the cover of the trees. That was when she'd been ambushed. She'd been quick enough to spin around at the erupting sound of screeching tires and the startled screams of people on the byway behind her. The howl of the guard rail lining the trees within which she stood gave out a deafening toll as something crashed into it, causing bits of metal and splinters of tree branches to fly in her direction. She dove out of the way, only to be met by something… Cybil shook her head as the memories came back. Something was a ridiculous assumption. It was someone that she'd met with. Someone who took the initiative to knock her out. Perhaps it had been the someone who'd shot at her, but either way, they made her fall into unconsciousness, only to have her awake on the city streets.

Cybil brought her thoughts out of the puzzling past and to her task at hand… but she was still a little confused as to why whomever had attacked her hadn't finished her off. With a shrug started to fiddle with the wires of her radio once again. Perhaps she hadn't really been their target. She fingers stilled over the wiring as a crease formed across her brow. She thought again about the accident that had taken place before she lost consciousness. After she'd awoken, she had tried, unsuccessfully to find the location of where she'd come off the highway from her bike. But she wasn't exactly familiar with the streets of Silent Hill, and to top it all off, when she'd come to, a thick layer of fog had settled over the area. The element had made it difficult to see more than a three foot radius around her. Ultimately, it was chilling. Not just the cool air that accompanied the haze, but just the idea that it was there, drifting through the city streets, during a season that it should not have been there. And along with the wintry feeling of fog, there was a disturbing silence. That was when she'd decided it was time to try and contact those whom her boss had said were on their way to help with her investigation. That was also when she discovered that the radio she carried with her, which the culprit who had knocked her out took the liberty of leaving on her, along with her firearms, was not in working order.

Letting her thoughts come back to the present, Cybil leaned back a little against the cushioned booth seat, a bit on edge, and gave a small yawn and a sigh as she stared at the contraption she'd dismantled on the table. Her azure eyes drifted along the fine grains of the wooden surface before trailing around the particulars of the rest of the room. The Coogwigger Diner. She'd virtually found this place by accident, but at least, in finding it, she knew where she was. Old Silent Hill. The residential area where most of the citizens lived. All she needed to do was get to the resort district to reach the police department. She could go straight down Bloch for that. Pursing her lips, she thought momentarily about the case she was investigating. It had been pretty bad when it had first begun… but now… it had escalated seriously during a span of seven years and the perpetrators had yet to be caught.

Her gaze shifted from the inside of the diner to the fog infested streets outside. A chill crept up her spine for a moment. Being in this place reminded her of that book she'd read once by Dean Koontz. What was it called…? Phantoms. The title of the novel popped into her mind rather quickly. Boy, that was one thing she really didn't care to think of at the moment. The whole deserted town-lack of communication-being in a room with big windows-being a cop-thing just did not bode well when thinking about that book. Not to mention that the names of the streets around Silent Hill had been named after authors and such. That was definitely one of the things she thought was quite interesting about this town. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she glanced back toward the radio and began to assemble it once again, hoping that she'd fixed whatever the problem was. She hadn't. Pressing her lips together, she stood, stretched, and rubbed the palms of her hands over her black uniform pants. Moving over to the counter of the diner, she took a seat on one of the worn chairs and looked toward the booth near the entrance.

The man she'd found was still unconscious. He'd been out for quite some time, now, and Cybil began to wonder if he'd ever come out of it. She'd found him lying half in the street, half on the sidewalk close to Matheson Street near Queen Burger. He had been the only form of life that she'd come across after she'd woken up. She'd had one heck of a time trying to get him into the diner, seeing as how he wasn't light. His dark blue jeans were a bit dirty, as thought he'd fallen a couple of times and soiled them, and his brown leather coat had been halfway zipped up concealing a black tee-shirt with a V-collar. A couple of flares fell out of one of the pockets along with some matches, and she'd made sure to haul those into the diner along with the man. She'd checked his vitals before hand, making sure that he wasn't dying or having some sort of medial emergency. After getting him settled, she'd gotten to work on her radio while she'd waited for him to wake up. Now, nearly an hour later, with him giving no apparent signs of waking, her radio not working, and the fog outside incredibly dense, she figured that the Brahms Police Department had most likely found her bike by now, and was conducting a search for her… but she found it odd that they wouldn't be able to track her in conditions such as these. Quite some time, after all, had gone by and there weren't many places for a police officer to get lost in a town as seemingly deserted as this one. Taking in a breath, her anxiousness rising from having to wait, rather than move, she looked again toward the man she'd found, wishing he'd wake up so she could be on her way. Her gaze fell to the clouded streets beyond the windows of the diner. She'd felt earlier that something was going to happen this night. She was right. Something here in this town was quite unnatural, and she was sure she'd find out what it was soon. Very soon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He could barely feel the ground beneath his back and head. It all seemed so distant to him. Tremors of light and sound invaded the crevices of his mind like the flickering of a serpents' tongue. He could still see the flashing of the wicked blades as they sliced through the air and toward him. He could still hear the shuffling of footsteps… though… they seemed to be retreating, rather than coming at him. His head ached, but then again, it had been aching since he awoke from the car crash. A crease came to his brow as he remembered the pain he felt accompanied by the demonic childish laughter. With a start, he sat upright, as though violently shoved back into the reality of the situation… the reality…

He scooted back a little, trying to make sense of his surroundings. A bright light had filled the area, chasing out the impending darkness that had wrapped itself around his senses, promising only demise. He took a moment to adjust to where he was… the brick walls… the blood infested concrete on which he sat… the Hellish spawn disguised as children… only to discover that none of that was what he saw when his eyes completed their adjustments. He was sitting in a booth near the door of a diner. A diner that was unmistakably familiar to him. Licking his dry lips, his mind raced to find answers, but his hurried thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up, slightly startled from anticipation, he took note of a young woman making her way toward him from one area of the diner. She stopped and studied him for a moment, crossing her arms beneath her chest and gave a light smile. Harry wrinkled his brow.

She was wearing a police uniform… was she the one that he'd passed on his way to Silent Hill on that deserted highway? He couldn't tell. It had been too dark before, and the woman who'd passed him had been wearing a helmet and those sunglasses. He watched her for a moment. Her uniform consisted of a sky blue, short-sleeved blouse that buttoned up the front with the Brahms Police Department logo patched onto the left sleeve. The gold badge hooked onto the breast pocket seemed to give off a unreal glow compared to the rest of the lighting within the diner. At her hip attached to the gun belt, was her pistol, though he couldn't tell what kind it was, holster, handcuffs inside of their case, a cartridge case, and an empty radio case. She had short, light blonde hair, cut in a boyish-fashion, that fell neatly around her distinguished features. Relieved that it was only a woman in the diner with him, rather than one of those monstrosities he'd encountered… moments?… hours?… days?… weeks?… earlier, he gave a small sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair.

The police officer waited only a few moments longer before speaking. "You're awake. That's good. How do you feel?" Her voice touched concern. She moved from where she was standing to the bar of the diner and took a seat on one of the old, worn stools. She folded her gloved hands neatly in her lap as she crossed her legs, taking on a professional and calm manner. Harry rubbed his forehead as he shifted his position on the booth so that his feet rested on the sturdy, wooden floor, rather than the cushioned seat. How did he feel? Great question… He closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts tracing back to that dirty, dank alleyway… to that corpse hanging from the fence… to those skinless, bleeding children who had attacked him with those fire-biting blades. Had she saved him from those kids? He wondered momentarily. She seemed too calm and composed for that. Maybe she was trying to keep from startling him even more…?

No. He didn't think that was the case. Shaking his head, he unzipped his jacket. He took a moment to note that neither his jeans nor his shirt or jacket were not ripped or torn in any sort of fashion. Those knives had struck him. He was sure of it. In the legs at first, but after he'd fallen from the fence, they'd stuck higher, hitting with more damage and accuracy than he would have liked or even wished to remember. But now…? He was unmarked. His clothing was in one piece. There was no blood on him. Not even the bit that had soaked into his shoes from walking into the drenched region that housed the crucified corpse… His head began to ache. How did he feel? He couldn't very well say he felt like he'd been through Hell and met with demonic children wielding butchers knives, now could he? How did he feel? Like he'd been run over by a truck, he supposed was the best way to describe it. He hadn't realized he'd said the last part aloud until the officer gave a questioning, "Hmm?" for clarification. He looked up at her. He was glad he hadn't said the first part aloud.

"I'm okay, I guess." He sighed. He could tell by her scrutiny that she'd been watching him carefully while he had been thinking about her question. The look on her face told him that she only half believed him. After all, for such a simple question as, "How do you feel?" there shouldn't have been such a lengthy pause. But despite the pause, she nodded a little. Her eyes, a crystal hue of an azure blue, drifted to the window just behind him, out into the streets which couldn't be seen.

"Glad to hear it." She spoke briskly but almost with a touch of assurance to her voice, as though there were other things on her mind. Her gaze rolled back to him. She leaned forward a bit in her seat. "Are you from around here? Why don't you tell me what happened?" Harry sat up a little straighter by the tone in her voice. It sounded almost as if on the edge of interrogating a suspect in a crime; holding conviction, but touching on a slight suspicion. The man held up a hand.

"Wait a minute. I'm on vacation. I just got here. I'm just a tourist… I… I don't know what happened here." his voice trailed off as he rubbed his hands over his eyes and his face, taking in a breath, and thinking about the last few hours. "But I'd like to find out myself." Looking up, Harry watched her scrutiny of him. He supposed that he would be suspicious of someone as well if they were the only person that he'd seen in a place that had apparently been abandoned. Along with that, he was sure that it was her nature as a cop to start asking questions when thrust into an odd scene. He only hoped his answers hadn't come out in such a rush that it made him sound more suspicious. He'd not want to even have to broach the subject of what he went through before he woke up.

Before he woke up… his thoughts instantly went to his daughter, who had gone missing. Or, perhaps the proper phrase would have been, 'who had gone willingly, leading him on a chase.' Looking up at the officer, a line of worry etched lightly against his brow, he decides to ask, even though he figured what her answer might have been. "Have you seen a little girl? Short, black hair; just turned seven last month." He paused for a moment before giving her other details of what Cheryl looked like. "My daughter." The blonde woman's blue eyes drifted past him, as they had several times, out toward the streets which could not be seen for a moment, before resting on him. Her expression remained somber as she spoke.

"Sorry. I haven't seen her." She leaned forward in her seat for a moment, that almost skeptical gaze returning to her eyes for a moment before vanishing again. With a small sigh, she spoke again. "The only person I've seen in this town is you." A slender brow rose slightly as her gaze went out to the fog infested streets once again, that aura of unease and apprehension crossing the atmosphere once again. Harry spoke again, if not to just fill the silence, asking for the whereabouts of the townsfolk here. He'd been to Silent Hill before, yes. And it was true that it had been some time since he'd been here, but there was no possible explanation for something like this. Not this complete abandonment. The police officer let her eyes slide toward him again before answering.

"I'd tell you, believe me. I would if I knew… but all I know is that something… bizarre is going on around here." Bizarre…? That was the least descriptive word she could have come up with to describe the setting in this town. She knew it just as well as he did. But, there really was no other means of describing such events. She studied the young man sitting on the bench for a moment longer, wondering just why he had been the only person she'd stumbled across in this forsaken city. This conversation, she was sure, was coming to a close, and then she could call for backup. He sat there, after a moment of silence, perhaps pondering the exact same thing that she had been before she'd realized that she hadn't asked him for a name. He came to attention at her question.

"My name is Harry. Harry Mason." He said quietly, almost timidly, as though he had other things on his mind and wasn't quite focusing, or perhaps he didn't want a big reaction to his spoken name. Tilting her head to one side, the officer nodded. She recognized his name alright. A writer, she was sure. She's seen some of his work, stuff to do with mythos, religion, and sometimes ancient mysteries. Some were horrors, while others went along the lines of mysteries. She'd seen his work, but hadn't really been a heavy reader of it. He wasn't well known, but he did a decent job. But, rather than acknowledging her familiarity of his novels, she instead returned the introductions. This was, after all, neither the time, nor the place, for chit-chat and appraisals.

"Cybil Bennett. I'm an officer from Brahams, the next town over." She paused for a moment, as he nodded, his eyes landing on the patched logo on the sleeve of her uniform blouse, as well as her ID pinned to the breast pocket. Those, in themselves, should have been give-always as to where she was from, so speaking the worlds was most likely unnecessary. "The phones are dead. I've checked the ones in here, since this seems to be the only place that's accessible. And my radio is busted." She waved a hand toward the metal contraption on the table. She'd assembled it some time ago, but it was still in unworkable order. Sliding to her feet, she stood on the balls of her feet, in a stretching manner before moving toward the table to take a look at the radio. After a moment, she set it back down and looked to Harry. "I'm going to go call for backup. I've got another radio on my bike, which is up by the highway."

With a curt nod, the dark haired man rose from his seat and looked toward the front door of the diner. It was the first time he'd actually been on his feet since… He shook his head, not wishing to even think about that so-called dream he'd experienced. Taking little time to test his footing, he started toward the door, only to be stopped by the firm voice of he blonde officer.

"Hold it! Where are you going?" The inquisitiveness held an edge to it, almost a daring challenge. Harry turned around. She had her hands on her hips, an eyebrow arched, watching him as though he were possibly on the brink of insanity. For a moment, he wondered if he was, but shot back at her.

"My daughter. I have to find her." The officer shook her head.

"No way! It's dangerous out there. I can't let you do that. Wait here, and I'll get reinforcements." She spoke with the tone of someone who was used to giving orders. Perhaps a result of being a police officer.

"If it's dangerous out there, then that's all the more reason for me to find her now. I'm not going to abandon her. Cheryl's my little girl." He watched her, his resolve made up. He didn't know this woman, and granted, he was sure that he owed her a thanks of some kind, whether it be from being rescued from demonic children that she may or may not have neglected to mention, or if he had rescued him from the wreckage of his jeep, and given him mercy to his nightmare. But despite that, he wasn't going to stop his pursuit to find his daughter, who had ran from him. Even though she had ran… there was no way he was going to let her stay out there… in these conditions. His eyes went toward the streets. With a small sigh, the young woman standing only a few feet away from him spoke again, seeming to know he wouldn't change his mind.

"Do you have a gun?" Her words were edgy, but with a tinge of worry. She wasn't happy about letting him go, but she knew she wouldn't be able to make him stay here in the diner if he chose not to. Harry looked at her.

"Um… no." came the reply. With a light shake of her head, she wondered for a moment why she'd even asked that question. She supposed it was a normal enough thing to ask… but of a writer? She was sure he'd not need a gun for any reason. Moving towards him, she stopped, pulling her weapon from her belt before checking the magazine and clip to take note of the bullets therein. With a nod, she held it out to him.

"Here. Take this. And pray you don't have to use it." The tone she'd used when she said the work 'pray' was chilling, almost as though she were foreshadowing. But what it might have been, he couldn't place. She continued speaking, giving him tips and pointers on how to use the weapon, and how to load it. A nervous chill came over him for a moment, wondering what in this abandoned city he'd possibly need a gun to defend himself from. He listened intently and watched as she'd handled the weapon with ease and precision. After another few moments, she handed it over before giving the final touches on her lecture. "Now, before you go and pull the trigger, know who your shooting. And don't go shooting me by mistake." She arched her eyebrows at this last comment before looking toward the doorway and into the thick fog that lie beyond.

"But what about you?" The question rolled off of Harry's tongue before he could think. She gave him a curious look, and he answered with a shrug as he examined the weapon. "You're unarmed now." He stated bluntly. With a tight smile, she reached down, causing Harry's eyes to follow. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was another pack attached to the ankle of her right boot. Sliding her fingers out of it, she produces yet a second pistol, displaying it before placing it in the now empty space on her gun belt at her waist.

"I came prepared." She said simply, leaving no more room for his questions. She was, after all, a police officer, and probably had experience at things like these. He had absolutely no experience with weapons, and would hope that he wouldn't have to use it, just as she's said. "I suggest you stay near by. Don't go too far, and I'll be back with help as soon as I can." Her words brought him from his pondering only long enough for him to watch as she disappeared through the café doorway, leaving silence in her wake.

Checking out the weapon once more, he took care to make sure the safety was on before tucking the weapon along the waist of his jeans, securing it there. Turning around one last time, he let his eyes scan the diner, wondering if there was anything he might be able to take with him, should he have need for it. Moving closer to the bar, he spotted a knife, which he thought about taking, but then decided against it. He had, after all, firearms at his use. He figured he probably wouldn't really need it. Looking further down the bar, he also spotted a map. Finding that that would be useful, he picked that up, tucking it away inside his jacket. There were other various items he found, some of which being a pen, and a small kit containing a few first aid items, half of which were missing. The kit, being small enough to fit in his pockets, as well as missing some items, only proved that it would most likely end up useless once he had a need for it. With a shake of his head, he turned his thoughts to his daughter and headed for the diner door.

The silence of the eatery was disturbed the sharp, crackling hum of static sounding in the air. Stopping, nearing jumping from the unexpected noise, Harry turned toward the end of the dinner, where Cybil had handled that radio of hers before leaving it. She'd said it was broken… but there it sat, a high-pitched static ringing from it's speakers. A frown marring his brow, he moved in that direction, wondering just what was going on the radio. Was this what she had meant when she said it was inoperable? Nearing the table he reached down to pick it up, looking over the piece as he began to step backwards.

Almost immediately after the step was taken, Harry's vision and hearing seemed to crackle and shatter. Stumbling backward, almost falling, he caught himself against the tall seats aligning the bar. Loosing his grip on the radio, it clattered to the floor, still buzzing and droning, as he looked up. He could still see shards of glass floating through the air, as though suspended in slow motion as his vision registered on a gruesome, if not unrealistic, sight. If floated before him, leathery wings outstretched on either side and flapping to keep momentum. Sinewy claws tucked out from beneath it's body, as though getting ready for an attack. A long beak topped by two beady black orbs open with a shriek, showing off gnarled and rotting teeth. It bled from pustules and wrinkles covering it's body. And the smell… Nearly gagging, Harry began to back away from the creature as it advanced in time to his retreating steps. Then it darted for him. With a shout Harry hit the ground, but not in time to avoid feeling it's claws dig into his jacket. Flailing as he hit the ground, he turned over, his brown eyes darting from the creature to something for him to use as a defensive weapon. He didn't have much time to think on this note since the creature was already diving at him a second time. Rolling out of the way and onto his feet, he came up quickly, half using the bar to pull himself up. That was when he'd spotted that knife he'd thought he'd had no use for. Feeling the rush of air behind him, as well as hearing the flapping of those leathery wings, he snatched up the blade and swung as he spun around.

Giving out a piercing shriek, Harry found that he'd hit the thing dead on across it's middle. It used it's wings to move back a few paces before diving again, giving an angry cry as it did so. Trying to dodge, Harry lost hold of the knife, hitting the ground hard, taking a couple of stools with him. The creature had missed him with it's attack, but he'd still suffered from some sort of injuries. With a cough, he heard a clatter as he struck the floor. Letting his eyes move in that direction, he was the gun that Cybil had given him. It had obviously slipped from it's secured place when his feel. Moving with a speed he didn't know he possessed, he dove for the weapon just as the skinless flying beast attacked him again. Sliding around as his fingers gripped the gun, he took aim, spotting his target, and fired several rounds, not even sure if it had even come close to hitting. Almost instantly after the shots were fired, the thing went down with a sharp cry and stayed down. Harry sat against a wall for several moments, breathing heavily, sweat doting his brow as he stared at the monstrosity. It was like those little kids he'd seen when he'd been trying to follow and find Cheryl. Except this thing was more primitive. A type of bird… or even a prehistoric creature, like a pterodactyl? With a shudder, he wondered if Cybil had been close enough to hear the shots and would come running back.

Slowing getting to his feet, he kept his eyes on the dead animal, before he froze in horror and watched it's body steam and then dissipate into an oozing liquid and then nothing at all. Gagging a bit, he looked across the room to where it had first entered, a chill coming in to snuff out the heat brought on by not only the fear, but the rush of adrenalin. Moving, somewhat gingerly across the room, he picked up the radio, which had now gone back into silence. A crease formed across his brow. Had this thing reacted to it's presence? he wondered momentarily before hooking it onto his pants. Turning toward the doorway, he realized that he still had the gun gripped tightly in his hands. Swallowing, he moved to retrieve the knife that had helped him out just moments ago, wiping it clean of the vile blood with a napkin that had fallen on the floor. Putting the blade away, he kept hold of the gun. He stood in the now empty dinner for a few minutes, trying to get bearings that he was sure wouldn't come back. Trying to process what was going on. After a minute more, he shook his head. Standing there would get him nowhere. It was obvious that Cybil hadn't heard the shots. Either that, or she'd been attacked by a similar creature. Steeling himself against what was to come, he made the decision to move on. Cybil could have needed his help, and his daughter definitely needed him. Moving toward the door of the Coogwigger Diner, he gripped the handle and pushed it open, stepping out into a world unknown.