Lights flashed. Sirens, maybe. Blue and red, blue and red, blue and red. Crowds talking on the sidewalk, watching the road, watching a truck. Watching the woman get out of that truck. Blue and red, blue and red.

Paramedics and policemen. A stretcher with leather straps. Blue and red, blue and red, blue and red. Someone speaking through a bullhorn. "Nothing to see here, move along, everybody."

A dent in the truck's fender. A horrible, awful, small dent. The wheel of a bike still creaking as it continued to spin, the body it was attached to crushed under the left front tire. A mess of pink metal and tassels.

Blue and red, blue and red, blue and red. No idea what the woman hit, yet, save for the bike. She tried to look over the hood of the truck, irritated at the police officer pushing her back. Couldn't see; pushed back into the screaming blue and red, blue and red, blue and red, blue and red...


Arelia woke up with a start. She looked around a moment before jerking again, and pulled her knees up further to her chest. Her head throbbed. Her body ached. She sat up straighter and ran her hand through her hair. As luck would have it, she had come out of it uninjured. What exactly had she come out of?

The cafe she had been moved to was well-lit and homey, a sudden change from the foggy world outside. The booths were cushioned with ugly brown padded seats, one of which she had been laying on. The tables were of polished, dark wood, set up with gleaming glass spice shakers and plastic condiments. There was a long bar, in front of which were swiveling chairs on support poles, upon which was a police officer.

The memory of the man's smile flashed in Arelia's mind again. It was him.

He stood up and crossed his arms, smiling a little, though less certainly.

"You're up," he observed casually. "How do you feel?" Arelia sat up fully and swung her legs over the seat, boots making a harsh thud against the tile floor.

"Like I've been hit by a truck. But I'm fine," she answered tonelessly. She rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. "How did I get here?"

"I found you in the middle of the road outside. You were unconscious. I brought you in."

"How long have I been out?"

"Not too awful long. I found you this morning, and it's almost noon now." The officer sat on a chair at the bar and swiveled back and forth as he talked. Arelia found it difficult not to be comforted by the familiarity of his uniform. "Can you remember your name?"

"Arelia..." She searched for her last name and found it. "Arelia Mitchel."

"I'm Sergeant Joshua Bishop." His teeth were white and perfect when he smiled. "I'm from Brahms, the town over. You're the first person I've seen here." Bishop took a notepad out of his shirt pocket. "Mind if I ask you a few questions, ma'am?"

"Wait a minute, I'm just a tourist," Arelia said quickly. "I came here for a vacation, but I lost control of my vehicle and... A lot of things just kind of happened at once..."

"Yeah, I remember you now," Bishop said after a few moments of studying her. "In the big black truck on the road here, right?"

"That's right." The motorcycle ditched on the roadside. "Did you crash?" The sergeant's eyes hazed over eerily as he tried to remember. One corner of his mouth pulled to the side a bit and his tongue roamed over his upper gums while he thought.

"Yeah, I did," he said finally.

Then how did you get here?

"I'm... I'm looking for something," she began. "I'm not sure what it is, but I know I lost it, and it's here."

"Well, ma'am, it's like I said: you're the only one I've seen around here. But if it's a missing person, I could call for reinforcements and see if we can find anything." The ex-Marine shook her head.

"That's not necessary. I'm not even sure it's a person," she added. Her head still throbbed. She felt her jacket for a pack of cigarettes, found them, and then decided she wasn't well enough to smoke. "Why are you here, sergeant?"

"We lost contact with Silent Hill... oh, I guess it was a month back, maybe. I was sent in by the Brahms police department to find out why." Bishop leaned back onto the bar and smiled painfully. "Guess I know why, now, huh?"

"Guess so," Arelia said. She stood and adjusted her jacket. "Thanks." She walked to the door.

Bishop jumped off the chair and took her arm. "Where are you going?" His touch was firm and professional, but not without general concern. She shook him off anyway.

"I told you, I'm looking for something. I'm going to go find it."

"Do you have a gun?"

Arelia searched her pockets for the clips and firearm.

"Ummmm... No." Bishop removed his sidearm and loaded it, handing it to her. It was no Colt, but it would do.

"Here," he said. "Takes fifteen rounds. Now listen to me, miss: don't shoot at anything unless you see it, and don't go blasting me by mistake. You understand that?"

"I'm an ex-Marine, sergeant," Arelia hissed. "I was trained in all sorts of firearms. Best shooter in the outfit."

"There will be no trouble then, I guess," Bishop answered pleasantly. He ran his hand through his brown and copper hair. "I'm going to go call in to Brahms. See if I can bring up some more officers." He tilted an imaginary hat to her. His eyes smiled beneath glasses, and soon his mouth smiled as well. "Ma'am," he said, "good luck with whatever you're looking for." Then he hopped over the bar and disappeared through the back door of the cafe, leaving Arelia without his warm drawl and company.

She put one hand on the back of her neck and looked around again, sighing. It was still snowing outside; she could see it falling through the large windows fast-food restaurants seemed to be so fond of. There was a pinball machine on the far right side of the counter, and two odd posters on the wall of a man with a shotgun, grinning maniacally, shouting: "STUDY, DAMMIT!" at the reader. Arelia almost smiled. She spotted a bottle and kitchen knife on the counter. Further study of the bottle's label proved it to be medicinal. After looking it over for a moment, she pocketed it. Better than nothing, she decided. She also pocketed the kitchen knife, sliding it through her belt to keep it from stabbing her.

There was a clip-on flashlight on the counter, but an assessment of herself turned up that Arelia still had hers. She ignored it and instead picked up the area map next to it. She marked the approximate area of her car wreck with a red pen she found behind the counter, then colored in the alley she had gone through. She was going to go through it again and find out what the Hell was going on.

There was a pocket radio on one of the tables. Arelia played with it, switching it on and off, going through all channels and stations, until she was satisfied that all it produced was a low hum.

"Must be broken," she muttered to herself, and pushed the door open to leave. Suddenly the radio came to life, emitting a high-pitched squeal of static. Arelia stared at it. What the...?

Through the window crashed a flying animal of some sort, leathery wings powerful enough to knock over Arelia. She rolled out of its way and stood up, not bothering to directly look at the creature this time. It had almost gotten her killed before. She emptied three rounds into the thing, then it fell and twitched once before the static stopped and the low hum returned.

Glass crunching beneath her feet, Arelia stooped to look at the odd beast that had attacked her. She nudged it with her gun. It was dead and bloodied. In all her years, she had seen nothing like it. It was leathery and pinkish in color, almost resembling a prehistoric dinosaur of the sky. It also looked skinless. Something was not right about the creature. Perhaps the all-too-human legs and torso.

She stood up and looked out of the broken glass at Silent Hill. Calm, misty, remote. Abandoned. Forsaken, perhaps, even by God.