(Yes, I know that the last paragraph was in first-person. It was meant to
be, so I could take this thing where I want it to go. Some things will be
in first person, and some will be in third. Bear with me, okay?)
(--Saturday night, Nathan Avenue--)
I got in on the passenger's side, the whole while trying to see the driver's face. After five minutes of driving, however, he finally put a hand up in front of my face. I guessed that meant, 'stop it,' so I turned my attention to the road rushing by us. My hand was bleeding a bit more now. The bandage was getting soaked through.
"Hey, you got any band-aids or something? Like gauze or... something?"
he didn't answer, but pointed to the dashboard. I guess he was a mute... or a mime. I opened the drawer and saw a dirty dishrag, a few odd paperclips, some masking tape, a poster of some cowboy, torn denim strips, and a handgun. An actual six shot. No bullets though. Well, actually there was two bullets left. I grabbed the cloth and masking tape and made another makeshift bandage out of it. I asked what to do with my old one, but he didn't answer. He still hadn't taken his eyes off the road. He didn't even stop at the signs, but there was no one around, so I guess it was alright. I took a nap.
V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^ V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V (--Saturday night, Nathan Avenue--)
I woke with a jolt.
"Waugh? Whereas... where... oh yeah."
Nothing had changed from my surroundings before, and after I recovered from my initial identity crisis, I settled back down again. I guess we had just hit a rock or... whatever. My mute chauffeur didn't seem to have noticed my forty winks, but from the signposts we were getting close to the resort town. What a weird name. What a weird location. For that matter, what a weird driver!
Zack could have done better than this guy. Not that Mr. Mouth-stitched-shut- silent wasn't nice. I hadn't forgotten the cloth for my hand. But it was getting to be annoying, having no one to bug. It was getting somewhat foggy out there. The mist was mixing with the snowfall to make the road almost invisible. The road clearing vehicles hadn't even come this way yet apparently. What was creepy though, was that the driver didn't even seem to notice.
Actually I could hear him humming the tune to 'Oh, Susannah' so I guess he wasn't mute at all. The mist got thicker and thicker, though, until it frosted on the windows and seemed to form a solid wall. But we were still on the road, since I could feel no bumps yet. The only explanation I had for this was that the driver had been this way hundreds of times, so it was like second nature to him.
V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^ V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V
(--Saturday night, Nathan Avenue, Silent Hill, three hours later--)
I looked up from the brochure I had been reading, wishing I had brought a pillow, or a watch, or something. The front of the car was almost indistinguishable from the snow surrounding it. Where there wasn't frost on the old Toyota, there was rust. I looked over my shoulder, into the truck bed, being devoid of anything to do. There was an ancient tarp in the back.
*Thump-thump* *Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...* *Crsh* *Smsh-crsh-bmpbmpbmpbmpswizzzzzzzzzzzzzcrsh*
The moment I had peered around, the car nailed something, sending me flying through the back window, which was open. I landed softly in snow, and was okay. I wasn't so sure about the driver though. As I watched, the car went front-over-rear fender and was doing cartwheels in the air, finally landing in some trees. The tree broke, probably dead wood anyway, sending the car rolling down a hill into a small lake. It broke the ice on it and disappeared under the waters. I didn't curse aloud as a rule, but sometimes there are places where no other words apply.
"Holy sh*t!"
I got up, grabbed my had from where it lay, and ran over to where the truck was, hoping for the driver to be all right. I reached the lake, but then remembered that I couldn't swim. I didn't have to it turned out, because there was a quick fountain of water from underneath the still surface, evidently from the car exploding. I don't know how it did it underwater, but then again, I'm not a mechanic.
(--Saturday night, Nathan Avenue--)
I got in on the passenger's side, the whole while trying to see the driver's face. After five minutes of driving, however, he finally put a hand up in front of my face. I guessed that meant, 'stop it,' so I turned my attention to the road rushing by us. My hand was bleeding a bit more now. The bandage was getting soaked through.
"Hey, you got any band-aids or something? Like gauze or... something?"
he didn't answer, but pointed to the dashboard. I guess he was a mute... or a mime. I opened the drawer and saw a dirty dishrag, a few odd paperclips, some masking tape, a poster of some cowboy, torn denim strips, and a handgun. An actual six shot. No bullets though. Well, actually there was two bullets left. I grabbed the cloth and masking tape and made another makeshift bandage out of it. I asked what to do with my old one, but he didn't answer. He still hadn't taken his eyes off the road. He didn't even stop at the signs, but there was no one around, so I guess it was alright. I took a nap.
V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^ V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V (--Saturday night, Nathan Avenue--)
I woke with a jolt.
"Waugh? Whereas... where... oh yeah."
Nothing had changed from my surroundings before, and after I recovered from my initial identity crisis, I settled back down again. I guess we had just hit a rock or... whatever. My mute chauffeur didn't seem to have noticed my forty winks, but from the signposts we were getting close to the resort town. What a weird name. What a weird location. For that matter, what a weird driver!
Zack could have done better than this guy. Not that Mr. Mouth-stitched-shut- silent wasn't nice. I hadn't forgotten the cloth for my hand. But it was getting to be annoying, having no one to bug. It was getting somewhat foggy out there. The mist was mixing with the snowfall to make the road almost invisible. The road clearing vehicles hadn't even come this way yet apparently. What was creepy though, was that the driver didn't even seem to notice.
Actually I could hear him humming the tune to 'Oh, Susannah' so I guess he wasn't mute at all. The mist got thicker and thicker, though, until it frosted on the windows and seemed to form a solid wall. But we were still on the road, since I could feel no bumps yet. The only explanation I had for this was that the driver had been this way hundreds of times, so it was like second nature to him.
V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^ V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V^V
(--Saturday night, Nathan Avenue, Silent Hill, three hours later--)
I looked up from the brochure I had been reading, wishing I had brought a pillow, or a watch, or something. The front of the car was almost indistinguishable from the snow surrounding it. Where there wasn't frost on the old Toyota, there was rust. I looked over my shoulder, into the truck bed, being devoid of anything to do. There was an ancient tarp in the back.
*Thump-thump* *Screeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee...* *Crsh* *Smsh-crsh-bmpbmpbmpbmpswizzzzzzzzzzzzzcrsh*
The moment I had peered around, the car nailed something, sending me flying through the back window, which was open. I landed softly in snow, and was okay. I wasn't so sure about the driver though. As I watched, the car went front-over-rear fender and was doing cartwheels in the air, finally landing in some trees. The tree broke, probably dead wood anyway, sending the car rolling down a hill into a small lake. It broke the ice on it and disappeared under the waters. I didn't curse aloud as a rule, but sometimes there are places where no other words apply.
"Holy sh*t!"
I got up, grabbed my had from where it lay, and ran over to where the truck was, hoping for the driver to be all right. I reached the lake, but then remembered that I couldn't swim. I didn't have to it turned out, because there was a quick fountain of water from underneath the still surface, evidently from the car exploding. I don't know how it did it underwater, but then again, I'm not a mechanic.
