"When crazy samurai get revenge on the elderly, tonight on Sick Sad World."
Both girls stared at the bizarre set-up before them: a bed with a blood stain resembling a human body, complete with a bloody katana jammed straight down through the middle, pinning a relatively blood-free newspaper in place.
"This would be an awesome painting if I wasn't on the verge of pissing my panties."
They split up and walked around opposite sides of the bed, trying to get a closer look. Something had to be going on, as it wasn't like lunatic Japanese warriors to come to abandoned little towns for the sole purpose of murdering geriatrics. Jane took a tossed-aside sweater from the floor and used it to grab the hilt of the sword, which also happened to have blood on it, as if the old lady of the house was inflated like a balloon before she received the pinprick, or maybe like it was a Kill Bill movie.
The artist quickly glanced left and right before wiping the blood from the sword off on the bed. "Would it bother you if I hung onto this for now?"
"Not unless you're bothered by the kitchen knife in my jacket."
"Somehow I can't see you as a serial killer, and yet it's always the ones you least suspect."
A little smirk passed between them, brief but necessary if they were going to retain their sanity.
The sound of a door opening and closing; someone was here, and it probably wasn't a pizza delivery boy. A shiver of panic lightly passed through them as they started inching toward the entrance of the room, but they didn't get very far before catching a young man of mid-twenties, with about as much fear and killer intentions as they had, a pistol in each hand. Wavy, hazel hair faintly hid a pair of emerald eyes that shook with the memory of more encounters than this one. Dressed all in black, with leather straps holding to his back what looked to be a shotgun and a metal pipe, he stared both girls down for another tense moment before letting his hands start to drop to his sides, asking, "You're not monsters desiring the skin off my bones, are you?"
Daria retorted to regain her composure, "Damn, our cover's blown."
This was hastily followed by the sounds of many windows shattering back in the front of the house, where they came in, then lots of nails scrapping tile and tearing carpet.
The young man cursed aloud before aiming his guns down the hallway and shouting to the girls, "Get out through the door behind me and keep running till you get to the café!"
Demonic growling was all they needed to hear before following the stranger's orders. There was indeed a back door that led to a yard only partly surrounded by unpainted picket fence. Since walking is more Daria's forte than Jane's, she quickly fell behind, requiring her friend to grab her hand and give an uncomfortable pull towards wherever the hell they were running to; just a bunch of miscellaneous shops and buildings to their right, until there was the coveted Café Silencio. With the sounds of gunfire behind them, Jane yanked the café's door open and pulled them both inside, bumping the katana against the door and doorframe in her haste and unfamiliarity with this weapon.
Her arm having nearly been pulled out of its socket, Daria tenderly rubbed her limb while attempting to catch her breath and be thankful the knife wasn't deciding to cut into her side. A quick glance around the compact establishment revealed the restaurant staples of round tables, chairs, counter and cash register, though with the added touches of boards nailed across the windows and bullets stacked on a corner booth. Oh, and then there was some writing scrawled in red on the back wall.
Before she could analyze it, though, the stranger with guns burst inside and slammed the door behind himself, a rather breathless look upon his face. Jane let out a heavy sigh before stating, "Thanks, I really needed another heart attack today."
He gave something of an embarrassed little smile before plopping down into one of the nearby chairs and attempting to breathe normally. A few moments passed before he asked, "Are you girls alright?"
As she started walking towards the wall writing, Daria mused, "You'd be surprised what cross country running can do for the human body."
She heard him let out a little laugh as she came within reading distance.
Mockingbirds rest with weary wings
On branches soon to twist and crack.
When will fate soon look away
And let the poor birds fall to black?
"Funny, you didn't strike me as the poetic type."
He looked up from his resting position and said, "I didn't write that. It was here when I found this place."
Arms crossed as she rested against the counter, Jane piped up, "And how did you find this place, mister…?"
"Fisher. Derek Fisher. And you?"
"Jane."
"Daria. So, Mister Fisher, out with it, already."
A sort of embarrassed look crossed his face, and he gazed down at the table in order to avoid the girls' stares. "Well… about 6 months before I came here, my girlfriend disappeared, and I don't mean just a simple 'she broke up with me and didn't say,' I mean she literately vanished, with police and APBs and the full works trying to find her. No luck. And then, a week before I came here, I received a letter from her, telling me to come to Silent Hill to find her." He laughed bitterly. "From what I've heard from a few other people in this town, that seems to be one of the common ways to draw sinners here."
Daria demanded, "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Hey, don't rush the story." His tone was non-threatening, so she let it drop. "Anyway, of course I had to check it out, mostly to find Marla, partly because I wanted to see if Silent Hill was what everyone said it was."
"And what's that?" Jane asked.
He met her gaze, filled with truth and harshness. "Hell." A little shiver of fear ran through the two girls. "About five years ago, everyone in this sleepy little resort town just vanished, almost the same as with Marla, except we're talking a much larger population. Since then, as Silent Hill has become slightly populated again and under the scrutiny of researchers and conspiracy theorists alike, dozens of bizarre murders and just as many disappearances have occurred within this town or been connected somehow. And so, me being a journalist, my interest was aroused when I realized I would have to come here. The only problem is, since I've been here, neither I nor anyone else I've encountered has been able to find a way out of town."
Daria exuded a look of sarcasm and disbelief far stronger than usual, if such a thing were possible. "You have got to be kidding."
"You'll see, and there's worse monsters out there than just the dogs. I'd really rather not remember the other things I've seen…"
Jane scratched her head, groaning softly, before blurting out, "So what you're saying is, we're trapped inside the village of the damned, being hunted by Picasso's worst nightmares, and there's no rhyme or reason for any of it?"
"More or less."
Jane smacked her forehead. "This is not happening."
Daria stated, "Now that you've explained that we're trapped in the loony bin, perhaps you can go back to that part about sinners being drawn here, because last I checked, sarcasm was only a sin in Lawndale High."
The journalist shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Well, most of the people I've run into have been certifiable lunatics that you wouldn't wanna meet in dark alleys, all of them with some sort of horrible sins behind them."
The two girls stared at him with their usual expressions, Daria eventually quipping, "Yeah, we're the mass murders you never knew, and what makes you Genghis Khan?"
That uncomfortable look again. "Well… I kind of… cheated on Marla, shortly before she disappeared…"
Jane raised a mocking eyebrow. "Yep, you're the Devil himself. C'mon, Daria, let's get outta here before he wants us to join his cult."
She was about to open the door, but then Derek stopped her with a shout of "Hey!" He stood up, regained his composure, and asked directly, "How did you end up in this town?"
"Driving down the highway, heading to pick up my brother from a gig."
"So you're not eloping against family wishes, the next Thelma and Louise, or just some punks that think nothing of committing crimes?"
Daria crossed her arms and said after a few beats, "Jane, you hold his testicles while I remove them with the kitchen knife."
He jumped back and shook his hands in front of them, laughing nervously and shouting, "Hey hey, I'm just kidding, I just wanted to check, okay!?" He picked up one of his guns from the table and pulled a map from a back pocket, handing both to Daria while explaining, "Here, take these. Trust me, you'll need them."
The writer held the handgun awkwardly until she gave it to Jane. "Here, I'd rather not be tempted to hurt any more stupid people we come across." She opened up the map of the general Silent Hill area, noticing the many marks of "x's," and asked, "So what's the best road to take to get as far away from this place as possible?"
Groaning. "I told you, there's no way out, but I guess you have to see for yourselves. So where specifically did you come from and under what circumstances?"
"Highway north of here. Road became blocked."
"Right, okay, so what you might wanna try," He started pointing out his directions on the large map. "is go south into Central Silent Hill, and maybe try east to New Silent Hill. I'm not sure if the path is still open, but it's worth a shot. If that doesn't work, head west into Old Silent Hill, try to get up to the highway if you can, and if not go south from there and through the amusement park. I've met up with a few people that've decided to go that way, and I haven't seen them since they've gone, so…"
Jane stated, "Yeah, it's a risk."
"Bingo." He finally started to go, walking towards the door while giving a little gesture of his hand to wave goodbye.
"Wait." He stopped at Daria's request. "One last question."
"Shoot."
"How long have you been here?"
A thoughtful look crossed his face. "I don't know for sure, but I'm guessing a few weeks."
"And the average lifespan of a Silent Hillian?"
A bit of bashful despair, looking away. "I usually don't see any particular people more than twice." Finally he said, "Good luck," started to walk, then quickly stopped to say, "Hey, um, if you see a woman with the mark of Samael on her back… run like hell."
So now he was finally gone. Jane glanced after him, down at the gun in her hand, then finally at Daria. "Now that we have a gun, should we make him our sex slave or our personal piggyback giver?"
They shared a smirk, but Daria's was forced, as the tension and danger of this situation was slowly preying more and more upon her mind and insecurities.
