A/N: I forgot to mention that I in fact, do NOT own Silent Hill. (Surprise, eh?) Konami does. Sooo...good for them! However, I do own this fic. Oh, and don't sue me, for I am poor. Have fun!

Chapter 2: A New Beginning

---

"Joe! Hey wake up!" the little man grunted. "Christ! C'mon man...GET UP!"

"Hrm...Marcell...don't...I don't want to..."

The man threw his hands up at Joseph.

"Ugh, fine." the man sighed as bent over behind his cot, soon to return to Joseph's side with a bucket of what appeared to be ice water. With one glance more, he dumped the sloshing liquid over Joseph's face.

"I'M UP! I'm awake!", Joseph looked over at the man, who wore a sly grin as he watched his mischief at work. "Carl, why the hell did you do THAT?"

Carl shrugged. "You were dreamin' about that night again. I hate it for you, man. Awful, just awful..."

"I was..? Oh, sorry." He scratched his head. Something was troubling him.

Carl laughed then circled the tiny perimeter of the two men's jail cell. He finished his "morning stroll" by stretching his arms and letting out a rather loud yawn.

He was quite slender for his age. Cinnamon brown hair fell over his forehead in thin wisps that nearly covered his deep blue eyes. His build was slim, but rock hard. Six years of prison work and being in the gym kept him in this state. Well, six years is what everyone in Toluca Prison that knows him says. Carl Danes stood there in the middle of his cell, surrounded by three thick cement walls and one made of bars. He was only about 5'7" and looked like he was in his late twenties, at the most.

Rumors about him always led to the same horrible ending: Carl had murdered his father in a fit of jealousy. The stories always varied about the reason why he did so. Some say it was to get back at him for stealing his wife, but most think the tale of Carl Danes goes deeper...much deeper than one would care to go.

"Today's the day!" Carl announced as he tried to tug Joseph out of his creaky old bed.

"It is, isn't it? I had almost forgotten."

"Sure is." Joseph wrestled with the unsure thoughts that were swarming in his head. "These five years have been some of the longest..." He smiled at the thought of freedom. That smile grew into a mixture of fear and mangled disgust. "Freedom never got me anywhere. Just bleeding to death in some damn street."

"Hey you two, stop yaking."

The prison warden strolled up from out of a shadowy nowhere.

The two turned around with haste, slightly startled by his hoarse voice. "Joseph Abernathy," his voice grinded once more, "I bet you're a happy one. If you have not yet noticed, today's the day we can set you free from that ol' barred hell that you're standing in right now." He glanced over at Carl, "Too bad for you. Tsk tsk."

Carl smirked, acknowledging his remark.

"Y-Yes sir Mr. Barynski, I have noticed that my five years are up. I think it's time I get to go now." Joseph had always been intimidated by authoritative figures...even if it were a greased up warden.

"The hell you bet I'm happy! You don't have a damned idea how bad it is here."

"Yeah well...hurry up and get whatever's yours outta here. And tell your friend goodbye. He won't be seeing you for a long while, I hope." He started off down the hall to his office. "I'll be back in five." With a final grunt he turned and marched off back into the hall, each step noted by rhythmic jingling that came from his keys that dangled loosely in his back pocket.

Joseph had never questioned the ways of the prison, though he found it sort of odd that a "dangerous" individual such as Carl Danes was sharing the cell with him. "The way they act, you'd think they didn't care at all if your cellmate murdered you." This idea often led him to the next, which was that maybe he was just as threatening as Carl...but no one really cared what happened to either one.

He looked over at Carl, who was currently watching him in the middle of his ongoing thought process. He couldn't have possibly killed someone, but then again, Joseph thought he couldn't have, either...but he did.

"Carl, why are you here?"

"Killed my old man."

"No, really. Why?"

"I just told you, man. I killed my goddamn father."

Something in that last response told Joseph that Carl was hiding something, but he didn't have the time to bother with it anymore -- he had to get ready.

With a nervous sigh, Joseph proceeded in collecting his belongings from the room he had resided in for the past half-decade. Overall there wasn't much, just a toothbrush and comb. He also retrieved a small stack of short stories, poems, and letters that he had wrote to himself and various others who may or may not have ever existed. Most of these he found well kept under his smelly – and what seemed to be decaying – mattress.

In the corner of his eye he noticed Carl still watching him, only this time he looked slightly annoyed, most likely from the sudden questioning he had just over gone.

The fact that none of the guards had ever really performed an entire search of cellblock 3A truly amused Joseph. It seemed that none of the prison employees had ever put enough thought into the duties of its inhabitants or even themselves. Sure there might be some strict warnings to each prisoner before and after each meal or "relaxation time", but other than that the prisoners acted freely. Perhaps this was because Joseph had somehow been thrown into a jail with a group of murderers, thieves, rapists, and other convicts who were surprisingly well-behaved. Or maybe just that no one really cared what the hell was going on. It was rare to even hear about someone trying to escape from Toluca Prison, or even more so to speak of escape. No one had escaped from the grounds alive in about fifty years, and even that man was said to have died trying to survive in the outskirts of the nearest city.

Joseph took one final inspection of his surroundings. It looked exactly how it was when he had came to it those years ago: dull, barren, and somewhat depressing. The only real difference he could tell was from the thin, shimmering ray of light that poured from the cell's one tiny iron-barred window that was placed in the back of the room. The sight of sunlight cheered him up. He couldn't exactly put his finger on what he was feeling at this moment. Of course he knew how he was supposed to feel: indescribably happy.

He spent the remainder of his wait trying to stir up the right emotion for the situation.

Just then both men heard the familiar jingle of Mr. Barynski's keys. It was time to go.

The old warden unlocked the iron door and with an irritating squeak, it finally stood wide open (an unwise maneuver in such a place). Joseph went over to gather his bag of belongings and met back over to his cellmate for the past five years to say goodbye.

His dark eyes met with Carl's pale blue ones. He didn't know what to say to the man, his cellmate. The only person he really had to talk to. He was more than that. He considered him to be a friend...his only friend. And in this last meeting it was all happening so fast, yet these final moments were moving somewhat slow. He tried his best to find the right words without losing any masculinity but his thoughts were filled with what was going to happen after he was cast into the outside world alone.

"Err...Carl, I'm not very good with words, so," he caught his reflection in Carl's listening eyes, "I just wanted to uh..."

Carl suddenly gave a slight nod, apparently unmoved by the start of what seemed to be a speech. "Just go. That's enough for me," he chuckled, "Dear God you are one odd fellow, Joe Abernathy. Get out of here already, sheesh!"

Joseph, taken aback, returned with a forced grin. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, he stepped out of the cell beside Mr. Barynski. "Isn't that a bit, um, not smart to leave it open like that?" he asked the old man as he started to shove the door close, and finish with the turn of a key.

"Nonsense. That boy is smarter than that," he turned away from the door and faced him, "I wouldn't go after him if he did decide to escape, though. He's not THAT smart enough to make it out there on foot. Now come on."

Carl, sitting on his cot, glared madly at the sight of the two men on the other side as they walked out towards the doors of Toluca Prison.

---

The main hall of the vicinity was dim and oddly quiet. Neither of the men spoke as they made their way through. Joseph noticed the old yellow photographs of a large brick building that were framed along the walls of the hallway. One of the captions read, "Toluca Prison – 1865".

"Wasn't that during the Civil War era...?"

The building looked completely different than the Toluca he knew. The surrounding area looked a bit off, too.

Before Joseph could make any more guesses of the picture's origin, he noticed he was already outside.

"Nice, huh? Been awhile since you've been outside the fences, I'm sure."

Joseph couldn't believe what he was seeing. Through his sunlight stung eyes he made out the area around him. Of course, most of it was composed of asphalt and cement due to the fact that he was in what seemed to be the parking lot of the jail, but it didn't matter. He finally began to feel that indescribable happiness that he was searching for earlier.

As he was taking in the view, another grunt from Barynski grabbed his attention back to the now impatient warden. "Here are your papers," he shoved the stack into Joseph's hands, "...and some money. Can't let you go without the green. Didn't waste all that time just to let you die, right?"

He laughed for what seemed to be too long.

Before Joseph could utter his shy thank you to the annoying bastard, he cut in again. "Oh and one more thing," he dug into one of his many pant pockets, retrieving a key and a small fold of paper. "Somebody left these for you. A lady. Didn't give me a name. Probably because I didn't feel like asking for one!" he laughed again before regaining his composure, "This here is a map of the nearest town. Great place. Maybe you've been there? Ah well, and this is the key to that car," he pointed a lean finger towards a black Sedan parked a few feet away.

Joseph nearly gaped at the car as the warden forced the key and map into his paperless hand. "You're welcome," added Mr. Barynski half-heartedly.

Now looking down at the car key, Joseph tried to pry into his mind to find out who could have possibly left these goods behind for him. Not only was he astonished, but he was also quite thankful as well to whoever it was that went out of their way to leave these things for him. "Maybe it was the warden," he thought to himself, "No couldn't be. I can't believe he even gave me some cash to get around with. I guess he has to by law...Hmm, family? Eh, they don't even know I exist, and besides, the only two that would even help, my own folks, are dead."

"Boy, I suggest you get into that car and go. Unless you're wantin' to stay here. In that case, I'll be glad to –"

"Oh no, no sir I don't think that's necessary," Joseph answered politely, "Well, goodbye, sir."

Joseph tightened his grip on both his old and new belongings as he made his way up to the suspicious looking car that was now his property. He did a lap around it and decided that it would pass most any other inspection besides his own, which only called for the vehicle to have four wheels that weren't flat, windows, seats, steering wheel, brakes, and all those other complex car parts, ect. After he was done searching for any serious flaws, he made a mental decision to insert the key and start the engine (which to his surprise, actually worked).

A renewed sense of freedom flowed through him as he revved up the car. Once again he considered how he got into this situation. Questions like: "Why did get all this?", "Where do I go now?", and "Isn't there more to getting out of prison than just a walk outside, a few documents, and a handful of money?" swarmed in his head until he finally decided he'd probably find more information if he actually got somewhere in the car.

"Good luck out there!" yelled Mr. Barynski from Toluca's steps. He turned around and faced the door to start back inside. "And Godspeed..."

Joseph didn't hear him.

"This has got to be the weirdest, most unorganized prison in the states," he mumbled over the soft roaring of his new car as he pulled out and drove down the gravel path that lead to the nearest country road. He had no real idea where he was, but that's what the map would be for...or at least he hoped so. The whole idea of getting walked out of jail and being told to get in some car that belonged to only God knows who with a map that would lead him to some place other than where he wanted to be only brought up more questions, so he kept the originals and cleared the rest of his cluttered mind to get set on finding a place to start over...as if it wasn't hard enough already.

Just then he ran into a bump on the small road. The unsuspecting jolt of the car caused the map to slip off of its place on the dashboard and land onto the passenger seat where it unfolded to reveal another map that lay inside it. At the sight of this, Joseph pulled over on the side of the road under an old oak tree.

"Odd..." he grasped the second piece of parchment and began to unfold it. Its edges (or what was left of them) were bent in all directions and in some places looked almost singed. He noticed one fold to be lined with fingerprints...he could tell the prints because they were outlined in what seemed to be blood. He stopped to once again question things. This time it was whether or not he should unfold the paper anymore. His curiosity won this battle, and so he opened the stained map to view it entirely.

Through the bloodstains it read:

"A Map to Silent Hill: A Friendly, Cozy Resort Town!"