Chapter 2

The road before me simply dead ended into an over-grown wilderness, while behind, the taxi's tail lights were quickly receding into the fog. It was like someone had started to expand the road, but stopped halfway through preparations and let nature take its course once more. The only sign of civilization evident in the area was a section of broken parking lot and a small cinderblock tenement with peeling green paint and a sign that proclaimed restroom in fading black letters.

With nowhere else to go, I heaved a sigh and headed across the crumbling pavement toward the building. I was about to try the door to the men's bathroom, when a glimmer of light caught my eye.

I turned, looking off past the restroom to see a faint ray of light flickering through the fog. I'm not quite sure why, but the faint illumination in so desolate an area intrigued me. A frown creased my brow as I moved toward the curious light, heading into another section of broken parking lot previously hidden by the mist. After a few steps, a shape loomed out of the fog. It was a car--a silver Toyota sedan, and one that I had seen before. It belonged to my mother.

I broke into a jog over to the vehicle, but what I saw next gave me pause. Beyond the car, I spied what had been giving off that light: a dilapidated phone booth, the anemic light above it wavering with a staccato flicker. Graffiti covered the glass, and the receiver was off the hook, swaying slowly back and forth beneath the decrepit booth.

My heart leapt into my throat at the sight as my mind reeled over the implications. I hastened to get around the car and headed closer to the booth, but as I drew nearer, a sudden sense of dread seized upon me. Scrawled in red upon the glass were two simple words: I'm sorry.

I stumbled forward, hoping that it wasn't written in what I thought it was. My fingers brushed against the glass, coming away red and sticky. But it wasn't blood, not even close. I breathed a sigh of relief as I realized what it was: lipstick.

That relief faded quickly, however, as I pondered just what the hell the message meant. It was almost like that phone call all over again—too vague to draw any solid details out of it, but just enough to reel me in. I shook my head in frustration and turned back toward the car.

But then the phone's receiver sputtered in a fit of soft static. Turning to look down at the still-swaying handset, I remember thinking that it must have been broken, just like the rest of that abandoned place. But as I started to turn away again, a faint voice reached my ears over the static.

"John?"

I lurched for the receiver, fumbling with it a moment before bringing it to my ear. "Mom? Mom, is that you?"

There was a sigh on the other end, and then a click before the line went dead.

The sudden influx of hope drained from my body as quickly as it had arrived. I sighed, letting the phone slip from my grasp. It clattered against the base of the booth as I leaned back on the hood of the car, massaging my temples in crestfallen frustration.

It simply didn't make sense. None of it did. The more I tried to wrap my mind around the events of the past few hours, the more confused I got. The phone call, the lipstick message, the phone booth, none of it made sense. Hell, the whole place didn't make any sense. Why didn't the road continue on into town? Why was there even a rest stop so close? Why the hell wasn't there anybody around? It was like a freaking ghost town, and the more I thought about it, the more uneasy I got about the whole situation. I actually contemplated just heading back down the road and leaving that God forsaken place. I just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge.

I turned back to the car, thinking that if nothing else, maybe I could hotwire it and be on my way. It was a long shot, but I could at least make an effort. When I tried the door, it opened quite easily, which actually surprised me a little. Mom was never the trusting kind when it came to strangers, so she would always lock her doors before she left, even if just for a few seconds. Why the car would be unlocked here, of all places, was a mystery to me. What surprised me even more though, was the fact that her keys were still dangling from the ignition slot.

I frowned and slid into the driver's seat, slipping my hand around the key to give it a good turn. There was a soft whine, and then nothing. The battery was dead.

I sighed and turned away, inadvertently meeting my own gaze in the rear view mirror. I was shocked by my complexion: pale, sallow, sickly even. A layer of stubble covered my thin face, and the whites of my eyes were bloodshot. My hair was ruffled, my suit rumpled, and my tie loose around my neck, looking as though I'd just awakened from a hard night of binge drinking. I looked awful, a shadow of the man that had left his New York office just hours before. What had happened to me? What was I doing here?

I sighed and leaned back in the seat, closing my eyes as I tried to figure out what I was going to do.

But really there was nothing else I could do. I couldn't leave, not without Mom. I didn't know a damn thing about this town, or what was going on, or even where the hell I was, but I did know she needed me. I couldn't leave her.

I steeled my resolve and leaned forward to the glove compartment, hoping to find a clue as to where my mother had gone, or perhaps at least a flashlight if nothing else. When I opened the door, a bundle of papers and several metallic objects spilled out into the passenger seat floor.

At the top of the pile was a 9 mm. Glock handgun.

I had seen it before; I should have been expecting it. Hell, I was the one that insisted she carry it around. After I left home, I worried about Mom and her safety. I knew she probably wouldn't find herself in any mortal trouble, but growing up as the only man in the house, I always felt it was my duty to be the protector. I knew she wouldn't need it, but still, I wanted her to have it for my piece of mind as much as hers. But it being here surprised me. Given how scared she had sounded over the phone, I thought Mom would have surely taken it with her.

The sight of the gun was almost a relief, but at the same time it made me uneasy. Nothing that had happened so far would have led me to believe that there was anything particularly dangerous about Silent Hill, but that faint inkling of unease in the back of my mind said otherwise, no matter what my other five senses told me. At that moment, the gun seemed to me like a life preserver thrown to a drifting man bobbing helplessly in a tumultuous sea. In my heart of hearts, I knew it wouldn't do a damn thing to help me, but if latching onto that cold, lifeless piece of metal could calm my nerves if only for a scant few moments, it was more precious than gold.

I snatched up the gun and stuffed stuffed it into the back of my pants before sifting through the rest of the glove box's contents. In addition to a spare clip, I also found the flashlight I'd been searching for, and what looked to be a map. Picking it up, I realized it was a map of Silent Hill. There were no extraneous markings, just a series of streets and geographical features. I looked it over, searching for the main highway to figure out where I was in relation to the town.

I found it, just north of the town proper, and located what must have been the rest stop shortly there after. The strange thing was that the map indicated the highway should curve around and head straight into town, but it definitely didn't; however, the map did indicate that there should have been a trail nearby that skirted the lake and led into town. If it was correct, I should have been able to get into town that way. By the looks of things, that was the way Mom had gone too, so that route would be my best bet.

I shoved the map into my back pocket and stepped out of the car, thumbing on the flashlight. I approached the forest's edge behind the rest area, playing my light across the area in search of the promised path.

Sure enough, there it was: a set of weathered stone steps leading off into the mist-enshrouded pines. A momentary twinge of apprehension seized me, but I forced it down and swallowed the lump in my throat, forging through the fear fermenting in the pit of my stomach as I stepped onto the stone path and headed into the woods.