Ok, I forgot to do this in the first chapter so I'd better say it before Kinomi sue me for everything I've got. I don't own Silent Hill (sadly). This is my first attempt at a fan fiction so comments & criticism would help. Updates may be infrequent as I'm a very s   l    o    w type, so bear with me.

This fic takes place before and during the events of Silent hill 3.

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Chapter 2: Abandoned

As Jobe slowly opened his eyes, he replayed his last few moments of consciences over in his mind. Last thing he could remember was Phil screaming and a sensation of being flung head over heels. A scene of destruction now lay before his eyes. The glass from the windshield was scattered across the road, which was now blocking his door as the car lay on its side. The metal of the door had caved in towards Jobe and the window frame had buckled. He shook his head, sending crystals of glass flying from his spiky hair before talking.

"You ok Phil?"

No answer.

Jobe turned his head, silently praying that his friend hadn't gone flying through the front window when they crashed. What he saw was much worse. The passenger seat was empty but there were dark red stains congealed on the light brown material. There was a handprint, smeared across the door handle and yet more splatters of blood on the dashboard.

"Oh god" Jobe turned his head away, wishing that this was some sort of dream but he knew when he turned back, they would still be there staring starkly back at him. Sure enough, they were. Slowly, he undid the seat belt and he thudded against the side of the car as gravity took over. A wave of nausea ran through him as he began clambering up the up turned car, shuddering as he felt one of his hands land in one of the pools of blood and slowly sinking into it. It felt cold to his touch, meaning that Phil must have left a while ago but Jobe was surprised that someone who had lost so much blood was still alive.

Jobe fumbled with the door handle, trying to ignore the red smears and pushed the door open. After climbing out, he sat on the side of the car and looked around. The fog seemed to have thickend and anything further than five meter away was covered in an impenetrable gray mist. Some of his anxiousness seemed to lift when he didn't find Phil's corps lying next to the veichel but all this fog was kind of unnerving. Trying to ignore the images that flashed through his mind of being hit by a car that didn't see him in time or blindly falling off the edge of the road, Jobe dropped off the car. When he hit the pavement, the noise seemed so alien in his silent surroundings that he became aware of how quiet it was. There was no sound of an on coming car, bird song or even wind blowing through trees.

"PHIL!" He cupped his hands around his mouth but the air was thick and heavy. It seemed to swallow up his words prematurely. He looked up and down the road but there was no answer. There was also no sign of whatever they had hit. Hopefully, it was just a log or some trash someone left in the middle of the road. Jobe shrugged to himself and made his way down the road but only got a meter or so before he stopped again. There was a long red smear that ran over the tarmac of the road. It looked as though something had been dragged along its surface. Jobe cocked his head as he examined it. Along side the smear, there was a shoe-print that he recognised as the base of Phil's trainer. The blood had long since dried but how far could a guy with a busted leg get? Job continued down the street, almost missing a huge road sign through the fog.

"Welcome to Silent Hill, population:     "

He squinted as he tried to make out the rest of the billboard but some one had graffiti over it. The red paint made a circle, with three smaller one's inside and had dripped over most of the sign. At least it was more tasteful than some of the tags he'd seen back home, but there was something almost occult about it that made him shiver. He turned into the road that ran past it and entered the town, following the occasional drag marks.

The town seamed to be deserted. Jobe saw no one walking the streets and cars seemed to have been left to rust in the fog. There were no lights on in any of the grimy looking houses, all of which looked run down as paint peeled from their walls.

"What a dump, no wonder Phil didn't want to stop here."

His best bet would probably be to go up too one of the houses and ask if anyone had seen a guy covered in blood limping round town. Not to hard to miss.

The gate creaked ominously as Jobe pushed it open and stepped in to one of the house's front gardens. Patches of soil were visible through the spars patches of limp, brown grass. He carefully stepped over an abandoned tricycle that lay up turned on the path, not wanting to disturb it from the blanket of weeds that seemed to be smothering it. Jobe climbed the steps up to the porch and tentivly pressed the doorbell. No sound seemed to come from inside the house as Jobe strained his hearing to pick up the electronic chime. He frowned and tried again, to no avail." Maybe there was a power cut?" Jobe thought to himself as he raised a hand to knock on the peeling door but at the slightest push, it swung freely open.

Jobe's hand hovered in the air for a moment as he debated weather to enter the house or not.

"Hello?"

No reply came from within the house. He sucked air sharply through his teeth as he entered. This felt wrong, like singing Christmas Carols at a funeral but he couldn't resist. The bare wooden floor groaned under Jobe's feet and in the dim light, he could barely make out garish green wallpaper that lined the short hallway. There were three ways to go. In front of Jobe, a decrepit looking stair way lead up into the upper parts of the house. On his right was closed door and on his left was another room, partially visible through it's a jarred door.

"Let's try door number one…" His hand went to door on the right but it found nothing but the door's smooth surface. Jobe peered through dark but couldn't seem to find a doorknob.

"What the…" in it's place there was only a metal bump where the knob should have been. As Jobe turned away, something glistened in the dark and caught his eye. He bent down to examine whatever it was hidden in the shadows, exploring the area under the door with his hands. They found a cold, round object and several small long ones. Bringing his find into the light, Jobe saw that it was the doorknob and several rusty nails. Some one must have unscrewed it. Still looking at his find, he made his way into the other room.

Gray light filtered in through the decomposing curtains, illuminating the small specks of dust could be seen floating through the air. Jobe entered the kitchen, squinting as he tried to make out…well anything. A wooden table stood in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs. In the far corner, there was a work surface with a sink and other appliances. As his eyes adjusted to the (lack of) light he noticed that there was something slumped over the table, too solid to be a discarded item of clothing. As Jobe stepped past the table, his feet slapped against the cheap, raised linioum flooring. Slowly, he put a hand out to draw the curtains and hopefully let some more light in. Yet more dust began to circulate the room when he sharply yanked them back.

"Damn fog's still there" he mumbled to himself. Sighing heavily, he turned back but paused for a moment as he tried comprehending what was before him. It was a person, sitting slumped over the table.  The wood near its head was stained a much deeper shade of brown than the rest of the wood, as if something had been spilled on it. Both hands were lying across the table and one was clutching a small, black object. It was at this point, Jobe relised that the man wasn't breathing, let alone moving. Cautiously, he approached the corps.

"My god…"

The mans hand was tightly gripping a small pistol that glinted wickedly in the light. Looking up to the opposite wall, Jobe saw that the walls had been splattered with the man's blood. No prizes for guessing what had happened here.

"How can I be so cold?" Jobe quickly silenced the thought and noticed the deceased's other hand was also clutching something. Curiosity over came him and gingerly, he plucked what appeared to be a piece of paper from the dead man's hand. Uncrumpling it, he began to silently read it to himself.

I don't know what's happened, this world's deteriorating And becoming something…dark. I must repent for what I have done For that is what they tell me. To the poor soul who finds themselves here

Run, run, run but I doubt it will be fast enough.

Do what I did and escape this nightmare as fast as you can.

Jobe raised his eyebrow at the suicide note. Scanning down the page, he noticed more writing.

The first door to Paradise will open when the earth is at three, casting a dark shadow over the moon.

This was even more confusing than the letter. Jobe glanced at the man, and silently questioned his sanity before scrunching up the letter and throwing it into a dark recess of the room.

What the hell was he thinking? Before him lay some poor sod who couldn't cope. Jobe felt sick due to the lack of emotions he felt as he looked at the dead man. In his rush to get out of the room, Jobe knocked the table. As he steadied himself, something thudded on the floor. Once again, curiosity over came him and knelt on the floor to investigate whatever had landed on it. Under the table, Jobe saw a screwdriver rolling away from him, coming to a stop against the dead man's heavy shoe. Jobe was about to leave it but then the memory of the unscrewed doorknob came back to him. Quickly grabbing it, he returned to the door and began working away at fixing it. He was surprised that the doorknob worked, he'd never been any good at D.I.Y. A thin beam of light fell onto the dank hall way as the door opened with a jerk, due to heavy layers of rust that had grown like cancer around the hinges. Looking round the room, Jobe saw the light source was a small pocket torch that lay abandoned on a dusty table, it's piercing beam cut through the darkness. Jobe entered what seemed to be a living room and picked up the torch, sending countless particles of dust dancing through the air.

"If there is a power cut, then this could come in handy"

Jobe's head snapped up and looked to the widow that dominated the wall. He swore that he saw someone walk past. He practically threw himself against the glass trying to catch a glimpse of whoever it was. Through the fog, a shadow disappeared around the corner of the house. Pocketing the torch, Jobe charged out of the house and threw himself down the steps, landing with a hollow 'thud'. Following the shadow, he came to the small ally that ran between the house and it's neighbor.

"Hello?"

Rubbish bags were stacked against the walls, some had split open and their content has spilled over the ground. Also leaning against the wall were planks of wood. The smell of damp slowly defused from the darkness causing Jobe's nose to wrinkle when the odor invaded his nostrils.

"Hello?" At this, something shifted in the shadows.

Del Le da da, del Le da da, del le da da da

Jobe jumped at the sound of the mobile's piercing ring. He fished the phone out of his pocket as it continued to belt out the nokia theme and put the phone to his ear.

"Hel_" The phone continued to ring. Jobe pressed the answer button again but this didn't stop the electronic bleeping. Looking up from the phone, Jobe saw something slowly rise from the garbage. Jobe was about to ask if they had seen Phil but was cut short as it let out a low rattling moan, as though it had way too much phlegm stuck in it's throat.

"Are you ok?"

Jobe stepped closer, trying to get a better look at the person but couldn't make out the figure through the darkness. Taking the flash light from his pocket, he pointed it down the ally and clicked it on, almost dropping it when his eyes took in the sight before him.

The first thing Jobe notice was the 'person's' unnatural posture. One shoulder was raised high and seemed to be connected to where it's ear should have been. The other was hanging unnaturally low, and it looked as though a layer of skin had groan over it, trapping it to its side. The fingers on this hand were moving with spasmodic movements, madly snatching at the air. The thing's skin hung in folds, blood caked almost every inch of it and turned it a rusty colour. Its featureless face stared blankly at Jobe. It's head looked as though someone had taken a crowbar to it and smashed it like a piñata.

The thing took a step towards Jobe, dragging its oddly bent leg behind the other. Its head had begun to twitch violently as it drew closer.

For a moment, Jobe wasn't able to take his eyes off the walking monstrosity. The phone in his hand had started to ring even louder and was now vibrating. Jobe took a step back as the thing slumped even closer and a new smell filled the air like that of rotting meat.

"What the fuc_"

The thing launched it's self at Jobe with a speed that shouldn't have been possible looking at it's frail legs. With an 'ump', the two slammed into wall. There was a ripping noise as the thing's face began to split, a thin rip forming where it's mouth should have been. Fortunaly, Jobe's self preservation instincts kicked in. Drawing his legs up, Jobe pushed the now salivating monstrosity off with a harsh kick. The thing hit the opposite wall with a wet sound, knocking over the collection of wooden planks that had been piled there.

Jobe wanted to scream and run like hell but the thing lay splayed out, blocking his only escape. The thing shuddered as it slowly started to stumble to its feet. Jobe's eyes darted over the ally in a search of something to defend himself with. Grapping one of the planks, he held it in both hands as smashed it over the thing's head. The plank snapped in two on impact and the thing was now shakily rising to its feet, a rattling noise emitted from its throat. It now had Jobe pined in against the wall, it's rough surface offering him no protection. The walking corps made to leap at it's pray again. With a roar, Jobe rammed the now broken two by four into the thing's stomach. The splintered, jagged edges easily cut through its decaying skin and it let out a scream that sounded like nails being dragged down a chalkboard. Jobe stared at horror as the thing writhed in pain before his face contorted into one of determination. He grunted as he rammed the thing against the wall and the plank cut a few inches deeper. Black blood began oozing down the plank as it reemerged from the thing's back. The scream faded to a gurgle and that too died as the creature slumped over the plank. Jobe let go of the plank and the thing fell to the ground. The phone's ringing came to an abrupt halt as a pool of thick blood formed around the thing's form.