-Chapter 4 - Silent Hill-

Rod watched from above in the trees, hidden; perched on a branch gazing at his prey as if he were a raven ready to pick at their corpses once death had taken it's hold. There seemed to be Vietnamese, two of them. Yet both of them appeared to be fighting each other. Rod contemplated meeting them in the fight, too, but was too confused and curious to interrupt it.

They were both armed with combat knives, swinging them at each other without even aiming at what they were swinging at. Around the end, they looked as if they had been both sent through a meat grinder. Ears, a piece of lip, a tip of nose, fingers, and even a testicle were lying around the ground as they still continued to kill one another. Eventually, the one with the groin injury stumbled backwards from the pain and as the other collapsed on top of him and continued with their remaining strength to stab each other in the neck and faces.

And then Rod wasn't enjoying it anymore. What Rod felt now was sick, even horrified. His mind began to sizzle and pop as forest and sky spun around him. What Rod felt was the wind through his skin, cuts, and wet oily hair as he flew from the branch, through the trees and towards the earth below. He then felt the oxygen escape his lungs and out his lips as the pressure from landing on the muddy floor knocked it out of him. As the jungle danced around him, it all slowly began to drape itself in the veil of darkness. First, Rod wanted deliverance. Then, he wanted carnage. Now, he wanted to drift of to sleep. Whatever. Before he lost conscious, he rolled his head to the side to look at the slain men next to him. The wavy melting jungle made them look like Americans. That was funny.

Rod awoke from yet another one of his bizarre flashbacks in yet again, the seat of transportation. Only this time for once, it was on a cross-country bus. It was one of those "tour-the-countries-monuments" crap tours. Rod was never interested in mountains that faces or a big pencil-shaped statue standing in front of a public swimming pool for homeless people. But what did interest him, however, was that the bus pulled in at a diner that he happened to walk by after he had purchased a handgun from some pawnshop, and that there next stop in the tour was Toluca Lake, Silent Hill. It was as if God had dropped the bus right in front of him. After begging and paying the bus driver $50, the driver allowed him a spot in the back. Rod looked around the bus at all the different people with him. It wasn't too crowded at all. Rod felt safe at last. With both the lack and the company, he knew what was around him and wouldn't be freaked so easily. Besides, the passengers paid him no heed whatsoever.

"Alright ladies and gentlemen," spunkily announced the female tour guide. "We'll be arriving at the lovely Toluca Lake in just 3 more miles! This is so exciting…"

And as she went on about an old story of how her and her husband met each other there, Rod's train of thought then wandered on the person he was supposed to meet there. Was this guy going to help him, or was the government's trick to lure him to them. The axe felt pretty heavy above Rod's neck right about now. It was one of those sick feelings you would get whenever the principle had called you to the office after something you had done so many hours ago and thought you'd get away with whatever it was. Then came that booming voice over the intercom system.

"Rod Alessandro, report to the front please."

Those awkward steps out of the classroom, the door you would pull closed behind you as if it were the backdoor to Heaven, the sounds of sneaker steps overshadowing the noisy hall chatter, and then you consider making a break for the bathroom and not come out until school had went out. Rod thought these things now. Should he go back? Should he disappear? Or should he report to the front?

"Hey, Mr. Alessandro! I said report to the front, you're holding up the tour!"

Rod jerked his gaze towards the annoyed tour guide, who besides him and the driver, were the only ones left on the bus. "Huh? Oh, sorry."

And as Rod stepped off, he noticed that sure enough, the bus had pulled into the parking lot to the direct right of Rosewater Park. As Rod looked around him, the sky seemed a milky white with spots of gray clouds here and there like it were going to rain. Just from where he stood, he could already smell the fresh aroma of the lake. He could even faintly hear music and machinery of Lakeside Amusement Park's rides. For a second, he thought he was on a field trip. This was Silent Hill.

Personally, he thought it was a shit-hole.

Rod absolutely hated rural areas with a lot of trees and mountains, especially the people in them. Another reason was he hated the woods because of what it reminded him of in his days as a soldier. "What do people really see in this place?" he asked himself.

Rod then focused on the situation at hand. He had to find that man. Rod followed the group out of the parking lot and onto the sidewalk. Then they stopped at the entrance and the tour lady began to speak about whatever. Rod left the group, even though he had felt safer with them.. As he strode past the trees down the brick walkway, he came to a small maze of hedges.

He looked around the park for any signs of the man that wanted to meet him. He traveled up and down the railing and back and forth past the hotdog stand. No one motioned for him to come over to them. Rod then thought that it would be more likely if the man was somewhere around the hedges where there wasn't a lot of people. He then wandered around those for a while. Nothing. Rod then guessed that maybe this person wanted him to stay still and he would then look for him. So rod picked a bench to the left outside where the Patrick Chester memorial statue stood.

An hour and a half went by, and no sign of anyone who might had been interested in him. This bugged him; not because the man had never shown, but he had the creeping feeling as if something was watching him from afar. It was a feeling the second he stepped off the bus. It reminded him of the fear of being sniped. But it was crowded in the park. They wouldn't do anything in public. Would they?

A crow cawed above him as it flew over and perched it's self on the statue's left shoulder. Rod followed it with his eyes. He then spotted that there was something around the statue's neck. Curious, Rod walked back towards the statue to take a closer look. From where he stood below, it looked like… another dog tag. Rod yanked it of the praying statue's hooded head and in horror gazed at the name on it: "Singer, Jacob."

Rod's immediate thought was that he was dead also, but then read he looked at some dark writing on the thin metal on both sides that looked like it was from a thin black marker. It read, "Toluca Prison - HELP." It then made him wonder if whether or not Jacob still might be alive, but in jail. At least he got arrested. Rod had around $500 in his wallet, so perhaps maybe he could post bail if it wasn't too big. Or at least visit.

Rod stuffed the tags in his right pants pocket and walked to the front building to where the reception desk should be. Once he was there, he asked where Toluca Prison was. The female clerk looked at him funny and asked if he was a tourist.

"Yes. Please, it's real important. You could you tell me where it is?"

"Well, yeah. It's an old abandoned Prison further down Nathan Avenue past the Historical Society down by the lake. But I don't think you'd be allowed down there, sir. Besides, I hear it's haunted down… there?"

But Rod had already left through the front door. As Rod went back on the sidewalk of the street, Rod heard loud explosion with a small wave that nearly made him stagger backwards. The boom and screams came from the parking lot. Rod as well as drones of other curious bystanders rushed to see the fuss. The tour bus that Rod had arrived on was now cracked in half with pieces as well as singed corpses scattered around the concrete; a towering inferno. Some passengers staggered out aimlessly before they finally collapsed to the ground. It was then that Rod knew that they had followed him here.

Rod quickly ran from the screams and "Oh my God's" and took off down the road. As he slowed to a walk, Rod passed several road advertisements on his way to the prison. He felt tired and hungry and stupid for walking this far out from where he could have at least gotten something to eat first. He then saw a small structure off by the side of the road. As he came closer, he saw the sign by it that read, "Silent Hill Historical Society."

"Thank God." huffed Rod. "Almost there."

He walked down the road a little further, and eventually came across a dirt road from behind the guardrail. Rod then climbed over and traveled down the road that lead into a few trees. Then came a long concrete wall that stretched far around with a wide rusty-metal gate at the center. The sign by it, confirmed it to be the Toluca Prison. And the chain wrapped around the handles with a lock securing it confirmed that nobody was allowed in.

"Crap."

Rod looked around for something useful to break it with. He could have shot it off, but that might draw some negative attention. Luckily, he found a big rock by a tree, so he picked it up to then be surprised by how heavy it truly was. "This aught'a work." he grunted. Once he heaved it back to the doors, he brought it over his head and shattered the lock off the chains. With the doors now unlocked, Rod pulled one of the heavy doors open and walked inside.

The road wind-down further down the cliff and into what was a thick void of fog. And after taking a few steps, the heavy door immediately slammed shut behind him. As Rod ran back up it, he could hear the loud rattle of chains and metal followed by a click. Afterwards, something was tossed over the wall next to where Rod stood. Rod looked down to see that it was a red pocket flashlight. He had been locked inside the walls of this place. Away from other people. This was indeed bad.

Rod picked up the flashlight and looked it over. "Why the hell would I need this?" he asked. He then frustratingly walked down the road and into the thick fog. Rod pulled out his gun from his coat pocket and readied himself for who or whatever might surprise him as he walked down along the edges of the cliff. It didn't take long before he reached the dark facility. It was pretty big, but not as tall and wide as what he had originally imagined to be a prison. After walking around it, looking it over, he returned to the front entrance and placed the pocket light in his top right coat pocket.

"Well, guess I better go inside." And Rod opened the creaky double-doors and disappeared inside the darkness.

Finally, Rod had come to the first step of unmasking what his nightmares truly were…