Time's Speed Limit, Chapter Five
(The Road to Nowhere)
I had to rub my eyes, literally. I didn't remember actually arriving at Silent Hill. Yet here I was, out of my car, approaching the station.
There were no other cars, and it was completely quiet. "Silent Hill, it is." I said aloud, and scared myself. I thought I was going to faint. I bent over, took a deep breath, and told myself to hold on…and eventually, the wash of nausea and grayness surrounding my field of vision passed. I stood tentatively on what felt like very loose ground, and approached the Welcome Station. Maybe they'd have a little something for their guests; something nice for their guests, I amended mentally. This vacation wasn't turning out very well.
I entered the lobby area and was greeted by a simple, friendly face of a little old man behind a tall counter. He looked like the type who probably forgot to put his pants on this morning.
"Welcome to Silent Hill, Miss. Would you care for a complimentary glass of juice?"
I laughed. A sense of unreality washed over me. I thought I might be going insane for real this time. Then I decided I didn't care.
"Miss?" His face showed concern. I sobered up a little.
"I apologize, sir. I will pass on your offer for some juice. How about a bullet?" I started laughing again, and I reached for my gun.
"Excuse me, Miss?" His sweet, tired face looked concerned. I pulled out my trusty steel and aimed at his head. I fired once. Twice.
I awoke with a start in my hotel room, now completely disoriented and feeling one of the worst hangovers I've ever had. I reached for my cigarettes on the end table and realized I'd given up smoking 4 years ago.
Just what was happening to me? Was I really losing my mind? I looked around for a minute, trying to get a hold on reality and the waking world. I recognized this hotel room as the sub-standard place that AAA rated four stars, but considering I was accustomed to The Carlisle for $25,000 for a three-night stay, I guess it could have been worse.
I was actually only about 100 miles away from Toluca Lake, and judging by the speed at which I drove, I would wind up there in about an hour.
I turned toward the nearby chair just to my right, and felt as though my skull might crack in half. I promptly vomited, most of it landing on the floor, some on me, and some splashing onto the end table. It was black and slippery, and tasted like rotten meat. I looked again, and though there was probably some blood it, it was mostly pink and looked like chunks of ham.
I wiped myself off and hopped in the shower. That was a bad hangover…even though I didn't remember drinking the night before. Now that wasn't too unusual lately. I'd become quite the alcoholic. Yet another reason for this permanent vacation—I needed to dry out and I knew it.
I started to feel better and forgot about my dreams. I checked out leaving that lovely mess and a hundred dollar tip to cover the clean up (and maybe even make it up to the maid), and rolled out for Toluca Lake.
I arrived. The Welcome Station was closed. I suddenly recalled both of my dreams, and sighed. Fuck precognition, I sure as hell didn't seem to have it.
I passed it and headed on Nathan Avenue to Toluca Lake. I looked around. No dead children, no other cars, nothing. I was completely alone.
I consulted the clock on my dashboard. It was blinking.
BLINKING.
I pulled over and consulted my watch. My watch had stopped. Suddenly, my car died. My car, which cost as much as my penthouse…DIED.
I got out of the car and looked toward the lake…a dense fog was rolling in quickly. I got back in the car and tried to start it. Nothing, no electric sound, no turnover whatsoever. I tried to access OnStar. Nothing.
I realized I wasn't dreaming. I wasn't going to wake up this time.
I got out of the car and started to run down Nathan Avenue…I was very athletic, I had my gun, and the hotel wasn't that far away (3 miles according to my final consultation on my map). I would hurry there, check in, and get my car towed.
A thought sprang up, like a little cheerleader who wasn't getting her way, "Delia…have you seen ANYONE yet?"
I stopped in my tracks, but refused to turn. The fog was suddenly all around me and I could barely see three feet in front of myself. If I turned, I'd undoubtedly get lost. Fogs don't just roll in like this in NYC.
Well, hell…now what was I going to do? I wouldn't be able to see my car, and I didn't have a flashlight on me, I left my map behind. It was just me and my weapon…as if there were anyone around to pose a threat.
Not yet, right?
Now I really scared myself. I decided just to keep going down Nathan Avenue. I'd come to the Ferry/Boat launch soon enough. There would be somebody there to take me to the Lakeview Hotel. I remembered from studying the map that it was just before the Silent Hill Historical Society. The fog was thick, but it wasn't so thick that I couldn't see the buildings.
I ran by a sign reading, "Rosewater Park," and knew I was headed in the right direction per my map.
I slowed to a fast walk. It wasn't as if anything was chasing me. I told myself to grow up and get moving.
