The path ahead was once again long and drawn out, reminding him that it was too late to turn back, too far from his car to drive away. He was in the town now, and all ties to the outside world had been severed. He was trotting, and jogging and sometimes walking down this alley road, deeper into the fog, deeper into hell; his own.
James panted, it was harsh deep intakes of air, as he felt like two long, grimy, hands spread their selves along his neck and tighten harder and harder with each step he took. It was overtaking, and a pain rose deep within his throat, his heart, as he took his first steps passed a crooked wooden fence, passed the noises he no longer heard, those he blocked out. The scream of an animal and the whispers of TV static; a rhythmic chainsaw echo.
The street became clear, and only then did the hands of the devil, those so tight around his neck, sink deep within himself; becoming him, the devil himself. His lungs ached, and his as his feet stood still, in the midst of the town, did he finally become relaxed to catch his breath. A magnificent view; this town. Although it would've been a perfect, homey, welcoming, view if only for this fog. This fog that seemed to be trapped. Trapped inside. James, himself, felt trapped.
The fog wasn't thick where he was at, somehow almost clearing but remaining. A light snow had also began to fall. Each flake melted as it hit the pavement or the street but it stuck and frosted the grass and trees, making them sparkle. So many things he remembered. The devil within him, that invisible demon shot stabbed at his heart as it began it's manifestation deep within him, deep within Silent Hill. It looked deep inside, and took shape within his mind. The demon that had grasped it's large bony fingers against his wind pipe flashed threw out his mind for only a second, giving itself a form before dying to the shadows of his mind, of the past in the is now retched place.
In between the waves of white mist was splotches of painted blood. The road was divided by it. James ran over to meet it, and the sick stench of death rung into his nostrils. It was fresh; a small river of it flowing to the south. Yellow lines indicating right from left lane was smeared with red life. North of the flowing puddle the blood smeared and spread, as if… something was dragged. The blood was drying fast, towards the northern end, and the southern was trying to outrun drying and cracking.
Something moved. Something shuffled, and all at once James felt vulnerable. Someone was killed, either hit by a car or, murdered… right out in the open. Were anyone could see.
"Where is everyone… anyway?" It was the question of the day. Emptiness was spread out in chucks. Not a single light was on in the buildings, not a single car sped down the street James was resting his feet upon. No one was even walking down the sidewalks. Empty.
James felt like he was in a horror movie, a zombie flick. He awaited the arrival of the first flesh hungry undead human to make it's appearance. Then he saw it. A body, shuffling down the street straight in front of him. It wobbled out of his view and seemed much quicker then the zombies on TV. It had to be human, it even appeared to be human, wounded maybe. It might even be the one responsible for the blood. Although, James wasn't sure if this figure was responsible for leaving it or making it.
The girl's warning, the girl from the cemetery, buzzed in and out of his ear's. But he only shrugged it and the uneasy feeling bestowing itself inside his gut away, continuing after the figure.
He walked through specks of fresh blood that had been left by what ever had walked away from him, wobbled and shuffled was more like it. Turning his head to the left he saw the street sign, he was on Lindsey street. Katz street was to his left, but upon further examination, James noted, the whole street was blockaded and tied off and together with crime scene tape. He wasn't very enthused to find out why, or what happened, not until he found this person; who was probably guilty of something.
The shuffling sound again, this time further north. It caused him to bolt at it, with a slim to none chance. Either he caught what ever walked away now, or he could have a great chance of losing it. He sprinted, giving all he had; pumping all energy into his legs. His green coat flapped behind him and his blonde hair quickly became thrown up into the air and pressed back by the pressure and force of the wind. James's blue eyes searched wildly through the fog, hoping for a glance of this creature, to find the direction. His feet, almost collapsing underneath of himself, slipped but quickly regained themselves; not falling. He slowed, eventually halting to a stop completely, as he came into a view a large pot-hole. More like the Earth spilt. The road to Nathan Ave. was completely caved in, spilt in half; more then jumping's reach. A lone tree had cracked during the cave in, and fallen. It created the only bridge, although it was not safe for anything over twenty pounds. The tree was flimsy and weak, not the type of tree you find in a forest, but that found in the front lawn of your neighbor.
"Did that… person…" James wondered, but it was quickly shoved off.
"No… couldn't be… then that means, I passed it."
James turned around, and quickly noted a very large abnormity. Footprints, most likely his, were created behind him, stopping where he had. That wasn't the 'out of the ordinary' thing, it was that the footprints were stamped with blood. He had… walked over blood? The sick torment gnawed at his gut. He had almost slipped and fallen in blood, someone's blood.
James fast-walked back. His eyes were wide and his hair had flipped down, riding past his eyes; tickling his forehead. His hands were perspiring profusely, laying at his sides, balled into fists. His knuckles were white, and the bed of nails began to dig their way threw his skin. He almost fainted himself when he saw the large pools of blood, dragging their way into Vachss street.
"What the hell is going on?" James was confused, he was scared.
Someone was lying out directions for him. He could see it. Each blood puddle was pointing into the direction he was meant to go, and it was proven by how everywhere else was blocked off; like Katz street.
James walked between the twin white and tan buildings, unknown to their use, and down the empty alley way. The fences were also, just a tad bit, strange. They had the makeup of wooden logs with the shape and color of breadsticks, but the side fencing was strictly barbed wire. Three strands that ran almost the entire, now dirt path road, road of Vachss street. At the end was a gate, half open. James pulled at it, wrapping his fingers into the fence. He tugged but it remained, stuck. He sighed, more out of frustration then exhaustion. Walking around the half opened gate he pressed himself tight against the mirroring closed one, and slowly slid himself into the area.
He looked up at the fenced gate, large and twirled with Barbed wire around the top; to stop trespassers, and noted the sign; which read: "Caution. Watch Speed." Down in the corner of the sign, written in red paint, was a S and an H together, standing for Silent Hill. It helped James realize this was indeed Silent Hill, but it just seemed like a whole other town.
A small home was to James's left, next to what appeared to be a large white milk truck that was run off the road and abandoned for years. Impossible, but that's what it seemed. A loud hissing noise echoed through out the area. It sounded like static. James instantaneously saw where it was coming from, straight ahead.
In front of him was a construction sight, which appeared to also be abandoned. Wood was hammered in all kinds of directions, in, almost, an attempt to keep something from getting out. A fence was behind the wood, blocking, again, anything from escaping one way. The fence raised all the way up to the arch, barely letting a bird in. Next to the opening, James's side, were barrels; which appeared to be full and empty. They ranged in color, but each had something similar; the unique pattern of rust eating away at the iron and metal the containers were made out of; soon, if the rust were to keep wearing away the barrels, the contents would spill over and down.
The static was not stopping, and it was beginning to ring on James's nerves. He, practically, stomped over looked down until he spotted the little noise maker. There, sitting on a pile of wood and nails was a small black pocket radio, probably just left on the wrong channel. James put his right leg inside he very small gap that was left when someone had carelessly hammered the wood together. Ducking his head, and pulling his left leg in, he stumbled to quickly regain his balance. Shaking his head, which was now full of saw dust, he realized to reason for walking in here, realized full in color.
James bent over and snatched up the small cordless radio, and played with the channels, trying to settle the static. Only, it only seemed to grow, and increase in volume. Something squirmed to his left, squirmed as it raised and began to advance on him. It's color of skin was a skin tannish brown, thousands of bluish purple veins popping out all over the body. Skin seemed to have grown over the arms, making it have a 'straight-jacket' appearance. Skin had also formed over the folds of gorged out eyes and a screaming mouth.
James backed up, truly afraid now. Never had he seen a creature, a monster like this in his entire life; till now. His right leg bumped into a loosely nailed plank of wood, knocking it free, clattering unto he ground with a rattle. James swiftly reached down and grabbed it, advancing his own attack on the beast. He slammed the plank into this creatures flesh once. The plank having a great impact as it came into contact with the monster's skull. The plank also left an indent in the flesh, spurting out pus, causing a strong odor to be emitted from the head and wound of the fiend.
Again the plank came down, this time on the neck. A lone nail, hammer to the tip of the wood, edged it's way into the skin, creating a hole of flowing pus and dark red blood; almost black. James, with great strength due to adrenaline, ripping the plank from it's neck and watched as the body feel to the ground and writhed. Twitching it's last twitch, gasping it's last blood curdling scream.
"Is it… dead?" He asked, almost too frightened, shocked to move.
"What the hell is it?" James, practically yelling, asked not expecting an answer from this lifeless form.
He held tight to the plank and, taking his eyes off the beast, exited the same way he entered; by ducking and lifting. As soon as he exited, he dropped the plank as a new wave of adrenaline was added from an awakening fear that boiled inside. The pocket radio began to static again. James forgot he had place it in his pocket before engaging in battle. He lifted it from it's containment and placed it to his ear, switching the channels about.
"Is this thing broken?" Just as he asked, words began to form through the static.
"Ja…….I'm……….e…..Come to……James…. Waiting…."
Not thinking anything of it, he put it in his pants pocket, picked up his plank, and quietly exited the same way he came. Before getting to the twin building he first passed, he did take notice of another one of those red papers. It was sitting aimlessly on a table next to empty, overturned, bottles. He didn't get a headache, but a sense of probing in the skull. As soon as he stepped back onto Lindsey street the radio came to life, awakening with loud beams of static. He didn't see them at first, but after taking a few steps south, he saw one. Another one of those straight jacket things.
He speedily ran up to it, using three sudden whacks to the abdomen and neck of the creature before it fell down dead. Another wobbled behind him, opening its mouth and spraying out a purplish ooze at him. He hardly had enough time to duck and get out of the way, most of the ooze reaching it's target; eating away at his jacket. Some had even touched his skin, instantly eating away at it; stopping after it hit another layer of flesh. Not enough must have hit him.
As the creature opened wide again, pressing its body backwards, ready to throw more of this toxic acid, James shoved the plank deep inside its throat. The nail end of the plank cut deep into the back of the monster's neck, almost penetrating all the way through. And it screamed. A loud shriek that masked even the radio's static that was slowly fading to a quiet hum.
James pulled the weapon out of its throat forcefully, giving it one last smack over the head as it feel to its knees. He lifted his boat and pressed onto the fiend's dying body twice. Blood had began to pool around the victim, staining his shoes once again. As his second kick lowered down, the first demon twitching to life.
He stopped in mid air and watched as this now weakened monster tried to escape, crawling; using its knees to shoot forward with great speed, almost dragging its front. The static was also loud again, which made him figure this radio had something to do with these monsters. Not looking back James made a run for it, down Lindsey.
The Café Texan was almost in view when he noticed something very odd down Katz street. The crime scene tape had been cut, severed from each spot it was tied to. It was as if the town was now welcoming him inside, or something was welcoming him. Although… the tape looked as if it had been cut many years ago… which just wasn't possible. Something very strange was going on in this town.
James made his way down Katz street, trying to put out of his mind that the tape hadn't cut itself. Maybe he had just looked at it wrong, when he was passing by in the first place. That monster had spooked him, and that blood.
He wasn't too surprised when he heard the radio get worked up again. This town was infested with those things… what if they were human. They came into view quick, smelling him, his fear. Their lumpy, skin covered, bodies staggering into view. If they were human… then he didn't want to kill them. Measuring the odds James ran. Picking the only alley available, closest to him; Martin Street. It was a retreat from battle, but he didn't care. This wasn't the reason he was here, in Silent Hill, anyway.
He watched as a overgrown roach circled itself, making a jingling squeak as it appeared to try and devour itself in a lust for food. James ran passed a white van ignoring the jumpy feeling, and the shriek of another one of those demons, as it crawled out from under, out onto Katz street to join the others.
"What the hell… they look like patients from a metal institute… I suppose that's a suitable name for them, Patient De-" James said uneasily, cutting himself off as he looked upon probably the only other human in this town. There, lain against the back of a greenish fence was a body of man. He laid there, next to piles of trash, soaking in his own blood. His face no longer a face to be noticed. His body, jeans and once blue T-Shirt, were smothered and dyed in red. Gore was everywhere, like he struggled even passed death… or was tossed around afterwards. Besides his body, resting in that pool, was a stained silver key. Tape was tapped to the top and the words "Apartment Gate" written in pen across it in small, fine, etches.
James picked it up, and gently rubbed most of the wet blood off onto his pants; having nothing to really clean it with. The words were very clear, even with being in a puddle of blood for what seemed hours, although the silver was now pinkish.
"Great… more sick directions… I guess this is where I am meant to go. The apartments."
James held to the key tight in his one hand and used the, now blood stained, other to pull out his map. Using the trashcans as a make-shift desk he marked the path he would take. It was only down the street from outside of this alley, down a bit more of Katz. And so he would go, and follow these directions into the depths of eternity, of his mind.
