Two: Preparations.
The first step of Myron Journey consisted of stocking up on supplies. He intended to stay in Silent Hill, camping out of his Sports Utility Vehicle for three or four days, so he would need at least twenty-four bottles of water, toiletries such as paper and toothpaste, food to last and assorted other items.
His first stop was to go by Brahams Hunting Supply and follow a piece of advice he'd gotten from one of his associates in the local police force: If he had to go to Silent Hill, he should have at least one firearm to protect himself with. Especially if the stories of Drug Dealers were true.
Brahams was a small town, having only a few stores of note. However, one of them was the Hunting Supply Store, where one could purchase water purifiers, camping gear, firearms and rations in bulk, if need be.
As Myron entered, he felt...Out of place. He'd been target shooting before with his friends, but had never really considered purchasing a gun. The store was a bit claustrophobic, with too-tight aisles, mesh-covered racks on the walls, and a long, low display case full of various tools and items for outdoor survival.
Behind the counter, a balding man of about sixty was flipping through a sizable catalogue of ammunition and various modifications for firearms. What hair he had was pulled back into a messy ponytail. He had a stubbled chin and a thick, bushy moustache.
"Ah...Excuse me, Sir? I'm here to get a few things." Said Myron, holding up a hand to try and get the owner's attention. He realized how strange he must have appeared, a slender, rather unassuming man in a business suit entering a shop for Hunting and Camping supplies.
"Don't call me Sir. Name's Sam. Sam Dombrowski. What can I help you with, sport?" The Older man looked up from his catalogue, giving a crooked smile. He seemed nice enough to Myron. This helped him relax once more.
"Ah! I'm actually looking to stock up on supplies. Taking a trip, you see. I need a good, long-lasting Flashlight, maybe a raincoat. Some rations, something portable and easy to prepare, as well as a thermal blanket. Oh, and a firearm. A pistol will do." Myron ticked off the different items in his mind, knowing that the cost may be rather excessive for such a short trip. However, it was for the best.
"Right. We've got some Dry Cell flashlights on the shelves, and the coats are hanging next to those. I'll see what I can fish up for rations and a blanket. Then we'll discuss the gun." Mr. Dombrowski said, standing and throwing his catalogue down.
Myron turned his attention to finding his coat and flashlight, selecting a dull grey rain coat lined with a plastic seal to protect the contents of the pockets, and a small, clip-on flashlight which could be secured in one's breast pocket or to their collar. It would prove useful while taking notes.
He returned to the counter and found Mr. Dombrowski stacking up olive green black-stamped MRE packages, at least two dozen of them, and several large bags of beef jerky.
"Uh...Sam, I'm only going for a few days. That seems a bit much. I really only need nine of those packages." Said Myron, looking a bit perplexed by the overload of food.
"Listen, I always hear people say that. But the thing is, the unexpected can happen. Roads can flood, cars can break down. It's best to be prepared when you don't need it. It's a lot better than being unprepared when you do, right? Now, about the gun. What sort of Game are you going to be hunting?" As Mr. Dombrowski spoke, he began pulling holstered handguns from beneath the counter, laying them out in an array.
"I'm not really hunting," started Myron. "I'm going camping to research some information for a book, and I have been informed that I should take something for self protection."
"Where are you camping, then? Some places have bears to worry about out here." Said Mr. Dombrowski, seeming a bit confused as to why someone would take a gun for protection if it was such a short trip.
"Oh, I'm heading up to Silent Hill for a few days, and-" Before Myron could finish speaking, Mr. Dombrowski's demeanor had changed substantially. He began putting the smaller guns away and left only one out, a fairly large, black handgun with a shoulder holster.
"This is a Browning .45. Good stopping power. Reasonable clip capacity of ten on this particular make. No waiting period. Ammo's on the shelf. You pay now, and you get the hell out of my store. I don't want to see you here again, and I hope to God you reconsider." Said Mr. Dombrowski, his expression hardened into a mask of neutrality, although there was clearly something else there. Disappointment?
"No waiting period? But...Isn't that illegal, Sam? And why the sudden dislike? Did I say something wrong?" Myron couldn't understand what had happened. It couldn't have been the mention of the town. There had to be something else.
"That place is evil. That place took my son. It took my boy, after he left town, and he never came back. My Eddy is somewhere in there, but nobody could ever find him. I don't want you in here again. If you come back, you'll know why that place is empty. The sooner you leave my store, the sooner that town stops haunting me. Now pay up, and get out."
And there, in Mr. Dombrowski's claustrophobic store, Myron for the first time had a real doubt about his plan for the perfect book..