Amongst the grey shades of the road at his feet and the mist that enshrouds him, the tall olive green billboard sticks out in the sky like a guiding light. Even at this distance, it's easy to pick out the powerful gold lettering. 'Welcome to Silent Hill'.
He hadn't taken a wrong turn.
Cole looks back the way he'd came to see nothing but a thick blanket of fog, swirling white, too bright to stare at for long. The car had broken down a few hundred yards behind him. In front, the mist seems to be slightly clearer, and the great metal legs supporting the sign board came into view. The road stretches on further in a straight line and he begins to follow it. At the roads edge, there is a drop of unknown height, the tips of narrow pine trees barely visible.
On various stops for gas and food, he'd asked about this place, and to his chagrin, not heard many positive tales. Most people hadn't even heard of Silent Hill, and those who had described it as a ghost town, completely devoid of population.
To his surprise, the air seems to grow warmer, almost to the point where he's starting to grow uncomfortable. As it was in Ashfield, snow is falling here but these flakes seem, for lack of a better word, chalky. How could it snow in this heat? The air is close and the temperature seems to rise further with every step he takes. He squats down and runs his fingers through the still, white sheen on the floor.
...Ash?
It's at this point, Cole's logical thinking kicks into gear. Why is he here? Why had he listened to the ramblings of a lunatic, and against police orders, left his family behind and driven half a day to a dead town in the middle of nowhere? Though it fascinates him, he knew deep down there could be no truth in Jack's crazy story. But there was something else that brought him to this town. He isn't a policeman, but he often follows his instincts, and right now, something is calling him from within Silent Hill, drawing him in. He fingers the breast pocket of his overcoat and feels the cold metal shape press against his shirt. He's never fired one before, so hopefully the gun was merely a precaution.
He loosens his tie and tucks it away into his other pocket.
A few stifled noises can be heard off in the distance, which Cole can only suppose is metal scraping on metal. Assuming this sound is originating from the town ahead, he picks up his speed, kicking away the chalky dust that lies at his feet.
Although it can still be heard, the curious noise doesn't seem to grow closer, even after five minutes of walking. Cole begins to grow baffled by these odd surroundings. He decides to call out, hoping someone will reply but no one meets his hailing. There's no sound except the clacking of his expensive foreign shoes on the tarmac below and the slight drone of the wind. His voice doesn't even appear to have an echo in this area, heightening the sensation of oddity.
A few more minutes down the road and a giant tunnel looms over him, the entrance of which is barricaded with a rusty chain-link fence. A warm breeze passes through, and for a moment, Cole can smell burning. He looks around, but nothing can be seen through multiple layers of swirling haze.
Cole hears something else, a dog panting maybe, the patter of paws on tarmac. Nothing moves within the mist. He removes his glasses and wipes the fatigue away from his eyes.
"I need coffee," he mumbles to himself.
Placing his glasses back on, he is baffled to see the mist has cleared significantly to the west, and what's stranger, it has done so in a matter of seconds. He gazes out across the valley, rows and rows of pine trees stretching all the way down to a huge body of water, a thin layer of fog dancing over the surface.
"Magnificent," he mutters, completely absorbed.
There's an old telescope, presumably used by sight-seeing tourists once upon a time. Cole places his hand on it, curdled paint peeling off and floating to the ground. He slides a quarter into the slot and peers into the eyeholes.
There isn't a great deal to see at high magnification, not through these pervasive mists. Way off on the other side of the lake, Cole can make out a giant Ferris wheel. There's also, a large Victorian mansion, possibly a hotel. He leads the scope along the coastline but the mist is deeper here and little else can be seen. As he begins to lean away from the device, something catches his attention. He narrows his eyes, attempting to focus on the disturbance. Something thrashes about in the water, trying desperately to stay afloat. Though only glimpsing it for a mere moment, Cole determines the figure is humanoid and draws his conclusions before the mist engulfs the view entirely.
There were still people in this town, and one of them needed help.
A rough path presents itself at Cole's feet. He eyes it, roughly trickling down the hill into the unknown. Hesitating slightly, he begins to traverse the stony ground, struggling to keep his footing on the steep gradient. The mist comes on strong again, and all he can do is focus on his feet, skipping down step by step, trying not to crash into the thick tree trunks all around him.
His right foot gives way, and he crashes onto his side, sliding down the slope with gathered momentum. Hundreds of trees skip by, dazzling him as he flies passed helplessly. He wants to be sick but the sheer momentum of his travel prevents such action. Spying flat land, he braces for impact.
A few moments of stillness pass before he lets out a pained grunt. He fingers his old ribs, grimacing through discomfort. Cole decides it's nothing major and gingerly climbs to his feet.
The top of the hill is a distant memory, swallowed up by the all consuming fog. The sound of lightly trickling liquid can be heard very close by. Cole notices a small tributary, darting off into the mist. He follows the thin streak of water, as the ground beneath him slowly changes from rocky to granular matter. Emerging from beneath the cover of trees, Cole stands on a narrow spit of sand, stretching across the coastline in both directions.
"Can anybody hear me?" he calls, hoping the struggling person has enough strength to reply.
Cole trudges forwards towards the sea, where the current sits lifelessly still. There is no sign of struggle. He wipes the condensation from his lenses and stares hard across the ocean. Through a gap in the mist, he spots something – or someone – afloat in the water. Is it too late?
Old memories force their way into his head. His foot hovers agonisingly, fighting hard to push it down. He slowly lowers it into the sludgy sand, and winces as if the water were acid. Old memories, no time for that now!
He urges himself onwards, until he's close enough to confirm the figure in the water is human. He steels himself, fighting his fears, hoping this time he can save a life, instead of one slipping away from him like all those years ago. With an outstretched arm, he pulls the lifeless form towards him and twists it over onto its front.
He wretches as he looks upon the face of the man, rotten and long dead. There are no eyes to speak of, only holes where they should sit. The flesh of the face is all but gone, only a thin layer of shrivelled organic slime remains. Depressed craters where cheeks should be lead into a toothless, decaying mouth. This body must've been in the water for some time.
Cole composes himself and examines further. The corpse is wearing a navy blue uniform, with the words 'The Little Baroness' embroidered above the breast pocket.
A noise. Surely he heard right, a disturbance in the water. Something whips passed his leg and he jumps slightly. Trying to locate the problem proves fruitless, as the murky water has grown dark this far out.
"Just a fish," Cole assures himself.
He turns his attention back to the floating corpse. Whoever this poor soul was, it can't be the person he saw through the telescope. Someone still needed his help.
His train of thought is abruptly interrupted by a deep, terrifying wail. The sound is almost deafening and it seems to come at Cole from all angles, making the source impossible to pinpoint. It sounds, to the best of Cole's knowledge, like an air raid siren, perhaps some sort of fire warning system? It grows louder and Cole trembles, feeling as if he's about to come under attack. The mist whips and swirls around him as unknown creatures bash against his ankles. He tries to spot them, but the water is now black like oil and the sky rapidly begins to bruise. Before long, total darkness swallows his sight and all that's left is that fearful siren, blasting relentlessly through his head. He covers his ears, fearing his brain might explode from the sheer volume of the noise. And then, almost as abruptly as it started, the siren fades from existence and Cole is left standing in total darkness, the cold sensation of liquid at his waist the only indication he's still conscious. There is no sound.
He's alive. He knows that much. For a time, maybe a minute or two, he stands as stiff as a board, listening to the sound of his own, erratic breathing. There is something else here now. Cole takes a sharp intake of oxygen and holds it in, keeps quiet. There is definitely something else with him now.
Whatever creature stands at his back is breathing. Cole is not alone. Finally pushing himself into action, he reaches into his front pocket and removes his lighter. Fortunately it was in his breast pocket and hasn't gotten wet. Frantically fingering the device, he presses the piezoelectric ignition button and it clicks into place, flame dancing out of the nozzle, illuminating a limited section of the surrounding area.
This provides Cole with little insight, other than the heartening knowledge that he is still completely intact, devoid of any injuries. He's still standing in water, that's confirmed. Nothing else can be seen in any direction. The ominous, uneven breathing is still present.
Cole allows himself to calm down and think rationally. Could this be some kind of eclipse? Sudden and unpredicted, surely that seems highly unlikely but what else could it be?
"Hello?" Cole stammers, hoping for an intelligent reply.
He nearly jumps out of his skin as something collides with his lower back. He spins around quickly, identifying the unknown object as the corpse he'd just been examining.
Cole notices something, "I could've sworn…"
His mind must be playing tricks on him. While still lifeless, the corpse appears to have changed slightly. Though the skin is still decayed, the face seems fuller than it did before, the decaying holes that were present now sealed.
The sound of a static crackle alerts him. The source of the noise is a curious old pocket radio which, somewhat inexplicably, sits on the chest of the corpse. It begins to slip from the body, so Cole reaches out and grabs it before it falls in the water.
"This wasn't here before…?" Cole muses.
There doesn't appear to be a volume dial, so Cole places the device close to his ear, straining to make some sense of the sound it emits. In the foreground plays an erratic 'popping' sound, and in the back, a mess of multiple frequencies, nothing more than white noise.
As he is nigh on giving up, Cole thinks he hears something more specific from the radio, almost like a low pitched groan. He shakes the device to make sure it's working correctly before placing it back towards his ear. He is forced to recoil as the radio emits a high pitched squeal, almost pained in nature.
The frequency warps and distorts into a mishmash of bleats and whines, intimidating Cole deeply. The moan sounds out again but it's not coming from the radio. Something's there, over his left shoulder, he can feel it. It's watching him. Slowly he turns his body, extending the lighter in front of him.
Cole counts three figures, humanoid in shape. His eyes show him an entity wrapped inside a putrid sack of flesh, its skin seemingly crawling across its body with every little movement. Moans from behind him reveal more of these creatures, closing in on him step by step.
There are no eyes, nose or mouth, no features to indicate any sort of face, merely an uneven lump of fat which Cole presumes to be the creature's head. Some of them wear The Little Baroness uniforms, hanging loosely from their charred bodies. One of the monstrosities tries to reach out at Cole, but its arms are trapped inside, an organic straight-jacket that imprisons it within its own fluids. They moan in unison, and the sound is altogether terrifying, both human and demonic at the same time.
As if it had bitten the inside of its own face, a rough hole opens up where a mouth should be, followed by a stream of black blood. The smell is nauseating, but Cole is frozen and does not recoil. With a horrifying regurgitating gargle, the creature expels a viscous projectile liquid, caking the Doctor's arm with white hot fire. He finally snaps into life, grasping the afflicted area. This only serves to burn his hand, fusing fabric with skin, the unknown liquid seemingly some form of acid. The deep curdling sound of vomit rises again, this time louder, as more of the creatures prepare for attack. As the slow throaty groan shakes through him, Cole watches the gap widen on the creature's face. Moving fast, he throws himself beneath the surface.
His arm shoots back to life as the water eases the acidic burning. In the pitch darkness, he thrashes his arms, grabbing onto metal grating where wet sand once was. He pulls himself self along, and using his rough internal compass, manages to scramble onto the beach. The sand, to his horror, has been replaced by a smouldering mass of soft flesh, sticking to his feet and ankles. He trudges through the human mess, the suffering groans surrounding him.
Hundreds of armless creatures swarm out of the darkness and though terrified to the core, Cole does not stop. The burning fires illuminate an opening dead ahead. He darts forward, barging one of the creatures to the ground. It wriggles about helplessly, desperately striving to stand. It tries to flip onto its stomach and crawl away but the sticky flesh of its body starts to amalgamate with the smouldering fat on the ground. For a moment, looking upon the creature, Cole feels an enormous swell off pity, watching it thrash about fruitlessly in the mess, crying out a frighteningly human scream. He doesn't commit too much time to this feeling, pressing on towards the tunnel ahead.
Panic turns to delirium as he realises he no longer has his lighter to guide the way. With no other choice, he plunges himself into the darkness of the tunnel and soon enough, his footing is taken from him and he's falling, seemingly forever, until the crashing of body against stone. His eyes begin to lose focus, the last thing he sees, a tourist information board nailed to a fleshy wall. Blood trickles down the Perspex fascia, but the words remain clear…
Welcome to Silent Hill.