Without a map, finding the lighthouse would be nearly impossible, especially in this mist. He hadn't seen it when he was down at the beach earlier, meaning it could be further along the coast. Cole would have to find his way back to the coastline. Following it along would surely lead him to his destination.
Doors of abandoned shops creak as he runs passed them, display windows with mannequins, eyes that seem to follow his every movement. The clanking of metal at his feet alerts him, he looks down to see nothing but concrete. More shops pass, trees and parks, nothing out of the ordinary, at least not in a normal town. In this place, everything seems wrong somehow. The scraping of metal and pattering of dogs paws echo all around him but he ignores it, forces it out of his mind.
Below him, he can hear water flowing freely. As he crosses the bridge, he hears a slow grunting sound, and the clashing of fists on concrete. He does not stop, pressing on until the sound is out of earshot.
As he reaches the other side of the bridge, something terrible catches his eye. A stream of claret liquid oozes from the toll booth, trickling down a nearby drain and shooting off into the river below. He approaches gingerly, slowly placing a hand on the cracked wooden door. What he sees inside is something he never hoped he'd witness again.
No doubt about it, this was a 'Crispin' kill.
In the swivel chair, the poor soul, slashed beyond recognition, lies frozen. The skin on his arms sliced into ribbons, strips of skin hanging down from his body like tentacles. On his chest, an unusual symbol is carved by Cole doesn't know what it is.
He notices something on the ground, glimmering in a pool of crimson, a small, unmarked key, blue in colour. Next to it, a pocket torch lies.
Both items will be useful to him, so he tucks them away inside his jacket. He's alerted…
His temple receives a strong blow and he loses control of his body for a second. His eyes come into focus, his attacker a deformed creature in the same ilk as a large gorilla. Feral eyes beneath a rough slit on its face stare at Cole, as it jumps around him, grunting and gasping, readying the kill. Cole acts fast, kicking the monster in the face, knocking it onto its back.
He pulls himself out of the booth, only to feel a dull pain in his calf. He stumbles, but stays on his feet. Acting fast, he throws his foot onto the window sill and pulls himself up onto the top of the tool booth.
He watches in dismay as the ape-like creature circles around him, occasionally bashing against the booth, nearly shaking him off. He stares at the creature, and for a moment, a spark of recognition fizzes in his brain. His concentration is broken by the familiar, rising wail. It's that siren again.
It rumbles through his ears, reaching deep inside him, tearing at his soul. The roar is stronger this time. Cole has to grab hold of the sharp corners of the booth, the pain shooting through his hands the only thing stopping him from passing out.
Below him, the gorilla creature pounds its fists against the concrete floor, groaning in pain. To Cole's dismay, strips of skin begin to detach from the monster, standing up and flapping around on its back and arms. Blood jettisons out of deep wounds on its body, as it slumps to the ground, twitching violently. Cole takes his chance.
Throwing himself off the toll booth, he is bewildered to land on a thin metal mesh, nearly giving way under his weight. If not for the presence of the mutating creature lying next to him, he'd almost believe he was in an entirely different place than before. Shops were replaced by rusty metal towers, windows peering into dark pits within. Trees had turned to burning stakes, dismembered corpses hung from telephone wires, dripping blood from above. The sky above him turned from hazy white, to a charcoal grey. The radio in his pocket let out a deafening screech as all traces of light faded from existence; all but one, a flickering radiance way off in the distance.
He made his way towards the light, not knowing what it was or where it would lead him. He flicks the pocket torch on to guide his way, each step heightened his anguish, fearing he might come crashing through the weak metal grating and be swallowed by the all-ensuing darkness below.
He loses his footing, and before he can even think about standing, the creature pounces on his vulnerable position. It pins his arms down, impeding all movement. A hole opens up on its face, skin splitting in four different directions, revealing jagged yellow teeth and a black, snake-like tongue.
It limply flops out of its mouth, striking Cole on the forehead. Thick saliva drips from its mouth, as it prepares to cull its prey. Cole closes his eyes, hopes, wishes, prays, whatever. His wife and kid; he… couldn't remember them. It could've been the panic consuming him, but in his final moments, he couldn't even remember their faces. He shuts down entirely, awaiting his final rest.
And then, the purging fire rises, prayers are answered. The smell of dead flesh is overshadowed by warm led, by gunshot smoke, by the mark of a second chance. The creature lets out a final, pained roar, before Jones kicks it hard to the ribs, expelling it from Cole's torso.
He extends a hand to Cole, peeling him up off the serrated metal grating.
There are no words between the two men. Both of them professionals of logic, their lives founded on fact, stare clueless at the inexplicable horror around them. Alerted by the gunshot, more creatures begin to pile towards them, approaching in an uneven wave, salivating, obeying their base desires.
"Move!" Jones cries, piling towards the light in the distance.
Their plan is quickly dashed, their way barred by bent mesh, metal teeth sticking up from of the dark pit below. They spin around, desperately searching for reprieve. Cole shines the pocket light to the east, the clear blue lettering standing out against the white background.
They
run, the street seemingly stretching on forever, the sound of metal
mesh being pounded, violent predators clicking at their heels. They
reach the building, their make shift haven. Jones searches
desperately for a window to smash but there is nothing but thick
metal sheets and wiring. The key!
Cole removes it from his
pocket. With one last hope, preying the key will fit the lock, he
inserts it and turns. It clicks into place and the rusty door cracks
open. Jones slams it with his shoulder, nearly dislodging it from its
hinges. With the aid of the Doctor, they shove it closed behind them,
severing one of the creature's hands between door and frame.
The muffled cries of the angry monsters outside are no longer a concern, as a wave of relief washes over them. Cole whizzes the pocket light around the room. It's a police station.
After a few minutes of fruitlessly bashing against the immovable iron door, the creatures finally lose interest. Cole watches through a corroded section of the wall as they slink away into the darkness.
"I thought I was dreaming…" Cole says, staring at the severed hand on the floor.
"I don't have your answers Doctor. This place, it's like nothing on Earth,"
Jones throws Officer Peters' notes onto the counter.
"That's the best I got,"
Cole flicks through the first few pages.
"I've… seen this before,"
"No, that's confidential police information,"
"Yeah but I've seen this before, In the Silent Hill hall of records,"
"When did you go to the hall of records?"
"I…"
Cole stops to think, "… don't know,"
"Doctor," Jones
says, grabbing his shoulders, "I need you to keep focused. I can't
figure this out alone,"
Finn slumps his weary back against the wall, pensive, locked in thought.
"Thing is, I tried to ignore it at first but… I've seen it all over town,"
"Seen what?"
"Maybe it was intuition. Maybe I was just scared, call it what you want. When I first got here, I walked for a little while then my mind started playing tricks on me. Hearing shit that wasn't there, you know, stuff like that,"
"I don't think that was all in your mind Detective,"
"Yeah well, I didn't know how big this town was, I didn't know if I'd be able to find you on my own. I went back to the car to call for backup. The trouble is, I turned round and…"
"Yeah?"
"The road was out. Just like it says in those notes, the main road out of town was out,"
"Out?" Cole questions.
"Well, not so much out as not even there at all,"
Cole notices the plaster on Jones' head, "Seems you hit your head a little too hard, Detective,"
"I'm just telling you what I saw. There's a lot stranger things going on around here than disappearing roads,"
Cole cannot disagree, "Well, you're the cop. What do we do now?" he asks.
"You tell me, Doctor. I'm stuck in this hellhole because of you,"
"I didn't ask you to come here,"
"And you know what? I came this close to not bothering. I just didn't want a rich Doctor with more money than sense to wind up dead in the middle of nowhere,"
"Especially not when I was under SAPD protection, right?" Cole retorts.
All falls silent.
"What about a boat?" Jones says, "Perhaps we could sail down the coastline?"
Cole shakes his head, "I can't do that,"
"What's wrong Doctor, can't you swim?" Jones quips.
"My sister," Cole hesitates, "She died in the water,"
"Oh…" Jones mutters awkwardly, "I had a sister too. A long time ago,"
"What happened to her?"
"She was murdered. It's why I became a cop,"
Both men go quiet, their thoughts fixed on their loved ones.
"Stay here, I'm gonna take a look around" Jones says, before heading into a back room.
He slams his back up against the door and lets out a frustrated groan. He tries the light switch. Of course, like everything else in this town, it's out. Flicking on his own pocket torch, he scans the small room around him. There's a desk, a billboard, a few filing cabinets. One of the metal drawers is ajar, a yellow file sticking out. Jones pulls it free, a small Dictaphone slipping out of the envelope and crashing to marble floor.
Luckily, nothings broken it begins to play as normal. Before the sound arrives, he stares at the tape label through the Dictaphone's plastic cover.
"It can't be…"
But it was…. Crispin. The killer's voice kicks in and the label's markings are confirmed.
'My family is dead. I'm surrounded by death. I might as well be dead. This town… I can't explain. You'd have to see it with your own eyes. I'd urge you not to come here. I'd tell you about the monsters, the evil, the unexplainable… but seeing as you're listening to this tape, I guess it's too late for that.'
The recording breaks off for a moment, as if Crispin was alerted by something nearby. He returns, shaken, 'There are things in this place beyond human comprehension. It feeds on our past, our sins. I don't know if there's any escape other than…. The lighthouse will show the way. But don't go there. Don't go there. Don't go there. Don't go there.
Don't go there.
Don't go there. Please.
Don't go there.
Don't go there.
Don't go there,'
It repeats like this, the urgency growing in each articulation, for minutes on end before Jones stops the tape.
"The lighthouse…?"
Jones remembers what that strange lady had said back in the chapel, 'He likes to move around. The lighthouse will guide the way,'
If he'd been confused earlier, he was totally clueless now. He tried to fight the fear, tried to keep on the straight and narrow. He thought about Carter. Would it make any difference if he was here? Would a veteran cop know what to do in a situation like this?
What was that Carter said? … 'It don't make you any less of a man for being scared. Some of the best cops on the force know fear like it's the back of their hand. We're all…'
We're all…. what? Finn couldn't even remember. Couldn't remember the end of that sentence, couldn't remember the moment Carter had said it. He couldn't even remember his partner's voice or face. How long had he been in this town? His brain told him he'd only been here a matter of hours, but it didn't feel like that. It felt like he'd always been here, trapped inside this infernal nightmare for all time. He tried to remember his life, straight down the timeline. He tried to remember his parents, his friends, his sister… none of it made sense anymore. It wasn't like should be. They weren't memories he could easily access. They were more like a story someone had told him long ago. He'd remember it… but he wasn't the protagonist. He was a spectator, watching, learning.
"Gotta get a grip," he mutters, trapping his temple with a fisted hand.
He once again became aware of the Dictaphone in his hand. Crispin had been to Silent Hill, he experienced this nightmare and it drove him crazy. Don't go there. Don't go to the lighthouse.
"Fuck you Crispin," he spat, throwing the Dictaphone against the wall. It shattered into multiple pieces and fell to the floor.
"I'll go where I want,"
Through the plasterboard wall on the other side of the room, a scraping sound can be heard.
"Doctor Cole?" Jones calls.
The curious sound goes dead.
He returns to the main lobby, "Doctor…?", no one here.
A nearby door creaks ajar, flickering orange hue streaking out from within. He approaches and pulls the door open aggressively, "Cole!"
The Doctor isn't here.
"What the hell?"
The room is empty except for a solitary table seated in the centre of the floor. Atop it stand two wax candles in black holders. They burn, as does a pot of incense nearby. A strange circular symbol that Jones recognises is carved on the wall, its outline a striking crimson colour.
"Doctor Cole?" he calls once more, growing concerned.
He can't take his eyes off the unusual symbol on the wall. Two circles, outer and inner, encase an isosceles triangle, an unfamiliar language scribed within. Nothing else around him seems to matter as he stares at each character, each powerful curve. It draws him towards it, gripping his attention. It speaks to him.
"Lighthouse," he nods.