The darkness outside remained, but it now filled Cole with a strange sense of serenity. The monsters have disappeared, the air has cooled down. No sounds but the whirring generated by the unusual metallic windmills around him.
He didn't even need to use his map to find the lighthouse. The only paths that weren't broken were leading him directly towards the shimmering light in the sky.
He walked and he walked, a peculiar catharsis passing over him. He'd been a psychiatrist for some years now, helping other people confront their evils, all the while never addressing his own fears. In a way he can't properly understand, it feels as if this town is aiding him, helping him look inside himself. After all, where does a psychiatrist go to get help?
He is by no means enjoying the experience, but if he ever escapes this town, life would seem a hell of a lot different from now on.
His thoughts echoed back to prior days. Jack Crispin had claimed he wanted revenge on God, revenge on a deity in Silent Hill that had murdered his family. But his accusations were incorrect. It wasn't God but men that had slaughtered his wife and child two years ago. Cole knows it. There is a being in Silent Hill, possibly a creature that could be labelled as a God, and this poor soul is shrouded in suffering. This God was calling out to him, perhaps it needed his help?
The calming sound of the waves tickled his eardrums. He was nearing now, the light bright enough to guide his feet. The sound of metal being drummed started to beat through his head, maybe the noise produced by some sort of generator nearby, possibly.
A wooden pier extended across the seafront towards his destination. The light was strong now, powerful like floodlights on a football pitch. Static began to fizz and whirr from the pocket radio, as he notices creatures leaning against the pier banisters, just like tourists had done decades ago. They are dressed like humans, though the skin beneath the clothing is slimy and grotesque. But Cole does not mind. They acknowledge him, nodding as he walks passed. Seagulls are chirping, children are laughing. There is no fear.
A few short steps take him to the front of the lighthouse door. He peers back, noticing the creatures are all watching him. They have no eyes, no mouths, no features to highlight their expressions, yet Cole knows they are urging him forward. He nods, parting with a warm smile.
He can hear his wife's voice calling as he ascends the spiral staircase inside. He reaches the top, and opens the trapdoor. He is greeted by a white light which fills him with…
Jones furiously reloads his gun for the umpteenth time. As he sets foot on the peer, the roars of the tormented creatures threaten to swallow his mind entirely. He checks the inside of his coat… no more clips. After his current magazine was emptied, that would be all.
He tries to shut out the noise as he darts along the wooden pier. His eyes are fixed on the floor in front of him. He knows creatures are passing by him, trying to reach out and pull him into the darkness but he forces his way through, firing the odd warning shot when they get too close.
Without even stopping, he barges the lighthouse door open and begins to ascend the spiral staircase, nearly slipping on the wet metal. He smashes the trapdoor open. No sign of Doctor Cole.
The foul scent of rotting meat wafts across the sea front. Using his pocket flashlight, he determines his surroundings. On the centre of the floor, that strange symbol sits, the same one he'd seen back at the police station only much larger this time. The lighthouse lamp is off, presumably due to generator failure. There is no glass surrounding him, as he might have expected, and there are no banisters to impede falling off the edge.
A handkerchief lies on the floor, some text on it, scribbled hastily.
'Four clicks left, three right, two left, one right. There's no time like the present,'
"No time like the present…" Jones mumbles, eyeing a small crack beneath the extinguished lamp.
He places a hand on it and turns, four left, three right, two left and one right. Something sputters to life below his feet, the foundations of the lighthouse rumbling. A thumping noise can be heard, a rising metallic crescendo. With a garish squeal, the lamp in front of him begins to rotate, until stopping cracking into place moments later. The tungsten filament fizzes and splutters until light screens his vision. He averts his eyes and walks around the front of the lamp. A beam of light shoots out into the darkness, away from the town, settling upon on giant, rusted Ferris wheel, standing out against the seafront.
Consulting his map, he identifies the path he has taken and the destination that lies ahead. A small pamphlet drops.
He stoops to study it.
'Lakeside Amusement Park, where all the family come to scream,'