The Science Team had told him that they were in Silent Hill. They hadn't said anything about Silent Hill being in fucking Maine . He was in New Mexico. Gordon stared down in disbelief at the estimated travel time by car.

"Thirty six hours?! Jesus Christ, guys, you couldn't have decided to have round two a little closer to home?" Gordon complained, tossing his phone into the passenger seat.

He turned his key in the ignition and threw his car into reverse. If he was going to be driving thirty six hours, he couldn't just peel out of the parking lot and go to Silent Hill. He'd need to pack a bag, at least, and maybe eat breakfast first. He refused to spend days and days in the same outfit again like he had in Black Mesa. That had been disgusting. No thank you.

Come to think of it, maybe he'd pick up some wet wipes and dry shampoo too. If he was entering another hellhole, he wasn't going to go in blind and unprepared.

His momentary annoyance faded back into the same stomach-sick feeling from earlier as he pulled up to the driveway. The street was drained of color in the early morning atmosphere. The lightless pits of his windows gazed out with an accusatory tone. He felt guilt rise in his gullet, like stalling for even a moment was paramount to betrayal. His friends could be hurt or dying right now and he'd never make it in time if he didn't leave right now. Right now.

His hand hovered over the gearshift, ready to turn out of his driveway and speed towards Silent Hill, before a car horn blared in his ear.

"HEY, BUDDY! LET'S FUCKING GO, HUH?!"

Gordon jumped in his seat and slammed the top of his head against his car's roof. Fuck! When you were as big a guy as he was, sometimes the world felt like it wasn't made for him. He clutched his aching skull, groaning. The man laid on the horn again.

"IN OR OUT, IDIOT! PICK A SIDE!"

Gordon gave him a brief wave and what he hoped was a rueful smile (he mostly just looked constipated). "Sorry!" he called back and got the bird for his efforts.

What was he thinking? He can't help anyone if he got T-boned before making it to Silent Hill. Here he was, paused halfway in his driveway and blocking traffic. He was lucky the other guy had been able to see him in the fog.. He pulled into the drive the rest of the way and leaned his forehead against the cool faux-leather of his steering wheel. Fuck. He needed to get his head on straight.

Food. Overnight bag. Shower. Then he would go.

He took a deep breath and opened his car door, every movement heavy with tiredness as he made his way inside. He stomped the dirt off his shoes half-heartedly and shouldered open his front door. He turned the entry hall lights on, but the house remained gloomy.

Gordon went to his kitchen and opened his cupboard. Inside was a variety of ramen and not much else. He sighed out of his nose and pulled one down at random. Better than nothing, right? He gave his kettle a quick sniff. It smelt a little like mildew, but if he boiled more water in there it would be fine. He gave it a quick rinse and then set it on the stove.

He looked in his fridge for something to snack on while he waited for the water to boil, but couldn't find much more than a few slices of lunch meat to roll up. Good enough. He sat down at the table and pulled out his phone.

He had directions but he didn't know anything else about Silent Hill. He should probably look up the town a bit more. The others probably hadn't, except for maybe Tommy. He erased 'directions to' from his search bar and replaced them with 'wikipedia'. He paused. Didn't they destroy wikipedia?

Thankfully, it appeared that Black Mesa either had backup servers or had replaced the ones they'd destroyed. The site was there when he clicked on the link- an orange banner was stretched across the screen asking for donations. Maybe later.

Silent Hill was formerly a coal-mining down and currently a kitschy little tourist trap. They had an amusement park, a lake, and a 'rich history'. Whatever that meant. The pictures didn't look so bad, although nothing really appealed to him since he wasn't a kid anymore. The trams at Black Mesa had pretty much ruined his opinion on roller coasters anyway.

If Benry had abducted all his friends just to make them go to an amusement park with him, Gordon was going to be pissed. He'd have to do a better job defeating him this time. This was getting ridiculous.

The whistle of the kettle broke Gordon out of his thoughts. He went to fix his meager breakfast while his mind tumbled over the past few weeks. How had Benry survived anyway? They'd destroyed all his passports, Gordon alone must have sunk a hundred bullets into him, and they'd left him for dead in Black Mesa. Gordon tapped his fingers against the counter and glared at his ramen like it would make it cook faster.

There had to be something he was missing. Maybe he could ask Mr. Coolatta- oh, Mr. Coolatta!

How on earth could Gordon have forgotten? He and the others had promised that if they found out anything about Tommy they'd tell him. Tommy had texted Gordon. He could tell Mr. Coolatta that his son was safe, at least. Maybe he'd even offer to come with Gordon to Silent Hill as back up. Gordon moved his ramen cup over to the table quickly.

"Hot, hot, hot," he hissed under his breath, shaking out his singed fingers. He reached for his phone again and swiped through his passcode. The screen went black. "Huh, no battery? What the hell?! I just got up!"

He huffed and set his phone down roughly. He'd eat first and then go dig out his charger. Bullshit.

He didn't burn his tongue on his ramen, at least. He threw his fork in the sink and his trash in the bin before stretching. Next was his phone charger. Thankfully, it was right where he left it on his bedside table beside his lamp and a gift Tommy had bought for Joshua's upcoming birthday. He looked down at it with guilty eyes. He hoped Tommy was okay. He plugged in his phone and made sure it was charging this time. Stupid cheap cord. He grabbed a towel and headed into the bathroom.

After his time at Black Mesa, he'd come to appreciate bathing more. If he ever moved out, he'd want to get a place with a real bathtub. Maybe one of the ones with clawed feet. He deserved it after what he'd gone through. He grabbed his toothbrush and took it into the shower with him. Two birds, one stone.

As much as he wanted to relax, he still felt anxious. Benry hadn't been too much of a threat, in the end, but what if he'd collaborated with those boot boys again? Gordon clenched his fists in his wet hair. No. Let's not go there. It already felt like he was being watched. He hurried to finish washing up.

He threw back on the same hoodie, t-shirt, and jeans. He'd only worn them for an hour; what was he, made of laundry money?

Speaking of clothing, he wondered how big of a bag he should bring. He had no clue how long he'd been in Black Mesa since Dr. Coomer's timekeeping was suspect at best and Gordon had lost a lot of blood. If Silent Hill was the same, it could be anywhere from days to weeks. The thought made his skin crawl.

He couldn't believe he was walking right back into this. It's not like he had a choice though.

Gordon packed a few days worth of clothing, his tooth and hair brushes, and his charger. His phone was full when he checked it again. Should he pack snacks? He didn't want to live on soda ever again, no matter what Tommy said. He'd have to stop at the store if he wanted anything good though.

Then there was the question of weapons… He didn't have his gun anymore and all he had in the house were shitty kitchen knives. He supposed he could stop at a hardware store on his way to Maine. Fuck, this was going to be expensive. Thank God for hush money. What else?

It was on the tip of his tongue.

…

Oh well. Must have been a lie.

Gordon shouldered his bag, grabbed his phone, and headed out to his car. Road trip time.

The drive was as boring as it was long. 'Extremely' on both fronts.

Gordon was amazed that he hadn't fallen asleep at the wheel and crashed into a tree by now. No amount of radio or podcasts could spice up the pure monotony of the grey world around his car. Every town he passed through was utterly uninteresting to him. Every landscape seemed dull and generic. He'd thought that once he got out of Black Mesa alive, he'd appreciate nature more. It's not like he wasn't trying.

Once you've seen one field, one forest, one desert you've seen them all. Maybe he just wasn't the outdoorsy type.

Time slowed to a molasses-like crawl and sped up in terrible, unpredictable intervals. One moment his phone's clock told him it was 3pm for what felt like fifty minutes, on a stretch of pothole-ridden road, and the next it was telling him it was 7pm. Gordon's surprise was smothered by his boredom. It was better not to remember the long nothing hours of driving, wasn't it? It wasn't like he was tired and micro-sleeping yet.

Not that zoning out was more comfortable. He kept getting dragged away by his thoughts and leaving his body on autopilot. Images would pop into his mind, unbidden. His heart skipped if he focused too hard on what might be happening to his friends, so he tried to push them back down again. It worked about as well as trying to shove a beach ball under the water. Gordon changed his grip on the steering wheel and sighed.

He'd looked up meditation techniques after Black Mesa- it had seemed easier than therapy. They'd advised him to imagine his thoughts flowing by like a river by, but not engage with them. He tried to loosen his control and be 'mindful', whatever that was, but he could feel his brain start to spiral. It was like sitting centimeters away from a spring-swelled torrent of all the worries he was avoiding. He needed a distraction.

He focused on his phone again. It was still 7pm. The sun was starting to set. The arrow that represented his car blinked as it made its slow and steady journey. He'd turned off the radio at some point: it had been getting more and more staticky no matter how much he'd tuned it.

His skin itched from the inside out when he considered all the hours between himself and Silent Hill. He toyed with the idea of pressing a little harder on the gas.

His stomach sank like a cold, cold stone when he thought of the diminishing hours between himself and Silent Hill too. He couldn't turn back now. Just how like, on the day of the test at Black Mesa, he couldn't have just turned over and gone back to sleep. '

It was inevitable.

Gordon jerked back to awareness. The clock said 1am. He stood on the breaks when he felt a rush of exhaustion pour over him. Thankfully there was no one behind him, on this black stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. He blinked hard as if that would make his phone say something else. His mouth felt like gummy sandpaper.

He was losing too much time. It couldn't be safe to zone out like this. He slowly let off the break and pulled over to the side of the road. Dammit. He pushed his hands up under his glasses and pressed the heel of his palms against his eyes. Keep it together, Gordon. He took a few deep breaths. Not that it calmed him down, but at least it meant he was still alive.

His ears perked up at the soft murmur of a plastic bag moving in the air of his A/C. He peered through his fingers towards the passenger seat like whatever was in it would bite him. It was a bag from some 24/7 drug store. He resettled his glasses on his face and pulled it into his lap.

Snacks, a bottle of water, wet wipes, dry shampoo, and a mini First AID kit. He didn't remember buying this. He pushed it back into the passenger seat.

"I need some sleep. Rest for Gordon," he murmured before pinching himself. He had to stop doing that, it made him sound crazy. It was one thing to refer to himself in the third person in the heat of the moment in the middle of an alien invasion, but he couldn't let it become a habit. The team's weirdness was infecting him.

He checked his phone again. Still 1am. His GPS said he was only a stone's throw from Silent Hill. A few hours, at most. He'd be there by dawn. His heart banged against his sternum as if connected to some invisible rope, yanked towards Silent Hill. He'd call it a leap, but that would denote some kind of excitement. All he felt was dread.

He should keep driving. There had to be a hotel in Silent Hill he could stay at, then he could find his friends. He reached for the keys and paused. No. No, that felt wrong. If Benry was there… did he really want to sleep with no one on guard?

(you didn't sleep in Silent Hill)

He'd stop at a motel and finish his journey in the morning. He'd already made record time, his friends could fend for themselves for a few hours more. He didn't think any of them could actually die anyways. He steadfastly swallowed passed the lump in his throat.

He turned the key and started driving again. There had to be a Super 8 around here somewhere. He kept getting turned around and ending up back on the highway, but eventually he found something that looked suitable. He parked out front and headed inside, the bored-looking man behind the counter barely speaking to him as they exchanged keys for money. He looked even worse than Gordon felt.

The motel room looked exactly the same as every other motel room. A place so nondescript, so generic, that if Gordon blinked and the threadbare carpet changed color he might not even notice. It was boring, bordering on non-existant.

Gordon shrugged his backpack off his shoulders and set it on the desk. It was some type of cheap material with fake wood grain. It almost reminded him of the desks back in elementary school. He took the chance to repack his bag with the things he'd bought at the drugstore.

He debated taking a shower, now that he had a plastic bag for his dirty laundry. He eyed the bathtub wearily. It looked clean enough… Maybe just a fast one. He reminded himself to pull the bed away from the wall and check for bed bugs before he sat on anything plush.

The water had only come out cold, no matter how much he fiddled with it. He'd grumbled about it but cleaned himself anyway- even a quick rinse was better than nothing. The tiles had this maddening curly-cue pattern that Gordon stared at the entire time, trying to find where it repeated.

The room was clean and bug-free on closer inspection, if a little worn and cheap. Gordon could live with that. As long as there were no visible stains, he didn't feel the need to break out a UV light. The comforter was a blue-green paisley that matched the curtains. He fell into bed and was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

He slept restlessly and dreamed of nothing at all.