The day dawned bright and gloomy. The fog was rolling in over the distant Toluca Lake.

Gordon was awake to watch the sun try to rise in the mist-choked sky. He had been awake since 5am, much against his will. That same chain-yank-tug in his chest from before had grown too great to let him rest. He'd been wrenched from sleep and couldn't return to it despite his comfortable motel bed and quiet, dark room. Whatever force wanted him in Silent Hill had grown impatient waiting for him to arrive.

Gordon shook his head, trying to rid himself of such thoughts. He didn't need to be ominous about it. It was Benry that wanted the team in Silent Hill. As much as he hated Benry, he didn't think the former security guard could kill any of them in a way that mattered. They'd be fine. They'd beaten him once.

His left hand tightened on the steering wheel and the other reached up to rub his sternum. His reassurances couldn't make the tight, aching ball of anxiety release from his chest no matter how much he repeated them. If he concentrated on it, though, he could almost pretend the twisting in his viscera was anger. Gordon focussed on that thought instead. He was mad, not scared. Fuck Benry.

He couldn't believe that gamer fuckwit was getting his goat and he wasn't ever here.

Maybe he just needed fresh air. He rolled down his window and was hit by the cold scent of lakewater. That would be Toluca, he supposed. It was refreshing but something about it churned his stomach. Was that mildew? Or pond scum? Ghostly fingers of fog scratched against his windshield and over the cracked pavement before him. His headlights could only illuminate so much. Anything could lurch out in front of him.

He slowed down his car. The last thing he needed was to hit a deer or something.

A dark shape emerged in front of him on the side of the nameless road. Gordon clenched his fists on the steering wheel, heart leaping into his throat, until the geometric shape resolved into the outline of a building. A little closer and a sign out front declared it to be 'Deisaco Fir Tree Filling Station'. Fuck, he was jumpy. A building had just snuck up on him. A stationary fucking object. Damn this fog, he needed to get a hold of himself.

Gordon glanced at his gas tank indicator. He wasn't running on fumes, but he could use some fuel.

He turned onto the overgrown parking lot a bit too eagerly and went over the curb with a loud thump. Shit, he better not have broken anything. He unbuckled his seat belt and stuck his head out the window to see better on his way to the pumps. He barely avoided the gaping potholes where dry, almost colorless grass grew in sickly bunches. Was this place even still operational?

He stopped in front of one of the pumps and hopped out. The early morning chill soaked through his thin hoodie like nothing. He shivered as gooseflesh rose on his arms, making the hair on the nape of his neck stand up. He should have thrown on a jacket too. He opened his tank and inserted the nozzle. The gas came out just fine when he pulled the trigger, so this place couldn't have been abandoned for too long, right?

The road was dead quiet except for the faraway sound of dripping. It was probably dew or morning rain off the trees. There was a distant sort of non-sound, an inaudible rush, the sound where there was nothing else. The blood in Gordon's ears, perhaps. Gordon removed the nozzle with a soft click and approached the building.

It was definitely defunct; most of the windows had been smashed out and the door was just barely hanging on. Just Gordon's luck. He'd wanted to ask if anyone had seen anyone strange around here. On the door of the building was a notice in a plastic sleeve, protected from the elements but still yellowed and curled at the corners. Gordon pulled it down to read it.

It was an evacuation notice. There had been some sort of underground fire and there were sinkholes opening up or something. The entire town had been abandoned. Just fucking great. Maybe destroying that server room had rolled back Wikipedia's edits since it hadn't said anything about this. Now Gordon knew why it wasn't considered a reliable source.

So, the only people in this entire town would be his friends and Benry. Gordon knew it couldn't be that easy. Benry had probably filled the town with more aliens from Xen. It would be like finding hay in a needle stack.

At least the gas was free. On the way out he should fill up a few gas cans and save himself some money. He returned to his car quickly, arms folded against the cold.

He didn't get far though. A concrete barricade was thrown up in the middle of the road, impeding his progress by car. The trees on either side of the road were clustered too thickly for him to drive around. He grit his teeth and laid on the horn in frustration.

"God fucking dammit!"

He guessed he'd just have to walk to Silent Hill.

He parked his car at the barricade, shouldered his backpack, and started to climb over the roadblock. It wasn't the most physically taxing thing he'd ever done, but he still stumbled over the other side. He cursed under his breath. This was not a good way to start his day.

Gordon walked quickly down the road, folding his arms over his chest again to keep warm. The trees pressing in from either side along with the isolation of an abandoned town made him feel both agoraphobic and claustrophobic. There was too much and too little space around him. He strained his ears as he carefully avoided twisting his ankle in a pothole.

It was still dead quiet. Somehow, it wasn't comforting.

The cold smell of water and chlorophyll clawed through his nose and filled his lungs. He couldn't stop himself from imagining it as something real. Physical. Like he was choking down the fog itself. At least he couldn't smell the coal fire that everyone had been running from. He sped up to a light jog. The sooner he got to town, the sooner he could leave.

Was that the echo of his own footsteps, or was someone following him? He slowed down and heard nothing, but that didn't mean anything. Maybe Benry was watching him right now. Always dogging his heels and asking for a passport. Gordon had made sure to get one after the incident at Black Mesa. Purely for practical reasons, of course.

Was that a growl? Gordon sped up to a full run. If Benry had summoned aliens here, he didn't want to fight them where he could be attacked from either side. The idea of a headcrab jumping at him from the trees…

The road terminated suddenly in front of him. If he'd been paying less attention, he might have ran right over the edge and into the pit below. As it was he was able to skid to a stop- sending himself right on his ass in the process. He hissed in pain. He was getting too old for this.

Gordon got to his feet, brushing the dirt off the back of his jeans and hoodie. He cautiously approached the chasm- sidling up to it, like he was ready to throw himself backwards at any moment. He peered over the edge and let out a low whistle. He couldn't even see the bottom. A memory of Tommy saying 'we're trying to dig to the center of the earth!' popped up, unbidden.

Tommy. Gordon's stomach twisted.

He'd jumped larger holes in Black Mesa, but something about this one disturbed him. He looked around for another way. There, just off to the side of the road, was an overgrown footpath.

Gordon wanted to go into the tree even less, but… He didn't really have a choice, did he? He took a deep breath and stepped onto the trail.

The trail let out onto a little residential street. A row of townhouses were laid out in front of Gordon, all charming red brick and white shutter under a layer of grime and moss. The windows here were smashed as well, but not as completely as the gas station. If he let his eyes go hazy, with all this fog, it almost looked like a normal street anywhere in America. He could almost imagine someone coming out to grab their newspaper or a group of children walking passed on their way to school.

Children. Joshua. He wondered how Joshua was getting along without him. Again.

He was such a bad father.

The houses were mostly all the same but there were hints of individuality here and there. There were overgrown flower boxes in windows, rusted out bicycles left on lawns, and broken down cars in driveways. His team could be hiding out anywhere in this town. They could be holed up in any of these houses, in fact.

And so could Benry.

Gordon crossed the street to the houses, instinctively glancing both ways beforehand, and marched up to one of the doors. He only felt a little awkward when he tried to turn the handle to a complete stranger's house. It rattled but didn't open. Locked.

"Hello?!" he called, his voice carrying down the street, "Bubby? Dr. Coomer? Tommy?!"

His heart pounded in his chest as he waited for an answer. There was nothing but silence. It was fitting, he guessed, with the name of the town. He tried to call out again but the words died in his throat. It felt unspeakably dangerous to draw attention to himself for some reason.

'Instinct!' He thought, remembering what Tommy said again.

Better to be quiet. He walked through people's yards as he went down the row of houses and tried to open the doors. He hoped he didn't have to go through the entire town like this. He felt like the world's stupidest trick or treater.

He sat down on the stoop of one of the houses and pulled out his phone. Maybe he could text one of his friends and they could tell him where they were. The keyboard clicked away as he tried to message Tommy. Not delivered; there was no reception. He didn't know why he didn't expect that.

It wasn't silent anymore. He froze, trying to strain his ears again.

There was a low, almost musical thrum coming from further down the street.

He carefully stood up again and tucked his phone away. Maybe it was nothing, but if he was Benry… Maybe he could catch him off guard and save them all some trouble. He pulled his hood on over his hair and crouched in the tall grass, creeping towards the sound.

There was something blue glowing through the mist, bobbing like boats on top of water. Orbs that gave off a barely audible hum of their own. There would have been clearer notes sung when they were created, but he'd missed them. Gordon would recognise Sweet Voice anywhere. Benry must have just been here.

They were fading-! Gordon hurried after them while keeping low to the ground. He needed to find a weapon before confronting Benry. He didn't even have a crowbar on him. The blue orbs drew away from him. They weren't disappearing, but floating away. Was he being lured somewhere? Fuck. Was it a trap?

It's not like he had any other leads. He sped up before his game of fourth dimensional chess with himself cost him his trail. He finally stood up to run after the lights. Damn being subtle!

And almost fell into another pit for his trouble. "FUCK!" he screamed, throwing himself back and scraping up his hands. "You're such a DICK, Benry! Get back here!"

There was no answer but the lights were still floating over the pit and to the left. There was another working street he could see, just barely, through the fog. He scrambled to his feet and took off running. He'd double back, go around, and try to ambush Benry. Wouldn't that be a novel change of pace?

He turned off Midwich Street onto Matheson and then immediately down the first serviceable footpath he saw. The lights were just passing him by when he was let out onto Blotch. Gordon's boots slapped heavily against the pavement, each step echoing like a gunshot. He jumped over a missing slab of sidewalk.

"What kind of a fucking street name is 'Blotch'?!" he shouted, half hysterical as he almost ran into the street sign. The lights turned left back onto Matheson and Gordon growled under his breath. He passed by some decrepit, rotting shops in his blind pursuit. He could look for a weapon later. If he caught Benry now, he'd just beat him to death with his own hands.

He'd probably say that touching him was gay or something. Prick.

Gordon was faster out of the HEV suit, but he was more out of breath when he finally saw the lights fading into the doorway of somewhere called 'Happy Burger'. It looked like it had been a dive even when the town was populated. Figures that Benry would want to meet up in the Silent Hill equivalent to Denny's.

Gordon walked into the restaurant, breathing heavily. Once again, something told him to be quiet, so he was. It was nice to look around without being blinded by fog for once. The restaurant had only booths, no tables, and the floor was littered with fallen ceiling tiles. It smelt like mold. Gordon scrunched his nose. He hoped it was benign mold.

He didn't notice the blood on the floor until he stepped in it. It was bright red- so red it almost looked fake- but the heavy smell of iron said it was anything but. Gordon leaped back and his shoe made a smooching sound as it was pulled free. The blood was tacky.

Fresh.

Gordon's mouth filled with spit- the prelude to vomit- as another scent hit him. Fresh rot. How had he missed it before? He knew it well. He thought he'd never have to smell it again. His eyes hesitantly traced the blood back to its source.

A man lay face down in the gore, one hand stretched above his head and clutching a key.

Just because an evacuation was ordered didn't mean everyone had left. People didn't want to abandon their homes. There might have still been one or two people hanging around, making their lives in this decaying place. Maybe even a few homeless people coming to live here because it was abandoned specifically.

Had Benry really just killed one of them just to leave Gordon this taunting message?

Gordon swallowed, and swallowed, and swallowed. He couldn't vomit. Not right now. Not with Benry maybe in the next room. He pulled his T-shirt over his nose and crouched. He reached out with shaking fingers for the key. His fingers brushed over ice-cold corpse flesh before wrapping around the ice-cold metal instead. He recoiled like he'd been burned.

He straightened up and crossed the dining room with as few strides as possible. He held his breath until he'd hopped the counter. He could see the lights beyond the doorway of what must have, at one point, been the manager's office. He told himself it was rage in flitting about in the birdcage of his chest.

Rage. Rage. Rage .

"Benry!"

It wasn't Benry.

It wasn't even Sweet Voice.

Sweet Voice didn't move when it was placed. Sweet Voice didn't make a sound after it was sung into existence. Sweet Voice cocooned around corpses.

But it didn't eat them.

The blue orbs clustered in the ripped-open chest of another dead man. They made a nest between his ribs as he lay, slumped over the manager's desk. The corpse was so drenched in blood that Gordon couldn't hope to know what race it'd been or what age. The smell of blood was a physical presence with a fist around his throat. The hum was muffled by the louder sound of chewing.

At this distance, without the fog, he could see into the orbs. Benry's voice had been transparent around the edges, but largely opaque. The Sweet Voice had been like bubbles of tie dye. These were more like the light a firefly gave off. A particularly bright firefly.

The insects inside the light were easily the size of Gordon's open hand from wrist to middle finger tip. They had the desiccated look of black skin vacuum-sealed around bone that all Xen wildlife had, except for around the head. What looked like stained bandages at first were, on closer inspection, very thin strips of leathery human skin. Gordon was reminded of wrapping raw bacon around chicken breasts for dinner and gagged.

The humming grew louder and chewing stopped as the insects took flight. They'd noticed him.

Gordon took a hesitant step back, struck speechless. In his head he could hear the sound of Peeper Puppies charging their seismic attack, or the garbled language of the 'ex-wives', or the distant roar of a Bullsquid, or-

The wasps charged at him,swooping down in an arch, and stabbed at him with their stingers. He fell backwards against the wall with a breathless cry. Two of the three misjudged their trajectory and had to pull back. The third struck true.

Gordon shrieked as the stinger sunk into the meat of his neck, just under the skin. It burned much worse than a usual insect sting. He was reminded of stepping on a nail as a child, every inch of the rusty metal scraping inside his veins. The tetanus shots that had come after. The wasp's natural hum rattled through his bones. This couldn't be happening.

The abdomen was all wrong. The thought struck him and he couldn't let it go. It wasn't the solid shape of a real wasp: it looked like a deflated balloon or a drained blister. It was all hollow, semi-transparent thick skin. Gordon blinked dumbly at it, trying to comprehend, as some vacuum in the wasp started to suck.

He watched his blood start to gush into the empty space and swiped his hand down instinctively, knocking the insect to the ground. The stinger-syringe pulled out with a sickening draining feeling. He stomped blindly but had no idea if he crushed it or not. His hand slapped over the wound to staunch the gushing blood.

"Jesus FUCK! What are you?!" he screamed, spinning away from the other insects approaching. He stumbled out of the open door and back into the dining room. It had been a mistake to follow the lights without a weapon. It had been a mistake to come here at all.

Gordon threw himself bodily out of the Happy Burger and landed hard on his knees outside. He crawled a few paces- over-balanced forward- as he got back on his feet. All around him, the humming of the wasps was reaching a fever pitch. It was like someone had flipped a switch. The pinpricks of blue glow were floating all around the street, just beyond the mist where Gordon couldn't make out their details, and they were getting closer.

Gordon rushed across the street to an Ice Cream shoppe. Locked.

A drug store. Locked.

Someplace called 'GHOUL'. Locked.

The streets got darker as some evil closed in around him.

In the distance, an old air raid siren began to scream.