I do not own Silent Hill. It belongs to Konami.
CHAPTER 02 – A LOONY IN THE BAR
The morning patrol flowed quite smooth, with Cybil driving the police car along the streets of Brahms and showing the newbie the town's main spots. Contrary to the station's belief, she drove rather safely, or at least was doing a very good job in pretending she did. The policeman, sat on the passenger seat, remained quiet most of the ride, except for some pleasantries exchanged at the beginning of the ride. He was mainly focused on memorizing the surroundings and trying to absorb everything his teammate explained. Brahms overall wasn't huge, thus it wasn't long before the city tour was finished. Cybil drove to the highway, intending to show him the main roads to the neighboring towns.
It was when Wheeler decided to break his silence and clarify a few doubts. "Bennett, you said the Brahms police's often called upon incidents in other towns. Aren't they out of our jurisdiction?"
"Normally, yes." Cybil replied. "But the police staff in the neighboring towns is not that big. Whenever we can help, we do it. Criminals don't respect jurisdiction, you know."
"What sort of criminals? Shoplifters, brawlers?" he questioned, supposing outlaws here would be of lesser types.
"Drug dealers," she dully pointed out, which surprised the rookie cop a little. Slightly baffled at his reaction, the female cop smirked a bit. "Why the surprise? Wasn't expecting that?"
"Uh, kinda," he answered, half embarrassed for outwardly displaying it. "It was more like, I expected greater cities to have problems with drug dealers, but to think that small towns also had them..."
"Well, we do. And those guys are very organized as well," she assured, as her free hand picked up a pamphlet over the car panel and passed it to the passenger. "Here, take a look at this."
Wheeler took the pamphlet and, after a quick read, wondered out loud. "PTV?"
"Yep, a narcotic derived from a native plant called White Claudia," she explained, as his eyes trailed off to the printed picture of a small herb with white blossoms. "It's highly addictive, so it's reasonable to assume the dealers get a nice profit off the traffic."
Always a well-informed man, Wheeler was aware of how dangerous drug racket could be, especially if it was profitable. He recalled of those academy books telling about the Colombian cartel and the Asian heroine smugglers. Of course, at the time he only saw them as distant organizations acting up in remote countries and the situation seemed quite farfetched for him to care. That was, until being forced to actually face one in his life, which now appeared to be the time. The idea tensed him a little.
"If those dealers are being so troublesome, shouldn't we leave them for the DEA?"
"It's not like we haven't tried yet," she started informatively. "You see, awhile back, a couple of narcotics agents came to handle it, but it all ended up in a conflict of jurisdiction, which then evolved into an ego fight between the local police and the feds."
"Ego fight?" he asked, confused.
"Basically us and them trying to steal the spotlight from each other," Bennett abridged it, with a hint of frustration. "It's ridiculous, but as much me and a few others attempted to make it work, that's what it'd turned into anyway."
"But, in the end, was something achieved at all?"
"Officially, it was. A bunch of offenders got arrested here and there and the agents simply left afterwards, claiming mission accomplished." She snorted a bit, before resuming. "But I'll tell you, Wheeler... I pretty much doubt it. We still see those bastards roaming around freely, selling that crap to kids, yet unless we get them in the very act, there isn't much we can do." She finished with a sigh of frustration.
All that info left Wheeler rather astonished. Being newly-graduated from the academy, he knew how things worked in theory, having gone through all those lessons about how the government spheres should work together in order to provide common good, blah, blah, blah... however, as his female teammate stated, things weren't exactly like that in practice. From what he was understanding, the local police wasn't particularly fond of 'outsiders' stepping on their turf and peeping over their shoulders. On the other hand, federal agencies kind of looked down on the locals, sometimes to the point of regarding them as 'hillbillies in uniform'. In this sort of environment, nobody could expect the parts to be much cooperative, could they? Indeed, as the orator had warned at the graduation speech, there was a hell much you'd have to learn outside classroom.
His musings were cut off the instant Cybil pulled in the car to a roadside gas, parking it in front of the jointed diner.
"Just a small break," she stated, stepping out of the car. The rookie scrutinized the restaurant: small, old, although tidy, the sign above reading 'Smitty's Restaurant & Variety'. Deciding to stretch his legs a bit, he followed her inside.
As they entered it, the policewoman headed straight to the ladies room. Meanwhile, Wheeler approached the counter to order something for the both of them. Officer Bennett seemed a really nice person, and he appreciated her company so far. Who knows, it might pay off to be on her good side.
"Two coffees, please." He made his order to the attendant. The young lady with long blond hair and a bandana over her head promptly filled two plastic cups in the coffee machine. As she placed the beverages over the counter, she stared at the officer curiously.
"You're new in the force, aren't you?" the attendant inquired.
"Excuse me?" Wheeler got a tad surprised at the lady's sudden question.
She pointed at the badge on his uniform, which read 'Police Dept. Town of Brahms'. "You're from the Brahms police, aren't you? Never saw you around though."
"Oh, this," he said, recomposing himself. It was common knowledge that townsfolk were usually acquainted with everyone out in the area. "Yes, I've been just admitted in the police. Started today."
"Hmm, interesting. We don't see many new faces moving in lately." She said, as a matter of fact.
Again, that old paranoid side of his began rendering him uncomfortable. Those rumors again. And among them, he recalled of some nasty stories about people tending to disappear or die in strange ways on the surroundings. Rumors were supposed to be only rumors, however the facts he had been hearing kept poking the finger on the wound.
"Really? Why not?" he asked, trying not to sound nervous.
"Because of that wretched town!" a male voice next to them butted in. Shifting their heads towards the source, the officer and the attendant spotted a man eating at the counter, wearing a cap and a brown vest over a plaid shirt, mostly resembling a stereotyped truck driver.
Wheeler lifted an eyebrow at him, a bit fazed by the sudden intrusion. "What do you mean?"
"Don't mind him. That guy's a loony." The attendant whispered at the policeman's ear, before heading off to the kitchen. She didn't need to hear all that nonsense again.
When she was out of sight, the mysterious man resumed. "I mean Silent Hill, the town further down the road. There is more than meets the eye on that place. That's what keeps people away."
"How come?" he questioned, now curious. Out of the spread rumors, most of them also focused heavily on this town, Silent Hill. Maybe it had something to do with the aforementioned drug dealers. If this guy had any info regarding it, he should at least give him the chance to explain himself.
"It's a God-forsaken place, watched over by a demon." The trucker somberly spoke.
"Demon?" now a trait of skepticism noticeable in the rookie's voice, as he strained to hold a chuckle. He had expected a serious explanation, some kind of enlightenment, but as the attendant said, indeed he was only a loony seeking attention. "As a vampire or the Frankenstein?"
"No, a much worse type," the trucker replied, at first ignoring the incredulous tone. "An entity that can gaze into your very soul, and bring out the most painful memories you hide deep inside you."
"Oh, yeah? So did the police psychiatrist who interviewed me." Wheeler joked a little.
By now the other man had frowned at the sarcasm. "You may not believe me, but I've been there, pal. Seven years ago. And I saw it with those very eyes." He spoke, pointing at his own eyes, his tone changing to an angrier one.
"... You saw it?" the cop inquired in a more serious (although fake) tone, dropping the jokes for now. It was his first day at work and he didn't want to spoil it by getting into a heated argument with some random guy. "And how does it look like?"
"It can assume many forms," the loony answered, changing back to his somber tone now that the policeman was more willing to take him seriously. "Most of the time, it takes the shape of an innocent child, intended to lure unsuspecting bystanders into its grasp." He paused a moment to take a gulp of his soda. "But its real shape is of a hideous creature. A winged, horned monster with sharp claws. I've seen... and fought it."
"Uh okay," the rookie said, in an attempt to seem interested. After all, the best way to deal with a crazy person was to play along with them. That was what the police manual stated, at least. "But if you have defeated the demon, what would still be keeping people from moving in?"
"The demon's not alone," the older man retorted. "No, it has a group of followers, people who worship it as a god. Those fanatics will do everything for the demon, even sacrificing themselves and others. And don't doubt that they have a way to bring it back."
Well, now the conversation was starting to get boring. Wheeler finally realized the stupidity of giving hearing to this guy while he went on, narrating some bullshit about immolation rituals, deceased parents' ghosts and crooked doctors. The more he talked, the more it resembled some B-horror movie script, so the cop wasn't paying much mind. Silently he was hoping Cybil would return soon and they could just scram. Fortunately for Wheeler, the trucker seemed to have finally finished his meal and stood up from the stool, meaning he didn't have to put up with the loony much longer.
Before he left, however, the mysterious guy spat one last warning. "Anyway, heed my advice, pal. Whatever the reason, don't ever go to Silent Hill. You won't like what you'll see."
Without waiting for a reply, he took his leave at last, heading towards the restaurant's door. Just about the same time Bennett had returned. Acknowledging her presence, Wheeler handed her the coffee.
"Why, thank you," she said, taking the cup, slightly delighted at her new teammate's chivalry. "You were talking to someone?"
"More like bearing with someone," he replied, pointing at the pane. "Forest Gump there kept me entertained this whole time."
Through the glass, Cybil caught a glimpse of said figure, just jumping back on his eighteen-wheeler. Immediately she recognized whom.
"Oh, you mean Travis?" she snorted. "That man is such a vivid one. Believe it or not, for the last seven years he has been trying to convince the local police and the citizens about some devils and cults in Silent Hill. Not that anyone ever pays attention to him, so we just let him be. He can be funny sometimes."
"Yeah, I know. He told me the entire tall tale. At least, it's more original than being abducted by aliens and having the memory erased".
They both chuckled at the remark. If there was one thing Wheeler was good at was bantering. Not that he didn't believe in aliens though; he just thought that real aliens would do better than sticking probes inside people's cavities, like generally reported.
Nonetheless, looking at their watches, they realized it'd better return to base. Cybil's patrol shift was about to end soon, thus they strode back to the car.
On the way back, the journey was marked by idle chat, mainly the rookie 'confiding' to her his own conspiracy theories. The mumbo-jumbo ranged from a possible connection between the Roswell incident in the 40's and the subsequent Space Race, motivated by the acquisition of alien technology, to an open mistrust on federal agencies (despite himself being a state agent), accusing the newly-invented 'mobile phones' of being a plot of governments and big corporations to keep watch over the people wherever they were. Cybil herself was rather amused by that, especially after noticing the serious tone he used during his rambling. There was even a moment she wondered who was the real Forest Gump there, Wheeler or Travis? Both were quite on par in the storytelling department. This guy was funny to listen too, she had to admit.
The chat went on until the car passed by a road sign which read 'Silent Hill 13 Miles'. Catching a glimpse of it, Wheeler interrupted his speech and decided to bring back another subject. "Bennett, that Travis guy mentioned this nearby town, Silent Hill. Isn't it the resort at Toluca Lake?"
Cybil hummed a yes, to which her teammate proceeded. "Why would anyone spread around false advertisement about a touristic town? Did he have a bad time there or what?"
Of course, Wheeler knew that loonies needed no reasons to spit nonsense around. Nevertheless there was still supposed to be a grain of logic behind people's actions, even for those who weren't in the right frame of mind. His own theories didn't make sense to most people, however even themselves had some sort of educated background. He didn't just pull them out of the blue.
"I don't know," she answered. Her expression then changed as if recalling something. "But if he had, he wasn't the only one, I'm sure of it."
Seeing the quizzical face the passenger displayed, the female driver detailed further. "There's one thing you need to know about Silent Hill. The police there is rather... unhelpful, putting it mildly. You remember our previous talk about the local drug dealers?"
He nodded. "Well, at the time, the Silent Hill police didn't look particularly willing to capture the dealers, so to speak. Many times we requested their cooperation, but they either claimed to not have enough manpower, or, if they did, it hadn't been wholehearted."
"You think they might have covered up for the criminals?"
"If they didn't, some of the local citizens surely did. Whether by fear or ulterior motives, many of them refused to talk or testify against anything back there. This has greatly contributed for the mission's failure."
Unintentionally, this last piece of info left Wheeler worried. If those felons were so organized to the point of shutting up an entire town, then it only meant they were dealing with something more powerful than he had predicted. Perhaps more than mere drug dealers. If there was another thing Wheeler really loved since his younger years was a conspiracy theory. Wherever he looked at, he saw suspicions, things happening beneath the harmless appearance.
Maybe there was some background for the trucker's tales after all. Not the part about demons naturally, as he didn't believe in supernatural, but the one about something fishy lurking in Silent Hill. One thing was hearing it from a random guy he met in a bar; another entirely different thing was hearing it directly from a levelheaded co-worker like Bennett. There should be a reason why people stayed away from there. Consequently, the more he mulled over the issue, the more Travis' words started sounding not so absurd at all. And surely that was not a comfortable thought.
Anyway, as said, it was just his first day at work. It was still too early to judge the place and he would have much time to get used to this new life, so he quickly pushed those negative thoughts aside. For now, his only concern should be returning to the station and set his desk in order.
DEA = Drug Enforcement Administration
Smitty's roadside restaurant hails from the SH movie, just as the female attendant.
Another chunk of math is in order again. This story takes place shortly before the events of SH1 (around 1983), so with Cybil and Wheeler being born in 1955 and 1957, respectively, that makes them 28 and 26 by now. Travis was in his mid-twenties in SH0 (approximately 1976), so he'd be in his early thirties now.
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