By Sadamu Yamashita
Translated by Emily "Lady Ducky" Fitch
After Cybil had departed, Harry stood up from his bench. Sliding the handgun between his pants and belt, he turned and looked around the café. At several tables sat plates of half-eaten food and full cups of cold coffee. In the kitchen there was a cutting board strewn with freshly-chopped lettuce and hamburger meat that had yet to be formed into patties. There wasn’t anything broken and there was no sign of vandalism. It was
as if the employees had abandoned their work and the customers had abandoned their food in a hurry. If this place was deserted just like the police station, then maybe the whole town really was empty.
But how could a mass exodus go so completely unnoticed? There was no news
of the event and even the police from the neighboring town were unaware of the
situation. Could it be a government cover-up? Perhaps some sort of hazardous
infection broke out and everyone was removed from town and quarantined…No, if
that had happened the town itself would have been blocked off and no one would
have been allowed to leave. He also would have run into some sort of checkpoint
on the highway on his way here. It was wildly unlikely that they were using one
place in town to house thousands of people all at once though. So if nobody left town, that meant that every
person living in Silent Hill had just vanished, like they were going about
their business when suddenly they were all sucked into a black hole.
Harry grinned and began to chuckle at the thought. He certainly hadn’t considered
the possibility of supernatural happenings yet. This was all beginning to sound
like a bad horror novel. But no matter how many times you read a book, it’s
completely different from real life. There’s no way Harry could ever believe
there was something paranormal behind all of this, he wouldn’t let himself. But
now it was different. He had already seen with his own eyes a creature that
defied any logical explanation. A creature that had very nearly killed him. If
he didn’t believe before, he would have to start believing now.
Something colorful caught his eye and he noticed a tourist brochure with a
map of the town printed on it sitting next to the register. It was being used
as an ad, as there was a large red arrow pointing at the restaurant he was
currently standing in. The building was facing Bachman Road, which stretched
from north to south across the map. That was the road he had been driving down
just before the accident. It must be
around here then…Harry’s finger traced a path from Bachman Road to where it
intersected with Finney Street and found an unmarked street that continued
south. That was the alley where he chased the girl through the fog.
Harry knew it would be incredibly reckless to return to the spot where he
was attacked, but he had to risk it. There had to be some sort of clue there,
maybe a door he had overlooked. That girl had to be hiding around there
somewhere. He folded the brochure and stuck it in his pocket.
After a couple moments of rest, Harry finally gathered up the resolve to
leave the café. Just as his hand touched the doorknob, a harsh sound assaulted
his ears. It was white noise crackling from a radio. Harry turned and saw a
small pocket radio sitting on a table in the far corner of the restaurant. He
walked back to the table and took a closer look. Someone had left the power
switch on. Maybe one of the customers was listening to a baseball game at the
time everyone disappeared. Until now the volume had been too low for him to
notice, but why had it suddenly grown louder? Cybil had said that her radio
wasn’t working because of the abnormal weather…For some reason the radio’s
garbled hissing was making Harry incredibly uncomfortable. The noise was like
nails scraping against a chalkboard; it made his skin prickle and his hair
stand on end.
As the static grew in intensity, it began to mingle with another odd noise,
the sound of flapping wings coming from outside the café. Harry spun around to
face the window and was met with sight of an appalling creature hovering just
outside. Unlike the monster that attacked him in the alley, this creature
resembled a huge bat. Its leathery skin was a sickly mottled brown and
stretched like canvas over its massive wings. It possessed vicious talons like
a bird of prey; Harry could hear them scrape against the pavement as it came to
rest on the sidewalk.
He’d never seen or even heard of such a large winged animal existing in
this area before. A biologist might have drooled over such an incredible
discovery, but the mere sight of the creature was making Harry nauseous. Its
parched skin made a terrible crackling noise as it folding its wings and
settled at its perch. The features on what should have been its face and the
structure of its body were so twisted it looked like it had been run over by a
car. The stench of death the hung over the monster was so strong that it seemed
to seep through the window and fill the café with the foul odor.
For a moment, Harry was so stunned he couldn’t tear his eyes away from the
repulsive sight, but he quickly scrambled to the floor and hid against the wall
underneath the window. The bird-like monster was surveying the area with a
fierce glint in its beady eyes. No doubt it was searching for prey. With its
pick-axe like beak, it looked like it could tear flesh from bone in a matter of
seconds. Anything, or anyone, who crossed its path would most certainly be
remorselessly ripped to pieces and devoured. Feeling the monster’s dangerous
presence through the wall his back was pressed against, Harry held his breath
like his life depended on it. Static continued to spill from the radio, now
beginning to sound like mocking laughter. The noise cut through the silence, as
if it was trying to alert the monster to Harry’s presence. He wished
desperately that he could go turn it off, but he didn’t dare move from his
hiding place.
The monster let out an ear-piercing screech that echoed through the empty
streets and the sound of fluttering wings came again. It sounded like it had
left. After what seemed like an eternity, Harry chanced a quick peek out the
window and saw with incredible relief that it had indeed flown away. He turned
his head to look at the radio. As the
“bird” grew farther way, the static lessened until the café was quiet once
again.
It took surprisingly little time to rebuild the confidence to leave the
restaurant. During the nerve-wracking encounter with the bird monster, he had been
gripped by paralyzing terror. For a moment, he was so shaken that he was
tempted to heed Cybil’s warning and barricade himself inside the café. However,
the thought of his daughter meeting with such a creature spurred him into
action. Harry suppressed his cowardly thoughts and forced himself to step
outside.
Silent Hill was still sealed beneath a blanket of fog. He strained his
ears, but Harry couldn’t hear anything through the frozen silence. A howl
echoed through the distance. It sounded like the barking of a dog. It must be a
pet left behind by its owner. Harry felt bad for the poor thing, but he
couldn’t afford to stop and help. Cheryl was his top priority now. Once he
found her, his only plan was to get as far away from this strange town as
quickly as possible. He would have to leave the chained animals to suffer from
hunger and thirst and hope that some kind soul arrives to help them before they
grow too weak to survive.
Harry hurried north up Bachman Road, then turned west onto Finney Street.
Icy gusts of wind fought against him every step of the way and the moist air
was making his clothes damp and heavy. Each of his pounding footsteps were
quickly swallowed by the white curtain of fog and continued to echo through the
stillness. Before long, he found himself staring down the same alley he visited
before. He pushed on without hesitation until he caught site of the metal gate
in the alley’s furthest left corner.
There was a small shape curled in front of the gate. Harry couldn’t help
but picture the three-headed Cerberus guarding the entrance to hell. As the
figure sluggishly rose to its feet, he could see that it was indeed a dog. It
regarded him warily as he carefully approached.
“Hey there little guy.
Were you the one making all that noise?” He reached out his hand to pat the
animal on the head, but he was beginning to feel a bit uneasy. What if it was
unfriendly? Still, just as he was on a quest to find his daughter, he could
sympathize with a dog that had lost its owner. Someone somewhere was probably
worried sick that their precious pet was missing. As he moved closer, the fog
that separated them faded and the animal’s true form was revealed.
He had made a decent
enough guess when he called the thing a “dog”. It probably had been a dog at
some point in its life, but what remained of it now was just barely enough to
recognize it as a canine. Most all of its hair had fallen out and pinkish,
burn-like splotches of diseased flesh covered its entire body. The creature was
so emaciated it seemed like little more than dry skin wrapped over the skeletal
frame of a dog. On top of all that, it was clearly suffering from rabies as
well; its eyes, now fixed solely on Harry, were filled with crazed hostility.
Static spilled out of
his jacket pocket, like the radio was sounding an alarm. It sounded just like
it had when Harry spotted the avian monster outside the café. Maybe this radio
can pick up something that humans can’t, like some kind of electromagnetic
wave. Maybe that’s how it always sensed the presence of these unnatural beings before
Harry could. That was his theory anyway.
The monster’s lips curled into a snarl, revealing its yellowed fangs. It
let out a deep, murderous growl that filled the air with the stench of its
rotten breath, a stench so strong it nearly made Harry choke.
“Stay back!” Harry fought to keep his voice level as he took a slow step
backwards.
“It’s okay boy…just run along now.” The moment he reached down to retrieve
the pistol from his belt, the “dog” shot forward like a missile, giving him
only a second to react. He heard a sharp crack as the shot he fired bounced of
the pavement inches away from his target. The rabid dog lunged at the
outstretched arm holding the gun, looking to take a chunk of Harry’s flesh into
its disease-ridden jaws. Harry withdrew his arm just fast enough that the teeth
met the sleeve of his jacket instead.
“Let go!” The more Harry struggled to twist his arm free of the dog’s jaws,
the more fiercely it sunk its teeth into his sleeve. He hoped that the fabric
would tear off, but his durable name-brand jacket held up against the assault.
Harry swung his leg back and kicked his attacker as hard as he could. The dog
let out a shriek of pain as the tip of his shoe sunk into its soft underbelly.
It released its grip and tumbled onto the pavement.
That injured cry hit Harry straight through the heart. He couldn’t stand to
see animals being abused like this. However, the usually gentle-natured man was
still human, his actions now governed by self-preservation and fear. He quickly
aimed his weapon and fired. Once, twice, three times…he carelessly pulled the
trigger again and again, screaming insults with each shot. He fired until the
fifteen round magazine was completely empty. The dog lay twitching in a
spreading pool of blood.
Still breathing heavily, Harry slowly returned to his senses. He had to use
all his energy just to force his muscles to move his stiff body. However, his
intense relief withered in an instant as he heard growls from the trembling
figure on the ground. The dog he believed to be dead began to struggle feebly back
to its feet. Despite its near fatal injuries, it seemed to be rapidly
recovering its strength.
Harry aimed that the creature again…only to be reminded that he had
foolishly wasted all his ammo. Struck with a sudden burst of inspiration, he
lifted his foot and brought it down with all the force he could muster on the
creature’s frail body. Ignoring the sickening, squishing sensation he felt
beneath his shoe he stomped again and again until the dog lay still. Harry
slumped to the ground, weak with exhaustion and the horror of what he had just
done. Its skull was shattered and its body reduced to a bloody, flattened
carcass. It was the same as the mangled dog he’d seen on the other side of the
gate.
Although his question had been answered, it brought Harry no comfort. If
someone else had encountered another mad dog roaming the streets, the
possibility existed that even more were lurking around now. Whatever was going
on in Silent Hill had to be pretty serious if it could turn someone’s pet into
that ferocious beast. Cybil wasn’t kidding when she said it was dangerous.
As he went through the gate and walked down the alley, Harry meticulously
checked for any gap big enough for a child to squeeze though. He found nothing.
There was one iron back door with two small ventilation windows, but it was
locked tight. He couldn’t get it to budge no matter how hard he tried. The
windows were so far out of reach that Harry couldn’t even touch them, let alone
a small girl. He gave up on the door and continued onwards.
His fruitless search came to a halt when he reached the alley’s dead end.
The gruesome crucified corpse was there waiting for him. He averted his eyes,
looking down at the pavement instead. He noticed pieces of paper scattered
across the ground. He didn’t remember seeing these here before. He reached down
and picked one up. The page was covered in crayon drawings; there was a picture
of Snoopy, a bride standing in a church, a balloon and a dove flying in the
sky, a garden full of flowers…They all seemed incredibly familiar.
He spotted the green cardboard cover lying nearby. There was a person’s
face scribbled on it. Harry’s face. These torn pages were all from Cheryl’s
sketchbook. Ever since he’d given it to her as a present on her fifth birthday,
she’d carried it everywhere. Not only did he love to draw, but it was her
favorite way to entertain herself when her father was too busy to play. By the
time she’d turned seven she’d managed to fill nearly half the pages.
“I hope you’re not planning on making a career
out of this,” Harry teased.
“I don’t think I wanna be an artist. I’d rather
work outside than be cooped up inside all day.” Cheryl’s response stung a bit.
He knew it was aimed directly at him.
“Well, artists don’t have to stay in a studio
all day. You could go out and do landscape sketches.”
“Being a truck driver would be neat.”
“A truck driver? That’s a boy’s job you know.”
“But I’d get to go all over the country and see
everything.”
“That cargo can get pretty heavy though. You
think you’re up for it?”
“Okay, I’ll be a taxi driver then!”
“Then you better be careful if you have to make
change. I’ve seen your grades and math is definitely not your strong suit…”
“You’re so mean Daddy!”
“Okay, okay. I’m sorry. I’ll tell you what. You
go out and do whatever makes you happy and no matter what you grow up to be,
Daddy will be right there cheering for you.”
Cheryl brought her sketchbook with her on their trip. He remembered her
clutching it to her chest as she slept in the passenger’s seat. This was his
daughter’s most cherished possession, so why would he find it torn to pieces in
a place like this? What’s that…?
Harry frowned and picked up one of the scattered sheets. Instead of a drawing,
this page was filled with two large words: “TO SCHOOL”. It was definitely in
Cheryl’s handwriting. But why?
He pulled out the tourist brochure and flipped to the map. Just outside of
the residential area was a large building labeled “Midwich Elementary”. She must be there! Harry was absolutely
convinced. Cheryl left this message behind for him. He had the sudden
terrifying vision of his daughter being grabbed by a stranger and screaming for
daddy to come save her. That combined with the knowledge of all the hideous
crimes in his mind was enough to make him feel light-headed. Spurred on by
impatience and rage strong enough to make him forget his aching feet and
burning lungs, Harry sprinted with all the speed he could muster toward his new
destination.
-4-
No one here either…Cybil had searched all
across town and back, but in the end the result was always the same. She’d
never seen a place so utterly empty before. The streets were silent, the homes
were vacant, even the fog seemed to hang motionless in the air. The more she saw,
the more dire the situation became.
As she hiked north up Bachman Road, she saw a destroyed segment of
guardrail that led to a ditch on the side of the highway. Harry’s jeep sat at
the bottom of the ditch, just as he had said. It wasn’t that she didn’t believe
his story, but the sight of the vehicle lifted a weight off her shoulders. It
was something tangible and real. It was proof that she wasn’t the only living
human wandering these streets.
Cybil soon came to a halt. The road in front of her simply stopped;
crumbling down into what appeared in the fog to be a bottomless pit. It would
be suicidal to try to reach the road to Brahms from across this chasm. After
another hour of walking across town, Cybil found to her disbelief that the road
out of Silent Hill to the west, Finney Street, had collapsed as well.
Could there have been an explosion cause by a faulty gas line? Hard as it
was to swallow, it was possible that it was just a very inconvenient accident. But
as she trekked across town in a stunned daze, it became clear that this was no
coincidence. Every single road leading out of the city had been similarly
destroyed, leaving an impassable pit in its place. Not only did Cybil feel the
act was deliberate, she got an overwhelming sense of malice at the sight. Who
could have done possibly done this? It was something so impossible; she might
have looked at it as an act of God. Or perhaps, the devil. At the very least,
this was the work of human hands with a very sinister purpose.
The fog swirled in the pit, like smoke from a cauldron. It made it look
more like an endless abyss than a collapsed road. Cybil could easily imagine
that some sort of vile creatures could crawl up out of there at ay second. Every
route to freedom was sealed. The dense, grey canopy of fog still hung heavy
over the town, acting almost as a magic barrier trapping them all inside.
--
Harry was huddled underneath the front porch stairs of a house facing Levin
Street. White noise crackled from the radio in his pocket, steadily growing
louder. Above him, large wing flaps echoed across the empty street and a blurry
black shadow cut through the sheet of fog. It would hover off into the
distance, then slowly return again. It was looking for him.
He still had the handgun, but thanks to his panic during the last encounter
it was now empty and useless. The only other weapon he had was a thin steel
water pipe he picked up on his way back out of the alley, but it was so brittle
that he might just have a better chance making a run for it. And how badly he
wanted to run. His impatience and desperate need to see his daughter safe far
outweighed his fear, but he forced himself to wait.
He had tried to reach the school by Finny Street and Matheson Street, but
both roads seemed to have caved in, making it impossible to continue. He had
attempted to bypass the road by breaking into any number of the houses that
lined the street, but every last door and window was locked and stood firm
against any blows from his steel pipe. He should be glad the homes were so well
protected, but right now it was only making his mission more difficult. It
almost felt like someone went out of their way to make sure Harry couldn’t
reach the school…
It was when he reached the Matheson Street chasm, right as he was beginning
to lose hope, when something caught his eye. At the edge of the pit atop a pile
of crumbled concrete, he found another message from Cheryl. Like the first
note, it was scrawled in big letters over two sketchbook pages. The first read
“DOG HOUSE,” the second read “LEVIN ST”. He remembered seeing a dog house in
front of one of the houses on the street. That had to be the way. If he could
just smash his way into that house, he could jump the fence in the back yard
and make a run for the school.
It never occurred to him what an amazing coincidence it was to find that
note where he did. The suspicion that finding a note written by his daughter
telling him exactly where to go at exactly the moment he needed it might be too
good to be true never even crossed his mind. His thoughts were only on Cheryl,
his precious little girl. She’s out there now, alone and afraid…
I have to go now! Harry inched out from
under the porch stairs, holding his breath in anticipation. It was right there.
The dog house was in his sights, sitting tantalizingly out of reach. He sat
motionless, waiting for the flying monster to move away again so he could make
a run for it. His legs itched with the desire to run, to carry his as fast as
possible to that house. To Cheryl.
Another sound reached his ears. A faint tapping along with the sound of wet
meat slapping against the asphalt. A dog, just as gruesome and deformed as the
one that attacked him on the way to the alley, was wandering down the street. Harry
clenched the steel pipe tighter in his sweaty hands. If the dog spotted him,
not only would he be forced to fight it but that would inevitably draw the
bird’s attention. He doubted his odds against one of the monsters, let alone
both of them.
Icy beads of sweat slid down Harry’s forehead. Now or never. He locked his
sights on the yard with the doghouse and dashed from his hiding place. He
couldn’t hear the sound of wings and he was running in the opposite direction
the dog was traveling. For one glorious second, Harry thought he was in the
clear. Then he heard barks from behind him. They were quickly followed by claws
scraping the pavement and rapidly closing in. Harry pushed himself even harder,
desperately sprinting the last few yards to the front door. He stumbled over
the first few porch steps, but regained his footing and made it to the front
entrance.
He’d done it. He’d outrun the hellhound as was now only a few precious
seconds from safety. At least, he would have been had the door not been firmly
and heartlessly locked.
“Come on…” Harry begged the doorknob as he tried fruitlessly to force his
way inside. He slammed his fist against the side of the house and yelled for
help, but he was rewarded only with silence. The blood drained from his face.
Inches away from sanctuary, yet trapped in the path of a vicious monster. Harry
pressed his back against the cold wooden door and held the steel pipe in front
of him. He was, at that moment, prepared to fight to his grave. Although, once
that dog got ahold of him he wasn’t sure how much of him would be left to fill
a grave. The starving beast leapt at him, its black eyes burring with feral
rage and its jaws dripping with drool. A gust of wind tore across the patio,
forcing Harry to cover his face. When he opened his eyes, the dog was gone. A
piercing cry, like nails scraping against glass, ripped through the air. The
familiar sound of wings mixed with yelps of pain and more horrid screeching. The
monstrous bird had captured its prey.
Harry could hardly believe his eyes. The monsters were cannibalizing each
other! The terror of imminent death gave way to overwhelming relief that
drained his strength and sent him to his knees. It was all too much. The
suffocating shroud of fog, his fear for his only daughter, the ever-looming
threat of death at the hands of creatures that defied rational explanation…it
was beginning to make him feel light-headed.
Snap out of it! You can’t lose it now. You’re
her father, if you don’t save Cheryl, no one else will! Harry breathed in deeply
and pulled himself to his feet. He shakily made his way back down the steps.
The dog house. That’s what it said on the sketchbook page. That was his last
hope. The small hut was empty; half of a broken chain was all that remained of
the watchdog lived inside. A gleaming key was taped to the back wall. The house
owners must have put it here for their dog to guard. How Cheryl knew this was
here Harry had no clue, but he was grateful she did.
The key opened the door without issue and once inside, Harry locked the
door and breathed a long sigh of relief. This house, like the rest of the town,
seemed to be abandoned. Despite the desperate situation, there was still an
unsettling feeling that came with trespassing in a stranger’s house. Like
someone could jump out at you at any moment…
Only one thing grew stronger than his unease: the emptiness in his stomach.
He passed through the living room and dining room into the kitchen and straight
to the refrigerator. The food inside looked good enough. He grabbed a can of
beer and finished it off in a matter of seconds. He popped open another can and
drank between handfuls of ham and cheese. He hadn’t eaten anything since noon. The
plan had been to take Cheryl to a nice French restaurant by the lake for a
special dinner. He heard great things about the salmon meuniere, and Cheryl had always
wanted to eat at a fancy place like that. Harry never thought he’d be alone and
scavenging food from a stranger’s kitchen.
The alcohol had done its work to calm his frayed nerves and the food had
filled him and restored some of his vigor. Much as he would have loved to stay
and rest even longer, there was still work to be done before he could depart. Harry
began to search the empty home for anything that could be of use. Ideally he
wanted something that could replace his empty pistol as a suitable weapon. As
he dug through closets and drawers, he prayed the former residents weren’t
pro-gun control.
His prayer was answered when he found a nine millimeter handgun much like
his own stuffed in the bedroom nightstand. Unfortunately, it came with little
spare ammo; the magazine contained twelve bullets and the cartage box, only
seven. It wasn’t much, but he’d much rather have this than rely on the steel
pipe. He discarded the empty gun and put the extra rounds in his pocket. He was
also lucky enough to happen upon a small emergency flashlight. It would be
invaluable once night fell.
Having collected everything of use, Harry made his way to the back door. He
wasn’t prepared for what he found on the other side: a wall of pitch-black
darkness. It was mid-afternoon when he entered the house, and he’d only been
inside a half hour at the most. Whatever was causing the bizarre events was not
content with just manipulating the weather, now it was altering the flow of
time. None of that mattered though. He’d walk out into a hurricane if it meant
holding Cheryl safe in his arms again. Even if the world ended and God and the
devil clashed in these very streets, he’d endure it all for her. Relying on
nothing but a dim flashlight and a faint hope, Harry charged into the town dyed
black with darkness.
--
“So night has fallen already…” Dahlia Gillespie whispered and she gazed out
over the town from the church steeple.
“Darkness spills over the earth…like black tears from heaven…” A bitterly
cold night breeze disturbed the black fog and tugged at the veil on her head. The
snow white veil was the sign that marked her as a humble servant of The Lord. Though
faithful as she had been to her God after so many long years, the road had not
been easy. Through those seven years of hardships and humiliation, her devotion
never wavered. Now she would be rewarded for her tireless efforts. The world
would enter a shining new age, the people would bow before their new God, and
she too would receive honor and glory beyond imagination.
“To those who look down on you with contempt
To those who hold not the same glowing light in their hearts
May you, Oh Lord
With judgment swift and fair
Cast them into the hungry mouth of Hell
To suffer their eternal punishment”
A wrinkled smile rose to Dahlia’s lips as she intoned her prayer. Anxious
as she was for the hour during which her words would come true, there was one
last piece that had yet to fall into place: The Holy Mother. The blessed vessel
by which God could be brought into the world. Without Her, the ritual would be
impossible.
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