Chapter 1.2 (1/2)

Chapter One -Fog- (Part 2)

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 ma.s.s 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 n.o.body 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 doork.n.o.b, a harsh sound a.s.saulted 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 sc.r.a.ping against a chalkboard; it made his skin p.r.i.c.kle 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 ma.s.sive wings. It possessed vicious talons like a bird of prey; Harry could hear them sc.r.a.pe 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 h.e.l.l. 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 a.s.sault. 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, squis.h.i.+ng 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 b.l.o.o.d.y, flattened carca.s.s. 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.”