CHRIS

Chris stabs into the dark, but hits nothing. The grinding of machina sends light vibrations through the floorboards. On the desk, the socket there the bulb was screwewd begins to spark.

Down the hall, the creature comes closer, now only two rooms away.

DELILAH

Delilah, at the fifth vehicle, has popped the trunk, revealing a crowbar and a roll of duct tape, which she appropriates. However, the time spent searching the vehicles has given the creatures time enough to come within six feet of her. The flesh at the crown of their heads splits and rolls down slowly, the celophane blisters and peels away in thin strips, birthing slick, wet misshapen torsos, their sides bulging and writhing where arms move trapped beneath the remains of their flesh.

The closest one throws its head back, releasing a hissing shriek and a stream of black brackish filth. The ground bubbles and hisses and smokes where the foul spray lands.

FOR CINDI

Behind the U shaped counter, Cindi has discovered a large can of hairspray and there is a keyring on a shoelace lanyard. The keyring holds six keys. Though none of them are very remarkable at all, they are smaller than average. She sees, on the lefthand shelves under the counter, a cardboard box of rubber squeaky toys, a careboard box of cat collars, various sizes and colors, with small bells on them. A plastic tupperware container of rotting food. A stack of CD jewelcases, all empty, no sleeves or liner notes. A box of flyers. A pencil. There is a notebook with a cut out collage of pictures from magazines, words from newsprints. There is writing inside. On the back are the words I TOLD YOU SO. There might be more info inside it.

There is a first aid kit in the center of the shelves. it is a red plastic lunchbox type container. There is a plastic tub of dog treats with a lid.

There is nothing else under the counter.

The register looks as if someone has tried to pry it open.

HENTIETTA

Hank stares down the demon dog as they circle each other warily. In the dark, other eyes gleam wickedly, watching.

JOSH

Remains in the quiet of the Flower Shop hallway, unaware of the hell outside.

Chris goes to the doorway and closes the door, recoiling as he sees the creature shamble ever closer. Moving to the dresser, he tears through the drawers, pulling them from the dresser in the sparking light of the broken lamp, and using his Ipod's residual light as a dim flashlight to at least se what he's looking at.

With a fluid movement, Cindi opens her pack, and begins stuffing things in it. Hairspray? Sure! Keyring? Yeah! Pencil? Sure! Notebook? Yes! First Aid? Double yes! Flyers? Hmm... Cindi grabs the top one, and if the others underneath are different, then she'll just stuff the box in.

Cindi pauses for just a second looking at the collars. Hmm, she never tried that look before, oh but it'd take too long to find one she liked. Cindi bites her lip, and the shuffling makes her decision for her. She pulls out the flute from her pack. Well, it got her in this mess, maybe it'd get her out... nah, no time! She sticks the flute back in the pack, zips it up fluidly and puts it over her shoulder. Hmm, the flyers made it a bit heavy, ohwell, no time!

Without a second thought, Cindi grabs the thing of icky food and hurls it at the ugly thing shuffling around. Hmm, good idea. She throws other things too, pelting the thing with the rubber squeaky toys and cd cases as hard as she can until she's out of those or the thing falls over or it gets too close for comfort, at which point she'll run (unless it falls over and stays fallen). Where to? Somewhere less crowded! (Yes, one of those creatures is a crowd in this case!)

He stood in the center of the room for long moments, staring at it’s ruins, and entirely unsure what to do. He didn’t know what was up with the strange time unit, or all the cards. Infact he wasn’t sure what it was at all. To him it didn’t even matter.

Suddenly a strange soft music drew his attention. Cocking his head and raising an eyebrow he glanced around the room and back through the hallway he had just traversed. It sounded like a flue…but he couldn’t tell where it was coming from. It was as if the music was coming from all over at once.

Glancing over the room once more, he determined there was nothing here that was of use to him. Without thinking he starts for the unmarked door beside the unit, and pushes it open….

The creeps came closer and Delilah, shocked at the transformations, screamed. At first, she didn't know where the sound was coming from till her throat started hurting, and then she realized that sound, that horrified wail, was hers. Delilah staggered back, screaming still, and ran, tire iron in hand with her bag, but suddenly stopped. The thing that had spit had the keyring, didn't it?

She didn't know what the keys opened but she couldn't pass the opportunity by. Stomach in knots, she ran for it and swung the tire iron at it's head.

JOSH

Josh opens the door beside the timeclock and is struck by the absoluteness of the black emptiness before him. Where there should have been a room, there was only a deep, gaping nothingness, lightless and soundless. Though he can not tell by any spatial relations how deep it goes, it appears endless and limitless.

Suddenly, there is a light, a tiny pinpoint of white against the obsidian silence, and it grows in dimension as it appears to approach. It appears suddenly like a movie screen. Reaching out, Josh hesitates, his hand hanging in the air as suddenly images appear on the whitness.

A home movie.

Josh watches. It's black and white with video from a hospital room. A nurse brings an infant to a woman in th ebed. The mother looks ill, haunted, with dark rings under her eyes, and sunken cheeks, but when the child in placed in her arms, she seems to brighten, and she stares down at it with adoration in her eyes.

A second nurse brings in a second infant and the mother holds them both, looking from one to the other with love. She leans back and closes her eyes. The nurses rush to the infants and take them, place them in carts. There is a flurry of activity and jostling of the camera, and when it stabilizes, when the camera is steady again, it is in time to watch a nurse draw a sheet over the body of the mother.

There is another scene playing as soon as the first ends. A father stands at two small graves that sit on each side of a larger one. The camera moves too quickly to read the name. Josh slams the door shut, confused and uncertain, and returns to the office/lounge.


DELILAH

The being who spit thick black acid does contain the keyring in it's slick decomposing cavity. The tire iron whistles though the air and connects, driving into the skull. The metal sinks in and sticks. As she tries to wrench it free, the keyring drops from the rotting chest. Delilah kicks the creature as she pulls the bar. the bar doesn't move.

Considering her options quickly, delilah would rather live than become a corpse herself. She releases her hold on the bar, grabs her things and the keyring and runs out of the lot, towards the street.

CHRIS

As he holds the iPod over the desk drawers for lighting, Chris finds a smallish wooden box with a small metal latch and a small lock, a flashlight, an invoice from the Silent Hill Flower shop, and apicture of a foxfaced teenager sitting on a snal headstone next to a larger one, with a smaller one beside it. She has wicked grin on her face, and there is black spray paint over the names on the headstones. There is can of spray paint on the ground.

In another drawer he finds a map of the town.

The creature is closer now, only a door away. Chris shoves his new things into his backpack and runs out of the Inn and up the street, and right into a tall slender woman with long dark hair.

CINDI & HANK


Hank's eyes dart wildly as she circles the snarling beast, her body tense and ready to break into a run. The switchblade in her hand trembles, the trwmbling is the only thing she feels. It reverberates along her arm, into her chest, where her heart pounds ceaselessly. Fear is an arcid, metallic tang the fills her dry mouth.

"Good doggy," she whispers, [raying to wake. "You're not real. This place isn't real. Or it's real because I'm dead."

Cindi, having fled the pet center with her new possessions, stops suddenly as Hank's voice is caught on the wind. At the sound of another person, Cindi is both concerned and elated, but she sees the eyes in the dark ahead, and the flash of those eyes off what she correctly assumes is a blade.

Realizing it could be anyone, good or bad, she hesitates a moment, deep in thought.

Screaming can be heard in the distance, the sounds of terror ripped from throats only a street away, but echoing eerily in the darkness. Suddnly, Cindi hears a closer scream, as a pair of eyes moves.

Cindi can hear growling, and the snapping of teeth, and she runs onward, towards the closest scream, in time to see a woman in black stab a doglike abomination in the eye with a switchblade. The woman staggers back, gasping for breath, a gaping bite wound on her left arm. The woman turns at the approach of another, and opens her mouth to scream, but all that escapes is a rasping choked cry.

"You..." the woman manages, "...you real? Are you f***ing real? Oh god..." and she drops to her knees hard, clearly unable to deal with more wierdness.

This is how Hank Preston met Cindi Lawran.

Panting slightly, Cindi walks up to the exhausted woman, keeping an eye on the still form of the dog.

"...you real? Are you f***ing real? Oh god..."
Cindi tilts her head, "That's a very good question." She says simply, not responding to Hank's question, but her own internal one, which was Just what is going on here? That's no dog...
Seeing the wound on the woman's arm, Cindi puts her backpack down and pulls out the first aid kit. Provided it has what it is supposed to have, Cindi bandages the arm, a bit tight, but not too tight because too tight it would... umm... it would do something... Oh well... another blank to be filled at some point. After bandaging the woman's arm, Cindi puts the kit away back in her backpack.

"While we're on the subject... I think my name is Cindi. Spelt with an 'i' at the end, not a 'y'. Who are you?" Cindi asks.

On the surface, Cindi stays calm, but inside it just feels so empty that for all she knew, perhaps this sort of thing was day-to-day life or something... what a wierd life this is... Trying not to think about the wierdness of it all... if it indeed is wierd, also helps Cindi stay calm. The most troubling thing for her is still her lack of memory. Oh well, hopefully she'd be able to fill in some of her blank memories soon.

Delilah ran from the parking lot thankful for the chance to escape. The keys bit into her hand and dripped ick and sick liquid from the creepers body, but she didn't care. She kept telling herself to move, to keep moving, until her momentum was forcibly stopped. She hit something and bounced hard.

Her tailbone sent a painful protest as she fell back hard on it, and she couldn't stop herself from completing the fall. The rest of her came down hard and she felt the pavement break her fall. THe back of her head bounced once.

With a growl and groan she rose and dusted herself off. Delilah collected her things that had dropped on impact and observed, for the first time, the object that stopped her.

"Hey! HEY! Oh my god, you're like a real person! I was startgint o think I was the only one. Do you... do you know where we are? How did we get here?"

She waited for a response and looked around, hoping they were safe, but being out in the open wasn't agood idea, she felt.

"Oh, hi. yeah, I'm so sorry about running into you like that but...well, you probaby wouldn't believe me if I told you."

She nodded as he spoke, and laughed nervously. "Okay, maybe you will, maybe you won't. There were these things, and they spit and they creep and... Hi. I'm Delilah. Delilah Drake."

She looked around, and fidgeted. "I think we should find a place to lay low. Maybe find some weapons or something..."

Chris grabbed the items from the drawer and shoved them into his backpack, making a mental note of the small metal box and the map of the town, keeping the map in hand, he finds himself overcome by a sudden sense of urgency to leave, and makes a mad dash for the street, leaving the shambling creeper in the hallway behind him. He had been glancing at the map of the town, trying to pinpoint locations of importance to head too, such as the city limits or the local sheriff’s office, when his progress was halted momentarily by the sudden impact of something, or someone. Instinctively, Chris’s map hand fell to his side as the one holding the table leg raised to strike, when a growl followed by a female voice caused him to halt as he looked over the young woman before him.

“Sorry, there miss” Chris said as he relaxed a little, letting the table drop along with his arm to tap against his steel toed boot.

Hey! HEY! Oh my god, you're like a real person! I was starting to think I was the only one. Do you... do you know where we are? How did we get here?"

Chris looked over the woman who was obviously panicked, he himself was far from relaxed, but he needed to get her to slow down before she hyperventilated or her head exploded. “Calm down lady, it’s alright. I’m as real as anything last time I checked, and it’s nice to see another pretty face, the company back their in Jack’s Inn wasn’t the most eye-pleasing.” Something about the woman before him struck him as oddly familiar, though he couldn’t place his finger on it.

Glancing around he held up the map he had found, pointing to the Name by the margin. “Looks like we’re somewhere called Silent Hill, but I can’t for the life of me remember how, or why I got here, which means I’m thinking we’re both in the same boat.”

She waited for a response and looked around, hoping they were safe, but being out in the open wasn't agood idea, she felt.

"Oh, hi. yeah, I'm so sorry about running into you like that but...well, you probaby wouldn't believe me if I told you."

“At this point lady, I’d believe just about anything.” Chris said with a smirk, dusting off his SWAT vest and pants from the dust that had gathered while crawling around on the floor.

She nodded as he spoke, and laughed nervously. "Okay, maybe you will, maybe you won't. There were these things, and they spit and they creep and... Hi. I'm Delilah. Delilah Drake."

She looked around, and fidgeted. "I think we should find a place to lay low. Maybe find some weapons or something..."

That’s it, he knew she looked familiar. “Deliliah Drake huh, I’m Chris, pleasure’s mine I’m sure, but now isn’t the best time for pleasantries. Chris clipped his Ipod into the comm.-pocket on his SWAT vest, and pulled a couple items from his backpack. The first was the flashlight, which he tested quickly to see if it worked. (Need description of the type of flashlight please) The Second, was the photograph he found titled Del by the Lake. Turning it slowly he let’s Delilah take a peek at it (while he or perhaps both try and notice any similarities).

“You’re right, staying out here in the open isn’t safe. We should find Shelter. I’ve a feeling Jack’s Inn has a lot more answers to be found within, but until we’re better prepared to search it, I’d rather not take my chances with those things inside.” Glancing at the Map, he notices they are not too far from Nathan Ave. “Let’s make our way towards the Texxon Gas Station, See if we can’t find anyone who can help us. If not, Nathan will take us straight out of town, We can try and gather some provisions and take our chances out on the road. If we can find a working vehicle, that would be even better.”

Preston stared for long, agonized moments at the bangage around her arm. Already she could see the crimson blooms of fresh blood seeping to the surface of the bandage.

"I'm...I'm Hank," she said quetly, and forced herself to look at her nurse. "Jesus, I hope that thing wasn't rabid. How did we get here? And where is here?"

Gritting her teeth against the pain, Preston made it to her feet and pulled the blade from the dog's eye. As she wiped it against her thigh, she pointed off into the dark.

"I think I heard screaming. But there was music too, and then everything went black. You know anything about that? Did you hear it too"

To say that the film was unsettling in this circumstance, to a man with no recollection of who he was, except for his name and age, was an understatement. Collapsing in one of the three chairs at the table, he ran his fingers along his temples, and stared blankly at the shattered computer at the desk across the room for long moments. Perhaps he really was dead? Certainly while this place appeared earthly, the blackness of that room…that void…had no room in this world.

And what of the film? The final image of the three graves lingered in his minds eye, and he couldn’t say why it unsettled him, but it did. When at last, he determined he had had enough of sitting around, he stood and looked at the vending machines. Needing something to do to take his mind off of….everything, he strolled up to the vending machine, and studied the lock. If the locks are in place, he will find something to smash the face open and get something to drink, if possible.

Following the bout with the vending machine, he stood, glancing around the room. Among the binders that lined the cabinet, one caught his eye. SILENT HILL. Why it caught his attention, he didn’t know, but it did. Perhaps simply because the name was more interesting then the others. Nomatter, without hesitation he strolled over to the cabinet and removed the binder, before returning to the table, and peering within…..

The metallic glint in the first aid kit when she opened it was not a welcome sight to Cindi, even moreso when she realized what it was. Guns, She thought sadly, Unless you're a good shot, you use up ammo far too quickly. Better save it for later. Wordlessly, Cindi put the kit away.

"I'm...I'm Hank," she said quetly, and forced herself to look at her nurse. "Jesus, I hope that thing wasn't rabid. How did we get here? And where is here?"
Cindi looks at Hank helplessly, and shrugs, "I really have no idea, but it doesn't really matter does it? We're here, and that's all there is to it."

"I think I heard screaming. But there was music too, and then everything went black. You know anything about that? Did you hear it too?"
Cindi visibly winces at the second part, "That would be this." She says, pulling the metal flute out of her backpack, "I did not expect it to be out of tune when I played it, and I can't tune it because it's solid." she pouts.

Almost out of habit, Cindi raises the flute and plays. She doesn't remember the fingerings, so she improvises, wincing but continuing when the fingering results in an incredibly odd note. All in all, it didn't seem to be too bad, once you got over the fact that it was all out of tune because of the flute. The melody, if you can call somewhat random notes put together a melody, is slightly solemn, and seems to have a lot more scales in it than anything else, but Cindi still plays it well for not remembering how to play it.

CHRIS AND DELILAH

Though Delilah could not say if it was her, Chris saw many distinct similarities in both "Del at the Lake" and Delilah. Butmore than that, she seemed familiar to him, as if he had seen her before, talked to her, as if they were... it escapes him before he can grasp it but truth is there, just out of reach.

The flashlight decides that it will only work for three seconds at a time before taking a 15 second break. With this in mind, they move slowly and remain close, almost at the hip, and though eyes stare out at them from the dark, they make it to the corner of Nathan and Carroll.

Unfortunately, the road is gone. Nathan no longer extends past Carroll but ends sharply. Concrete and stone are ripped, torn, as if someone has reached down and somply torn away the road. THe ends of the street are raised and twisted, and Delilah gets as close to the endge as possible in order to get a better view.

There is nothing. It is simply barren, empty, and devoid of anything. No up, no down, no light, only bleak blackness. Delilah steps back on shifting rubble and falls on her tailbone. Screaming obscenities at the dark, she wipes away frustrated tears. Chris helps her to her feet and turns to the gas station.

The pumps have been ripped form the ground. There is one car, a white BMW, but it has been sheared in half. There are nine of the sightless shambling creatures. THey are bent over the body of a tenth, tearing chcnks of flesh from it and stuffing it into their gaping mouths. Delilah backs away slowly, clinging to Chris' hand.

Realizing that she can't simply keep going backwards, she grips Chris' hand tighter and whispers "RUN!"

She leads him down Nathan till the sound of screaming and that offtune flute stop them in their tracks.

The screaming, they realize, has come from a human being, hopfuly one still alive.

Before deciding to break the plexiglass front of the vending machine, Josh tries the buttons and is surprised to find that it works magnificently, as does the soda machine, thogh the can is warm.



The binder is a list of alll purchases made for floral arrangements for the funeral parlor and local cemetary. The ledger entries are listed in collums labled ORDER DATE, DELIVERY DATE, NAME, PLOT, MESSAGE, PURCHASER. Josh scans each page, stopping at his own name. The order and delivery date are April 17th, and the purchaser is listed as Cindi Lawran. There are three other entries for that date.

Hank Preston appears, according to the ledger, to buried beside him, as well as Delilah Drake beside Hank and Chris Chatterton on Delilah's other side. There is a message with each name. Josh's message is PLEASE HELP ME.. Hank's is COVER YOUR EYES OR LOSE THEM. Delilah's is THE SKELETONS IN YOUR CLOSET ARE COMING TO GET YOU. Chris's message is THIS ONE TASTES LIKE LIES.



A photograph falls out from between pages. It's a picture of Josh as he is sitting right now, at the table with the binder, holding the photograpgh. Pain explodes within his head; he drops the photo and clutches his head, groaning, and knocks the binder off the table in the process.

After long, agonizing moments, the pain subsides without explantion and he reaches down for the book, only to catch sight of the page it has fallen open to. It is a newspaper clipping from many years ago, about a fire in the local church. There were several deaths, according to the article, but all the names involved have been blacked out with marker.



As he reads the article, he can almost feel the heat of the blaze warming his body, can almost hear the snap and pop of dry wood succumbing to flame. He tastes ash on his tongue, smells the burning. He can almost see flescks of soot on his hands, yet there is nothing there. The image and sensations are so strong, so intense, that Josh realizes it's a memory. He remembers the church burning, recalls standing before it as flames cleansed it's hypocracy.

But he can not remember the catalyst, the reason for torching the church, only that he watched it burn to the very foundation. All that came before is still blank, as is all that happened after. Suddenly, there is a knock at the door, teh one he had opened into the films.