Chapter Text
You don't remember it being like this, and at first, you think you’ve taken a wrong turn somewhere. The air is too thick with fog for early autumn and the asphalt is cracked all to hell, making the car shake as you drive. Dave shifts next to you, probably squinting through his shades to try and see through the gloom. It's dark enough with the fog to be past five, but the clock says it’s barely two. Dave's iPod is playing Celine Dion softly. You lost the radio over an hour ago.
"Really happy place, John," Dave mutters as he looks out the window. He turns his head at an awkward angle to try and see straight up. "Can definitely feel all the happy childhood memories flooding in. Making me all warm and fuzzy just imagining you playing catch with your Dad out here, ball smashing you in your face."
"Shut up, Dave," you mumble, eyes focused on the road. "I think we're lost. This can't be the place." Dave doesn't say anything, just picks up the map. You lost the GPS an hour ago. You keep watching the shadows of trees pass by, the fog mostly obscuring them and forcing you to slow down. You're barely going twenty. "The fog was never this bad off the lake. Maybe we're on the other side. Shepherds Glen maybe? Dad always did say that town had tr-"
"Pretty sure we're in the right place, Egderp," Dave interrupts and gestures to the side of the road. You still don't get how his eyesight can be so good with those damn shades. Maybe you should get your prescription checked. About time you did. Ever since you moved out shit like that has been harder to keep track of. Your Dad had always set up appointments for you.
"Welcome to Silent Hill," Dave says in his most lackluster voice. "Home of the bustling Toluca lake theme park where Robbie the Rabbit will gladly fuck you up the ass for a smile."
"Shit, Dave, leave Robbie out of this."
"Dude, the rabbits fucking creepy." Dave folds up the map again. "Even you admit to crying around the thing."
"I was like, four, Dave."
"Kids know when shits not right, John. You knew he was a creepy fuck then, know it now. Not all bunnies are good, and that is one bunny that needs to be shoved back in its box and left in the trunk. Maybe add a few chains and locks just to be sure."
You snort but inwardly agree. Robbie is fucking creepy.
You drive a short while longer in silence as you both stare through the fog. Shifting in your seat, you glance down at the letter stuffed in the cupholder. You can just barely see your Nana’s address printed at the top as the return address. You don’t need to see the carefully written words anymore, you’ve practically got the thing memorized, and what it says isn’t good.
Dear John,
It is taking longer to close Nana’s estate than I originally thought. Cell towers are down thanks to the storms, and the phone lines are still down as well. I will make sure to keep you updated via post as much as possible, though with some of the roads being out I am not sure how well that will work. I will send a letter every week to keep you up to date.
Hope this letter finds you well and that you and Dave will be coming back for Thanksgiving. Keep getting good grades son, I'm so proud of you.
Love,
Dad
P.S. Did you boys get your care packages?
The letter had shown up over three weeks ago at your dorm. There had been no other contact since then. Dave had been trying to assure you the mail service was just having issues getting out, all the northern storms flooding out whole towns, Silent Hill included. When the weather had cleared and still no word, you had decided to skip a Friday's worth of class and head out to find your Dad. Dave had thrown in with you.
“Hey, legally he’s my Dad too,” he had said with a wink.
“He’s your Dad, legal or not.” You had jostled each other, thrown bags in the car, and taken off.
You grip the wheel tight and try not to think about the letter. A fat lot of good that does you. Your eyes keep darting to it, lingering.
Not for the first time you think you should have gone to help him. Nana had been his only family beside you. You have no idea where your mother is or if she’s even alive, and neither does he. He had come back to your childhood home to bury his mother alone for all you know. You hadn't even asked if she had had any friends besides her hospice worker.
You never really cared.
"Hey, John."
You could have come, your teachers would have understood.
"John, dude, slow down."
Kept Dad company and made sure he didn't have to be alone while burying Nana.
"John watch the fucking road!"
It's the panic in Dave's voice that finally gets you to snap out of it. You barely register that you’re going fifty and that there is something large looming up out of the fog. You think you see gray stone, but you can’t be sure as you swerve hard, going around it and trying to gain control. The wheel has a mind of its own and rips out of your hand. You hear Dave swear next to you.
He grabs your arm as you hit something, a low wall? The car jackknifes as Celine's voice turns to a roaring static. You go weightless.
The world is in slow motion as you look over at Dave. His shades seem to be floating off his nose. He cracks a smile that makes your gut wrench. He starts talking as the car begins to come down.
"Welcome home, Egber-"
The car rams something, your head hits the steering wheel, and the world goes black.
------
"She was nothing but a filthy whore leaving you with him."
You don't like the yelling.
"Mother please."
You don't like Daddy being sad. All you can see is cream colored walls, and hear the yelling.
You want it to stop.
---
It's much too warm beneath the afghan. The scratchy wool is up to your chin, covering everything as you blink up at the blurry ceiling. It takes you a moment to realize your glasses are missing. Shifting, you try and look for them, and a dull ache throbs behind your eyes.
“Fuuuck,” you groan as you go back to lying still.
"Back in the land of the living, are we my boy?" The voice makes you jump and stifle another moan of pain as you force yourself to turn your head. There is someone moving on the other side of the room, bustling about before coming close; a man. He hands you your glasses before helping you sit up and you slip them on. The world spins, and the best you can do is look at him out of your peripheral vision as you focus on your knees. Once you can actually sit up and turn towards him you find that his hair is all salt and pepper, but mostly salt, and is rumpled much like your own. His clothing makes you think of those British shows you sometimes stumble upon when you’re bored in the dorm, and he has a wide smile on his wrinkled face.
"Thought I was going to lose you there for a little while, what with you and that blonde fellow stumbling out of the woods like you did." He has you sitting up almost fully, head spinning as he helps you swing your legs over the side of what seems to be a couch before leaning you against the backrest. "Still amazed he could move like he was with that bump on his head and arm like it was. Quite a bit of spirit in that one."
It’s hard to listen to him. You feel like you’re gonna puke, and he must realize it because he is shoving a bucket into your hands just before you retch up bile and pieces of what's left of the shitty fast food from earlier.
"Get it all out," he says soothingly, rubbing your back while you continue to retch into the plastic receptacle. "There's a good lad, nothing wrong with letting out the bad." And you do, wave after wave of nausea flooding through you before you can finally take in a breath without it making your stomach roll.
“Wh-where’s Dave,” you pant out as you look around the room. He isn’t in there with you, and when you look up at the old man he is smiling sadly. You find yourself staring up into his eyes; a deep green that is slowly yellowing due to cataracts and age.
“He’s fine,” the man tells you as he continues to rub your back soothingly. “Just have him in the bed. Was a bit more banged up than you I’m afraid, though we got him nice and patched. He’s taking a nice rest now.”
The news makes your chest loosen some, though you still find yourself feeling dizzy. A few deep breaths later and you feel at least somewhat human. You shift around where you sit, feel patches of pain, but nothing horrible. You can see bruises on your arms, feel like you’ve been hit with a rod over your chest, and know you have a lovely bruise thanks to your seat belt. Your hips feel bruised as well, and when you look at your leg you can see it has been wrapped in gauze. Even so, it feels like you can stand.
“Can I see him?” Your voice is still shaking, but at least you can tell now there isn’t anything broken.
“Of course,” he says softly and helps you stand, eyes flicking to the injury. “And don’t worry about that, it's nothing more than a bad scratch.” You hiss when you put weight on the leg.
‘That feels like more than just a scratch.’ You’re going to be limping for a while. He leads you out of the small living room.
“Come on, that’s a good lad.” He leads you down the hall to a door that is partially opened. While helping you stand, he pushes the door open. What you see makes you let out a small whine.
“Oh shit, Dave,” you breathe and pull away from the man. He lets you go as you limp to the bed, hand hovering over Dave’s arm. He has a nasty-looking bruise on his head and small cuts all over his face. He also has an afghan pulled over him, the only thing on the bare bed. The pillow under his head looks like it’s meant more for decoration than use.
“He told me the airbag cover gave him a good smack to the head.”
It’s hard not to jump when the man starts talking. “That you knocked yourself out on the wheel when you hit a tree. It’s a damn miracle he didn’t have a concussion, same with you.”
You give him a confused look.
“I checked you both out when he brought you in, though I dare say you won’t remember it. I wouldn’t have let either of you sleep with a concussion.”
“So he’s going to be okay?” You put your hand on his shoulder. It feels swollen like it was badly hurt.
“He’ll be fine,” the man says. He takes you gently by the shoulder and turns you towards the door. “For now, your friend just needs to rest. He has a bad arm and was exhausted by the time he got you here.” You go with him, looking one last time over your shoulder to see Dave. The old gentleman leads you down the hall, back through the living room, and into a kitchen. On the way, you realize that everything in the house is covered in dust sheets and the main light is from the dim sunlight coming through the fog-filled windows, a couple of battery-powered lamps, and a few candles.
“What time is it?” you ask as he sits you down at the kitchen table.
“About seven I think.” He looks at his watch. “You boys slept through the night, thank goodness, though I thought you were both going to wake up multiple times. Seems that crash gave you both night terrors.” He pushes the button on some sort of kettle before sitting down with a slight groan. “Kept me up half the night going back and forth.”
“Sorry,” you say softly and look up at him then around the kitchen. It is barren except for a box and the kettle. “You just move in or...”
He gives a laugh. “No no, just ended up here. This old church is one of the last few standing structures out here. I’m guessing the priest headed out when things got bad, not that I can blame him. He’s a good fellow, though, so I doubt he’ll mind that I’ve been squatting. I’ve been bringing over things from my ranch the last few days, doing my best to salvage what I can. Had a couple of large trees fall on my roof, and even if some of the rooms are intact, it’s much drier here.” He reaches into the loose jacket he is wearing, a deep green one over his brown button-up shirt, and from it, he pulls a small pipe and bag of tobacco. You watch him pack the bowl. It’s a comforting movement; one you’ve seen your Dad complete multiple times.
“Going to sell what I can of my old trophies and that old place before I ship off for the last great adventure.” He tucks the tobacco pouch back into his coat. “Would leave the land to family if I had any left, but I’ll take what it gets me and head off to Africa for one more go.” He lights the pipe and takes a few puffs, the smell of sweet tobacco smoke filling the room. “Though with how the town seems to be faring now, I doubt those old acres will fetch me enough for a plane ticket.”
You nod, only half listen as you stare out the window over the sink and think about the bruise on Dave’s head. Despite knowing he’s had worse you’re still worried. Concussion or not, you doubt the strifes he had been in as a kid can be compared to a car accident.
“So what about you my boy?” The direct question makes you jump as he pats the table to draw your attention back.
“John,” you say back instead. This man calling you ‘his boy’ rubs you the wrong way for some reason. “My name's John.”
He nods and lifts his hand to shake yours.
“English, Jake English.”
You shake his hand. It's surprising how good his grip is. When you pull away he leans back in his chair.
“So John, what has you visiting this sorry little place?”
“My Dad’s gone missing.” The words make Jake’s eyebrow raise.
“Really now?”
“Yeah,” you run a hand through your hair. “He came up to set my Nana’s stuff to rights or whatever. She passed away about a month ago, right before those big storms.” Jake just nods, listening and waiting for you to continue as he puffs. “We lost contact about three weeks ago, no phone, text, e-mail, letters. It just all stopped. Dave and I thought it was because of the weather, but when we learned people were getting messages out we got worried, came up here.” You look out the window. “Maybe it wasn’t the best idea.”
Jake just nods and smokes, eyes looking past you as he sits thinking. After a few moments of you twiddling your thumbs and wondering if you should go back to Dave’s room, he starts speaking again, voice much more thoughtful.
“I came back just a few days ago, thought I’d see what I could salvage of my ranch.” An almost perfect smoke ring comes from his mouth as he gestures to the window. “I found most of the streets are out and the winds took the power lines with them. The post-office was destroyed during the storms as well, so that might explain why you haven’t gotten any more mail.” He looks at you with a smile, like this should make you feel better, but in reality, it just makes your stomach clench. “I bet he is doing just fine, probably up at your Nana’s house right now, holed up while he waits for this damned fog to clear out.” You nod gently and look back out the window. The fog looks a little lighter, but everything is still muted. A shrill whistle makes you jump.
“There we are,” Jake says and stands with a soft grunt before stepping over the kettle and pulling two mismatched mugs from the box. “Bit of tea should wake you up I bet. Get you feeling set to rights.” You watch him take two tea bags and drop them into the mugs. You want to tell him you don’t drink tea, but instead, you stay silent. In a few moments, he sets a mug in front of you, turns back to the box to pull out a little bag of mini-muffins, and then sits back down.
“So tell me now, Jade, how-”
“John,” you correct as you reach for the offered muffins. Now that your stomach is empty you find that you are hungry.
He blinks at you a moment before shaking his head a bit.
“Yes, yes of course. Sorry about that. Old slip of the noggin.” The smile he gives you doesn’t quite seem sincere.
“Who’s Jade?” You pop a muffin into your mouth and then pick up the mug, even if it's just to let the heat seep into your hands, and do your best to lock your attention on Jake as you chew. The muffin is a bit stale but still good.
“Just a young lass I once knew, no offense to you of course,” he says quickly. “You are most definitely a fine young man, but you have some striking similarities of face. Could be her brother.” The last bit comes out a little wistful. Sad.
“Yeah...well,” you take a sip of the tea and wince. It tastes like bitter hot water and nothing else. “Do you think Dave will be okay when he wakes up? Or will wake up soon?” Jake looks at you a bit startled.
“Really I couldn’t tell you. With that bump on the head and dragging you down the path from the lookout, it’s anyone’s guess.” He takes a swig of tea and then exhales with a sigh of happiness. “You didn’t make it here 'til well past nightfall. I was still amazed he even found me here in all that fog.”
“Dave’s got good instincts like that,” you reply, pop another muffin in your mouth, and then look out the window. Your hands are itching with the warmth from the mug and your foot bounces. Your Dad is out there, somewhere. “Could Dave stay here if I left?”
Jake’s eyebrows go up again and he sets the ceramic cup down gently.
“So eager to get back out into the world?” The look he gives you is both of concern and...pride? It's unnerving.
“I need to find my Dad, and if I can get to Nana’s house fast enough, I should be able to get back with him before nightfall. Get the three of us out of this place.” You stand and feel the ache in your leg. This Jake guy, even if he does give you the creeps, seems to know what he is doing. Besides, it could be a while before Dave wakes up if your recuperation is any indication. It was just past two when you were knocked out, and now it’s past seven in the morning. Dave had gone through even more shit than you had and had fallen asleep only a few hours ago. It would be better to let him rest and go find your Dad yourself.
“A good plan my boy.” He waggles a finger at you and winks. “And of course I will watch your friend for ya. But first-” He stands again and you can tell that it is somewhat laborious for him to get up and down so much. “You will need a few things.” Shuffling back to the box, he starts pulling out a few items. A flashlight, some protein bars, a bottle of water, and a map. He brings them to the table, setting them in front of you. “I would tell you to stick around for some more breakfast, but besides the muffins, all I really have is some bread and my skillet, plus I can tell a boy with grit such as yourself is wanting to head off on his own adventure as soon as possible.”
You just nod and look at the items. You should have enough room for them in your cargo shorts. The only other thing on you is your phone and the pocket knife your father gave you for your fifteenth birthday. The one with Happy Birthday, John engraved into it.
“Thank you, Mr. English,” you say as you slide open zippers and start putting items inside. The bars and water take up your two larger pockets on the left side, and the flashlight fills one of the others on the right.
“Call me Jake, lad,” Jake replies. “And don’t worry about it. Just bring you and your father back safe and sound and we will be even.”
You open the map and look it over. Your Nana lived near the Lakeside Amusement Park if you remember correctly.
“Where are we on here?”
Jake comes around the table to look over the map. It takes him a moment before he points his finger near the bottom right corner. 'Dargento Cemetery,' it says. You shiver. Jake seems to notice.
“Don’t worry, you won’t have to walk through it, just follow the fence to the gate and follow this path.” He points at a path leading away from the cemetery. “Follow it until you hit Sanders St., and don’t bother with Pleasant River Rd. The bridge went out during the storms.”
You nod and look over the map. You need to get around the lake.
“Is this road out?” You point at Nathan Avenue.
“Unfortunately, yes, the bridge was washed out there too. You need to get across the lake?” Jake studies the map as he asks.
“Yeah, Nana lived over here.” You point at Levin road and Jake hums.
“Well then, you can always see if anything survived at the marina." He claps you on the shoulder as he says it, making you jolt. “The best of luck to you.” His hand seems to linger much too long.
“Yeah...” you say and shrug it off as gently as possible. “Thanks.” Folding the map back up, you tuck it into your pocket. “I guess I should be going now.”
Jake smiles and nods.
“Right you are, time for you to go on your own adventure.” Jake walks back over to the box and pulls out a pad of paper and a pen before handing them to you. “You may want to leave your friend a note before you go. I doubt I can stop him if he goes after you.” You take the items and nod. He’s right, and it scares you a bit that he already understands that much about Dave. You jot down a quick note before standing and nodding at Jake. He nods back.
“I’ll be back tomorrow at the latest,” you say as you turn to head out of the kitchen. Jake follows you.
“Alright then, my boy.” Jake sounds oddly jovial. “But one last thing.”
You turn to watch him open a tall cupboard and pull a large hammer out of it. It looks almost like a miniature sledgehammer, the length about that of your forearm, and when you take it you are surprised at the heft. “Can’t go on an adventure without a weapon now can you.” The smile he gives you makes your mouth go dry.
“No,” you say softly and look down the hallway that leads to Dave’s room. “I guess you can’t.”