IV

Of course, it was his luck that as soon as he left the hospital, it began to rain. It wasn’t just a light drizzle, either, it was torrents of it, great sheets of precipitation that seemed to make the buildings sink into the ground. Running with the newspaper over his head for protection, Lucian made his way across the street and into the haphazard shelter of a bus station. Shaking his beaten trench coat free of water, he sat down between two elderly people and immediately reached into his pocket for a cigarette. There weren’t any, and he cursed under his breath.

He had three dollars and some change to his name at the moment, and three dollars wasn’t going to get him very far. He would have to bus it to South Ashfield, and most likely hitchhike or walk along the highway in order to get to Silent Hill.

Was he really doing this, he thought to himself, picking the dirt out from under his long fingernails. When he found himself climbing onto the bus without hesitation, he realized that he was, and was slightly disturbed by how easily he was going along with this particular hunch.

It’s probably not even her, said logic. You see a blonde girl in the paper and go chasing after shadows.

But it was her. He didn’t doubt it at all for some reason, didn’t doubt it one bit.

The rain ran down the windows in thick, streaming rivulets that reminded him, for some reason of insects--of slugs writhing about.

Mildly disgusted by his own imaginings, he leaned back in the seat as far as he could and closed his eyes, momentarily allowing his hearing to drown out all other senses.

An old woman was having a coughing fit, not too far away from him. Towards the back of the bus, or so he thought, a toddler was whimpering in fear. He could hear his mother trying to soothe him, her voice a low murmuring of nonsensical nothingness.

The rain pounded.

Slammed.

He really wished he had a cigarette.

“Hell with this,” he mumbled, abandoning his initial intention of falling asleep on the way to South Ashfield. He opened his eyes, stretched as much as he was able, and picked up the newspaper which he had used as an umbrella of sorts. The rain had blurred the lettering considerably, but her picture was still there. She looked up at him through her blurry veil of bad newspaper photography, her vacant eyes full of secrets and accusations.

Now that was a hell of a thought. Lucian actually cracked a grin at that, but there was no humor at all behind it, it was the kind of grin adorned by rotting skulls in graveyards.

She had nothing to accuse him about. Really. She didn’t.

It was not long before the bus pulled into its stop--a dumpy little station in the outskirts of South Ashfield. Lucian was the only one to get off, and as soon as he did--once again, with luck being on his side--the storm got even worse. Thunder roared overhead, indignant at some heavenly atrocity, and lightning illuminated the dingy sky in bright bursts of electric malice.

“Excellent,” Lucian mumbled, tossing the paper on the ground, shoving his hands deep in his pockets, and proceeding up the road that would lead him to town. He was not phased by the noise of the storm.

Of course, he could definitely think of someone--a pretty, petite, blonde someone, with huge blue eyes--who was horrified of thunder and lightning, someone who would cower under the covers and whimper, clinging to him for comfort.

It really was an awful part of town, he thought instead, peering up over his lapels and through the wet veil of the pouring rain. Boarded-up windows, police tape, garbage and all that. Not his preferred surroundings, and he had a hell of a lot of walking to do.

There was a beer can on the ground near his feet. Mildly, senselessly indignant, he kicked it and sent it shooting into a gutter.

“Straight-edge,” he mumbled, and smiled, though it certainly wasn’t funny.

“Hey!!”

Oh dear.

He heard the call, but chose to ignore it. He couldn’t remember the last time he was in this area, couldn’t remember whether or not he had screwed over a dealer or promised a girl he’d call her again…hell, couldn’t remember whether or not he had fucked the dealer’s girlfriend or not, it had been a really fucking long time--

“Hey YOU!!”

Well, no reason to pretend he was deaf, he was the only one around.

Sighing deeply, preparing himself for confrontation, he quit his stride, and turned to the left, where a late-model Taurus was idling along the side of the road.

“Yes?” he inquired.

The one who had tried for his attention was a redheaded woman with one hand on the wheel and the other flicking ash from a cigarette. He couldn’t see her very clearly.

“I was gonna offer you a ride,” she said. “It’s pouring out.”

Lucian took about five seconds to assess the situation.

Well, he certainly hadn’t expected anyone to just up and offer him a lift, that was for one, and two, this bitch had cigarettes. There was something at least.

“Aren’t you worried about ruining your upholstery?” he inquired, smiling a smile that was really quite charming, despite his drug-ravaged features. It set him back a few years.

“No,” she said mildly, and opened the front door. “Go on, get in.”

Shrugging, he slid into the car, and didn’t realize that he was cold until he felt the heat blasting onto him. His teeth began to chatter violently.

“So where’re you heading anyways?” his savior inquired, and he glanced up at her.

The first thing he noticed was the fact that she was a fake redhead. He could tell, by the unnatural way the light shone through the strands. Her eyes were two pale, huge things in their sockets, and she smoked Turkish Golds. She inhaled deeply of the cancer, and flicked ash out the window.

“Silent Hill,” he said, fully expecting her to toss him out of the vehicle. But she didn’t. She smiled (cherry ice cream smile, I suppose it’s very nice, he thought, crazily) and put the car in drive.

“That’s good for you…I’m heading up that way.”

He watched intently as she reached into the glove compartment, and removed her pack of cigarettes.

“Would you like one?” she inquired, as if reading his mind.

“Please,” he said, and she handed one over without hesitation, along with a little book of matches. He thanked her, lit the cigarette, and inhaled deeply, feeling mildly dizzy from the first-nicotine-in-two-days feeling.

“I’m Lucian,” he said, in between puffs.

“Sam,” she replied. “Sam Poppy.”

Lucian chuckled, watching the windshield wipers cut rhythmic patterns across the glass.

“That can’t be your real name,” he said. “No offense.”

“No offense taken,” she replied, “but it is my real name.”

“Oh really,” he smirked.

“Yup.”

There was no one else on the highway. He glanced at the speedometer and noticed that she was going at least twenty over the limit.

“What’s your business in Silent Hill?” she inquired, her grey eyes fixed on the road ahead.

He sighed, looking at his cigarette stub, wishing it were longer.

“I’m looking for my sister,” he said.

“Oooh,” she said delightedly, in the tone a housewife might adopt, when stumbling across a juicy bit of tabloid gossip. “You’d best watch out, honey. You don’t want to end up like that fellow who went up looking for his wife a few years back, and never came home.”

“I heard about that,” he said.

“Heard that place is dangerous,” she continued, but she didn’t sound frightened at all. She had to have a strong backbone, to have picked up a stranger like him to begin with. “All kinds of weird shit goes down up in those parts. The rumors and stuff.”

“Yeah,” he replied.

That sick throbbing had begun in the back of his head again, the dull pounding that sent flares of red shooting across his vision.

“--cult stuff going on in that town…HEY! You okay?”

His eyes lolled to the left. Sam Poppy was looking at him, and shock had broken her delicate features into jagged contours.

“Unh?” he said.

“You’re bleeding--” she said, and reached a hand towards him. It was the last thing he saw clearly before she accidentally floored the gas pedal, and the Taurus began to skid out of control on the rain-slicked highway. He could sure hear her for awhile, he could hear her screaming Hail Marys (were they Hail Marys?) into the storm-shattered sky, and then there were the guardrails, and everything turned upside down.

Red.

Black.