The commercial district of Silent Hill was maybe 4 blocks by 4 blocks, surrounded by a few blocks of houses. It surprisingly had all the amenities of a much larger city without the population. It had a hotel, an asylum, a hospital, only one church, a private school, a bus route, a couple of factories, police department, fire department, an amusement park, a lake, a bowling alley and of course Silent Hill actually had an impressive mountainous view. It had apparently been something of a tourist attraction, between the coal and tourism it was a pretty wealthy town, but at the same time, had remained small and weirdly close knit. It was one of those everyone was related to everyone else by blood or marriage. Dean had learned all this from a brochure in the second building he’d entered. The gas station had been the first.
Most of the buildings were two stories, basically an apartment over the shop. He couldn’t see far in the fog but he could make out a barber shop, a Five and Dime, a butcher, and a Visitor’s Center. That was the door Dean had entered. The Visitor’s Center was something a small museum, which according to the brochure, Silent Hill even had a wax museum, that showed the history of Silent Hill in wax figures. It was settled when coal had been discovered, it prospered into tourism with the lake, it held certain virtues in esteem, blah blah blah.
The cars on the streets were all parked, none had been left abandoned, all were rusted, and all were 40 years old or older. The fashions in the window of a clothing store were full out 70’s. Bell bottoms weren’t at their height, but this was the beginning. Dean was beginning to believe that this town had been abandoned in 1974. He had no clue where to look for Sam. He hadn’t seen any footprints and he had no idea where Sam would go. Dean, however, planned his next stop to be the local general store or if the town had one, a gun shop. He needed ammo. He needed a flashlight. He needed to find Sam. He needed Castiel.
Dean opened the door to the Visitor’s Center, turned and that was the last he remembered before waking up with a pounding face. He was sitting and moved to get up, except for the fact something had tethered him down. Dean’s vision finally came into focus and he looked at his left hand. He was handcuffed to a radiator. Dean glanced around the room. It was empty save him, the radiator he was handcuffed to and a woman inspecting his Colt 1911 sitting in a chair at a table.
“You’re awake,” the woman said. She was brunette, pretty, petite, but lithe and athletic. She was dirty though, her face and clothes streaked with soot, most likely from the ash falling from the sky. Dean touched his face. His right eye and cheek were hot and throbbing. However it didn’t seem he was bleeding. “Sorry about cold cocking you with my rifle, but I can’t be too sure.”
“Sure of what? What the fuck is going on here?” Dean asked her. She was dressed in a brown hooded sweater that was a midriff, showing her stomach. She had on jeans, a belt, a hip holster containing what looked like a Glock of some sort, and knee high boots.
“What are you doing here?” She asked ignoring his questions.
“I’m looking for my brother,” he answered truthfully.
“Sam?” She asked and Dean gave her a look. “I know you’re Dean Winchester.” Dean’s expression changed to one of smugness. She gave him a look. “I actually wasn’t here to look for you. I’ve been chasing a child molester.” She held a creased paper up to him. It wasn’t someone Dean recognized.
“You’re a bounty hunter?” Dean asked surprised.
“Yeah.” She said as if it were obvious.
“You plan to leave me like this?” Dean asked indicating the cuff around his wrist to the radiator.
“No. I plan to drag your ass to Charleston and collect a bounty. You’ve been declared dead, twice. I dunno how you do it, but I’m pretty sure someone will pay for you.” Dean looked at her a moment then tried another tactic.
“Do you know what is going on here?” Dean asked.
“Coal fire began in May of 1974. The town was evacuated. The fires are still burning.”
“Forty years and they’re still burning?” The girl gave a shrug. “What’s your name?”
“Cassie Drake,” she replied.
“That is a pretty name,” Dean stated, looked at his handcuffed wrist. Dean didn’t just carry the Colt 1911 regularly. He also carried lock pick tools, hidden blades, a box cutter, and the trusty but inconspicuous paper clip. Dean had to give the paper clip credit. It was something that had gotten him out of handcuffs multiple times. He’s also used a floor nail, and an antenna from a Dodge Magnum.
“Don’t think your charm will work on me,” she said almost angrily. Dean held up his hands as if to prove he was harmless.
“Have you experienced the darkness here?” Dean asked curiously. He really didn’t have a name for it. She stared at him. As if on cue, the klaxon began to blare. Like the before, the light was cut off. Cassie snapped on a flashlight. She seemed to have a small walkie-talkie with her and it was suddenly giving off screeching static. Dean watched in awe as the ‘skin’ of the room began to come apart in pieces and drift upwards into ash. The metal plates, metal grating, chain link, rust and sharp edges was returning. Dean looked at the radiator he was handcuffed to. It was misshapen, razor edged, and red with rust and blood.
Cassie didn’t seem to be handling herself so well. She was moving the beam of the flashlight all over the place. She’d probably scream if she wasn’t speechless. She was holding Dean’s Colt 1911. The other weapons on the now metal, spiked table were Dean’s malfunctioning shotgun, his collection of blades and lock pick tools, and a large deer rifle. Most likely the rifle that had struck him in face when he’d exited the Visitor’s Center. Dean could only imagine the bruising on his face, but it was sure throbbing.
“Calm down,” Dean tried to reassure her. He’d been to Hell, he’d experienced the darkness once before. There was nothing-
What burst through the door was only another of the weirdest things Dean would encounter. It looked like a man, hell it could have been Sam, it was certainly Sam sized. It was a tall broad shouldered man in leather pants with a leather apron. The chest was bare and dirty, sweaty and soot covered. If Dean could take his eyes away from the metal pyramid that served as its head, he would had noticed the eyes blinking on the apron, or the ears or noses or mouths gasping. The apron was not only made from human skin, it seemed to be still living human skin. However Dean could only see the metal pyramid head. How did it see? What was the point? It dragged behind it a blade that was practically as long as it was tall, and was so heavy that it couldn’t carry it, even though it was obviously strong. Cassie screamed, it looked at her, and swung the massive sword. Cassie managed to fire at it with the Colt. The bullets lodged in the flesh and like the child thing it oozed a green/black blood, but the bullets were not slowing it down.
“Hey! Hey! Over here!” Dean shouted at the creature. He had no idea what he was doing. He was weaponless and handcuffed to a radiator. He had a sudden thought of a TV show he’d caught once of a man in a bow tie shouting, ‘Hey look at me! I’m a target!’ The pyramid head seemed to have heard him. It turned its attention from screaming Cassie to lumber across the room, dragging the blade as she shot it until the gun was clicking empty. “Oh shit!” Dean shouted as the blade came up, and then down. Dean had tried to get away from it as far as the chain on the cuff would let him. The blade sliced down and through metal. He was expecting to lose a limb but Dean suddenly fell over, freed of the radiator, a silver bracelet on his wrist with a length of chain dangling from it. Pyramid Head was trying to pull the sword out of the radiator, when he got it free he actually stumbled backwards from the weight of it.
Dean was already across the floor and picking up the deer rifle. It was a bolt action rifle, not something Dean was keen on, but he aimed for the center of the metal head and fired. The bullet ricocheted off the metal head. Dean pulled the bolt back, ejected the shell, slammed the bolt forward again. He changed aim, shot it in the chest. It continued to come towards him. Dean moved the bolt again, he changed aim a second time, this time aiming for the elbow joint that held the sword. The hand didn’t release the sword but the arm was now useless. What surprised Dean was the creature switched hands. Now the sword was in the left. Dean moved the bolt again. Click.
Pyramid Head swung the sword, Dean ducked. The sword passed over his head in too close of a whoosh. He turned to Cassie who was dumbfounded. Dean grabbed the Colt from her, scooped up the malfunctioning shotgun from the table, placed the deer rifle’s strap over his shoulder, grabbed Cassie and all but picked her up and carried her from the room.
The hallway wasn’t any better than the room with its metal grate floor, chain link walls, and dead ends. Where were the stairs? Dean dragged Cassie behind him with one hand while he ran into the darkness. Another child creature was in the hallway. Dean didn’t stop, he kicked it in the head as hard as he could while passing. He found a door, flung it open.
“Oh shit.” The room was a simple square and empty of everything. It was just metal walls, the metal grate floor and a metal ceiling. No windows. No doors. Below the floor however he could see a light, a orange/yellow glow. Dean was reminded of hellfire. There was a schick sound and suddenly Cassie was gurgling. Blood erupted from her mouth. Dean turned to look at the point of the massive blade that Pyramid had shoved through the door, and through Cassie’s midsection. If he had shoved it through the door horizontally he’d have sliced her in half. He pulled the sword back out and Cassie fell forwards into Dean’s arms.
“Cassie!” Dean shouted as she spasmed in his arms. The blade schicked through the door again and again as Dean held dying Cassie. Pyramid Head was literally cutting a hole in the door. Finally the hole was large enough for him to pull it apart and step through. Dean laid Cassie on the grated floor and when Dean raised the deer rifle to block the oncoming blow of Pyramid Head’s sword, the light of the foggy day blossomed through. When the sword met the rifle it was as if it suddenly burst into ash. As the flesh of the real world returned to cover up the nightmare, Pyramid Head was no more, just an explosion of ash and soot. Dean returned to Cassie. She was dead, a puddle of blood spreading out from under her. The room he was in seemed to be a one room apartment. Old faded posters were barely clinging to dingy walls, the hardwood was scuffed, practically worn to virgin splinters.
“WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?” Dean shouted to the walls. “CAS!” Dean blinked back tears. He was lost, he needed help. He could not handle what was going on here. Dean reached down and picked up the walkie-talkie from Cassie’s belt. He sighed. May as well give it a try.
“Hello? Anyone there?” He asked into it, pressing the talk button on the side. All that came back was silence regardless of what channel he tried. “Cas. Come on, man. Whatever I’d said or did in the past… I take it back. I can’t do this alone.” Dean had whispered the last sentence. Admitting weakness was not one of Dean’s known abilities. He looked around. There was no flap of wings, no whoosh of air. “Dammit Cas!” Dean looked at the door that Pyramid Head had cut through. It was returned to normal, not a single hole or slice in it. The paint was peeling and that was about it. Dean cautiously turned the knob and opened the door. A dingy hallway with a threadbare carpet, some trash in a corner was all that greeted him. Dean needed ammo. He set out to search for some.