Silent Hill is a city where a person’s fears and anxieties take on flesh, assuming the form of grotesque, distorted creatures born from the subconscious and then materialized by the town itself. It’s as if Silent Hill intentionally turns the soul inside out, exposing everything a person has painstakingly hidden deep within, and that’s exactly how everything works here.

There is only one road that leads to this town, but if Silent Hill calls you, it doesn’t matter which path you take or where you come from — you will end up here anyway, whether you want to or not. And then you’ll have to face your fears head-on: they will either consume you, or you’ll survive them, accept them, and move forward.

This is exactly what Alex saw on the footage from Agent Franklin’s helmet camera, who, by a tragic turn of events, ended up in Silent Hill along with other Bureau agents, drawn into the town’s cursed territory.

Franklin’s last words before he pulled the trigger were tied to events from his childhood. Unfortunately, the camera couldn’t capture what he saw before his death, but just before the fatal shot, Franklin said only the name of his friend. Then the screen filled with static. While watching the recording, a monster appeared, looking as if its body had been unnaturally stretched with skin, and Alex understood perfectly — before him was most likely the embodiment of Franklin’s own fears and anxieties.

After destroying the creature, Alex and Heather left the house where the agent had ended his life, and almost immediately, the radio taken from Franklin started transmitting. Another Bureau agent, Collins, also pulled into Silent Hill, came through. He was at Midwich Elementary School, but due to heavy interference, it was impossible to determine his condition.

And at that very moment, when the school’s name was mentioned, a sharp headache hit Heather, as if forgotten memories had started surfacing in fragments, failing to form a complete picture.

From the pain, Heather nearly fell, but Alex caught her, holding her steady and preventing her from losing balance during the episode. He knew that the memories connected to Midwich School did not belong to Heather herself — they were Alessa’s memories. Heather was the bright part of her soul, cleansed of pain and hatred.

In the past, when Heather had already been in the foggy town with her father, Harry Mason, she had indeed attended Midwich School, but by then the building had long been abandoned, and no one remained inside except monsters — twisted embodiments of Alessa’s fears of the children who tormented her.

Once Alex made sure Heather had recovered, he suggested they move on, and despite the lingering pain and vague sense of unease, she followed him through the single alley they had entered.

Alex walked ahead, carefully scanning the fog and listening to every sound in case another monster emerged from the gray haze. On one side of the alley stretched old abandoned garages with rotting gates and rust-covered abandoned cars, while on the other side were closed buildings, their entrances blocked by heavy metal grates. The thick fog muffled sounds and distorted the space, so Alex moved slowly and cautiously — until their attention was drawn to a fresh bloodstain trailing from a broken window.

Alex decided to look inside to make sure nothing dangerous would jump out. He leaned on the windowsill and peered into the room, but, as in most places in Silent Hill, he was met with a dark, empty space. On the floor and among the broken glass were streaks of blood, as if someone had leapt out of the window to save their life.

Before descending, Alex quickly scanned the room one more time and noticed an Order symbol on the wall. This told him that one of its members had lived here, though from the state of the room, it was impossible to determine whether the person had been here before the town was engulfed in fog or continued living here afterward.

After finishing his inspection, Alex jumped down and met Heather’s gaze, reading a silent question in her eyes. He merely shook his head, signaling that there was nothing useful there, and all they could do was follow the bloodstains that led deeper into the alley.

Following the trail, Alex and Heather soon came upon the body of the person who had left the bloody marks. Approaching closer, Alex quickly examined the corpse and realized that it had literally been torn apart by dogs. Its insides were scattered around, the face half-eaten, and the limbs gnawed down to the bone.

Heather, seeing this, barely held back a gag, covering her mouth and trying not to look at the body. Alex, paying no attention to the gruesome sight, began searching the dead man’s pockets, which made Heather feel even worse.

“What are you even trying to find on this body?” she asked, turning away.

“This,” Alex replied calmly, pulling an Order amulet, a blood-stained note, and a matchbox from the pocket. “Our dead man was a member of the Order… and he became food for the local monsters.”

Heather opened her mouth to speak, but suddenly a strange, high-pitched, wailing sound echoed — like a child trying to imitate a dog’s howl. Alex immediately tucked the note, amulet, and matchbox into his pocket, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and went on alert.

Hearing the howl, Heather gave him a quick glance and tightened her grip on the pistol, in case whoever had feasted on the dead cultist returned. Alex also drew Ebony from his holster and moved forward down the alley — there was no other route to the city center.

Carefully stepping between trash bins and peeling walls, they saw deformed dogs burst out from a fenced lot. Their bodies looked as if their skin had been flayed alive. The monsters rushed past without paying any attention to Alex and Heather and disappeared into the fog.

Once Alex was sure the danger had passed, he holstered Ebony and stepped forward. But as soon as they neared the spot where the dogs had emerged, a strange sound came from behind the fence — a wet, squelching gurgle. Alex instantly held out his hand, stopping Heather, and a creature appeared through the slatted fence — fat, clumsy, almost completely covered in bulbous, greasy flesh, with pus seeping from open sores.

Shuffling awkwardly, the monster slowly pushed through a gap in the fence, and Alex didn’t hesitate — he fired. The bullet went straight through the creature’s head; it collapsed on its back with a dull crunch, and instead of blood, a thick, foul-smelling liquid, vaguely like pus, poured from its body, instantly filling the alley with its stench.

Heather nearly vomited — she clamped her hand over her mouth and nose, while Alex instinctively covered his own, staring at the slain monster and realizing that this creature was tied not only to Alessa but to the entire town, like a cancerous tumor that had sent out metastases, impossible to simply cut out.

“Let’s hurry and get out of here…” Heather said in a strained voice. “A little longer, and I’m definitely going to throw up.”

“Mm…” Alex grunted, giving a short nod and scanning the surroundings.

Heather hurried forward, trying to leave the alley as quickly as possible, and, passing the monster’s corpse, quickened her pace — the stench was so unbearable that another second and she would have been sick. Alex followed behind, casting only a brief glance at the creature, knowing the pattern: if one monster appeared, more would soon follow.

He caught up with Heather at the alley’s exit, where she was standing, taking deep breaths as if trying to rid herself of the smell of pus that seemed permanently lodged in her nose. Alex gently placed a hand on her back, helping her regain composure, but he did it not only for support — carefully and almost imperceptibly, he was checking her condition, making sure Heather had not become the vessel for the so-called god’s seed.

Once he confirmed that no immaculate conception had occurred, he withdrew his hand, fully aware that he would need to watch her closely and, if necessary, destroy the god’s seed before it was too late.

“Thanks… I’m feeling better now,” Heather said, fully coming to herself. “Where do we go next? We need to somehow get to Midwich Elementary School.”

“We have a clue,” Alex replied, pulling the matchbox from his pocket. “It was with the dead member of the Order.”

Heather nodded, watching his actions. Alex ran his finger over the box, wiping away the dried blood on the inscription, and beneath it, a name appeared — the bar “Nili.” He pondered for a moment: perhaps the Order left something there, or maybe it was a regular meeting place. Either way, both options worked for him.

Pocketing the matchbox, Alex pulled a map from the inside pocket of his coat and checked the route, unwilling to wander blindly through the town. The shortest path to the bar ran through a blocked alley, almost certainly teeming with monsters; the alternative was the normal road with a long detour. Alex looked at Heather and thought once again that if he were alone, he would have long since reached Midwich Elementary via the rooftops.

“I think the alley would be faster,” Heather said, pointing to the blocked passage ahead.

“We’ll go around,” Alex replied, putting the map back in his pocket. “It’s better not to go into alleys in places like this.”

“Why? Isn’t it faster?” Heather frowned.

“One of the main rules in places like this,” Alex said, raising a finger. “Don’t go into alleys if you don’t want to become someone’s meal.”

“And what other rules are there?” Heather asked, narrowing her eyes slightly.

“Well…” Alex began as he started walking forward. “Don’t go into basements. Conserve ammo. And if you can avoid a fight — avoid it.”

Heather followed Alex, listening to how calmly and methodically he listed a whole set of rules — how to behave in places like this if you were unlucky enough to end up there. He didn’t say a word about how to get out because every such place had its own laws and its often twisted way of letting you leave.

As Alex spoke, a simple, tried-and-true method to detect nearby monsters came to mind. He took the radio from his pocket, turned it on, and clipped it to his coat pocket — if interference appeared, it meant something was nearby.

Reaching another intersection, the radio hissed with static, and Alex immediately realized they were not alone.

He grabbed Heather’s hand and gently but firmly pulled her closer to the wall, onto the sidewalk. Moving a little closer, they saw a pack of dog-like monsters gnawing on another body, making dull, unnatural sounds. Alex quickly looked around and noticed a broken brick at his feet.

Picking it up, he hurled the brick in the opposite direction, shattering a shop window. The crash of glass instantly drew the creatures’ attention, and the pack rushed toward the store. As soon as the path was clear, Alex grabbed Heather’s hand again and led her on, before the monsters could return. Even when they had put a fair distance between themselves and the scene, the radio still crackled nonstop.

Alex scanned their surroundings warily, expecting another attack, and soon the fog ahead thinned slightly, revealing a staggering figure that looked as if it were wrapped in чужой skin. Without giving the monster a chance to notice them, Alex closed the distance in a flash, kicked it in the back and knocked it to the ground, then crushed its head under his heel the next second. The radio immediately fell silent.

“Looks like there will be more of them soon,” Alex said, wiping blood off his boot against the ground.

“Why did the radio go quiet when you killed it?” Heather asked, trying to connect the dots. “It was the same in the mall… the radio was making noise there too. Is it related?”

“Seems like it,” Alex replied, coming up with a plausible explanation on the fly. “At first I thought one of the agents was trying to make contact, but it looks like we’ve got ourselves a monster detector.”

“That’s… useful,” Heather let out in relief. “At least we’ll know when something’s nearby.”

“Yeah. Now let’s keep moving,” Alex said, heading forward again. “We’re almost there. We still need to figure out how to get to Midwich Elementary and where the Order is holding your father.”

Heather clenched her fists and nodded — that was exactly why she was here: to save her father and restore the lost truth. As they headed down the street, they heard the radio clipped to Alex’s coat pocket hiss again.

Heather immediately began looking around and even watching her step, afraid that a creature might crawl out of a storm drain. The farther they went, the louder the noise became, and near a music store the radio practically began to howl.

Alex switched on his flashlight and shone it into the dark interior, seeing wandering monsters slowly swaying between the racks of vinyl records. After a moment’s thought, he noticed a car parked nearby and gestured for Heather to stay quiet. He then walked up to the vehicle and opened the fuel cap.

“Sheryl, look around for an empty glass bottle,” he said, taking off his backpack.

Heather raised an eyebrow in surprise but quickly looked around, checked an empty side alley, and found a bottle there. When she came back, she saw Alex siphoning gasoline from the tank using a tube. Not understanding what he was planning, she stepped closer and handed him the bottle.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I’ll show you how to make a Molotov cocktail in the field,” Alex replied calmly, filling the bottle with gasoline. “We need a rag, a glass bottle, and fuel. And if you add magnesium shavings, the effect is much better.”

“So you’ve decided to give a chemistry lesson?” Heather asked doubtfully.

“Almost. It’s a survival lesson,” Alex smirked, not stopping his work. “Magnesium is easy to get: it’s in the rims of cars like this. Scrape off a little — and voilà, we’ve got a very flammable mixture.”

“How ‘very’?” Heather frowned.

“Heh… very,” Alex said with a cheerful, almost dangerous smile. “And you’re about to see it.”

Heather listened to Alex’s words with clear suspicion, doubting that an agent should behave like this at all. Alex, however, was thinking about something entirely different. For him, this was the simplest and most effective way to clear the path — to destroy as many monsters as possible in advance so they wouldn’t appear unexpectedly. At the same time, the noise, screams, and fire could draw the attention of other creatures and, possibly, even lure out members of the Order — if they decided to find out what exactly was happening in the town.

Taking a lighter from his pocket, Alex set the rag on fire and, without hesitation, hurled the Molotov cocktail toward the music store. The display window shattered with a crash, the bottle flew inside and struck a Lying Figure that was slowly passing by. The glass burst against the monster’s body, gasoline spilled across the floor and ignited instantly, bright flames almost immediately crawling through the room, devouring everything in their path.

Distorted, inhuman screams rang out from inside, and at that same moment Alex grabbed Heather by the hand and dragged her farther down the street, letting the fire and the noise do their work. As they ran, Alex mentally checked their route, and after turning at the next corner, they almost immediately found themselves at Neely’s Bar.

Hearing the heavy, rapidly approaching thud of something large, Alex didn’t tempt fate and sharply pulled Heather inside the bar, unwilling to deal with a big monster — even if that might have been… fun in its own way. Slamming the door shut, he latched it, and the two of them froze, listening as the heavy footsteps moved away toward the music store engulfed in flames.

“See? I told you it would work,” Alex said quietly, so only Heather could hear him. “Otherwise we would’ve had to deal with something big and very unpleasant.”

“It seemed more like you just wanted to start a fire,” Heather replied just as quietly, shooting him a glance.

“That too,” Alex agreed calmly. “Let’s take a look around. Maybe there’s a map, something useful, or at least a hint on how to get to Midwich.”

With that, he checked the bar’s door again, including the latch just in case, and looked around. Like any other place in Silent Hill, Neely’s Bar had long been abandoned: the familiar smell of dampness and mold hung in the air, mixed with dust and stale rot. The only thing that stood out was the Order’s emblem painted above the jukebox, which Heather immediately pointed out.

Alex pondered this — it was quite possible that members of the Order used this bar as a temporary waystation during their forays into the town, leaving the church where they believed they were under the protection of their god. Which meant there could be something useful left behind here.

While examining the place, Alex noticed that Heather had gone behind the bar and found a note lying there. He stepped closer and read it: it said that if any member of the Order was late, they were to return to the church alone.

“It mentions the church…” Heather said quietly, looking up at Alex. “So they might be holding my father there?”

“Maybe,” Alex replied calmly. “Or maybe not. In cults like this, anyone who isn’t part of their sect is automatically considered a heretic. They’re unlikely to bring ‘corruption’ into their church. So your father could easily be held somewhere else.”

Heather only nodded silently, accepting his words. Alex, meanwhile, noticed several closed doors, one of which led to a storage room. Stepping past Heather, he pulled a crowbar from his backpack and, without ceremony, forced the door open — it came off its hinges with a crack. Inside the storage room, there was nothing noteworthy: a thick layer of dust and blood smeared across the wall.

Realizing there was nothing for them here, Alex pushed Heather back into the main hall and headed for the last closed door. Jamming the crowbar into the gap, he forced it open as well. Behind the door was exactly what he had expected: the Order really did use this room as a staging area, leaving behind items they couldn’t or didn’t want to carry with them.

“Sheryl, let’s search the place,” Alex said, starting to rummage through the abandoned junk. “Maybe these idiots left something useful. If we find a map, that’d be perfect. They’ve been lurking in this town for decades — they definitely know where you can go, and where you really shouldn’t.”

Heather nodded and began helping Alex, rifling through piles of all sorts of items in search of something that might come in handy later. They worked in silence, focused, until suddenly the bar’s front door swung open. Both of them froze, hearing muffled voices.

Alex immediately raised his hand, signaling to stay quiet, and slowly moved toward the wall. Peeking cautiously around the corner, he saw two cultists in their characteristic protective suits, each gripping a metal pipe. A faint smirk appeared on Alex’s lips.

He calmly drew Ebony from its holster and stepped into the hall without haste. Noticing him, the cultists instinctively tightened their grip on their pipes, but when they saw the gun pointed at them, they froze. Meanwhile, Heather peeked out from the storage room, holding her pistol with both hands. She was ready to shoot, but Alex gestured for her to hold back and let him handle it himself.

“Well, my dear friends, good afternoon,” Alex said with an almost friendly smile. “Now, be so kind: drop your weapons and step back to the wall before my finger accidentally slips and your brains decorate the interior.”

In response, one of the cultists lunged forward, raising his pipe to strike. Heather was about to pull the trigger when she was struck dumb by what she saw. Alex didn’t even change his stance — he simply lifted his leg and kicked the cultist hard in the chest, keeping the second one in his sights the whole time.

The man flew backward, slammed into the jukebox, and immediately went limp. Blood seeped from under his protective mask, and a deep dent marked his chest from the impact. Seeing what happened to his partner, the second cultist dropped his pipe and quickly raised his hands, signaling surrender.

“See? It’s that simple,” Alex said with a faint smile, approaching him. “If your friend had been as quick-witted as you, he might still be alive.”

Without giving the cultist a chance to speak, Alex struck him in the head with the pistol grip. He instantly lost consciousness and collapsed to the floor. Stowing the gun, Alex pulled handcuffs from his pocket, whistling a tune, grabbed the unconscious man by the leg, dragged him to the radiator, and cuffed him to the pipe.

Heather stood there in mild shock the entire time. She stepped out of the storage room and glanced at the dead cultist with the dented chest, then looked at Alex, who was already searching the pockets of the bound man. The search yielded nothing useful — only the Order’s emblem. Still whistling, Alex approached the dead cultist and began searching him.

“Bingo. Looks like we got lucky,” he said, pulling a map from the inner pocket.

“They had a map?” Heather asked, surprised, stepping closer.

“And not just any map,” Alex nodded. “Exactly the one I expected: with marked routes, showing where you can go and where it’s better not to appear at all.”

Heather leaned over the map and immediately understood what he meant. It was covered with numerous marks and symbols, including restricted zones. Alex quickly scanned the layout, looking for the key locations. He was particularly interested in the school, the hospital, the orphanage, and the prison.

Midwich Elementary School was marked as an extremely undesirable location; the other places had only brief notes with their names. The most important thing was that the map showed detours around blocked streets, allowing them to reach key points without wandering blindly through the city. Everything really was becoming simpler — all that remained was to find out exactly where Harry Mason was being held and whether the cultists had seen any of the Bureau of Control agents.

“Where could my father be?” Heather asked quietly, looking at the map.

“Two options,” Alex replied, pointing with his finger. “The hospital or the prison.”

“And how do we find out which one?” she asked, turning to him.

Alex smiled faintly and glanced at the unconscious cultist chained to the radiator.

“Don’t forget, Cheryl. We have a living guide who will definitely answer all our questions. Whether he wants to… or not.”

Hearing Alex’s words, Heather turned her head toward the Order member handcuffed to the cold radiator and almost immediately realized he was right. Still smiling, Alex slipped the map back into his coat pocket and headed to the storage room where the cultists had left their belongings. A moment later, he returned holding a hammer and a handful of rusty nails.

Heather didn’t understand what he was about to do, but an unpleasant, sticky sense of dread slowly tightened in her chest, making her heart beat faster. Alex approached the unconscious cultist and crouched beside him. Before starting the interrogation, he cast a short, insistent look at Heather and gestured for her to turn away and cover her ears.

She didn’t want to, but when she met his gaze, she obeyed, turning away and pressing her palms over her ears. Making sure Heather wasn’t looking, Alex carefully set the hammer down beside him and laid the rusty nails out in a neat row, like a surgeon’s tools.

He could have limited himself to threats, could have frightened the cultist into talking, but in Alex’s opinion, anyone involved in what had been done to Alessa didn’t deserve a quick death or an easy way out. For him, this was the beginning of revenge for his new daughter — the daughter Alessa would become once he pulled that girl out of hell.

Whistling a calm, almost cheerful tune, Alex removed the cultist’s gas mask and set it aside. He looked indifferently at the man’s face, shrugged, took the hammer in one hand and a nail in the other — but at the last moment noticed that Heather was peeking.

He simply raised an eyebrow, and she immediately turned away. In the next second, the nail went into the cultist’s hand with a dry, dull sound, pinning it to the wooden floor of the bar. The cultist woke with a wild scream, but Alex instantly covered his mouth, not wanting to draw monsters from all around — the last thing he needed right now was unnecessary fights.

“Now, now, don’t scream,” Alex said softly, almost gently. “We’re just getting started. Let’s play a game: answer or punishment. I ask questions, you answer honestly. You lie or start holding back — you get punished. You start begging for mercy or saying unnecessary things — you get punished too. I only need answers. Did you remember the rules?”

The cultist met his gaze and, despite Alex’s friendly smile, saw only coldness and complete indifference in his eyes. Realizing what awaited him, he began nodding rapidly, showing that he understood and was ready to answer. A wide, unnervingly calm smile spread across Alex’s face, baring sharp teeth. The cultist flinched, but didn’t stop nodding.

“Good. Let’s start with something simple. Who is currently in charge of your Order?” Alex asked, removing his hand from the man’s face.

“High Priestess Claudia,” the cultist replied in a fanatical tone. “She guides us. She foretold the coming of our god’s vessel, and then we will attain paradise.”

Alex sighed and picked up another nail.

“I told you — only what I asked for, no extra details. And since you broke the rules, you’ll have to be punished.”

The cultist tried to speak, but Alex had already shoved a cloth into his mouth, leaving him only able to mumble and jerk his head, trying to break free, while the second rusty nail drove precisely into his other hand, pinning it to the floor next to the first.

A muffled groan of pain echoed through the bar, and Heather, who had been inadvertently eavesdropping, flinched at the sound of the strike and the dull scream. She cautiously turned her head and saw blood seeping from under the cultist’s arm, forming a dark pool on the wooden floor, then quickly turned away, unable to watch any longer.

“Let’s continue,” Alex said calmly, pulling the cloth from the cultist’s mouth. “Where is Claudia now?”

“In the church… she barely leaves it,” the cultist spat out, trying to endure the pain.

“Good. And where is Dahlia Gillespie? And don’t you dare lie and say she’s dead — I know that’s not true,” Alex said, pressing another nail against his hand.

Shaking, the cultist explained that Claudia had overthrown Dahlia for failing a ritual, banished her, and sent her to a hospital supposedly to be “cleansed of corruption,” and that Claudia had even placed her own father there. Alex nodded slowly.

“So, two fanatics from your Order are locked in the psychiatric ward… understood. Then the last question…”

“Where the hell are you keeping my father?!” Heather suddenly cut in sharply.

The cultist lifted his gaze to her, his face twisted with delight and madness.

“You… you are the vessel of our god! The prophecy will come true! If I deliver you to the church, I will attain paradise! You will give birth to a god!”

The cultist began thrashing, trying to reach Heather, and seeing this, she stepped back, her face a mask of shock. Alex, with his usual calm gaze, punched the cultist in the face to silence him, but even after the blow, the fanatic continued writhing and reaching toward her.

Sighing, Alex cast an empty glance at Heather, frustrated at the realization that they might still not learn where Harry was being held. Heather, watching the screaming cultist, caught Alex’s gaze and felt guilty for not waiting and intervening earlier.

Shaking his head, Alex drove the remaining nail into the cultist’s hand to keep him from escaping, but even that didn’t stop his attempts to reach Heather. Looking into the cultist’s fanatical eyes, Alex calmly lit a cigarette, opened his backpack, and pulled out an incendiary grenade.

“Let’s go, Cheryl. Your father’s either in the hospital or the prison,” Alex said, slinging the backpack onto his shoulders.

“I’m sorry… I just wanted to know where they were keeping him,” Heather said quietly, lowering her head.

“It’s fine. Nobody could have predicted he’d react to you like that. But our priority is still Midwich School first, to deal with your memories. Maybe we’ll find something there that points the way forward,” Alex said, lightly running a hand through her hair.

Heather only nodded and glanced at the cultist, who continued reaching for her with a crazed expression. She couldn’t understand why he said she was a vessel and would give birth to a god, and the questions only multiplied while answers remained elusive.

Alex opened the bar doors and let Heather go first.

Following her, Alex pulled the pin from the incendiary grenade and tossed it at the cultist’s feet. As soon as he closed the doors, the grenade detonated, engulfing the fanatic in flames. He screamed loudly and flailed wildly, trying to extinguish the fire.

The flames spread across the wooden floor, engulfing the entire bar. Alex and Heather had already crossed the street, paying no mind to the fire they had set themselves. Alex figured that since the Order’s members liked burning people on pyres for “purification,” they might as well purify themselves.

They quickly left the area, continuing onward. For a moment, Alex turned and saw Alessa in the window of the burning bar, surrounded by flames and staring at him. A kind smile spread across his face, and he waved to her. At that very moment, the flames flared brighter, engulfing Alessa completely.

Moving a little farther away, Alex and Heather entered an abandoned house with unboarded doors. Pushing the doors open, Alex stepped in quickly and looked around before letting Heather inside. Once in a safe spot, Alex pulled out the map taken from the dead cultist and unfolded it to check their route.

“So… here’s the hospital where they keep everyone exposed to corruption… here’s the prison… and in the old part of town is Midwich School. The closest to us is the hospital, but it’s not worth going there yet. The prison is on Lake Toluca, so we’d need a boat to get there. And as I said, the only way to get to Midwich School is through the central part of the city,” Alex muttered, tracing the map with his finger.

“We could take this route to the school. Look… if we go this way, we’ll reach the bridge leading to the old part of town. It even marks a safe path,” Heather said, pointing to the route.

“Good, then we’ll go this way. But first, let’s rest a bit. The fire will probably attract monsters,” Alex said, putting the map away.

Heather nodded and sat on a dusty chair to gather her strength. They still had to cross almost half the city, and along the way, there could be monsters best avoided. Alex leaned against the wall and lit a cigarette. The moment he struck the lighter, the radio on his pocket crackled with static, warning of approaching monsters.

At that same moment, heavy footsteps sounded outside the door. Alex slightly pulled back the curtain to get a look at the creature, and what he saw twisted his face in disgust: a tall, menacing figure moving down the street, with massive, intertwined arms stitched in places, lips twitching constantly and emitting wet, unsettling noises. Shuddering slightly at the sight, Alex closed the curtain, letting the disgusting monster pass. They just had to wait for the right moment and then move forward.

To be continued…

(Holy shit, I forgot where everything is in Silent Hill. So, screw it, I think we’ll just continue on our way to the right stops. Or continue on our normal path through Silent Hill, where a monster could appear at any moment. To answer the question of why Alex didn’t rush screaming at the monster in his usual manner, well… that’s going to happen soon. Now Alex has a map, he knows where to go, and then the plan to genocide all life in Silent Hill is put into action. Oh, and about the Molotov cocktail, don’t follow the Author’s advice, it’s very dangerous. Yeah, yeah.)

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Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep