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Re-Route	By : Resting-Madness Category: Death Note > Crossovers Views: 1590 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters mentioned from Death Note or Silent Hill fandom. I don't own any of the places mentioned in Silent Hill or Death note universe. I make no money from this work of fiction.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Pairing: MelloxMatt

A.N.: This will have 2 endings just as the first one had 4. This Crossover can be read separately or you can read them together. It doesn't make a difference. Hope you like it.

..............

The sun is setting now. Mello had yet to leave the diner he had resided in since lunch that afternoon. And he wasn't even sure as to why. It's not as if he'd been fired from his job or anything. Maybe it's the fact that he felt he'd simply been removed from his own city that has him so thoughtful then. But whatever the reason, he'd planted tightly until yet another person throws him to the door. The crowd was talkative around the room, everyone happy and enjoying their meals, while the cheeseburger and fries he doesn't even recall ordering for dinner grew less apparent to him as they got cold, the wafting scent brought on by its grilled or fried warmth having died away.
'A list of complaints,' Mello thought with a scoff on his lips. 'What neanderthal complains about how their trash gets picked up?'
1. Mr. Keehl picks and chooses which bags of trash to take.
2. He tosses the receptical carelessly about the neighborhood, leaving them to roll around in the streets getting in the way of cars and making it hard for owners to identify their property.
3. Mr. Keehl doesn't always come on the correct days so cans are moved back towards the house; then he'd ride by ignoring them a job that he knows needs to be done.
And the list went on and on. In Mello's defense, yes, he did do a lot of the things mentioned in the filed complaint. But he did them with good reason. Should he be asked to touch filthy garbage bags that are leaking, encrusted with maggots, or filled with holes? No. Should he pick up the garbage that's spilled out of bags off the street, on the days he did decide to be a nice guy, and toss the hole filled sacks into the back of the truck? No. The home owner could just pick it up and put it into another bag for another day. Why complain like a whining brat instead of seeing that your complaints can be resolved simply by fixing the problem to prevent the problems. No one ever sees logic. They only wanna wave a flag of authority to show they can take from you and get what they want. So screw them. Let them have a new garbage man if they want one. Mello won't miss their scruntiny- if he ever would bat a lash over it in the first place. He had better things to do with his time than to care about the satisfaction of his customers. But this place, Silent Hill, its in another state. He'd have to move and he doesn't want to move, and there sits the problem with the transfer. He could take it in stride: "fuck you and who cares anyway", he could say to them. Or he could go hog-wild on their asses and give a new name to Going-Postal.
Taking a deep breath he looked down at his meal which has begun to resemble food that's been defrosted in a microwave. Casting his teal gaze then to a clock designed as a cat holding a knife and fork, he checked the time. '6:40.' Standing, he dropped some bills onto the table then left the diner.
It would do him some good to check out locations in this place since he has to move. Hopefully it wasn't too far in Sticksville or anywhere like it. He had yet to even pack for this transfer; it wasn't valid until Monday and it being Saturday he figured he'd take his time finding a place to live. He only has to drive up and get a truck to take around the area he's assigned to. If he needed to stay a night he'd get a hotel room or even stay at the dump. They have shacks with couches and things, he'd be quite comfortable and he'd slept on much less and made it through the night. Mounting his motorcycle, his weight barely acknowledged by the vehical, Mello turned the key then reved the engine. Removing the kick stand with the back of his foot, he moved down the street to his apartment.
Darkness covered the city but it only seemed to make its inhabitants more lively as the hustle and bustle of city life moves about doing errands or going to work. Subways are entered and exited, businesses never saw an end to customers as the flow of people kept coming in. Mello took in what little he could see of the city as he whipped through it on his motorcycle. Could he give all this up? Maybe he should just quit and find a new job. At least then he can stay.
'Hn. Guess transfering me is a way of cleaning up the city.' He thought with a smirk on his lips.
Oh the irony of his thought when he'd just passed by a man mugging a woman who he'll, undoubtedly, rape afterward. There were far worse people in this world than a picky garbage man. But if this is the way it is, this is the way it will be. Can't fight demons, so fight minions instead. Pathetic. The vehicle slowed to a stop, his legs released their hold on the sides of the machine and he pushed it forward into the lot beneath the building after showing his card to the guard. Not that the man ever checked it anymore. He knew that Mello lives in the building. Leaving his bike in its space the male walked heavily toward the elevator taking it to his floor once inside. Sounds of passion float around the dingy hallway from a couple that lives two doors down from him. He knew Mrs. Two-doors-down is still at work and the person giving this lavish show of voice is just a tarty little guest of Mr. Two-doors-down. Opening the door of his apartment he shoved it closed after entering then removed his light leather jacket, dropping it to the floor as if it didn't cost the 300 dollars that it did. He'd saved up for that luxury purchase for a long while, like he had with his bike. But it made little difference how expensive things were treated in the mind of Mello. Wear and tear is what it is. It would happen whether he safe guarded the thing or not since he wears it all the time.
Plucking his phone from the table where he threw the motorcycle key, he flipped it open to check for messages. None. Figures. Which is why he kept his phone at home whenever he went out. It served little purpose. He had no one to call and no one calls him. Continuing the strip tease through the space of his apartment, he wound up in the bedroom and changed into a light set of pajamas, then grabbing his laptop he took it into the living room to the couch. Television turned on- if only to staunch the growing silence- Mello turned on the computer then typed in the information he wanted to search for, getting himself up from the couch afterwards to fix a drink. He felt like he hadn't eaten all day.... wait, he hadn't. After having a bowl of Wheaties for breakfast he'd spent the day doing his job only to go back to the office to be handed re-route papers. From there he'd gone to the diner and let it all sink in. Most guys felt honored to be transferred, especially to a countryside where the work load is a lot less and you got a lot more time off because of it. He didn't care either way. After his glass of milk was poured he drowned it in his secret pleasure, Hershey's Syrup. The spoon clattered nosily around the glass as its guided in a circle by Mello's hand, he walked over to the couch taking a seat before the laptop; setting the glass down he lifted the spoon out bringing the dripping item to his mouth to remove the liquid and set it down on the table after cleaning it.
"Let's see...." He voiced; his finger swiped along the mouse pad to scroll down the line-up of houses for sale in Silent Hill.
Mello is sure he didn't want anything like a home-home. He's one man after all, and to be honest he enjoys living in an apartment. So he clicked on the section listed apartments, condos, and lofts. It felt like a dating service, reading all the descriptions and attractions the places have to offer and by that deciding on which he liked best. He found a lovely little place in an apartment located in Central Navaho Moon, it has a good size, good lay out with 2 bedrooms and one half bath. But he didn't want to live too deep in the area so he searched for another apartment in a place just within the main state. Blue Creek apartment building. It would do. He could bunk there while keeping his place here, sort of a temporary home. He'd actually be fine sleeping in the truck as long as he could continue living in the city. Deciding that he'd get the paperwork underway sooner than later, Mello noted that the site also had a weblink to a tour guide service of the area. That would come in handy as well since he will need to learn his route. Signing himself up for just that he decided he would head out to the place tomorrow and get everything situated before next week.
Shutting down the computer by closing the monitor he walked into the bedroom dropping onto the bed. It didn't matter how early it was, he could leave the apartment and hang out around the city if he woke up any time between morning and now......
Mello woke with an ache over his entire body. He'd just escaped from the weirdest dream, escaped being the key word. It felt so real that if he didn't wake from it he thought surely he would die in his sleep. He'd been running with no purpose, no goal, typical dream stuff right? Only he was being chased by a large mob of people lit on fire. He hit a bridge that was closed off, raised for ships to come through. So he stood there screaming, but his voice was gone so no one heard his cries as he told the moving wall of fire to stay back. He had his gun in the dream and with it picked a few chips from the wall that fell away from the line like little balls of burning life. Were there actual people within the burning wall surely they'd be screaming, but there was no sound but dense silence broken only by the crackling of the flames. They were closer to him but just before the wall of fire could hit him, he found his footing lost and was then struggling to keep himself on the surface. His fingernails scraped painfully into the concrete that didn't want to hold him any longer, and it threatened to give way under his need to hold on to all above him. Darkness below him and darkness above, nothing but the cold street within his grasp but there was something else.... Someone was standing just out of view on the street watching him hold on. But would they help me, he wondered. As the person approached a stream of smoke blew down into his face and when the touch of finger tips caught his attention... He fell....
Sitting up with a groan, he rubbed his shoulder in hopes of relieving it from the pains from last night. It was so strange; in the dream when he thought that he'd fall and fall into an endless, bottomless void, he wound up brutally slamming into something cold and iron over and over again. It was iron, that much he could tell even if he could not see it. He hoped it wasn't a sign of things to come by his switching cities. He didn't believe in much, regardless the rosary that hung around his neck nearly everyday. It belonged to his mother; and let's see you refuse a gift from a dying woman. How well would your conscience fair? Tossing the blanket from his body, he moved over to the window and tugged open the curtains to let daylight in- or what of it could shine around the large sky scrapers of the city. The most natural his sunlight got was from its reflecting off the windows of the building across from his.
Mello showered and changed into his work clothes by pulling the dark blue jumpsuit up over a pair of black jeans paired with a red t-shirt. Hair tied off in a low ponytail, he grabbed up his house keys on the way out. He had to snicker at the new mess in the hall as it would seem Mrs. Two-doors came home a little earlier than Mr. Two-doors had planned and she threw him and his things out of the apartment. He didn't wonder where the man was, he either left with his mistress or was asleep in the lobby on the gray loveseat. Stepping around a particularly ugly pair of boxer shorts decorated with firetrucks and hoses, Mello found his way into the elevator and waited the ride to ground level. He plans on working quickly today so that he can head out to Silent Hill and get a contract going for a secondary place. He will also be taking a tour, once there, and who knew how long that would last. Even before getting out of the building he was greeted with car horns and the whizzing sound of the moving vehicles, and people talking. It didn't even change in volume when the large double doors were pushed open. Taking his bike out of the lot he headed for work at a fast pace.
"Hey Mihael," One of his fellow trashmen said to him in a tone that sounded very much like an insult rather than a greeting. "Lucky you, huh? You're the one with the transfer that most guys would kill for." His snicker wiped any truth from his words.
Mello ignored him. As if he gave a fuck about what these people think of him. They all behave the same way, albiet they're not exact in their behavior since by far Mello would be classified as the worst of the bunch. He leered, insulted- not behind backs, mind you, but directly to faces, stole food that other guys brought to work to have for lunch, and half the time he wouldn't even show up leaving his bulk of the work to one of the others. Climbing into the large truck after parking his bike a ways away from the filth that litters the place, the male whose agitation is steadily growing, drove it out into the city.
&& && &&
It was twelve by the time Mello returned from his task. The boss wanted to talk to him, but he told the man that he didn't have the time then left without another word. He had to get a rental car because there was no way he was making the entire trip to Silent Hill on his bike. He couldn't anyway. But then again he'll be renting everything that's going into his new place so maybe he could take the bike. Dropping the bike off in the lot he removed his jumpsuit, once inside his place, and untied his hair as well. Leaving the building he took a bus down town getting off as close to the rental dealership as he could be. Getting something affordable rather than stylish, he wasted no time in leaving the city. He had nothing keeping him here besides his own love for it and even that would eventually fade into nothing. Just as his mother had. He loved her to say the least, and her death took a heavy toll on him. A psychoanalyst would probably look at him and stem his poor work habits to that very event in his life. Honestly, that was when it had started. The pick and choose, the lack of effort at all. She died and in some ways he'd gone with her.
The car sped up once he'd passed the city limits. Nothing but open freeway stretching into this town, that state, or the next. Mello drummed his thumbs on the steering wheel to the Jay-Z song that's blasting out of the stereo. Instead of singing the drone of: on to the next one, he stuck with whistling it. Glancing down at his map he checks out the road sign then makes the turn just up ahead. The car moved around a curve and up onto a bridge. The song changed and Mello pressed the skip button so another track came on. By the end of the CD he'd made it into a tunnel, bright orange lights engulfed the car as he whipped by them to the exit. Its a nice day to be out on the road. The sun is shining, clouds keep it from being annoyingly hot while at the same time they are only further reminding you that it's November and nippy as shit when it wants to be. At least there was no early snow.
When it hit five o'clock, he thought about stopping and getting a hotel for the rest of the day, but it would be pointless, he'd already made a stop a little while ago and Silent Hill isn't that far away. He only needed one more hour to the next state. He'd get a hotel once he's there. It wasn't wonder, what with all the distractions he was giving himself, that Mello missed the sign that told him where he was. He stopped the car twice having to check the map under the overhead light just to try and figure it out. Nowhere on it did it say Silent Hill. It says Virginia, that's as far as it goes. The place must have been tinier than he'd expected. But it didn't seem right. Maybe he should have flown in like most people do, at least then he could ask someone once he got off the plane rather than being alone on a road surrounded by a thick very dense forest.
"Shit." Mello bit out.
He wasn't the only one angry and his stomach made that very clear by growling loudly just then. With a sigh of annoyance, he reached into the back of the car and grabbed a sandwich from the backseat. He'd made one stop along the 6 hour drive to use the bathroom and when he'd gone into the gas station he picked up a sandwich and a bag of chocolate iced doughnut minis. Setting it down on the empty passenger seat he reached back again to grab the donuts, removing one from the bag he takes a bite while thinking about back tracking until he finds the entrance sign. Maybe he's in the wrong location altogether.
'I'll drive into town and ask someone.' He figured.
Starting the engine, the car edged forward picking up speed in his urgency. Night was laying over the sky like it had a few things it wanted to do as well and the sooner it got down to its business the better. Headlights gleamed before the car's path doing very little to help him see, in Mello's opinion. He hadn't even realized that he'd turned off the radio and when he turned it back on something strange happened. The CD wouldn't play. Oh it spun around inside the machine but it stopped itself altogether before playing a song. If it were his own car he'd be bitching, but since this is a rental he shrugs it off knowing not to think anything of it. Its rented; who really knew what morons did to or in these things. He could be sitting on semen right now. Not a comforting thought, and he shifted in the chair as if he could somehow sit on the seat without actually touching it. Switching the stereo from CD to F.M. radio he found that all the stations were out because nothing is playing on any of them but crackling static.
'Must be bad reception.'
Just when he was about to give up on any musical entertainment, one station did come in playing a song that reminded Mello of a childhood tune his mother played often enough for him to subconsciously learn the words. It wasn't the same song, it just has the same feeling. Wandering alone and it's raining on you. Darkness everywhere but for some reason you're pressing forward. Checking the clock he wondered why he wasn't seeing any houses or street lights or even any other cars. He should have been closer in by now. The road even broke away from concrete to dirt.

His phone rang just then and the thought of not answering crossed his mind; it couldn't be anyone important anyway. But his hand is in the glovebox retrieving it before he'd mentally given the command to do so. Flipping it open he asked, "What?" while shouldering it so he could grab another doughnut from the bag. "What?" He asked again as if he'd missed what the caller had said when in fact there was no response at all. "Hello? Can you hear me?" He asked and suddenly remembers that the radio was out on every station but the one that's still blaring a song out at him. Figuring it's useless, he started to close the phone when the caller finally came through.
No words are said just some very hard, very serious, crying from the other end.
"Ar-..." He started to say but stopped. He didn't know who that was, let alone why they were crying but... it sounds a lot like.... but it couldn't be. Its ridiculous to even think so. "Are you alright?" He heard himself ask.
He dropped the end of the sentence as the next word out of his mouth was going to be.... Mother. The woman, crying without pause, sure as hell sounded like her. But it just couldn't be. Maybe he was tired. He had read somewhere that nightmares take away from your sleep since you're not exactly getting a comfortable rest. But again, Mello didn't really believe in much. After the question had been put out there the crying stopped leaving nothing but the sound of crackling over the phone. It was weird because the crackling sounded exactly like that from his dream... the fire. Staring at his phone once his chocolate sticky fingers removed it from his ear, he flipped it closed then dropped it onto the passenger seat. Just as he looked back up at the road something darted out before the car.
"Shit!"
The wheel spun hard in his instruction and the car swerved just missing what looked like a lanky, dark haired man in a dingy white shirt. The car spun rapidly sliding itself further ahead up the road and off to the side, unfortunately it was the wrong side, because during his reach for food and the strange phone call with death, he'd come up on a cliff-side and the car is heading right over the side. Pumping the break with his foot the vehicle managed to slow itself to a stop right before it could go over but damn if it wasn't leaning over hard enough to fall. Mello would have to get out from the backseat and hopefully the car won't go toppling down the mountain side as he makes his move for the exit. Undoing the seat-belt he turned himself, gripping the passenger seat for help he raised a leg over the seat divider setting the foot onto the floor of the backseat.

A grunt ahead of him caught his attention and whomever it was, whose life was spared by his dangerous maneuvering, was standing behind the car giving it a push with his shoulder doing a good job of resembling a linebacker.
"What are you doing?! Stop!"
But it did no good and the car went over....
It was nothing like that of anything you'd see on television or in a movie. The car didn't roll like a child playing on a hillside, but it tumbled down the craggy cliff-side like a gymnast working the balance beam or uneven bars. And the noise! The movies never prepare you for the actual sounds that go on inside a car when its tumbling down a cliff. It resembled that of an odd thunder storm and with the way he's popping his head, it creates a great sense of the flashing lightning. Mello heard bang after bang from the car hitting the rocky ledges, its roof, its bottom, sides- any part of the car that came into contact with the mountain banged like a clap of thunder. Considering how he was positioned in the car when it went over Mello is being thrown all over the place, and he cried out in pain when his back slammed uncomfortably into the windshield splitting it beneath his thrown weight. He was tossed into the backseat then into the back door; the mountain had broken that window out and it was perhaps that reason for his survival because on the next tumble Mello fell out from the window and rolled heavily to the ground. The car left him for dead as it fell faster to the bottom of the cliff. The last thing Mello saw was a large rock before everything went black.
...............
He didn't know whether he wanted to kiss the crow or kill it for kawing so loudly as it went by. If he hadn't heard the bird who really knew how long he'd of been passed out in the forest. His eyes opened slowly but he did not move a muscle. He didn't know if anything is broken or not, so why make it worse by rapidly moving about when he could slowly assess the situation of his person. With a groan his limbs move, arms bending, knees... all of them responded properly to his command, and his back isn't broken either. Sitting up, he rubbed his throbbing head trying to massage the pain away. An eye closed when his vision winked up into the trees, he sees that the sun is shining overhead through branches as thick as five of his gaunt body hugged up together. Moving his massage down from his head to his aching shoulder he pushed up from the ground walking, hobbled really, over to the wreckage of the car. From the occasional sting here and there he could tell that he's bleeding from cuts acquired, but he couldn't worry about that right then; it doesn't feel too serious anyway- considering the drop; he glanced off to his side and up to notice this distance. He'd say he got damn lucky he was still alive. Maybe too lucky for such a drastic fall. There's a good chance he's dead, but then the dead don't feel pain now do they?
"Fuck," He muttered when falling to his knees. He grunted leaning over to reach into the car that's landed on its roof in a complete mess. Good thing he got the insurance. Crawling inside the window at the driver's side, he was amazed that he doesn't smell fuel leaking. He searched for his cell phone knowing that he will have to call in and report the accident. There may not be a fire yet, but there will be. Cars don't take that much damage without a little boom to show for it. But try as he might, his frantic hands didn't sweep past the phone or anything that felt like it. Moving himself from the car, he shook his head in disbelief. This was a fine way to start a new life. Car accident, no cell. Hn. No car. This really is a fucked up situation. Moving to stand he looked around him and noticed a small clearing in the pack of trees that are surrounding him like a gang ready to pounce. Heading through he finds a dirt path similar to the one he'd been shoved from yesterday. His watch revealed that it was eleven in the morning. He'd been unconscious for a long while. Maybe he should see a doctor when he got into town- if he got into town because he had yet to even find the area. He should have taken the map. Too late to turn back now as he'd already been walking for fifteen minutes.
And it was strange because it felt as though he is being followed. He continually looked over his shoulder but nothing was back there, nothing out of the ordinary, so maybe its an animal. A squirrel, a bird. He let himself babysit the idea of it being the nut-job that pushed the car over the cliff. He could be in some back-water place where man has convinced himself that people taste better than animals. It wouldn't surprise him really. From what he saw the guy was covered in blood, and he had some weird sort of contacts in because his eyes looked to be red. But then, it could just be a burnt sort of brown turned red in the reflection of the car's headlights. Mello was getting tired, he thought he could walk off the pain and for the most part he had, but his body still ached something awful, and his head is pounding with every step. Its so bad he could swear he hears foot steps trailing up close behind him. Or maybe....
Turning around abruptly- further agitating his head- he saw no one, but... he could still hear the foot steps. Looking around, Mello decided to keep going without pause. Even when the foot steps started again, even when the phantom foot steps added the breathless sound of panting with it after picking up the pace. Its getting closer, closer.... It sounded directly behind him. So close that if he were to turn it would... Jerking forward he made sure to land facing the direction that he'd been pushed from in order to see the person who did it, but looking over his shoulder, Mello cocked a brow in confusion.

'I don't understand, I know someone pushed me because I felt the force of it.' Again he looks around. 'I heard the foot steps, I heard the panting.' Now that he really noticed someone could have been out there messing with him because a thick fog is covering every inch of the forest that he's not directly occupying. But could someone move that fast is the real question.
"I know someone is out here with me!" He shouted. "I'm not gonna hurt you, and you have no reason to hurt me! We can help each other!" He called as loudly as he could but before he can add more he stopped himself. This was stupid. There wasn't anyone out here with him. He just must have hit his head harder than he'd thought. Getting up from the ground he starts back up the path with hope that it will lead him into town. What a horrible trip this has turning out to be.
It grew quiet, very quiet actually. He was starting to miss the stalker. By the time the scenery changed from forest to open field Mello was ready to collapse, in fact he does just that by leaning his weight on the closest thing to him which is a well. Panting hard, he allowed himself to shrink down onto the dirt surrounding the covered stone well. He had to smile a bit; a well means drinking water and drinking water meant people. He could get a place to stay for the night and ask for directions into town as well. But for right now, he closes his eyes and rest his head against the cold stone. Just a little nap......
Mello jumped out of his skin when the loud sound of a chainsaw filled his tired ears jarring him alert. Looking about, his teal eyes wide, he forced his exhausted body to stand. Stupid idea sleeping outside when not long ago you figured the place to be filled with cannibal hillbillies. His gaze settled on a small building a good few yards ahead. It was faint to make out but it was there. Forcing his legs to move he headed over to the place following a long stone fence that comes up as high as his waist. Hopefully he'll find a way in and won't have to climb it on injured arms. A rounded iron-bar door greets his hand after a ten foot walk and he pushed it open heading beyond the gate. It's a cemetery. Not really what he had expected to find but it would do for now. The sound of the chainsaw never ceased and never changed its general buzzing sound like it would if someone were using it to cut through something, so maybe it isn't a chainsaw at all but an item that sounds similar to it. Either way it wasn't anything he wanted to get close to and was glad to further distance himself from it when he reached the building that rest ahead of the hill of headstones.
"Hello?" He called out first. Better to have the inhabitants come out than for him to be trapped when going in. "Is anyone in there?"
A crow flew by overhead landing on the fence. Mello would have called again had the door to the place not opened right then. A very tall man greeted him with a suspicious eye, he looked the blond up and down then gave a sort of nod as if asking Mello to speak.
"I got into an accident in the forest," He said right off skipping small talk. "I need a phone and a place to stay." He felt no need to ask since it was implied that he wanted this location to be that place.
The man looked him in the eye with his brown gazed squint, then stepping back from the entrance he allowed the male inside. "Phone is over there." He said in a throaty rasp before he began to cough hard enough to burst a lung.
Mello gave his own suspicious eye at the man but muttered a 'thank you' before grabbing the phone receiver. He's happy to hear a dial tone and dialed 9-1 but stopped before the third. He wasn't sure if you alert the police for a car accident. He should call the fire department, right? Maybe he should just ask for directions into town and worry about the car when he got there.
"You said that you got into an accident in the forest." The man asked.
Mello didn't answer but hung up the phone and walked into the living area where the man has gone. He looked as though he were about to go someplace. "Yeah, about a good two, maybe, three miles in."
"I can get your car for you." He ran a hand over his balding head. "I've got a pick-up."
"It's completely wrecked, though. Its no use to me anymore." Mello felt himself relaxing but he coaxed his nerves to remain alert. He shouldn't and wouldn't trust this man. He was still hanging on to the belief of cannibalism. "I really just need a lift into town."
"I can go get your car for you." The man repeated and also repeated running his hand over his balding head. "I've got a pick-up."
"....Fine," Mello replied giving the man another suspicious glance. "do whatever you want. Do you know where the town of Silent Hill is?"
The man pointed to the front door, his hand turned a bit so that his finger is aimed North. "Head that way, you'll be right in town. Paleville."
"Thanks." Walking cautiously past the man, Mello let the screen door slam behind him. He went down four brick stairs leading him to the dirt road.
The sound of the chainsaw kept on buzzing but the further away from the farm house he got the less he heard it. He wished like anything his gun wasn't still in the car. Fuck. Why hadn't he remembered it when he was fishing for his cell phone? Well, maybe farmer Brown won't find it in the glove compartment; he would retrieve it when he got another rental and drives back out. The walk wasn't far and before he knew it the ground turned into street. It was strange, though, because he was sure he'd see people right off the bat, but instead he was greeted with the same silence he had in the forest. Well, maybe not exactly that because there wasn't the sound of heavy breathing or foot steps.
"Hello!?" He called out.
Deserted. Was he being asked to live in a deserted town? Was that the joke that Max, from work, was making. A dream route. An abandoned town with no job to do. Is he hated that much?
"Hello!" He called out again.
Had he said anything more he would have missed the sound of feet scurrying. The person seemed to be running from him, but he would not let them get away and he gave chase. The hidden runner was fast but Mello kept his pace with the sounds of stomping foot steps. If he could be honest with himself, it sort of sounded as though there were more than one person. But at times like these that was all the better and he continued to follow. Mello might have found them sooner had the fog not been so thick, he even caught himself bundling his jacket around his neck when a light snow began to fall. The cold must have gone right to his bones because he was very tired suddenly, like he'd been running for hours without break.
"Stop." He called out. "Would you please wait." He tried being nice.
It wasn't until he'd hit an alley that the person or persons decided to stop. Mello bent over catching his breath through hard, quick, panting. It seemed the pursued was at a dead end. Stepping closer once his breathing evened out, Mello was surprised to see that he hadn't been chasing a human at all but a dog. A really fat dog at that. Wonderful.
With a smirk Mello asked good-humoredly. "Guess you wouldn't know where the towns' people are, huh, boy?"
The dog looked dazed and seemed to be quietly sneezing as its head wriggled and shook from side to side. It would seem that he wasn't just following any ordinary dog as this one clearly has a bad case of rabies.
Backing out of the alley, Mello spotted a payphone a few feet away. Maybe he should call a cab service. Surely there's a phone book with them. Grabbing a phone he thumbed through the pages of the large yellow paged book under 'C'. If he had been paying attention he would have noticed that at his side the dog came staggering from between the buildings. Low choking sounds cluster out of the dog's mouth until they reach a full growl. The white froth dripping from its mouth turned a frosty pink then to red bubbles.
'What the hell is going on with the phone services?' Mello wondered when the dial tone changed to that weird crackling sound he had heard over his cell during the ride in. 'They must not be used to the snow so the lines are down.' Hanging up the receiver he spots the dog. 'Probably wants some food.' He fished around in his pocket, knowing he has nothing, but you never know; there could have been some tic-tacs in there. "Look I don't have any food on me. Why don't you look up a garbage can or something. I happen to know that people waste a lot of food."
But the dog seems disinterested in the human's words as it staggered closer. Mello watched in muted fascination as the dog's blood soaked mouth began to part, fascination being the key word because instead of horizonatal- like normal- the dogs mouth parted vertically. In fact, the animal's entire head split open from top to bottom; sharp jagged teeth protrud through the newly opened flesh. Taking a step back when seeing that the mutated dog continues to advance towards, Mello's hair stood on end when the head of the dog; now separated into two pieces, looked up into the sky and let out an ear piercing howl over and over again like it were in a trance of some kind. Or maybe....
Like a summons, four more dogs joined their disfigured leader. All the same type of fat bull dog, white and smushed. Freaky thing was that they are all just as disfigured as the leader and when they began to close in on him, Mello saw that the pudgy husky skin of the animal looked pulled and sewn, like it had been blown apart and then stitched back together- poorly at that.
"Nice dog." He held out a hand in defense. "I told you, check the garbage cans for food. I don't have anything on me." He stepped back further and further with the pack moving in just as slowly, step by step.
Knowing that the pack wouldn't back down Mello turned and ran. The 5 dogs gave him little starting time than a group howling of 3 times before they charged after him. Their combined paws pattered loudly behind him like hard rain beating on a tin roof. Mello didn't bother to look over his shoulder to check their proximity to him, he just pushed his legs and feet to carry him faster, to where, he doesn't know. He just needs to get away. Turning in between a deli and a flower shop he nearly bumped his hip savagely into a postal box when crossing the street. Ducking between two large buildings he jerked open a gate fence door pulling it closed behind him before heading down a long row of stairs set up with 9 stairs to 3 rows. The gate would hopefully slow the mutts down, but that dream was short lived, not long after he'd made it to the second set of stairs did he hear that gate break like it had been shattered into nothing but hundreds of rings, scattering all over the place.
As the light from overhead became completely blackened out by the tall buildings enclosing him, Mello was wishing that the stairs went up rather than down. He could very well be running into a dead end. He actually felt his skin prickle at how determined the dogs have become as one actually got up beside him and took a nip at his swinging arm. He couldn't push himself any harder, he'd black out from loss of breath! As if things couldn't get any worse, Mello had to move his arm away from another attempt and that distraction had him miss a rock in his direct path and his booted foot caught on it stumbling him forward and into a metal fence.
He wasn't beat yet though. One foot at a time he scales the fence, but it did him little good as exhaustion weighed his limbs considerably and the pack of mutated mongrels locked onto his legs and one on his arm pulling him down to slaughter. He cried out from each locked jaw and sharp tooth that dug deep into his skin. The flesh on his fingers snagged in the corner catches of the gate fence as he tried to hold on, but it did him little good. His 110 pounds was nothing against the combined force of these 200 plus pound dogs.
He was sure that his scream could be heard around the neighborhood as loud as it was ringing in his own ears. The dogs shook their heads vigorously while growling, and snapping, and gnawing at his petite limp body. Kicking an arm and a leg out he hoped to free himself but nothing seemed to be working. One dog worked its deformed muzzle up his shirt and locked onto his side tightly making Mello sputter blood from his mouth. This is how he's going to die? THIS! Nothing but a puddle of blood and scattered limbs as surely this pack of beast would devour every bit of his inards.
Breathing wet and shallow, Mello saw his vision give. A loud siren blared overhead, like a fire engine, or maybe a siren sound for a nuclear war. He wasn't sure, but he knew that he was tired and things were getting darker.

....................
Mello shot up to a sit when he felt his eyes opening. He knows he is not dead right away because he can feel soft leather material beneath his hand. Confused, he looked down to make sure that he wasn't naked and pawing at his own torn off clothes, but he was fully dressed. More coherent now his senses focus one at a time on his surroundings. Music playing, people talking, clanks from what he can identify as cutlery hitting plates. Visually he is in a diner. Simple as that. Stools, a bar, tables, booths, people.
'What the hell happened? Was I dreaming?' He wondered raising a hand to his head. Groping himself suddenly, his side mostly, he felt none of the pain that should have been there from the dog mauling. And lifting his shirt he saw no markings that anything had ever happened.
"...'Bout time you woke up." Came a voice at his side. "Want something to eat."
A cup of what smelled like coffee was set down before him. Looking to his side, a lank male looking a bit younger than himself dropped into a single chair across the table from him. Blinking at the goggles uplifted into the stranger's stringy red bangs, a cigarette- unlit- dangling between his lips, Mello said nothing but watched this mysterious person who seemed to be talking to him.
"I'll pay if that's what you're wondering."
"Where am I?" Mello asked hearing the scratchy husk in his over used voice. He had clearly been screaming as his nightmare- reality.... he wasn't sure, had shown him.
"Sun Cafe in Central Silent Hill."
"You mean, I'm in Silent Hill?"
The male nodded, the cigarette switched to the other side of his mouth. "And you're lucky I'm such a good guy because you ran right out in front of my car. I could have killed you."
"I ran in front of your car?"
"Hn." The male scoffed or maybe it was a friendly little laugh. "I always wanted a talking parrot but now's not the time for picking up pets." Handing Mello a menu, he asked then. "What's your name?"
Taking it, he answered the question. "Mello."
"Mello?" He repeated, playing parrot himself. "Cool. I'm Mail Jeeves, but" Hand out to shake Mello's, he grinned. "you can call me Matt."
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