Bay View Lane was on the other side of town and it took about 15 minutes to get there. When I hopped into the car, I started to feel the pleasant, warm alcohol-induced buzz in my stomach, which slowly went up toward my head. I didn’t care about driving drunk, who would arrest me anyway, Frank or Noah? I wasn’t even sure how many police officers worked at the sheriff’s office. There were some sergeants, photographers and a medical examiner at the crime scene but they might have come from outside the island.
Although it was still daylight, I had to turn on the headlights in the forest because it thick dark layers of clouds were covering the sky and the branches of huge pine trees reached so high that the leaves of their crowns brushed against each other and blocked any light from above.
The undergrowth, consisting mostly of bushes and ferns, was so tall that it reached high up to the trunks of the trees. Large stones and fallen tree trunks were scattered around the road, they were all covered with thick moss. The wind was blowing hard and it made the leaves on the pine trees sound like a continuous rustling even in the car. The forest seemed to be completely untouched by the ravages of human civilisation.
As I was approaching the town, I didn’t see a single soul around and this part of town didn’t look too friendly. There were some cabins too but they didn’t look like they were inhabited either. Perhaps they were being used as holiday homes or weekend cottages. However, I didn’t see any cars around them, maybe they didn’t visit the houses very often. This part of the town was dead. The sight of abandoned houses or cottages was peculiar to me. They seemed like a memorial of a dark and deep secret that has disappeared from the face of the Earth. I wondered for a second, what did this town hide? I wondered if Leah knew the answer.
The town was shambled between pine trees and layered in a white mist. It was too, too quiet, and the clean silence made me sad and scared.
As I took a glance at the mirror, I saw the area behind me. In the distance, I saw the dark shapes of the trees through the fog. Their branches were motionless and pointed downward. They looked like bayonets. The tips of their branches were jagged, and their leaves had long since withered and turned brown.
First I had to go past the harbour, which was full of small wooden cabins. In the centre, there was a bigger wooden building with a windmill next to it. The building was probably the administrative office of the island’s port.
Further down, I could take a glimpse at the sea. It was as grey as the sky above it and it was difficult to separate the two from each other. The angry, white waves were the only signs that gave me some clue about where the horizon was. They were washed up against a lighthouse in the distance like a storm, threatening to topple it over and wash it away forever.
After I left the harbour, I was getting heading toward the town centre. There was a small main square in the middle of town, which was not accessible by car, but there was plenty of parking on the surrounding streets along the road.
There were rows of shops all along both sides, the upper floors seemed to be residential flats. At the entrance to the main square, between the two buildings, workers were trying to stretch out a long ribbon. I could even make out the title, it said:
WELCOME TO THE FESTIVAL OF HUNTING.
With this festival around the corner, it felt like everyone wanted to outdo each other. Some put up signs on the facade listing various promotions, while others offered a 20% discount on most goods. Some were even offering free gifts with purchase. A little further away, tents were set up. Vendors unloaded their wares from vans and placed them on stands. The vendor’s faces were flushed with excitement, anticipation, and anxiety. Further on, the coffee shop was busy as the owner prepared to open. He was outside, dressed smartly in a black suit and white shirt, bantering with a few neighbours and taking care of last-minute details. On the steps of the shop, he placed a sign that said: “Free coffee today”.
I was wondering how famous this festival was. I have never heard of it outside Black Rain but it seemed it was a kind of an annual tradition on the island. Nonetheless, the sight of the title with the festive tents and the steep mountain range behind the town could have been a perfect black-and-white movie set. The four-story tents, each at least fifteen feet tall, looked like giant mushrooms that had created their own forest. Each tent had its own greens, opulent in their quantity and varied in tint, but all set against the canopy of leaves that would have been real were they not too perfect to be true.
As I was driving further, the traffic was more busy than I expected. Everyone was getting ready for this festival. Trucks, pedestrians and cars came and went to unknown destinations, causing traffic jams at some intersections.
But I wasn’t worried because after a while I took a left turn and the road was taking me back towards the seaside, which was a quiet area. I was looking for the last house at the end of the street. When I found it, I stopped the car a bit further away so I wouldn’t raise suspicion. Most blinders were pulled down on the windows of the houses and it didn’t seem that anybody was watching. The people might have been in town or having a nap, I wasn’t sure but the area seemed safe enough to break and enter. At least, I trusted Leah and I hoped she wasn’t wrong like the old lady, Emma Rios.
The Grahams lived in an old stone house with ivy climbing the walls and a garden at the back. Gnarled bushes held clusters of dark green foliage and white-and-yellow flowers. The wide front porch was welcoming and sheltered by the front of the house, with a few steps leading down to the lawn. A number of trees lined the grassy edges and shaded some of the smaller outbuildings from view. In the meantime, the sky started rumbling and I felt the first cold raindrops on my skin.
I cornered the building and went to the side. The fence indeed had a hole, which was big enough for me to get through. The lawn spread out in front of the garage and had been recently worked. A pair of matching tables and chairs sat on either side of a stone bench near the pond, which contained a fountain.
There was nobody around and I went to the left corner of the garden as Leah had instructed me. I took off my rucksack and took out a green mini shovel from it and started to dig up the small area. At first, I didn’t find anything but after a few seconds, the shovel hit something hard. It was a brown bag with a zipper on it. I opened it and there was money inside. Leah was right. I was paid.
And someone was standing in the garden, watching.
‘Fuck this shit!’ - I told myself and was looking at a kid standing in front of the fountain, near the pond. I was busted.
***
I wasn’t sure if the little boy was watching me or if I should talk to him but something was odd about him. His hair and clothes were wet, but it didn’t seem to affect him. He must have been dreaming about something because his eyes were unfocused and he looked lost in a memory. The gawky motion of his arms as he tried to gesture with three-fingered hands reminded me of a young animal trying to fly.
‘God damn it, you stupid residue!’ - I realised what it was and cursed at him.
Whoever it was, whoever it belonged to, I didn’t care. I just put the money into my rucksack, put the ground back as it was so as not to look disturbed and got the hell out of there as soon as I could.
By the time I got back to my trailer, it had already been total dark. Just as earlier, I had a guest again, waiting for me.
Leah’s body was oddly transparent as my headlights were directed at her. She definitely didn’t look human.
‘Satisfied?’ - she asked as I got out of the car.
‘My murderer was a local hunter who I actually knew. That mothefucker bastard stalked without my knowledge and then he hit on me two months ago when I went running. He pretended to be around, just hunting and had a chat with me. After a while, I started feeling uncomfortable and when I told him I should go home, he became aggressive and we had a struggle. You don’t want to hear what he did to me.’ - she said and she started crying, burying her face in her hands. His name is Matt Neal.
I walked up to her and tried to comfort her. By hugging, I mean I just hold my arms around the air - as she did not have a physical body, of course, just the visual and emotional manifestation. But that was enough to interact with her as a real person. We were “hugging” each other in silence for a few more seconds. I could feel what she felt, the sorrows and depression as to why she had to die.
Then she started talking again.
‘You know Mark, I was accepted to University. I imagined starting my autumn in New York. I imagined how many new people I would meet, the preparations for the exams, the nightlife, and my summer holidays. I had great plans, Mark. I wanted to experience more, from having my degree to finding the love of my life and having children. Instead, I had to die in the arms of a monster. You know what, I don’t care what you ask for in return, I just want the truth to come out, to have that monster punished and to bring peace to my parents. I know they won’t be able to forget me but tell them to keep loving each other I want them to be happy! Tell them I will miss them so much!’
‘I will. I promise, little girl.’ - I said and we tried to touch each other’s hands. Funnily, they just went through the air.
At that point, I took a mental note of everything she had just said I was sure I would deliver the message one way or another.
Leah was obviously a remnant that has remained on Earth because of traumatic reasons. She is the one whose death was unexpected and couldn’t process it. To compensate for her loss, she needed the truth to come out.
‘I am not going to lay down until I send an email to the sheriff with your story. I said and we said goodbye to each other.’
I went into my trailer, fired up my laptop and tried to connect to the internet, unsuccessfully. As it was raining and rumbling outside, there was no Internet. I always had to wait until the storm went away so there was nothing I could do. Instead, I took out the bottle of Jim beam from the fridge, filled up a glass and sat down on the armchair, thinking.
I have read about thousands of ghost stories and Leah reminded me of the Lady of the Lake. In 1940, two fishermen discovered a very well-preserved body of a woman in Olympic Park in Washington
It was difficult to identify her but dental analysis revealed that she was a woman who disappeared in nearby Port Angeles in 1937. She worked at a tavern and met her third husband but their relationship can’t have been good because Hallie Illingworth turned up at her workplace with bruises until she went missing. The husband claimed she must have run away to Alaska with another man.
The type of ropes and the marks on her body lead the authorities back to the husband and he was convicted. She is still there, haunting the place even though the truth was revealed. She just can’t come to terms with the fact she was murdered. To be honest, I don’t know what could convince her to leave. There are some remnants who just couldn’t be helped. Fortunately, Leah was different and she was okay to leave once her murderer got what he deserved. Revenge was a thing that could keep things moving.
But I couldn’t think more because the rhythmic dance of the raindrops on the roof made me fall asleep.
The first thing I did the next morning was to turn on my laptop again. Fortunately, I did have the Internet now. I connected to a VPN service and requested a disposable email. This is all I wrote to the Black Rain Sherif’s Office:
I KNOW WHO MURDERED LEAH CRUZ. IT WAS A LOCAL HUNTER, HIS NAME IS MATT NEAL. MATCH HIS DNA.
A friend of Leah’s
I was about to send the email when I heard a knock on the door. I peeked out of the window. It was Noah. I walked up to the door and opened it.
’I’m afraid we are gonna have a busy day. Leah Cruz’s funeral is taking place today. Frank insists that you come as well just in case you notice someone suspicious. You know…you can see the people’s reactions and who knows you might see something that we can’t.
‘Are we going now?’
‘Yeah. But I can wait for you here.’ - Noah said and entered the trailer.
‘Ok, give me one minute.’ - I said and headed to the living room. I closed my laptop and cleaned up the mess, including the bottle of whiskey. I needed a shot though so I took it with me to the bathroom and sipped some from the bottle.
‘So, how do you feel here in Black Rain?’
‘Oh, good. It’s a very nice, isolated place. I am trying to get to know the place. Oh, it reminds me of something I wanted to ask you - I said, stepping out of the bathroom. Noah was standing in the living room.
‘Yeah?’
‘Do you know of anyone who committed suicide on that huge rock over there?’ - I asked, pointing in the direction of the rock in front of the trailer.’
‘You mean, the Rock of Lovers? No, nobody I can’t think of. Why?’
‘Not important. Probably just some silly gossip that I heard.’ - I lied.
‘I am not surprised. A few families and loners live outside the town, in the wilderness. Usually hunters, lumberjacks or rangers. They only come to town to shop or buy the grocery. When they come, they like talking as if they were old wanderers, coming from a different world, sharing legends and mysterious events. I think they just make these stories up. You know, they like exaggerating. Also, there are some remote areas which are so difficult to approach that they are unknown territories for us, locals. Those areas are said to be haunted: strange lights can be seen time by time, hikers go missing, while others talk about the so-called mountain people. I don’t know if all of this is true.’
‘Noah, could we stop the small talk? I am getting a headache. Please have a seat until I am done.’ - I said. Noah widened his eyes surprised at my reaction but it was too much to listen to this bullshit. I just hoped he wouldn’t arrest me for what I had said.
I put on some black dress and we left for the cemetery which was actually not that far from my property: it was located in the northern part of the town. On the way there something crossed my mind.
‘So what is this Festival of Hunting?’
‘I thought you didn’t care about the small talk, Mark.’
‘Yeah, well, you got me. It’s just something that caught my eyes yesterday.’
‘Just so you know, you have arrived at this island just in time so you can see the whole festival. There are vendors and musicians in the streets and a few horse-drawn carts on which hunters put their trophies. They present the trophies they are most proud of. Then a jury decides on the most beautiful chariot. It’s held every year, the busiest time of year in Silent Hill. The rest of the year is the same: nothing happens.
‘How long does the celebration last? - I asked.
‘From 15 October to the end of the month. If you want, you can go to the town square tomorrow. You’re in for a rare treat. And much more.’ he said.
I wasn’t sure that was a good idea. What if I was meeting the hunter, Leah’s murderer? I wasn’t sure I could hold myself back from beating him up with a baseball bat.
The northern part of town was much different from the town centre. It wasn’t festive at all. The rain had stopped and it was replaced by white wreaths of fog which began to roll. The houses and buildings were settling into a colourless grey, the light was failing and the houses were dwindling into dim, unreal shapes. I still had a good deal of questions. Why do I have a feeling that these people are hiding something? Am I really safe here? In this area of the town, I did not see old people gossiping or children playing around. I felt as if I were being watched from behind the curtains. It was difficult to decide if it was real or just the result of feeling insecure but probably the latter. When we are in unknown territories, the sensation of watching eyes is in human nature as a result of evolution which has prepared us to be ready for danger like carnivores.
The cemetery was surrounded by a chain-link fence that was swept clean. A parking lot with gravel filled the front of the cemetery. I could already see a crowd gathered at the huge, vaulted gate.
I also spotted Frank and James Andrew as they were standing next to each other in the parking lot, keeping a distance from the crowd, and watching the people. Noah parked far from the entrance, we got out of the car, walked up to them and shook hands.
‘I am glad that you came, son. I just want you to be casual and watch. Anything suspicious you see, you tell me later.’
‘Yes boss.’ - I said
‘Oh, one more thing. Old people complain about you not turning up at their place. What has happened? You are no longer interested in this job?’
‘I was thinking. Actually, it may not be my cup of cake. I have some work online and I can earn some money with that.ú
‘Are you sure?’
‘I am.’
‘It’s just not good that you disappoint these elderly people here, son. But what can I do if you don’t want to do it anymore? Anyway…this is not the best place and time to discuss this matter. We should follow the crowd.’ - Frank said.
I didn’t feel like explaining too much to Frank. Yes, I was thankful that he covered my ass but still, he wasn’t my boss and I wanted to stay in control of my life.
In the meantime, more and more people came to the cemetery, and all of them gave their condolences to the sad couple. When everybody had arrived, the crowd entered the vaulted gate and the three of us followed them. The crowd was small at first, but it grew as more and more people arrived. They came from all directions, from the streets and from the houses, from jobs and from school. They pushed past each other, milling around the front gates, eager to get a spot at the festivities. In a wide radius around the gates, an expanse of grass and trees gave way to hillsides packed with graves. A thick layer of white marble covered each grave; raindrops were gathering on their surface in the light rain.
Some graves had crosses carved into white marble headstones; others had angels or statues of Saint Mary. Once we passed through those gates we would age a hundred years.
The graves of the ancestors of the island lost and forgotten beneath the earth dominated the landscape from their rotten coffins underground.
There was an enormous ash tree beside the path and its thick branches swayed gently in the damp breeze, its leaves rustling together like whispers of approval for the procession.
As we got more inside, the cemetery was packed with people, all of them wearing black, some men and women shuffled quietly, others cried, some were angry and shouted, and more than a few of them cursed.
The air was humid and sticky, the ground was soaked with rain, and its soft mud squelched under our shoes.
In the meantime, I spotted some remnants - entities which did not belong to this world. Some of them were standing in front of their headstones, thinking deeply. They weren’t the type of remnants who wanted to move on. I mean not yet. Sometimes, when death comes very suddenly and unexpectedly, a spirit cannot leave its body behind easily. The reason why cemeteries often attract remnants is that memories and feelings are connected to the body itself. So the person cannot leave the physical reality easily, his strong bonding becomes his own barrier – keeping the remnant near its body. The reason for these situations can be accidents, crimes or other unfortunate events as well as diseases. They still insist on our physical world after death and they stay with their own bodies, not being capable of breaking up with them.
If I approached one of them, they would probably didn’t care about my presence. Telling them they are dead wouldn’t change anything because they want to stay. They cannot leave as long as they are processing the fact that they cannot interact with the physical world anymore.
’There is reverend Walt Whitman,’ Frank replied, pulling me back to reality and motioning toward a man dressed in long white robes. The wind was tugging at the edges of his suit, but the reverend held his hat down in front of him with one hand. A coffin, painted white and adorned with wilting flowers, stood in front of the church.
I saw Leah’s coffin in front of the chapel, the crowd thick around it. The mourners dabbed at their eyes with handkerchiefs and exchanged hushed words as a flock of crows flew overhead in the air. During his burial speech, some people were crying. I saw Mr and Mrs Brown crying, the mother’s face was buried into her husband’s shoulders. They were greatly affected by the loss.
There were people standing around the parents. They were probably family members and relatives.
‘Just so you know, there is one person who should be here but he shouldn’t.’ - Noah whispered.’
‘The boyfriend.’
‘Did she have a boyfriend?’ - My eyes widened.
‘She did. And he is not here. Isn’t that strange? His name is Sean Pratt’ - Noah replied.
Then I felt someone’s presence around me. I looked sideways and saw Leah standing next to me.
‘That’s bullshit. He just had a crush on me but I never thought about a serious relationship with him.’ - she said. I couldn’t say a word because there were people all around me. But my first guess was that Sean being friendzoned meant a pretty reasonable motive.
‘Don’t worry, you don’t have to speak.’ - Leah added.
Meanwhile, the sky started to rumble and darker clouds were drifting in the sky.
‘Get this instead: can you see that man standing over there?’ - she asked. I looked in the distance and saw a man in black trousers a white shirt and a brown vest on it. I nodded.
‘That’s the man who killed me.’