The Bus that Jack was on suddenly pulls over right beside the Silent Hill City limits, there is a car sitting beside the side of the road it's owner appears to be standing over the open hood.
The Bus driver opens the doors, "Hey Mr.? Do you need a ride into town so you can call a tow truck or something?" He will ask waiting for the man to reply.
Carl kicked the wheel of his car, just out of frustration. He was usually able to keep things running; hell, he'd been doing it for this car for ten years past its due date. Supposedly it was just its time to die.
When the bus pulled up, Carl tipped his hat back on his head, nodding. "That'd be swell."
"Then get on just until the next stop though." The Driver says letting Carl on, there is of course only one spot left on the bus, and that happens to be beside Jack, who is sitting by himself at this point.
"Thanks," Carl gets on the bus, taking his tool box with him. The rest of the car and his stuff was as good as scrap, but his tools were worth quite a bit and he didn't want to lose them, especially since they were his livelyhood.
"Hey." He nodded to Jack, and then glanced out the window at his car.
Jack glances over at the man and nods his greeting. He was dressed in jeans, boots, and a tee-shirt. His hair was a military cut, though it looks as though it'd had some time to start growing back out.
His mind was still racing on the dreams and the visions that had been running through his head, but now that someone was actually speaking to him, he was pulled back to reality. "Bad luck, breaking down here."
-- Edited by Jack Simmons on Saturday 27th of June 2009 09:07:35 PM
"Ah, its not so far from where I was actually headed, and that car was about ready to give up the ghost anyways." He had a voice of a thousand glasses of whiskey. "Part of me just wants to leave the thing there, get a new car when I can afford it."
He nods noncommittally. "Always an idea," is all he says before turning his attentions back to the window, looking out it for a moment, then back to the man next to him. "Where were you headed to?" he asks, at least making an attempt at polite conversation.
"Silent Hill. I got a job offer there; think I'm going to take it. In this economy, a tradesman can't afford to be too picky, you know?" He was carrying a toolbox in his lap, and his hands were absolutely ruined with manual labour.
Jack nods. "I'm heading there myself. Trying to look up an old friend. What's your trade?" He glances over at the man, then the toolbox, instinctively sizing him up and trying to get a read on him, his intent, is he being truthful...before he stops himself. This isn't a warzone, Jack. Not everybody here could be strapping C4.
"Pretty much everything. You show me a broken thing, and I can probably put it together again." He shrugged and drummed his fingers along the toolbox awkwardly. Talking wasn't his strong suit. After a while, the awkwardness began to get too much for him, and he opened the tool box, pulling out a whiskey flask, offering it to Jack. "It's good stuff."
Jack had always found quiet reflection a welcome thing, but when the flask was presented, he accepted and took a good draw off it before handing it back. "Thanks. Where you planning on working?"
"Well, I got an offer at a place, so we'll see how that goes. What about you? What are you heading there for? Vacation?" He took his flask back, sipped from it, and then capped it and put it back in his toolbox.
Jack nods a bit. "Something like that. Looking for some old friends." He noticed the man's dodging the question of where he'll be working and decides to drop the subject. Glancing back out the window, he frowns. "Been a looong time since I've been here."
The Bus driver comes to a halt, outside the bus there is a little girl on the corner, she looks exactly like Moon did when she was at the Orphanage.
Moon had actually been dropped off by her parents, they had been hippies and not what one would call the responsible type. Moon had been a drag like a house pet you get who had over stayed it's welcome.
Jack could recall that little girl sitting on the front porch crying her eyes out waiting for those parents to come and get her.
Jack sits up in his seat when he sees the little girl. It isn't Moon, it can't be, but he still takes notice, frowning. Second time today he's seen her. "Something's very wrong," he murmurs to himself. When he was in the Middle East, he visited dozens and dozens of cities, trusting instinct to tell him when he was about to walk into a trap or a combat zone. Every single one of those instincts was screaming at him right now.
Carl closed the toolbox. He recognized that girl, vaugely. His memories of his time at the orphanage were hazy at best. So much had happened since then. He didn't even connect the feeling of recognition with the orphanage specifically. "What do you mean?"
Jack frowns, trying to pinpoint the exact source of his gut feeling, but can't seem to. Eventually he just shakes his head and turns towards Carl. "Something's wrong and we're about to dive head first into a steaming pile of ****-for-luck," he says to the other man before returning his attentions to the window. "And first place to look is the Orphanage..." he says to himself.
"Goddamnit, really?" Carl frowned, and looked askance at Jack. "Uhh. I went there, once. Long time ago. What makes you say that? It was a pretty normal orphanage, if terrible for that exact reason."
"I was raised there for the first part of my life. Now I'm just..." he shakes his head, deciding that the reality sounds crazy even to him. So he sugarcoats it, "Just getting a feeling someone I knew there is in trouble. That with this whole head first dive thing just sets me on edge."
"Not much to say. I was an orphan, I got adopted, tried to forget I was ever here." He opened his toolbox, and pulled out the flask, taking another pull.
"Don't really see what you're getting at with this whole feeling thing, though. Can't say's I feel anything."
The bus door opens and oddly enough the bus is empty, when did the other people leave? the world outside is gray and foggy and they can hear the little girl by the bus stop crying.
Jack looks around with a concerned expression before he reaches up and into his carry-on bag, pulling out his holstered pistol, clipping it onto his belt. He gently tries to move past Carl to take the lead as he draws the weapon and sticks his head out of the door, looking around.
There is no bus driver, none of the other passengers are there, just the little blonde girl sitting by herself crying into her hands as she sits there alone.
"Okay, I think this is the second most unusual thing that has ever happened to me. First, if we don't count drug induced hallucination." Carl opened his toolbox, taking up his flask and taking his third pull of the day, before putting it back. He was about to close it when he saw his wrench just sitting there.
Jack starts towards the little girl. Slowly. They'd just tripped the trap and he knew it. "Miss? Miss, can you please tell us what's going on?" He puts his hand on his gun and flicks the safety off, ready to draw and fire it in a heartbeat if need be.
