Charles' Journey: Loss

[Laraqua]

He finds a steel key with post office box number on it. 265.

[Pickman37]

Surprised by his find, Charles rolls the key over several times between his fingers, studying it before he slips it into his pocket. He then returns the teddy bears to their original position on the couch. Despite his earlier 'bull in a china shop' routine in the last house when he was still with Rochelle and Lily, Charles feels almost guilty for disturbing anything in this room.

He takes a final glance around before heading towards the door but then stops. He feels drawn towards the television and turns back to approach it. He scans for a channel button on its face...

[Laraqua]

There is one on the old-fashioned television set. Flicking through it finds that most of it is full of static but there is an Emergency Broadcast symbol on a few of the channels that directs him to call 555-70-1210.

[Pickman37]

Charles is struck by the antiquity of the television set. He assumed none existed anymore let alone still worked. As such, he is skeptical of the number available. He contemplates calling the number but decides against it, choosing to save the remaining power on his cell phone. He repeats the number to himself under his breath in an attempt to remember it in case he comes upon a land line in this house...

"555-70-1210...555-70-1210...555-70-1210..."

He leaves the television on that channel and heads for the hallway to check the other rooms across the hall...

[Laraqua]

The first door leads into a kitchenette / dining area with fridge magnets from around America adorning the fridge, a lion shaped clock (the clock is on the lion's face) whose tail ticks the seconds away and a round dining table with four chairs that has a basket of plastic fruit on the middle of it. In the corner of the room sits an occasional table with a vase of aged daffodils sitting upright inside of it. On the kitchen counter that separates the kitchenette from the dining area is a bunch of yellowed bills held down by the telephone.

[Pickman37]

Having left the artificial light provided by the television, Charles is forced again to resort to his lighter. As his eyes scan the room, they fall upon the telephone. He immediately makes his way across the kitchen to it, picking up the receiver in hopes of hearing a dial tone...

[Laraqua]

Perhaps there is a God. There certainly is a dial tone.

But how can the telephone lines still be up in that storm? Perhaps they're underground here.

[Pickman37]

Charles is about to dial when he realizes his predicament.

Shit! I don't even know where I am. What street....house number...

He considers going back outside to search for a street sign but then balks at the thought of facing the smog again. He tries to recall the journey to the house.

Not sure how far I travelled in that thick crap but I still must be close to the bar. Within a block maybe?

He is unsure but does know he has to find medical assistance. He decides to dial 911 in the hopes of reaching someone...

[Laraqua]

The phone rings for a few rounds and then a mechanical voice states: "The number you have called is not connected. Please check your number and try again."

[Pickman37]

Disconnected? What the hell...

Charles knows he did not mis-dial. He slams the phone down frustrated then picks it up again. He attempts to call the Emergency Broadcast number he saw on the television if he can remember it...

[Laraqua]

A quick double check reveals that the number shows up intermittently between bouts of static as though the television reception was more than a little dodgy. Considering what the winds must be doing to the television antennae on the roof, that's not all that surprising. He dials the number and on the third ring the telephone picks up: "Hello, this is Detective George Wilson at SHFM."

[Pickman37]

Charles' heart nearly jumps into his throat. He had been alone quite some time and was beginning to feel the fingers of panic. As a result, the words pour out of him, almost too quickly to the point of incoherency...

"Man, am I glad to hear someone. My name is Charles Thompson. I've been shot and I need medical attention. I don't know where I am....some house...uh, it's got to be close to a bar. Annie's Bar owned by a whack job named Rochelle. It was near Combustion Street or something like that....and my sister is missing. I need help..."

Charles pauses, gasping for breath as if he just finished running a race...

[Laraqua]

Towards the end of his tirade Charles hears the voice come back over the line. "Damn. I'm sorry but if you are out there and you're talking to me and it isn't just this damn storm weather then I can't hear you. I hope to God you can hear me. I'm in the radio station which you can find if you follow Nathan Avenue toward the North West. This storm just came from nowhere and I managed to put on the emergency signal from the booth by the television signal towers. I don't much dare venture out there now. If you can get to a radio then we can probably speak with greater ease. I repeat: My name is Detective George Wilson and I'm at SHFM down Nathan Avenue toward the North West. I have a shortwave radio near me as much as, of course, the radio station's machinery as well. In case you're wondering, I'd avoid the police station if I were you. I think ... I think someone put something in the water supply. The other officers.... Please just come to me as fast as you can."

[Pickman37]

Charles puts the phone down...

Nathan Avenue...? Dammit I need a map....or some dumb luck...

He feels the lighter getting hot. He puts it out and switches to the cold one.

I have to find a map somewhere...

He glances around for a drawer or a phone book. While looking, he sees the yellowed bills being held down by the phone. He inspects them to make sure that they are just what they appear to be...

[Laraqua]

The yellowed bills are simply bills from the various companies - electrical companies, water companies, telephone companies, and bank statements. Apparently a Mrs. Jennifer Ashley used to live here. Perhaps she still does. The bottom most drawer of one of the kitchen cupboards gives him success. There's a street map of Silent Hill. Shame its so dusty out there. If only there were some way to keep the ash out of his mouth and eyes while still having some visibility. There is a way that's on the tip of his tongue. Something that might even provide a wee bit of armour. How could he do this?

[Pickman37]

Charles' excitement at finding the map is only temporary. He still has the problem of facing the miasma outside. His mind tells him there is a way but as he takes a mental inventory of what he has seen so far in the house, he fails to draw up a solution.

The basket of plastic fruit...the daffodil vase...frilly lamp cover...the toy trains...knitted lap blanket...television...What could I use?

Charles can feel a headache coming on. He considers taking a seat to rest but then contemplates continuing his search of the house.

OOC,This has had me stumped for a few days now :? . Exactly how thick is the ash? Would the knitted blanket prevent it from getting in my eyes if I wrapped it around my head like a keffiyeh but also covered my face? And would I still have visibility? BTW Happy B-Day!

[Laraqua]

There doesn't seem to be anything in this house that he has seen so far that would be effective but he knows that there has been something designed that was relatively common that people use to keep dirt and flies out of their eyes. Something that a bar owner might have if he could get back to that bar. What was it about bars and headwear again?

[Pickman37]

Glasses...?

Charles tries to recall if he saw any back in the bar that were not of the drinking variety. It feels like a lifetime since he was there. He glances at the map but he is unsure of his present location. However, he believes he may be able to re-trace his steps based on memory. He folds the map up and places it inside his jacket then returns to the television room and takes the knitted blanket to use as a cover for his mouth. He makes his way down the hall and, upon reaching the door, douses the area of the blanket which will be covering his mouth with booze from the bottle in his pocket. He fastens it around his head and prepares to step back outside, forcing the door open enough for him to get through...

[Laraqua]

It isn't too hard to dash back across the road despite the roiling ash but it is difficult to move without tripping over the kerb. He makes it over the gutter without too much issue, only to step up and trip over something rubber and chrome as he goes, knocking him onto his hands and knees. Reaching back, he feels the leather seat pressed into the metal of a motorcycle that must have been left here at some fatal point. Through gritted lashes, he can make out the vague outline of a dented light pole.

[Pickman37]

Charles grits his teeth in pain and stifles a cry. The fall itself caused no damage but did serve to remind him of the lead still embedded in his body from Jack's shotgun blast. He picked himself up and lingered for a second...

Some transportation would be nice to get to that radio station quicker but no doubt this bike is wrecked. Besides, this ash...

Charles carried on into the fog in search of the bar...