William C. Tate: Howard Blackwood

Silent Hill: Downpour

Howard Blackwood

[Murphy comes upon the Devil's Pitstop, a dilapidated B&B and diner with an old truck parked out front]
Murphy: Well, look at that... an old '52. Flathead V8, no doubt about it.
[Murphy prepares to break into the truck when a mailman approaches]
Howard: Wicked old beast, ain't she?
Murphy: What?
Howard: I said she's a wicked old beast. Me, I'm partial to something with a little less rust, but to each his own.
Murphy: Look, I don't want any trouble. Just point the way out of town and I'll keep right on going.
Howard: Now who said anything about trouble? Just trying to be helpful, son.
[extends his hand]
Howard: Name's Howard, by the way.
Murphy: Murphy.
Howard: Heading to prison, are you, Murphy?
Murphy: Just looking for a way out of town, that's all.
Howard: That so? 'fraid all the roads are out. Every last one of them. Strangest thing.
[Murphy looks up and sees a mutilated figure in a wheelchair in the hotel's second floor window]
Murphy: What the - ?
Howard: Something wrong, son?
Murphy: Did you see it? Up there in the window.
[the window is now boarded up]
Murphy: Never mind.
Howard: I suppose if you're really desperate, you could try the old sky tram. Course, it hasn't really been kept up since the accident.
Murphy: I'll take my chances.
Howard: That's the spirit. Well, this mail ain't gonna deliver itself. Good luck, Murphy. Hope you find whatever it is you're looking for.
[walks off into the fog]

[Murphy opens a door and finds Howard waiting on the other side]
Murphy: Jesus! You scared the hell out of me.
Howard: Definitely not what I intended. Still in town, I see.
Murphy: Just haven't found a way out yet.
Howard: If I had a nickel for every time I heard that...
Murphy: Yeah, then what?
Howard: Well, let's just say I could finally put this damn bag down, for starters.
Murphy: Man, cut the bullshit. What is this place?
Howard: Can't say I understand the question. This is a busy town. Do you think these letters deliver themselves?
Murphy: Whatever. Can you at least tell me where the radio station is? Someone's been calling in, making these dedications to me.
Howard: Oh sure, that'd be the tall building in the center of town. Big ol' monster of a clock at the top. Shouldn't be hard to find. By the way, I ran into that lady friend of yours. What in the world did you do to get that young woman so riled up, anyway? She was fit to be tied.
Murphy: Tell you the truth, I got no idea.
Howard: Son, in my experience, when someone's that angry, it ain't a mistake... it's personal.