Half-life2:Resistance
- Thread starter theotherguy
- Start date
Just so we dont spam this thread with stuff about the movie, email me at Bigcheese_gs at holtmail.com if you are interested in helping and i will contact you after half life 2 comes out and i figure it all out.
btw dont type to fast we want this to be readable
btw dont type to fast we want this to be readable
theotherguy
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and the chapter is done!
-Chapter 26, Ravenholm-
Gregori passed into the dark enclave of trees, with the rest of the group following him. The ground was flatter now, and the trees were all but gone, simply with bushes in their place. The gloom of night hung about them like a black veil as they moved hastily through the field. They definitely could not see the town from here.
“We’re going to have to pass through the main part of town here, where the infestation is at its worse. The most important thing is that we do not get separated. The Forsaken Ones will be hesitant to attack us as a group, but they will try to separate us one by one, and pick us off.” Gregori explained, pushing aside the leaves of a bush, and looking around him for signs of zombies.
Ian felt tension welling up inside of him. Flashbacks of his first encounter with the headcrab zombies raced through his mind…images of their bedraggled corpses limping out of his tenement building, the mutated body of his father one of them….images of the zombie crashing into the light post, and then coming out of his car, flaming, patting out the fire.
He knew what lay ahead of them, and it terrified him. But he trusted Father Gregori. It seemed like Gregori knew what he was doing. Gregori was experienced, and it seemed like he had passed through the town many times, if he did not indeed live there himself.
They moved through the knee-high grass quickly and efficiently, crushing the little stalks under their feet as they went. After less than fifteen minutes, Ian could see the outline of the buildings of a small town ahead of them. It was Ravenholm. Slightly after seeing the buildings, an awful haze of smell surrounded them. It was a horrible smell, one of death, sort of like spoiled milk. The smell permeated their nostrils, and Ian nearly fell backwards in disgust.
“What is that horrible smell?” Harper asked Gregori insistently. Gregori turned to him, and with an ashen look on his face, replied, “It is the smell of my countrymen, infested by the headcrab, and forced to live in filth, eating one another. One gets used to the smell, friend. It is the sights of Ravenholm that will haunt you forever.” Gregori cocked his shotgun, “Prepare, comrades, for we are very near to our fates now. May God guide us through the city of The Forsaken; and should we die, let Him lead us to salvation.”
Gregori’s obvious talk of death sent the feeling of butterflies through Ian’s stomach. He didn’t know how long Gregori had been hunting the zombies of Ravenholm, but it had obviously been long enough to drive the poor old priest totally insane.
The group continued through the field for some time, growing ever closer and closer to the ghost town. Harper spoke up, “Gregori is it really necessary for us to go right through the town? Isn’t there some other path we can take to get to the headquarters of the alien resistance?” Gregori looked at him with an ashen face, “I’m sorry, friend, but in order to get to the mines, we must first cross through the town, then the graveyard.”
They were going through a graveyard? Gregori hadn’t mentioned that before. The group continued through the field, where the smell was getting worse and worse, when they came to the first small, wooden shack that signified the beginning of Ravenholm.
Gregori came up to the shack, and put his back against the wooden siding of it, holding his shotgun upward. Ian came directly after Gregori; he pressed his back against the wood of the shack, looking around for any signs of zombies. The others put their backs against the shack as well, and all of them were in a line there.
Gregori held up his hand to signal that they should wait there. “Alright, comrades, we’ve made it to the first building. Right to the right here is the main street that leads through the middle of town. To get to the graveyard, it’s a simple matter of going down Main Street through the central part of town, and then near the coast will be the limits of the graveyard. We will then go through the graveyard, and reach the coal mine which serves as the alien resistance headquarters.” Gregori whispered, turning to the others, who were lined up against the wooden wall of the shack.
He continued, “Alright, follow me, and stay close.” He turned from the wall, and went around the corner of the shack, jogging across the paved main street, stopping in the light of a streetlight, which flickered on and off in the night. He waved for the others to follow him, and Ian ducked down, grasping his own shotgun tightly, and running out to the middle of the road where Father Gregori stood, the others following him.
They grouped in the light of the flickering street light, and looked down the road into the main part of town. Ravenholm lay before them, it’s small, dilapidated buildings gathered in rows on the side of Main Street. On the ground ahead of them lay the bent and broken remains of a brown sign that read: “Welcome to Ravenholm. Population: 1,500.” Wonderful; they would have to deal with that many headcrab zombies.
Ahead of them on the road there burned the remains of a rusted and burnt car, casting flickering orange light on the little buildings around it. Miraculously, Ian did not see any of the limping silhouettes of headcrab zombies on the road.
Slowly and cautiously, with Father Gregori in the lead, the group moved down the road, looking back and forth at the buildings, paranoid of the slightest sounds. Nothing could be heard but the crackling of the burning car, and the sound of their own breathing.
Ian observed the buildings that lined the roads. They were simple small businesses, with signs that spoke of every kind of shop, from restaurants to barber shops. It must have been a cozy little town before the invasion. Now, it was all but bare of emotion or activity; and in the air hung the foreboding feeling of evil.
They passed the burning car that was in the middle of the road. It was a blue sedan, similar to the one that Harper had been driving earlier. It must have crashed recently, and Ian was terrified to see deep scratch marks on the metal hull of the car.
The group continued moving along in a mass cautiously, taking in the scene around them. That was when Ian noticed something curious. Scattered randomly around the road were small black pods, made of sleek, shiny black metal, and half-buried in the asphalt. They looked like they might have originated from The Combine.
“What are these?” Ian asked, pointing to one of the pods. Gregori responded, “They are what started this whole ordeal. Once The Combine set up The Citadel, they used it to launch these pods to several towns. The pods contained a great number of headcrabs, and when they would land, the headcrabs would pop out, and would infest the citizens. It was really quite a gruesome experience.”
Gregori picked up the pace a bit. “Come on,” he said, “We should speed up here; I have a feeling that something is following us.” So, they all began into a slow jog, running down the straight path through the ghost town.
Then, as they were jogging, they came across an intersection in the road, and in the middle of the intersection was a small grass area. There was a wooden light post in the center of the grass area, casting out its gloomy light into the darkness. As the party entered the intersection, Ian glanced at the light post, and was shocked.
He saw a rope that was tied to the light post. Following the rope downward, he noticed that at its end was tied none other than a set of amputated human legs. He nearly vomited at the sight of the human legs swinging on the rope.
The others must have noticed the legs as well, because Alyx moaned, “Oh my God, what happened here?” The party stopped there in the intersection, looking at the mangled legs in disgust as they swung in and out of the light.
The legs looked like they had been part of a person that had been devoured by some kind of horrible beast, and then was hung on the post as some kind of sick joke. “Let’s get out of here!” Tonya exclaimed, turning to run. Gregori replied, “I agree, this is something new, I’ve never seen The Forsaken perform such a ritual.”
Ian averted his eyes from the gruesome sight of the amputated legs, and followed Tonya and Gregori down the road. But just as they were moving along; a sound caught their attention. Ian could hear a deep moaning from around them, followed by a horrendous gurgling sound. The sour milk smell grew stronger.
The moaning sound caused the party to stop in fear, and then look around them. Ian listened, and again, there was another moan from somewhere in the darkness, and then another, coming from all around them. Then suddenly, as they were looking around, the limping figure of a headcrab zombie slipped into the dull light of the streetlight from which the severed human legs were hung.
The creature looked horrifying. It looked much like a human being, except for the fact that in place of a human face, the creature had the spiny, slimy, quivering yellow mass of a headcrab lodged on its neck. Its fingers were mutated and twig-like, and were curled up on its chest as it lunged for Tonya.
Tonya screamed as the creature stumbled towards her, its twig-like arms outstretched. Just at that moment, Father Gregori charged towards the zombie, and blasted it with his shotgun, causing it to fly back a foot in the air. It landed on its back, gurgling.
“The Forsaken are upon us!” shouted Father Gregori through the smoke of his shotgun blast. He cocked his rifle. Just at that moment, moaning zombies appeared all around them in the light. Ian didn’t hesitate to let out his own shotgun blast, hitting one of the zombies, causing it to jerk backwards. However, his shot seemed to do nothing to the creature, and it lunged at him, letting out a blood-curdling and inhuman scream.
Ian pulled the trigger of his shotgun again, and this time he hit the creature directly, causing it fall to the ground. It wasn’t long until the whole group had backed up to the light post, and they were all firing, downing zombies as quickly as they had appeared. Even the Vortigaunt let out its electric blasts, electrocuting several of them at once.
“Gregori, what do we do?” Harper shouted in desperation in-between shots. Gregori continued to fire at the ever-advancing zombies; and managed to reply, “They are fiercer than I expected. Do not worry, my friend, luckily one of my traps has been set in this very location. Do you see those barrels over there?”
Gregori pointed towards a group of red barrels that were gathered around one of the shacks. As if to clarify his point, one of the zombies picked up one of the barrels with surprising strength, and then tossed it inaccurately at the group. The barrel rolled by them, and struck another one of the zombies, crushing it.
“You need to fire at the barrels!” Father Gregori exclaimed, turning his sights on one of the red metal barrels. He pulled the trigger of his antique shot gun, and the blast echoed in the night. His bullets struck one of the barrels. Instantly, the barrel lit on fire, and seconds later it exploded in a cloud of dust and fire.
The zombies that were gathered around the barrels screeched, and were blasted many feet into the air, and slammed against the walls of buildings, and crashed into the ground. The other people in the group got the hint, and started firing randomly at the other barrels, lighting them on fire, and causing them to explode.
Stupidly, the other zombies simply walked right into the flames, and caught fire, running around in agony. “Now!” Father Gregori yelled, sprinting off in the direction of the explosions. Ian and the rest of the group followed him, fending off the other zombies around them.
They ran amongst the corpses of the fallen zombies, and ran past the living ones. Zombies were now appearing all over the town, out of every building and alleyway they poured, limping towards them, and making their awful moaning sounds.
-Chapter 26, Ravenholm-
Gregori passed into the dark enclave of trees, with the rest of the group following him. The ground was flatter now, and the trees were all but gone, simply with bushes in their place. The gloom of night hung about them like a black veil as they moved hastily through the field. They definitely could not see the town from here.
“We’re going to have to pass through the main part of town here, where the infestation is at its worse. The most important thing is that we do not get separated. The Forsaken Ones will be hesitant to attack us as a group, but they will try to separate us one by one, and pick us off.” Gregori explained, pushing aside the leaves of a bush, and looking around him for signs of zombies.
Ian felt tension welling up inside of him. Flashbacks of his first encounter with the headcrab zombies raced through his mind…images of their bedraggled corpses limping out of his tenement building, the mutated body of his father one of them….images of the zombie crashing into the light post, and then coming out of his car, flaming, patting out the fire.
He knew what lay ahead of them, and it terrified him. But he trusted Father Gregori. It seemed like Gregori knew what he was doing. Gregori was experienced, and it seemed like he had passed through the town many times, if he did not indeed live there himself.
They moved through the knee-high grass quickly and efficiently, crushing the little stalks under their feet as they went. After less than fifteen minutes, Ian could see the outline of the buildings of a small town ahead of them. It was Ravenholm. Slightly after seeing the buildings, an awful haze of smell surrounded them. It was a horrible smell, one of death, sort of like spoiled milk. The smell permeated their nostrils, and Ian nearly fell backwards in disgust.
“What is that horrible smell?” Harper asked Gregori insistently. Gregori turned to him, and with an ashen look on his face, replied, “It is the smell of my countrymen, infested by the headcrab, and forced to live in filth, eating one another. One gets used to the smell, friend. It is the sights of Ravenholm that will haunt you forever.” Gregori cocked his shotgun, “Prepare, comrades, for we are very near to our fates now. May God guide us through the city of The Forsaken; and should we die, let Him lead us to salvation.”
Gregori’s obvious talk of death sent the feeling of butterflies through Ian’s stomach. He didn’t know how long Gregori had been hunting the zombies of Ravenholm, but it had obviously been long enough to drive the poor old priest totally insane.
The group continued through the field for some time, growing ever closer and closer to the ghost town. Harper spoke up, “Gregori is it really necessary for us to go right through the town? Isn’t there some other path we can take to get to the headquarters of the alien resistance?” Gregori looked at him with an ashen face, “I’m sorry, friend, but in order to get to the mines, we must first cross through the town, then the graveyard.”
They were going through a graveyard? Gregori hadn’t mentioned that before. The group continued through the field, where the smell was getting worse and worse, when they came to the first small, wooden shack that signified the beginning of Ravenholm.
Gregori came up to the shack, and put his back against the wooden siding of it, holding his shotgun upward. Ian came directly after Gregori; he pressed his back against the wood of the shack, looking around for any signs of zombies. The others put their backs against the shack as well, and all of them were in a line there.
Gregori held up his hand to signal that they should wait there. “Alright, comrades, we’ve made it to the first building. Right to the right here is the main street that leads through the middle of town. To get to the graveyard, it’s a simple matter of going down Main Street through the central part of town, and then near the coast will be the limits of the graveyard. We will then go through the graveyard, and reach the coal mine which serves as the alien resistance headquarters.” Gregori whispered, turning to the others, who were lined up against the wooden wall of the shack.
He continued, “Alright, follow me, and stay close.” He turned from the wall, and went around the corner of the shack, jogging across the paved main street, stopping in the light of a streetlight, which flickered on and off in the night. He waved for the others to follow him, and Ian ducked down, grasping his own shotgun tightly, and running out to the middle of the road where Father Gregori stood, the others following him.
They grouped in the light of the flickering street light, and looked down the road into the main part of town. Ravenholm lay before them, it’s small, dilapidated buildings gathered in rows on the side of Main Street. On the ground ahead of them lay the bent and broken remains of a brown sign that read: “Welcome to Ravenholm. Population: 1,500.” Wonderful; they would have to deal with that many headcrab zombies.
Ahead of them on the road there burned the remains of a rusted and burnt car, casting flickering orange light on the little buildings around it. Miraculously, Ian did not see any of the limping silhouettes of headcrab zombies on the road.
Slowly and cautiously, with Father Gregori in the lead, the group moved down the road, looking back and forth at the buildings, paranoid of the slightest sounds. Nothing could be heard but the crackling of the burning car, and the sound of their own breathing.
Ian observed the buildings that lined the roads. They were simple small businesses, with signs that spoke of every kind of shop, from restaurants to barber shops. It must have been a cozy little town before the invasion. Now, it was all but bare of emotion or activity; and in the air hung the foreboding feeling of evil.
They passed the burning car that was in the middle of the road. It was a blue sedan, similar to the one that Harper had been driving earlier. It must have crashed recently, and Ian was terrified to see deep scratch marks on the metal hull of the car.
The group continued moving along in a mass cautiously, taking in the scene around them. That was when Ian noticed something curious. Scattered randomly around the road were small black pods, made of sleek, shiny black metal, and half-buried in the asphalt. They looked like they might have originated from The Combine.
“What are these?” Ian asked, pointing to one of the pods. Gregori responded, “They are what started this whole ordeal. Once The Combine set up The Citadel, they used it to launch these pods to several towns. The pods contained a great number of headcrabs, and when they would land, the headcrabs would pop out, and would infest the citizens. It was really quite a gruesome experience.”
Gregori picked up the pace a bit. “Come on,” he said, “We should speed up here; I have a feeling that something is following us.” So, they all began into a slow jog, running down the straight path through the ghost town.
Then, as they were jogging, they came across an intersection in the road, and in the middle of the intersection was a small grass area. There was a wooden light post in the center of the grass area, casting out its gloomy light into the darkness. As the party entered the intersection, Ian glanced at the light post, and was shocked.
He saw a rope that was tied to the light post. Following the rope downward, he noticed that at its end was tied none other than a set of amputated human legs. He nearly vomited at the sight of the human legs swinging on the rope.
The others must have noticed the legs as well, because Alyx moaned, “Oh my God, what happened here?” The party stopped there in the intersection, looking at the mangled legs in disgust as they swung in and out of the light.
The legs looked like they had been part of a person that had been devoured by some kind of horrible beast, and then was hung on the post as some kind of sick joke. “Let’s get out of here!” Tonya exclaimed, turning to run. Gregori replied, “I agree, this is something new, I’ve never seen The Forsaken perform such a ritual.”
Ian averted his eyes from the gruesome sight of the amputated legs, and followed Tonya and Gregori down the road. But just as they were moving along; a sound caught their attention. Ian could hear a deep moaning from around them, followed by a horrendous gurgling sound. The sour milk smell grew stronger.
The moaning sound caused the party to stop in fear, and then look around them. Ian listened, and again, there was another moan from somewhere in the darkness, and then another, coming from all around them. Then suddenly, as they were looking around, the limping figure of a headcrab zombie slipped into the dull light of the streetlight from which the severed human legs were hung.
The creature looked horrifying. It looked much like a human being, except for the fact that in place of a human face, the creature had the spiny, slimy, quivering yellow mass of a headcrab lodged on its neck. Its fingers were mutated and twig-like, and were curled up on its chest as it lunged for Tonya.
Tonya screamed as the creature stumbled towards her, its twig-like arms outstretched. Just at that moment, Father Gregori charged towards the zombie, and blasted it with his shotgun, causing it to fly back a foot in the air. It landed on its back, gurgling.
“The Forsaken are upon us!” shouted Father Gregori through the smoke of his shotgun blast. He cocked his rifle. Just at that moment, moaning zombies appeared all around them in the light. Ian didn’t hesitate to let out his own shotgun blast, hitting one of the zombies, causing it to jerk backwards. However, his shot seemed to do nothing to the creature, and it lunged at him, letting out a blood-curdling and inhuman scream.
Ian pulled the trigger of his shotgun again, and this time he hit the creature directly, causing it fall to the ground. It wasn’t long until the whole group had backed up to the light post, and they were all firing, downing zombies as quickly as they had appeared. Even the Vortigaunt let out its electric blasts, electrocuting several of them at once.
“Gregori, what do we do?” Harper shouted in desperation in-between shots. Gregori continued to fire at the ever-advancing zombies; and managed to reply, “They are fiercer than I expected. Do not worry, my friend, luckily one of my traps has been set in this very location. Do you see those barrels over there?”
Gregori pointed towards a group of red barrels that were gathered around one of the shacks. As if to clarify his point, one of the zombies picked up one of the barrels with surprising strength, and then tossed it inaccurately at the group. The barrel rolled by them, and struck another one of the zombies, crushing it.
“You need to fire at the barrels!” Father Gregori exclaimed, turning his sights on one of the red metal barrels. He pulled the trigger of his antique shot gun, and the blast echoed in the night. His bullets struck one of the barrels. Instantly, the barrel lit on fire, and seconds later it exploded in a cloud of dust and fire.
The zombies that were gathered around the barrels screeched, and were blasted many feet into the air, and slammed against the walls of buildings, and crashed into the ground. The other people in the group got the hint, and started firing randomly at the other barrels, lighting them on fire, and causing them to explode.
Stupidly, the other zombies simply walked right into the flames, and caught fire, running around in agony. “Now!” Father Gregori yelled, sprinting off in the direction of the explosions. Ian and the rest of the group followed him, fending off the other zombies around them.
They ran amongst the corpses of the fallen zombies, and ran past the living ones. Zombies were now appearing all over the town, out of every building and alleyway they poured, limping towards them, and making their awful moaning sounds.
theotherguy
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The group ran past another intersection, and suddenly was stopped by a cluster of marauding zombies that were all gathered in the street. The group of resistance members began firing into the crowd of zombies, but more and more came from the alleyways, filling up every available space, and getting closer and closer to Ian, Gregori, and the rest of the resistance members.
Then, more headcrab zombies appeared behind the party, and they were forced to gather in close, fending them off. Ian realized that he was on the brink of running out of ammunition. “How many can there possibly be?” Alyx asked. Father Gregori yelled in reply, “It is true that this is the most zombies I have seen in one place at one time! We must be aggressive, stop waiting around, break through this line of Forsaken ahead of us!” Gregori cried out, charging towards the advancing zombies and letting out shotgun blasts.
The rest of the group rallied, and followed Father Gregori. Ian was in the back, holding off the crowd of faceless creatures. Gregori pressed through the line of zombies ahead of him, followed by Harper and then Alyx, Tonya, and The Vortigaunt. However, just as Ian was about to run through the line, he was struck across the side by the claw of one of the zombies.
Ian yelled out, clutching his side, which had barely been scratched. The zombie screeched and lunged towards him. Ian had only a second to dodge the creature. He sidestepped it, and it stumbled to the ground after leaping towards him.
Ian was now separated from the rest of the group. He could see their muzzle flashes beyond the crowd of aggravated zombies, but there was no way that he could push through the line alone. He would have to find another way around.
Dodging more of the zombies, Ian was able to dart into one of the dark alleyways. He had just enough time to notice that there was a cast iron gate welded to the brick of the buildings on the sides of him, and he slammed and locked the gate just as the zombies began to realize where he had gone.
He backed away quickly as the zombies clawed at the gate, trying to get into the alley. Ian didn’t hesitate to turn around and run down the alleyway. Hit heart was racing as he ran through the dirty, trash-filled alley away from the crowd of zombies.
He was completely and utterly alone. Somehow, he would have to make it back to the group, or he would never stand a chance at surviving the town of Ravenholm. Ian turned a corner in the alley, and came under an arch. He looked around, and seeing no zombies, he stopped for a moment to rest against the wall of one of the buildings.
He looked in his satchel and counted the remaining shotgun shells he had. He only had twelve left, and he had eight in the gun. He knew that he only had four shots for the sniper rifle on his back left; and he only had one clip for the pistol in his holster.
He was in a grave condition indeed. He tried to examine the situation, and figure out what he had to do next. He was separated from the rest of the group, and he would have to make it back to the main street somehow by navigating this series of alleyways.
Ian moved away from the wall, and continued down the alleyway. Somewhere, he was bound to find a place where he could leave the alleys, and re-emerge on the street. As he ran along, he heard a sound that he had dreaded.
From somewhere ahead of him, he heard the scream of his cousin, Tonya. “Somebody, help me, please!” The faint scream echoed through the alley. Ian tensed up, and ran in the direction of the sound. Tonya was in trouble, she needed his help.
Again he heard her screaming, it was much closer this time. He continued on, and came to a place where the alley opened up to reveal a courtyard, and there, on the grimy ground lay Tonya. Her foot was trapped in some kind of metal object, and she was trying to get herself free.
“Tonya, I’m here! Hold on while I try to get you out!” Ian yelled from his part of the alley. Tonya turned her head towards Ian. “No,” she exclaimed, “Don’t come closer, it’s a trap!” But before Ian could react to what she had said, he stepped out into the courtyard.
Unexpectedly, a gloved fist came into his field of vision from the left. The fist struck Ian in the face. He cried out, and stumbled backwards, holding his nose. The punch came out of nowhere, and was fully unexpected.
Ian looked up from his hands and was staring directly into the barrel of a gun. Holding the gun was the feminine figure of the assassin, dressed in her black skintight suit, her singular, orange eyepiece glowing in the dark. He had not been expecting to see her here.
Before Ian could react, the assassin pulled the shotgun from Ian’s hands and threw it to the ground. “Get against the wall!” The assassin hissed through her gas mask, holding the gun at Ian’s head. Ian put his hands in the air nervously, and backed against the wall. He had no choice; there was no escape from a gun pressed directly to your forehead.
The assassin used her free hand to remove the pistol from Ian’s holster, and took the rifle from his back. He wouldn’t be using those any time soon.
“I knew that I could rely on your…devotion to your relatives to catch you Mr. Olbowski…” the assassin hissed, “Governor Breen will be ever so pleased that I was able to catch you, and stop what you’ve been doing here with the rest of the pathetic resistance. I found this little girl alone in the alleyways, looking for you. I presume that you were all split apart by that horde of zombies that I was able to coax into swarming. That was quite a difficult task, but it appears to have paid off. You will come with me back to The Citadel, where you will be put through the Nova Prospect program, and you will tell us every detail about the pitiful resistance in City-17.”
The assassin pressed Ian closer against the wall, and his head hit something metal. He looked back and saw that his head had struck a lever which led up to some kind of garbage chute on the building above him. He did not think, he simply leaned back against the lever, and caused it to screech, and move on its pivot.
Suddenly, the door to the chute above him opened up, and he leapt to the side just as a great deal of metal debris and trash fell from the garbage chute. As he leapt, the assassin attempted to shoot him, but her bullet merely struck the wall.
Stupidly, she stood there as the debris fell over her. A metal pipe struck her in the head, and she fell to the ground unconscious. His heart racing, Ian got up from the ground. He looked at the crumpled assassin lying on the ground amidst the debris. She appeared unconscious. He decided that he would not kill the fiend, but would let the zombies of Ravenholm take care of her for him.
He went over to Tonya, who was crying. “That was amazing!” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry that I was a part of her little trap, I had gotten separated from the group just like you did, and she just showed up out of nowhere, and trapped me here.” Ian looked at her leg; it was enclosed in some kind of metal object, and was stuck to the ground.
“It’s okay now,” he said, “She won’t be hurting anyone now. But it just makes me wonder, why would she want to capture me? Anyway, I’ll just get you out of this thing.” Ian bent down and examined the metal object. With his shotgun, Ian was able to pry the thing open just enough so that Tonya was able to slip her leg out of it, and then it snapped shut.
“Thanks.” Tonya said, going and gathering the weapons that the assassin had taken from Ian. Ian also went over to the pile of rubble, and took the assassin’s pistol from her holster. Like he said, she wouldn’t be hurting anyone.
“C’mon Tonya,” he said, “We’ve got to find the others.” So, together, they made their way through the alleyway. Eventually, they found an area of the alley that opened back up again to the main street. Warily, they crossed from the alleys onto the main street.
However, to their distress, they could not see Father Gregori, Harper, Alyx, or the Vortigaunt anywhere. Luckily, they also caught no sight of any of the living zombies. Nevertheless, Ian concluded that if he and Tonya followed the trail of dead zombies, they would eventually come upon the other resistance members.
So, Ian and Tonya continued down the road cautiously, following the path of destruction that Father Gregori’s group had made. It was surprisingly calm now. Ian wondered where the other zombies had gone. He still couldn’t believe that the assassin had been following him all this time. He must have truly been a wanted man. It was only good that she was incapable of following him now. Or at least he hoped that she wouldn’t.
They traveled along the road, still following the trail of dead zombies, until the buildings became scarcer. The road ended abruptly, and Ian wondered where they should go next. As he was thinking of this, he heard the low murmur of voices in the distance.
He and Tonya moved towards the sound of the voices, until they could make out what they were saying. It was father Gregori and Colonel Harper, arguing. “The zombies are gone now, but we still don’t know where Ian and Tonya are!” The voice of Harper exclaimed, “Yes, but we can waste no time, we must assume that they are dead. Their souls will be exalted in heaven.” Alyx spoke up, “How can you say that?” she said, “They could be anywhere!”
Right when she said this, Ian and Tonya strode out from behind the building from which they were hiding. The rest of the group was standing there under the light of a streetlight in front of a partially collapsed chain-linked fence.
They looked towards the sounds of Tonya and Ian, expecting to see more zombies, but when they caught sight of the two, their faces lit up. “Ian, Tonya!” Alyx exclaimed, smiling. “Where were you?” Ian responded, “The assassin was following us after all. She captured Tonya, and used her to lure me into a trap. I was able to fight her off thankfully.”
Harper responded, “We’re so glad that you made it back! We didn’t think you would make it, those zombies were practically everywhere! You met the assassin? Wow, I wish I could have been there!” Gregori also spoke, “My friends: that was an excellent task that you just accomplished. We are so terribly sorry that we left you behind, but at the time, we had quite a task on our hands.”
Ian shook his head, “It’s alright; I know what you had to deal with. What happened to all the zombies?” he asked. Gregori replied, “We don’t know… they simply started to disappear, they just went into the alleyways, or ran off. I think they decided that we just weren’t the trouble anymore. Anyway, we’re right next to the fence into the graveyard now. We just have to pass through the graveyard, and then into the mines.”
Gregori walked towards the partially fallen fence, and climbed up onto it, he looked back, and said, “If you thought that the zombies in the main part of town were horrifying, these ones are far worse, my friends. The Graveyard is not a very happy place to be.” He climbed up and over the fence, and then dropped down into the dirt beyond.
The rest of the party followed him, climbing over the fence and then dropping into the dirt. As Ian fell to the ground beyond the fence, he looked back at the ghost town of Ravenholm. He wondered if what Gregori had said was right. He wondered if by killing all those zombies, they were saving the host’s souls. It was a theological question. Such questions shouldn’t be asked in the midst of a war. Ian turned, and ran off into the night.
Then, more headcrab zombies appeared behind the party, and they were forced to gather in close, fending them off. Ian realized that he was on the brink of running out of ammunition. “How many can there possibly be?” Alyx asked. Father Gregori yelled in reply, “It is true that this is the most zombies I have seen in one place at one time! We must be aggressive, stop waiting around, break through this line of Forsaken ahead of us!” Gregori cried out, charging towards the advancing zombies and letting out shotgun blasts.
The rest of the group rallied, and followed Father Gregori. Ian was in the back, holding off the crowd of faceless creatures. Gregori pressed through the line of zombies ahead of him, followed by Harper and then Alyx, Tonya, and The Vortigaunt. However, just as Ian was about to run through the line, he was struck across the side by the claw of one of the zombies.
Ian yelled out, clutching his side, which had barely been scratched. The zombie screeched and lunged towards him. Ian had only a second to dodge the creature. He sidestepped it, and it stumbled to the ground after leaping towards him.
Ian was now separated from the rest of the group. He could see their muzzle flashes beyond the crowd of aggravated zombies, but there was no way that he could push through the line alone. He would have to find another way around.
Dodging more of the zombies, Ian was able to dart into one of the dark alleyways. He had just enough time to notice that there was a cast iron gate welded to the brick of the buildings on the sides of him, and he slammed and locked the gate just as the zombies began to realize where he had gone.
He backed away quickly as the zombies clawed at the gate, trying to get into the alley. Ian didn’t hesitate to turn around and run down the alleyway. Hit heart was racing as he ran through the dirty, trash-filled alley away from the crowd of zombies.
He was completely and utterly alone. Somehow, he would have to make it back to the group, or he would never stand a chance at surviving the town of Ravenholm. Ian turned a corner in the alley, and came under an arch. He looked around, and seeing no zombies, he stopped for a moment to rest against the wall of one of the buildings.
He looked in his satchel and counted the remaining shotgun shells he had. He only had twelve left, and he had eight in the gun. He knew that he only had four shots for the sniper rifle on his back left; and he only had one clip for the pistol in his holster.
He was in a grave condition indeed. He tried to examine the situation, and figure out what he had to do next. He was separated from the rest of the group, and he would have to make it back to the main street somehow by navigating this series of alleyways.
Ian moved away from the wall, and continued down the alleyway. Somewhere, he was bound to find a place where he could leave the alleys, and re-emerge on the street. As he ran along, he heard a sound that he had dreaded.
From somewhere ahead of him, he heard the scream of his cousin, Tonya. “Somebody, help me, please!” The faint scream echoed through the alley. Ian tensed up, and ran in the direction of the sound. Tonya was in trouble, she needed his help.
Again he heard her screaming, it was much closer this time. He continued on, and came to a place where the alley opened up to reveal a courtyard, and there, on the grimy ground lay Tonya. Her foot was trapped in some kind of metal object, and she was trying to get herself free.
“Tonya, I’m here! Hold on while I try to get you out!” Ian yelled from his part of the alley. Tonya turned her head towards Ian. “No,” she exclaimed, “Don’t come closer, it’s a trap!” But before Ian could react to what she had said, he stepped out into the courtyard.
Unexpectedly, a gloved fist came into his field of vision from the left. The fist struck Ian in the face. He cried out, and stumbled backwards, holding his nose. The punch came out of nowhere, and was fully unexpected.
Ian looked up from his hands and was staring directly into the barrel of a gun. Holding the gun was the feminine figure of the assassin, dressed in her black skintight suit, her singular, orange eyepiece glowing in the dark. He had not been expecting to see her here.
Before Ian could react, the assassin pulled the shotgun from Ian’s hands and threw it to the ground. “Get against the wall!” The assassin hissed through her gas mask, holding the gun at Ian’s head. Ian put his hands in the air nervously, and backed against the wall. He had no choice; there was no escape from a gun pressed directly to your forehead.
The assassin used her free hand to remove the pistol from Ian’s holster, and took the rifle from his back. He wouldn’t be using those any time soon.
“I knew that I could rely on your…devotion to your relatives to catch you Mr. Olbowski…” the assassin hissed, “Governor Breen will be ever so pleased that I was able to catch you, and stop what you’ve been doing here with the rest of the pathetic resistance. I found this little girl alone in the alleyways, looking for you. I presume that you were all split apart by that horde of zombies that I was able to coax into swarming. That was quite a difficult task, but it appears to have paid off. You will come with me back to The Citadel, where you will be put through the Nova Prospect program, and you will tell us every detail about the pitiful resistance in City-17.”
The assassin pressed Ian closer against the wall, and his head hit something metal. He looked back and saw that his head had struck a lever which led up to some kind of garbage chute on the building above him. He did not think, he simply leaned back against the lever, and caused it to screech, and move on its pivot.
Suddenly, the door to the chute above him opened up, and he leapt to the side just as a great deal of metal debris and trash fell from the garbage chute. As he leapt, the assassin attempted to shoot him, but her bullet merely struck the wall.
Stupidly, she stood there as the debris fell over her. A metal pipe struck her in the head, and she fell to the ground unconscious. His heart racing, Ian got up from the ground. He looked at the crumpled assassin lying on the ground amidst the debris. She appeared unconscious. He decided that he would not kill the fiend, but would let the zombies of Ravenholm take care of her for him.
He went over to Tonya, who was crying. “That was amazing!” she sobbed, “I’m so sorry that I was a part of her little trap, I had gotten separated from the group just like you did, and she just showed up out of nowhere, and trapped me here.” Ian looked at her leg; it was enclosed in some kind of metal object, and was stuck to the ground.
“It’s okay now,” he said, “She won’t be hurting anyone now. But it just makes me wonder, why would she want to capture me? Anyway, I’ll just get you out of this thing.” Ian bent down and examined the metal object. With his shotgun, Ian was able to pry the thing open just enough so that Tonya was able to slip her leg out of it, and then it snapped shut.
“Thanks.” Tonya said, going and gathering the weapons that the assassin had taken from Ian. Ian also went over to the pile of rubble, and took the assassin’s pistol from her holster. Like he said, she wouldn’t be hurting anyone.
“C’mon Tonya,” he said, “We’ve got to find the others.” So, together, they made their way through the alleyway. Eventually, they found an area of the alley that opened back up again to the main street. Warily, they crossed from the alleys onto the main street.
However, to their distress, they could not see Father Gregori, Harper, Alyx, or the Vortigaunt anywhere. Luckily, they also caught no sight of any of the living zombies. Nevertheless, Ian concluded that if he and Tonya followed the trail of dead zombies, they would eventually come upon the other resistance members.
So, Ian and Tonya continued down the road cautiously, following the path of destruction that Father Gregori’s group had made. It was surprisingly calm now. Ian wondered where the other zombies had gone. He still couldn’t believe that the assassin had been following him all this time. He must have truly been a wanted man. It was only good that she was incapable of following him now. Or at least he hoped that she wouldn’t.
They traveled along the road, still following the trail of dead zombies, until the buildings became scarcer. The road ended abruptly, and Ian wondered where they should go next. As he was thinking of this, he heard the low murmur of voices in the distance.
He and Tonya moved towards the sound of the voices, until they could make out what they were saying. It was father Gregori and Colonel Harper, arguing. “The zombies are gone now, but we still don’t know where Ian and Tonya are!” The voice of Harper exclaimed, “Yes, but we can waste no time, we must assume that they are dead. Their souls will be exalted in heaven.” Alyx spoke up, “How can you say that?” she said, “They could be anywhere!”
Right when she said this, Ian and Tonya strode out from behind the building from which they were hiding. The rest of the group was standing there under the light of a streetlight in front of a partially collapsed chain-linked fence.
They looked towards the sounds of Tonya and Ian, expecting to see more zombies, but when they caught sight of the two, their faces lit up. “Ian, Tonya!” Alyx exclaimed, smiling. “Where were you?” Ian responded, “The assassin was following us after all. She captured Tonya, and used her to lure me into a trap. I was able to fight her off thankfully.”
Harper responded, “We’re so glad that you made it back! We didn’t think you would make it, those zombies were practically everywhere! You met the assassin? Wow, I wish I could have been there!” Gregori also spoke, “My friends: that was an excellent task that you just accomplished. We are so terribly sorry that we left you behind, but at the time, we had quite a task on our hands.”
Ian shook his head, “It’s alright; I know what you had to deal with. What happened to all the zombies?” he asked. Gregori replied, “We don’t know… they simply started to disappear, they just went into the alleyways, or ran off. I think they decided that we just weren’t the trouble anymore. Anyway, we’re right next to the fence into the graveyard now. We just have to pass through the graveyard, and then into the mines.”
Gregori walked towards the partially fallen fence, and climbed up onto it, he looked back, and said, “If you thought that the zombies in the main part of town were horrifying, these ones are far worse, my friends. The Graveyard is not a very happy place to be.” He climbed up and over the fence, and then dropped down into the dirt beyond.
The rest of the party followed him, climbing over the fence and then dropping into the dirt. As Ian fell to the ground beyond the fence, he looked back at the ghost town of Ravenholm. He wondered if what Gregori had said was right. He wondered if by killing all those zombies, they were saving the host’s souls. It was a theological question. Such questions shouldn’t be asked in the midst of a war. Ian turned, and ran off into the night.
theotherguy
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__________________________________________________________________________________________
The assassin became conscious again. Wearily, she pushed aside the debris that lay on top of her. She had failed. She would be punished for this. She couldn’t believe that the human had defeated her! She tried to stand, but then fell back down in pain. A fiery jolt of pain etched its way up her leg.
She looked down, and saw that her leg had been crushed under a falling barrel. She felt it, and noticed that the bone was broken. Panic began to race through her mind. She was in Ravenholm. There were zombies in Ravenholm. Slowly, she felt around for her pistol…and found nothing. Yet again, Olbowski had been a step ahead of her. He had to be commended for that. She couldn’t help but admire his resilience.
She could see nothing in the darkness…and she could hear nothing but the sound of her own breath. Alone, she listened to the sounds of the night…and to her dread; she heard the sound of moaning, followed by footsteps.
Reverting back to a state of panic, she curled up in fetal position, and waited for the zombies to strike. Maybe they wouldn’t find her…maybe- her thoughts were interrupted by the moaning of a headcrab zombie.
Her screams rang throughout the entire alley system. But nobody was around to hear them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Gordon Freeman blinked wearily. He had been sleeping again. But for how many years had he been asleep? He strained to look around, but he could see nothing, and he could feel nothing. He was one with the blackness around him.
Then, suddenly, he heard a voice, a voice that had become so familiar to him… the voice of the man in the suit. As in a dream, the man’s face appeared in front of Gordon. “Rise and shine, Mister Freeman, rise and…shine…” The suited man hissed. “Not that I wish to imply that you have been sleeping on…the job… no one is more deserving of a rest…”
The image of the man’s face flashed in front of Gordon; and strange sounds erupted in his mind from all places. What was going on? The man continued, “all the effort in the world would have gone to waste…until…well, let’s just say that your hour has come again…”
Suddenly, Gordon’s experiences at Black Mesa flashed back to him in quick bursts. He saw himself putting the crystal into the lambda device, he saw the resonance cascade, and he saw his fellow scientists being devoured by the alien creatures. He saw flashbacks of the military coming in to clean up the disaster, and kill off the scientists. He saw an image of himself, killing the Niniliath.
Then, as if he were remembering something, he saw flashes of a nuclear explosion over the desert at Black Mesa, and the destruction around the blast. He knew that this explosion was the consequence of the military…the man in the suit was showing him what had happened.
The man continued, “So wake up, Mister Freeman, wake up and…smell the ashes.” Then, Gordon saw a horrifying image. He saw the unmistakable skyline of Manhattan, burning, with gunfire erupting everywhere. Then, there was an image of missiles flying over the Atlantic Ocean, landing in cities all over Europe.
It was hard for Gordon to make out anything that was happening; but one thing was clear…the man in the suit was trying to convey to him what had happened after the resonance cascade. In short…this destruction was his fault.
But in the midst of these images of destruction, the man in the suit simply smiled and said, “Just remember…Mister Freeman. The right man in the…wrong place can make all the difference in the world. Isn’t it just like…old times?” The man hissed, elongating his S’s.
The image of the suited man disappeared from Gordon’s mind, and in its place was the image of a gigantic, dark tower. Gordon suddenly felt a sense of dread.
And then…everything in his mind went blank, and he was left alone. Suddenly, and silently, Gordon Freeman stepped back into the world.
-Chapter 27, The Return of Gordon Freeman-
The assassin became conscious again. Wearily, she pushed aside the debris that lay on top of her. She had failed. She would be punished for this. She couldn’t believe that the human had defeated her! She tried to stand, but then fell back down in pain. A fiery jolt of pain etched its way up her leg.
She looked down, and saw that her leg had been crushed under a falling barrel. She felt it, and noticed that the bone was broken. Panic began to race through her mind. She was in Ravenholm. There were zombies in Ravenholm. Slowly, she felt around for her pistol…and found nothing. Yet again, Olbowski had been a step ahead of her. He had to be commended for that. She couldn’t help but admire his resilience.
She could see nothing in the darkness…and she could hear nothing but the sound of her own breath. Alone, she listened to the sounds of the night…and to her dread; she heard the sound of moaning, followed by footsteps.
Reverting back to a state of panic, she curled up in fetal position, and waited for the zombies to strike. Maybe they wouldn’t find her…maybe- her thoughts were interrupted by the moaning of a headcrab zombie.
Her screams rang throughout the entire alley system. But nobody was around to hear them.
___________________________________________________________________________________________
Gordon Freeman blinked wearily. He had been sleeping again. But for how many years had he been asleep? He strained to look around, but he could see nothing, and he could feel nothing. He was one with the blackness around him.
Then, suddenly, he heard a voice, a voice that had become so familiar to him… the voice of the man in the suit. As in a dream, the man’s face appeared in front of Gordon. “Rise and shine, Mister Freeman, rise and…shine…” The suited man hissed. “Not that I wish to imply that you have been sleeping on…the job… no one is more deserving of a rest…”
The image of the man’s face flashed in front of Gordon; and strange sounds erupted in his mind from all places. What was going on? The man continued, “all the effort in the world would have gone to waste…until…well, let’s just say that your hour has come again…”
Suddenly, Gordon’s experiences at Black Mesa flashed back to him in quick bursts. He saw himself putting the crystal into the lambda device, he saw the resonance cascade, and he saw his fellow scientists being devoured by the alien creatures. He saw flashbacks of the military coming in to clean up the disaster, and kill off the scientists. He saw an image of himself, killing the Niniliath.
Then, as if he were remembering something, he saw flashes of a nuclear explosion over the desert at Black Mesa, and the destruction around the blast. He knew that this explosion was the consequence of the military…the man in the suit was showing him what had happened.
The man continued, “So wake up, Mister Freeman, wake up and…smell the ashes.” Then, Gordon saw a horrifying image. He saw the unmistakable skyline of Manhattan, burning, with gunfire erupting everywhere. Then, there was an image of missiles flying over the Atlantic Ocean, landing in cities all over Europe.
It was hard for Gordon to make out anything that was happening; but one thing was clear…the man in the suit was trying to convey to him what had happened after the resonance cascade. In short…this destruction was his fault.
But in the midst of these images of destruction, the man in the suit simply smiled and said, “Just remember…Mister Freeman. The right man in the…wrong place can make all the difference in the world. Isn’t it just like…old times?” The man hissed, elongating his S’s.
The image of the suited man disappeared from Gordon’s mind, and in its place was the image of a gigantic, dark tower. Gordon suddenly felt a sense of dread.
And then…everything in his mind went blank, and he was left alone. Suddenly, and silently, Gordon Freeman stepped back into the world.
-Chapter 27, The Return of Gordon Freeman-
Brian Damage
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The suspense is building...
E
Enigmer
Guest
Wow...
This story is amazingly great.
Have you seen Resident Evil : Apocalypse? I really picture Ravenholm like a pseudo-Racoon City
This story is amazingly great.
Have you seen Resident Evil : Apocalypse? I really picture Ravenholm like a pseudo-Racoon City
theotherguy
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Bigcheese said:hay i can set up an FTP server for you if you want a place to put the hole story up.
i love it, its the best fan fic i have ever read.
an FTP would be wonderful...I have no place to upload the full thing, and it's too big to attach!
theotherguy
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awesome, I uploaded the full word document to
ftp://www.bigcheeseservers.com/hl2storys
for those of you who want to print it out
ftp://www.bigcheeseservers.com/hl2storys
for those of you who want to print it out
www.bigcheeseservers.com/hl2storys/h.doc
the ftp will ask for a login
EDIT... it was working erlyer...
the ftp will ask for a login
EDIT... it was working erlyer...
theotherguy
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oh....nvm then
ok now ftp://www.bigcheeseservers.com/hl2storys works it will log you onto the ftp and you can only download it.
sorry about the the problems
sorry about the the problems
lol i forgot that i changed the local ip and never updated IIS on the server, so now its up and i am taking off the FTP
http://www.bigcheeseservers.com/hl2storys/
http://www.bigcheeseservers.com/hl2storys/
http://www.bigcheeseservers.com/hl2storys/ should work. i just tested it and i am on a difernt network than the server so i know it works. just try again.
theotherguy
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valve responded!
Dear Matthew:
I took some time to look at your fan novel, The Resistance, and I was pretty impressed. I'm amazed you were able to make so much of the little bit we've revealed. The effort you (and your editors) have put into this really show. I wouldn't say that as a 14 year old you have nothing better to do; this is certainly a fine way to pass the time and develop your m@d writing skilz! I started writing books around your age, and I'm pretty sure this is better than those.
The one piece of advice I'd give you is that while this is a fine way to cut your teeth, you should really steer your writing toward original ideas...it's fun to write for your friends (I still do, myself), but HL2 properties just don't have much of anywhere to go, apart from the fan fic forums. It would be nice if all the work you put into writing eventually gets you into print with some original fiction. If you keep going as you have been, I have no trouble believing you could turn yourself into a professional writer someday. If I showed you what I was writing at 14, you'd have a good laugh.
It's always good to finish what you start, and if you have kept on with the Resistance be sure and send Valve a copy when it's done. And also, we'd love to hear what you think of the finished game...how close we came to your expectations.
Yours,
Marc Laidlaw
Valve Software
Dear Matthew:
I took some time to look at your fan novel, The Resistance, and I was pretty impressed. I'm amazed you were able to make so much of the little bit we've revealed. The effort you (and your editors) have put into this really show. I wouldn't say that as a 14 year old you have nothing better to do; this is certainly a fine way to pass the time and develop your m@d writing skilz! I started writing books around your age, and I'm pretty sure this is better than those.
The one piece of advice I'd give you is that while this is a fine way to cut your teeth, you should really steer your writing toward original ideas...it's fun to write for your friends (I still do, myself), but HL2 properties just don't have much of anywhere to go, apart from the fan fic forums. It would be nice if all the work you put into writing eventually gets you into print with some original fiction. If you keep going as you have been, I have no trouble believing you could turn yourself into a professional writer someday. If I showed you what I was writing at 14, you'd have a good laugh.
It's always good to finish what you start, and if you have kept on with the Resistance be sure and send Valve a copy when it's done. And also, we'd love to hear what you think of the finished game...how close we came to your expectations.
Yours,
Marc Laidlaw
Valve Software
theotherguy
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not likely, ive been having alot of homework, and not to mention the excitment of my birthday, but I could possibly get it finished tonight if I try really hard
theotherguy
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-Chapter 27, The Return of Gordon Freeman-
The sunshine fell over Gordon Freeman’s eyelids like a fresh spring’s rain. Gordon heard a low rumbling sound that, at the time, he presumed to be the wind. Groggily, Gordon felt like not waking up, and just lying there. His head hurt very badly, and he just wanted to rest. As if it were a Sunday morning, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
His head hit something hard. “Hey,” a man’s voice said from just next to Gordon’s head, “get off of me, will you?” Startled, Gordon opened his eyes. His head was resting on a man’s shoulder, and the man was not very happy about it. “Sorry,” replied Gordon, “I fell asleep.”
Quickly, Gordon lifted his head from the man’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” said the man, “We’ve been riding all night.” Gordon thought about what the man said. They had been riding all night? Where was he? Gordon glanced around him, to see where he was. He was sitting on some kind of cheap bench, and his feet rested on metal grating on the floor.
Looking to the right and left, Gordon noticed that there were other benches, lining the metal walls of the compartment around him. Hanging from the ceiling of the compartment, there were straps, and some of the people in the compartment were standing and holding on to these.
It appeared to Gordon that he was on some kind of train. Looking ahead of him, he saw a large window. Indeed, through the window he could see the hilly terrain shooting past in a blur. He could hear the cackling of the wheels going over the tracks beneath him, and the slow chugging of the engine.
Alright, so the man in the suit had put him on a train. But really, what part of the world was he in? What year was it? Gordon decided that he would have to find out the answers to these questions. He looked down at himself, expecting to see the familiar orange HEV suit that he had worn, but instead, he noticed that he had on a blue jumpsuit with “Freeman” printed on the front, and “City 16” printed on either shoulder.
The man that was sitting next to him also wore an identical blue jumpsuit, and was reading a newspaper. Gordon glanced at the headline of the newspaper as the man folded it in his hands. “The City 16 Tribune,” it read. Gordon had no idea where city 16 was, so obviously, this headline would not help him much. He could just barely make out the date printed in the top right hand corner.
It said “September 19, 2010.” Wow, it had been quite a long time since Gordon had left Black Mesa. He counted the years. Twelve… Twelve years were taken from him by the alien invasion, and now the man in the suit wanted a job to be done by him. Would his whole life be taken from him? Would he never get any rest? It was all due to that one fateful day at work back in 1998…when he pushed that little sample into the anti-mass spectrometer, and started this whole mess.
Another thought hit him. If the man in the suit was able to transport him so many years in the future…then he must be a very powerful being indeed. Being the theoretical physicist that he was, he calculated in his head the speed he would have to be traveling in order for time to completely stop. Since, due to relativity, the only way to travel into the future without feeling it is to travel immensely fast. Gordon’s calculations came out to just under 300,000 kilometers per second… the speed of light. The man in the suit must wield extraordinary supremacy over the universe.
But more importantly, Gordon had to figure out exactly where he was, and what was going on. He had never heard of City-16 before; but it sounded to be some kind of a cold, scientific sort of name, like the way you would name variables in an experiment… perhaps that was what the world was these days… there was no telling what was going on in the world after the invasion.
“Excuse me sir, could you tell me where we are about now? I fell asleep some time ago…” asked Gordon nonchalantly. The man barely even moved his head up from the news paper, and said, “Well, we’ve come across the western hills in the Czech Republic. We’re about twenty minutes from City-17.” The man was jostled a slight bit as the train went over a bump in the track, and then he looked back down at his newspaper.
So, Gordon thought, they were in the Czech Republic. What could the man in the suit possibly want from such a backwards Eastern European nation? Also, Gordon certainly hadn’t heard of any place called “City-17” in the Czech Republic. Could it be new, perhaps? He still had no idea about the history of the world since the invasion…other than the sudden flash of the burning skyline of Manhattan, which was still fresh in his mind. He wished that the man in the suit would have shown him more.
Gordon looked back at the man’s shoulder, and could catch part of the main headline. “Governor Breen Orders Suspension of Breeding Rights in all Protection Cities,” it read. Under the headline was the black and white picture of a face of a stolid old looking man whose eyes seemed to watch you wherever you went. He decided that this man must be Governor Breen. He hated the image of Breen’s face from the start.
Freeman took his eyes off of the newspaper, and looked around the compartment of the train at the disheveled commuters. All of them seemed to be in a sad mood, and were looking at their shoes, and all of them wore identical blue jumpsuits. It seemed like they were heading towards a prison rather than a city.
Pasted on one of the walls of the train was a poster of that Governor Breen character, tinted yellow. Beneath Breen’s smiling face was the image of a crowd raising their hands in a Nazi-like fashion, saluting Breen. Soaring above Breen was the superimposed image of a dove, the international symbol of peace. An inscription in some foreign language was printed over the poster. Gordon couldn’t even make out the individual letters, let alone the words.
He looked out the window ahead of him at the terrain. It appeared hilly, and there were a few small buildings scattered about, but most of them appeared unoccupied, or even destroyed. In fact, Gordon could not spot a single person or car in any part of his field of vision. Not only that, but right next to the train tracks was a ten-foot wall made out of some kind of dark black metal, and it had strange, orange energy field filling up all of it’s empty spaces; and the top of the wall was lined with barbed wire.
Such protection would only be needed in a war zone. Gordon’s vision appeared blurry, so he took off his glasses and wiped them smoothly on the front of his blue jumpsuit. So, Gordon thought, let’s recap: after the invasion, there was some kind of massive war in the United States (which he learned from his vision of Manhattan), and somehow, the government, or the aliens themselves have created some kind of “Protection Cities” to keep it’s citizens in isolation from the war, and the aliens. It also seemed that this “Governor Breen” was their supreme leader, and judging from the poster, some kind of benevolent dictator.
Gordon thought about his theory. Yes, it made sense based on what he had learned. He didn’t go to MIT to become a theoretical physicist for nothing. However, he still had not a clue as to what his mission was going to be, or why the man in the suit had sent him. But these he was sure he would find out in time.
“So why are you going to City-17?” He asked the man sitting next to him. The man looked up with a confused expression, and replied sarcastically, “You’re kidding right? I’m going to City-17 for the same reason everyone else is… they make us. I am being scheduled for transfer to City-17 because of the recent shortage of labor there. They haven’t told me what I’d do there, but all I know is that Frankfurt…err City-16, rather, had a population boost recently, and City-17 was the closest place to send it’s un-needed citizens. The government these days…it’s just getting so chaotic. Why are you going to City-17? It sounds to me like you’re one of those rural folks who were captured on one of the patrols...”
Gordon didn’t know what to answer to this, so he merely replied, “yeah, they just picked me up and put me on a train.” At this, the man sitting next to him seemed a little surprised, “Ah, no wonder you know so littlie about what goes on. You are lucky…you haven’t had to deal with…the government. I hear that Governor Breen himself is staying in City-17…God I wish someone would take a shot at him some day…”
The man trailed off into his own thoughts. So the citizens were unhappy with the government. It seemed very communistic, the transfer of citizens. Something horrible must have happened in the world to make resources so tight that one city would have to share its citizens with another. Whatever had happened, it must have been a result of what had happened at Black Mesa. Conversely, Gordon thought, it was his fault; since he blamed himself for the incident at Black Mesa.
In his head, it seemed a foolish thought to blame himself for what had happened at Black Mesa. After all, The Administrator had been pushing the staff to extreme limits to get the last experiment completed; and he could be blamed. The administrator…what was his name again? It didn’t matter…he was probably dead now anyway.
Outside, the night sky began to turn into day, with the sun rising leisurely over one of the hills. The train rolled over the tracks in its constant rhythm of rattling. One of the sorry-looking passengers on the train began coughing in a way that sounded like deathly rasping. The man clutched his suitcase up close to him as he coughed, and quickly, his cough subsided.
Feeling a sudden burst of apprehension, Gordon wondered how much longer the train ride would last. He sat there, tapping his foot in a non-rhythmic fashion. He was back on Earth, something he had been hoping for the past twelve years… and all he could do was sit there and tap his foot.
He thought about his co-workers at Black Mesa, and his extended family living throughout the US. What had become of them? If the invasion had permeated as far as Eastern Europe, then surely the United States would have been totally wasted by war… why had the government not been able to contain the invasion within Black Mesa? After all, it was a very small facility…
Gordon thought of something else: how had the man sitting next to him understood him? Why was the newspaper in English? Wasn’t this the Czech Republic? It was so frustrating to think of all the inconsistencies of his situation; and he could learn nothing new on this little train.
Then, suddenly, as to ease his apprehension, he heard a sound from the front of the train. He looked in the direction of the sound, and noticed that it was coming from a screen that was welded next to the door leading into the next compartment. The screen projected the words “The Combine Immigration Service: City 17” out into the space of the train, and it was playing ambient music in the background.
Everyone on the train looked towards the screen, and watched it in the flickering light impassively. Gordon watched the screen, and waited for whatever information it would give him. The screen cut to an image of a large symbol that looked like a clamp, with the words “The Combine” underneath.
A friendly female voiceover came onto the speakers,
“Welcome, immigrants. You are entering… (There was a pause) City-17. You should be coming to the end of your journey very soon. For whatever reason you have decided to immigrate to City-17, simply remember to follow the laws of the community, and the authorities will treat you with respect. The Governor, Dr. Breen, has requested that all immigrating citizens fill out their required immigration forms. If you do not have any forms, or were recently…inducted into citizenship by The Combine; please report to the Nova Prospect, where the authorities will instruct you on how to gain citizenship in the wonderful Protection City 17. Please check all of your bags at the Nova Prospect, and The Combine will ensure that they will go to good use. Unfortunately, you will not be able to keep the luggage you have carried with you due to safety concerns. Thank you, and have a very productive day.”
The screen went blank, and the music cut off. The passengers on the train simply turned back to their own business submissively. It seemed that their souls had already been shattered by this “Combine” Gordon guessed that The Combine must be the new governing body in the area. Even though the presentation had a cheerful mood to it…Gordon suspected that The Combine wasn’t as benevolent as they made themselves out to be…The man in the suit wouldn’t have sent Gordon for nothing.
After about five minutes, the walls around the train tracks began to grow higher, as they got closer to the city. Suddenly, the view of hills faded out as they crossed on a bridge over a river. The river seemed green, and it looked to be lower than usual, as Gordon could see the water stain from the usual level of the water was clearly five feet above the actual level of the river.
The quickly moving train sped over the bridge, and suddenly, Gordon could see the outline of a massive black wall, stretching out seemingly for miles. The monolithic wall stood like an army ahead of the train. Gordon supposed that it must have been the border into the city. But why would such a massive wall need to be built?
The sunshine fell over Gordon Freeman’s eyelids like a fresh spring’s rain. Gordon heard a low rumbling sound that, at the time, he presumed to be the wind. Groggily, Gordon felt like not waking up, and just lying there. His head hurt very badly, and he just wanted to rest. As if it were a Sunday morning, he rolled over and tried to go back to sleep.
His head hit something hard. “Hey,” a man’s voice said from just next to Gordon’s head, “get off of me, will you?” Startled, Gordon opened his eyes. His head was resting on a man’s shoulder, and the man was not very happy about it. “Sorry,” replied Gordon, “I fell asleep.”
Quickly, Gordon lifted his head from the man’s shoulder. “It’s alright,” said the man, “We’ve been riding all night.” Gordon thought about what the man said. They had been riding all night? Where was he? Gordon glanced around him, to see where he was. He was sitting on some kind of cheap bench, and his feet rested on metal grating on the floor.
Looking to the right and left, Gordon noticed that there were other benches, lining the metal walls of the compartment around him. Hanging from the ceiling of the compartment, there were straps, and some of the people in the compartment were standing and holding on to these.
It appeared to Gordon that he was on some kind of train. Looking ahead of him, he saw a large window. Indeed, through the window he could see the hilly terrain shooting past in a blur. He could hear the cackling of the wheels going over the tracks beneath him, and the slow chugging of the engine.
Alright, so the man in the suit had put him on a train. But really, what part of the world was he in? What year was it? Gordon decided that he would have to find out the answers to these questions. He looked down at himself, expecting to see the familiar orange HEV suit that he had worn, but instead, he noticed that he had on a blue jumpsuit with “Freeman” printed on the front, and “City 16” printed on either shoulder.
The man that was sitting next to him also wore an identical blue jumpsuit, and was reading a newspaper. Gordon glanced at the headline of the newspaper as the man folded it in his hands. “The City 16 Tribune,” it read. Gordon had no idea where city 16 was, so obviously, this headline would not help him much. He could just barely make out the date printed in the top right hand corner.
It said “September 19, 2010.” Wow, it had been quite a long time since Gordon had left Black Mesa. He counted the years. Twelve… Twelve years were taken from him by the alien invasion, and now the man in the suit wanted a job to be done by him. Would his whole life be taken from him? Would he never get any rest? It was all due to that one fateful day at work back in 1998…when he pushed that little sample into the anti-mass spectrometer, and started this whole mess.
Another thought hit him. If the man in the suit was able to transport him so many years in the future…then he must be a very powerful being indeed. Being the theoretical physicist that he was, he calculated in his head the speed he would have to be traveling in order for time to completely stop. Since, due to relativity, the only way to travel into the future without feeling it is to travel immensely fast. Gordon’s calculations came out to just under 300,000 kilometers per second… the speed of light. The man in the suit must wield extraordinary supremacy over the universe.
But more importantly, Gordon had to figure out exactly where he was, and what was going on. He had never heard of City-16 before; but it sounded to be some kind of a cold, scientific sort of name, like the way you would name variables in an experiment… perhaps that was what the world was these days… there was no telling what was going on in the world after the invasion.
“Excuse me sir, could you tell me where we are about now? I fell asleep some time ago…” asked Gordon nonchalantly. The man barely even moved his head up from the news paper, and said, “Well, we’ve come across the western hills in the Czech Republic. We’re about twenty minutes from City-17.” The man was jostled a slight bit as the train went over a bump in the track, and then he looked back down at his newspaper.
So, Gordon thought, they were in the Czech Republic. What could the man in the suit possibly want from such a backwards Eastern European nation? Also, Gordon certainly hadn’t heard of any place called “City-17” in the Czech Republic. Could it be new, perhaps? He still had no idea about the history of the world since the invasion…other than the sudden flash of the burning skyline of Manhattan, which was still fresh in his mind. He wished that the man in the suit would have shown him more.
Gordon looked back at the man’s shoulder, and could catch part of the main headline. “Governor Breen Orders Suspension of Breeding Rights in all Protection Cities,” it read. Under the headline was the black and white picture of a face of a stolid old looking man whose eyes seemed to watch you wherever you went. He decided that this man must be Governor Breen. He hated the image of Breen’s face from the start.
Freeman took his eyes off of the newspaper, and looked around the compartment of the train at the disheveled commuters. All of them seemed to be in a sad mood, and were looking at their shoes, and all of them wore identical blue jumpsuits. It seemed like they were heading towards a prison rather than a city.
Pasted on one of the walls of the train was a poster of that Governor Breen character, tinted yellow. Beneath Breen’s smiling face was the image of a crowd raising their hands in a Nazi-like fashion, saluting Breen. Soaring above Breen was the superimposed image of a dove, the international symbol of peace. An inscription in some foreign language was printed over the poster. Gordon couldn’t even make out the individual letters, let alone the words.
He looked out the window ahead of him at the terrain. It appeared hilly, and there were a few small buildings scattered about, but most of them appeared unoccupied, or even destroyed. In fact, Gordon could not spot a single person or car in any part of his field of vision. Not only that, but right next to the train tracks was a ten-foot wall made out of some kind of dark black metal, and it had strange, orange energy field filling up all of it’s empty spaces; and the top of the wall was lined with barbed wire.
Such protection would only be needed in a war zone. Gordon’s vision appeared blurry, so he took off his glasses and wiped them smoothly on the front of his blue jumpsuit. So, Gordon thought, let’s recap: after the invasion, there was some kind of massive war in the United States (which he learned from his vision of Manhattan), and somehow, the government, or the aliens themselves have created some kind of “Protection Cities” to keep it’s citizens in isolation from the war, and the aliens. It also seemed that this “Governor Breen” was their supreme leader, and judging from the poster, some kind of benevolent dictator.
Gordon thought about his theory. Yes, it made sense based on what he had learned. He didn’t go to MIT to become a theoretical physicist for nothing. However, he still had not a clue as to what his mission was going to be, or why the man in the suit had sent him. But these he was sure he would find out in time.
“So why are you going to City-17?” He asked the man sitting next to him. The man looked up with a confused expression, and replied sarcastically, “You’re kidding right? I’m going to City-17 for the same reason everyone else is… they make us. I am being scheduled for transfer to City-17 because of the recent shortage of labor there. They haven’t told me what I’d do there, but all I know is that Frankfurt…err City-16, rather, had a population boost recently, and City-17 was the closest place to send it’s un-needed citizens. The government these days…it’s just getting so chaotic. Why are you going to City-17? It sounds to me like you’re one of those rural folks who were captured on one of the patrols...”
Gordon didn’t know what to answer to this, so he merely replied, “yeah, they just picked me up and put me on a train.” At this, the man sitting next to him seemed a little surprised, “Ah, no wonder you know so littlie about what goes on. You are lucky…you haven’t had to deal with…the government. I hear that Governor Breen himself is staying in City-17…God I wish someone would take a shot at him some day…”
The man trailed off into his own thoughts. So the citizens were unhappy with the government. It seemed very communistic, the transfer of citizens. Something horrible must have happened in the world to make resources so tight that one city would have to share its citizens with another. Whatever had happened, it must have been a result of what had happened at Black Mesa. Conversely, Gordon thought, it was his fault; since he blamed himself for the incident at Black Mesa.
In his head, it seemed a foolish thought to blame himself for what had happened at Black Mesa. After all, The Administrator had been pushing the staff to extreme limits to get the last experiment completed; and he could be blamed. The administrator…what was his name again? It didn’t matter…he was probably dead now anyway.
Outside, the night sky began to turn into day, with the sun rising leisurely over one of the hills. The train rolled over the tracks in its constant rhythm of rattling. One of the sorry-looking passengers on the train began coughing in a way that sounded like deathly rasping. The man clutched his suitcase up close to him as he coughed, and quickly, his cough subsided.
Feeling a sudden burst of apprehension, Gordon wondered how much longer the train ride would last. He sat there, tapping his foot in a non-rhythmic fashion. He was back on Earth, something he had been hoping for the past twelve years… and all he could do was sit there and tap his foot.
He thought about his co-workers at Black Mesa, and his extended family living throughout the US. What had become of them? If the invasion had permeated as far as Eastern Europe, then surely the United States would have been totally wasted by war… why had the government not been able to contain the invasion within Black Mesa? After all, it was a very small facility…
Gordon thought of something else: how had the man sitting next to him understood him? Why was the newspaper in English? Wasn’t this the Czech Republic? It was so frustrating to think of all the inconsistencies of his situation; and he could learn nothing new on this little train.
Then, suddenly, as to ease his apprehension, he heard a sound from the front of the train. He looked in the direction of the sound, and noticed that it was coming from a screen that was welded next to the door leading into the next compartment. The screen projected the words “The Combine Immigration Service: City 17” out into the space of the train, and it was playing ambient music in the background.
Everyone on the train looked towards the screen, and watched it in the flickering light impassively. Gordon watched the screen, and waited for whatever information it would give him. The screen cut to an image of a large symbol that looked like a clamp, with the words “The Combine” underneath.
A friendly female voiceover came onto the speakers,
“Welcome, immigrants. You are entering… (There was a pause) City-17. You should be coming to the end of your journey very soon. For whatever reason you have decided to immigrate to City-17, simply remember to follow the laws of the community, and the authorities will treat you with respect. The Governor, Dr. Breen, has requested that all immigrating citizens fill out their required immigration forms. If you do not have any forms, or were recently…inducted into citizenship by The Combine; please report to the Nova Prospect, where the authorities will instruct you on how to gain citizenship in the wonderful Protection City 17. Please check all of your bags at the Nova Prospect, and The Combine will ensure that they will go to good use. Unfortunately, you will not be able to keep the luggage you have carried with you due to safety concerns. Thank you, and have a very productive day.”
The screen went blank, and the music cut off. The passengers on the train simply turned back to their own business submissively. It seemed that their souls had already been shattered by this “Combine” Gordon guessed that The Combine must be the new governing body in the area. Even though the presentation had a cheerful mood to it…Gordon suspected that The Combine wasn’t as benevolent as they made themselves out to be…The man in the suit wouldn’t have sent Gordon for nothing.
After about five minutes, the walls around the train tracks began to grow higher, as they got closer to the city. Suddenly, the view of hills faded out as they crossed on a bridge over a river. The river seemed green, and it looked to be lower than usual, as Gordon could see the water stain from the usual level of the water was clearly five feet above the actual level of the river.
The quickly moving train sped over the bridge, and suddenly, Gordon could see the outline of a massive black wall, stretching out seemingly for miles. The monolithic wall stood like an army ahead of the train. Gordon supposed that it must have been the border into the city. But why would such a massive wall need to be built?
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They sped closer and closer to the wall, and then, at that moment, the train screeched to a halt. Gordon could hear a huge mechanical grinding sound from the wall ahead of them. After a while, the grinding stopped, and the train sped on. Going through a gate in the wall that had just been opened, the train passed into the city. The colossal wall passed overhead, and the train went through the gate.
They looked back at the wall as some unseen machinery began closing the gate again. As the gate slowly closed with a gigantic grinding sound, Gordon couldn’t help but feel like he was being locked into his own coffin.
Now the train slowly cruised through some kind of railway station, and there were train tracks crossing in every direction, and power lines webbed overhead. There were other trains that appeared to be abandoned strewn about all of the tracks, and there also seemed to be several abandoned buildings that used to serve as train stations.
Gordon could see off in the distance the silhouette of some massive metal structure, high above anything else in the skyline, casting its monumental shadow across the land. Next to the tracks, there were lines of several citizens in their blue jumpsuits being herded by people who looked like police in black suits and white gas masks. It was a very foreboding scene indeed…and Gordon still couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault.
The train slowed even more, and the compartment of the train suddenly slid into darkness as the train entered into the hangar of a massive building. The interior was mostly dark, except for the light coming from overhead ceiling windows. There were stairs leading up from the tracks onto concrete landings, where there were several citizens standing, or being herded by cops.
The train pulled into this station, and it screeched to a stop. ON the far corner of the train, a pair of sliding doors hissed open. The passengers all got up, and grabbed their baggage. “Well, end of the line, “The man that was sitting next to Gordon sighed.
Gordon got out of his chair as well, and followed the other passengers off of the train, watching his step and making sure not to bump into anyone. He stepped out of the train, and went down the steps to the concrete landing. Suddenly, from somewhere in the station, a tiny, football sized machine whirred up into Gordon’s face.
The machine had a singular red eye, and made a buzzing sound like that of an electric razor. The machine beeped, and suddenly, a flash came from it as it took a picture of Gordon. His vision was impaired for a moment as he was stunned by the light of the scanner. He groaned, and rubbed his eyes.
By the time his vision returned, the little machine that had taken a picture of Gordon had buzzed off, and was flying around the room, illuminating the station with its flashlight. Still startled, Gordon looked around the cavern of a room that he was in.
To his right and left were trains, rusty and dirty with overuse. The ceilings were high, and light streamed in from the overhead windows. There was a large clock on top of a pole in front of him, and the far wall ahead of him was dominated by a gigantic plasma screen.
On the screen, the image of Breen shone down, his charismatic face greeting the newly arrived immigrants. Over the speakers, his voice echoed, “Welcome! Welcome to City-17! You have chosen, or have been chosen, to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centers. I have been proud to call City-17 my home. I came to City-17, and enjoyed it so much, that I decided to locate my…administration here, in the Citadel so generously provided by our benefactors. So, if you are here to stay, or are on your way to parts unknown…welcome…to City-17. It’s safer here.”
The voice of Breen echoed throughout the concrete room. His voice had an eerie quality, like he was hiding something. Gordon decided to follow the other passengers of his train in the general direction of the Breen Screen. His shoes clicked over the concrete as he passed the train, and followed the others to the left.
Next to the wall, there was a yellow cart with luggage on it. Next to the cart, there was a Combine officer, and he was arguing with one of the newly arrived immigrants. “Move along, “the officer barked through his gas mask. The citizen cried back in desperation, “please, this is all I have…just let me take it…” The officer snapped back, this time with a stern sense of urgency, “Move…along… sir” The officer shoved one of the suitcases off of the cart in an act of violence. The citizen backed away. “Alright, geez…” he said, holding his hands in the air.
Gordon couldn’t believe the brutality of the officer…did the government really care that much about such a simple thing as luggage? Gordon passed by the cart, and came to a large metal barrier with a spinning metal passageway through it.
Gordon pushed one end of the metal passageway, and it spun, allowing him to pass to the other side of the barrier. Hanging onto the barrier, there was a woman, who cried, “Was there anyone else on that train?”
As Gordon passed by, a guard came up inhumanely to the barrier and kicked it. “Shut up!” he said, “move along!” Gordon turned left, avoiding the situations with the cops. He just wanted to get out of this place. He entered a hallway, and the concrete gave way to ceramic tile.
On one of the walls, he saw a machine labeled “Breen’s Private Supply”. Gordon could only guess the machine’s contents. He followed one of the immigrants through the hallway and into another large room. This room appeared to be some kind of waiting room, and there were tables and benches lined against the walls, and pillars supported the roof, which appeared to be made of glass.
He passed a ragged looking man sitting at one of the tables, and he was drinking a bottle of what looked like some kind of beer. The man looked up at Gordon from the table with bloodshot eyes, “don’t drink the water…it makes you forget…I don’t even remember how I got here…” Confused, Gordon replied, “Uh…ok, I’ll try to remember that…” and then backed off, and continued down his path. He thought that the man sitting at the table had gotten a little too much to drink.
Gordon went around one of the pillars, and saw a man who paced nervously back and forth among the piles of trash, looking every now and then at a board that said “Departures” on one of the walls. The man talked to himself aimlessly, mumbling, “They’re always departing…but they never arrive…always departing, nobody ever gets on, and the train keeps coming…nobody ever gets off...” The main continued pacing, and Gordon decided to let him go.
What had happened here? Everyone he met seemed to be a drunkard or totally insane… perhaps it was like this throughout the world…maybe that’s what the invasion did to people. The human race was a drunkard trying to relieve its pain by remembering the past.
Gordon went around the pillar, and walked along towards a maze of chain-linked fences that looked like some kind of checkpoint. He went around one of the fences, and passed through the zigzag of chain linked fence. The man he had been following came to the end of the maze, where there were five or six guards standing.
One of the guards in a white gas mask stopped the man, “You, Citizen, go over there!” The guard pointed up to some stairs leading to double doors. “Who, me?” the man asked, surprised. The guard responded by slapping the man across the face with a gloved hand. “Alright, alright, I’m going!” The man said, rubbing his face. He went up the stairs, and into the double doors.
Now it was Gordon’s turn to go through the checkpoint. He passed by the guards. They simply looked at him, and said “Move along, “pointing in the direction of a sign that read “Nova Prospect” Gordon obeyed, and walked off hastily towards the sign.
He was just about to go through the opening in the chain link fence into the Nova Prospect when a gate automatically shut in front of him. Stupidly, Gordon bumped into the fence. What was going on? He looked around in a confused manner, and he saw a camera on the wall to his right. There were two clicks, and the wall mounted camera took a picture of him.
Gordon turned around, and he tried to go back the way he came, but the guard pushed him back into the alcove between the chain linked fences. Next to the camera, a door opened, and out stepped a Combine officer in a white gas mask. “You, Citizen,” the guard ordered, “Come with me!”
What did this guard want from him? Was he in trouble? Gordon felt a wave of fear approach him. He turned and looked back at the guard that had pushed him. He couldn’t go that way. So, he just decided to obey the guard that had come out of the door, and he followed him into the dark passageway behind the door that read “Security.”
The guard walked along the hallway, and Gordon followed. The hallway was dark, lit only by a small light on the ceiling. To Gordon’s left, there was a door with a small slit in it. Gordon peered into the slit, and he could see a man in a blue jumpsuit sitting in a red chair, being interrogated by one of the officers.
“I don’t understand,” the man cried, “I got a standard relocation card just like everybody else!” The officer standing next to the man being interrogated noticed Gordon’s eyes, and he walked over to the door, and slammed the slit shut.
Gordon continued to follow the officer that was escorting him, and they came to the end of the hallway to another door. The officer beat on the door with his fist, making a deep banging sound. The slit on the door opened up quickly, and then closed again. Gordon could hear the sound of an unlocking latch on the door…and he could feel his fear building up inside of him. What were they going to do to him?
The door opened, and the guard ordered Gordon, “Get in!” Gordon came to the door, and then hesitated, looking back the way he came. Should he make a run for it? “Come on!” The guard snapped. Gordon turned back to the small room in front of him. There was a red chair ahead of him, bloodstained, and with a single light fixture hanging over it.
There were at least four guards in the room, and all of them seemed to want Gordon to come into the room. There was no turning back now…he would have to face the consequences… So, Gordon stepped into the interrogation room, and the door slammed shut behind him.
-Chapter 28, The Graveyard-
They looked back at the wall as some unseen machinery began closing the gate again. As the gate slowly closed with a gigantic grinding sound, Gordon couldn’t help but feel like he was being locked into his own coffin.
Now the train slowly cruised through some kind of railway station, and there were train tracks crossing in every direction, and power lines webbed overhead. There were other trains that appeared to be abandoned strewn about all of the tracks, and there also seemed to be several abandoned buildings that used to serve as train stations.
Gordon could see off in the distance the silhouette of some massive metal structure, high above anything else in the skyline, casting its monumental shadow across the land. Next to the tracks, there were lines of several citizens in their blue jumpsuits being herded by people who looked like police in black suits and white gas masks. It was a very foreboding scene indeed…and Gordon still couldn’t help but feel like it was all his fault.
The train slowed even more, and the compartment of the train suddenly slid into darkness as the train entered into the hangar of a massive building. The interior was mostly dark, except for the light coming from overhead ceiling windows. There were stairs leading up from the tracks onto concrete landings, where there were several citizens standing, or being herded by cops.
The train pulled into this station, and it screeched to a stop. ON the far corner of the train, a pair of sliding doors hissed open. The passengers all got up, and grabbed their baggage. “Well, end of the line, “The man that was sitting next to Gordon sighed.
Gordon got out of his chair as well, and followed the other passengers off of the train, watching his step and making sure not to bump into anyone. He stepped out of the train, and went down the steps to the concrete landing. Suddenly, from somewhere in the station, a tiny, football sized machine whirred up into Gordon’s face.
The machine had a singular red eye, and made a buzzing sound like that of an electric razor. The machine beeped, and suddenly, a flash came from it as it took a picture of Gordon. His vision was impaired for a moment as he was stunned by the light of the scanner. He groaned, and rubbed his eyes.
By the time his vision returned, the little machine that had taken a picture of Gordon had buzzed off, and was flying around the room, illuminating the station with its flashlight. Still startled, Gordon looked around the cavern of a room that he was in.
To his right and left were trains, rusty and dirty with overuse. The ceilings were high, and light streamed in from the overhead windows. There was a large clock on top of a pole in front of him, and the far wall ahead of him was dominated by a gigantic plasma screen.
On the screen, the image of Breen shone down, his charismatic face greeting the newly arrived immigrants. Over the speakers, his voice echoed, “Welcome! Welcome to City-17! You have chosen, or have been chosen, to relocate to one of our finest remaining urban centers. I have been proud to call City-17 my home. I came to City-17, and enjoyed it so much, that I decided to locate my…administration here, in the Citadel so generously provided by our benefactors. So, if you are here to stay, or are on your way to parts unknown…welcome…to City-17. It’s safer here.”
The voice of Breen echoed throughout the concrete room. His voice had an eerie quality, like he was hiding something. Gordon decided to follow the other passengers of his train in the general direction of the Breen Screen. His shoes clicked over the concrete as he passed the train, and followed the others to the left.
Next to the wall, there was a yellow cart with luggage on it. Next to the cart, there was a Combine officer, and he was arguing with one of the newly arrived immigrants. “Move along, “the officer barked through his gas mask. The citizen cried back in desperation, “please, this is all I have…just let me take it…” The officer snapped back, this time with a stern sense of urgency, “Move…along… sir” The officer shoved one of the suitcases off of the cart in an act of violence. The citizen backed away. “Alright, geez…” he said, holding his hands in the air.
Gordon couldn’t believe the brutality of the officer…did the government really care that much about such a simple thing as luggage? Gordon passed by the cart, and came to a large metal barrier with a spinning metal passageway through it.
Gordon pushed one end of the metal passageway, and it spun, allowing him to pass to the other side of the barrier. Hanging onto the barrier, there was a woman, who cried, “Was there anyone else on that train?”
As Gordon passed by, a guard came up inhumanely to the barrier and kicked it. “Shut up!” he said, “move along!” Gordon turned left, avoiding the situations with the cops. He just wanted to get out of this place. He entered a hallway, and the concrete gave way to ceramic tile.
On one of the walls, he saw a machine labeled “Breen’s Private Supply”. Gordon could only guess the machine’s contents. He followed one of the immigrants through the hallway and into another large room. This room appeared to be some kind of waiting room, and there were tables and benches lined against the walls, and pillars supported the roof, which appeared to be made of glass.
He passed a ragged looking man sitting at one of the tables, and he was drinking a bottle of what looked like some kind of beer. The man looked up at Gordon from the table with bloodshot eyes, “don’t drink the water…it makes you forget…I don’t even remember how I got here…” Confused, Gordon replied, “Uh…ok, I’ll try to remember that…” and then backed off, and continued down his path. He thought that the man sitting at the table had gotten a little too much to drink.
Gordon went around one of the pillars, and saw a man who paced nervously back and forth among the piles of trash, looking every now and then at a board that said “Departures” on one of the walls. The man talked to himself aimlessly, mumbling, “They’re always departing…but they never arrive…always departing, nobody ever gets on, and the train keeps coming…nobody ever gets off...” The main continued pacing, and Gordon decided to let him go.
What had happened here? Everyone he met seemed to be a drunkard or totally insane… perhaps it was like this throughout the world…maybe that’s what the invasion did to people. The human race was a drunkard trying to relieve its pain by remembering the past.
Gordon went around the pillar, and walked along towards a maze of chain-linked fences that looked like some kind of checkpoint. He went around one of the fences, and passed through the zigzag of chain linked fence. The man he had been following came to the end of the maze, where there were five or six guards standing.
One of the guards in a white gas mask stopped the man, “You, Citizen, go over there!” The guard pointed up to some stairs leading to double doors. “Who, me?” the man asked, surprised. The guard responded by slapping the man across the face with a gloved hand. “Alright, alright, I’m going!” The man said, rubbing his face. He went up the stairs, and into the double doors.
Now it was Gordon’s turn to go through the checkpoint. He passed by the guards. They simply looked at him, and said “Move along, “pointing in the direction of a sign that read “Nova Prospect” Gordon obeyed, and walked off hastily towards the sign.
He was just about to go through the opening in the chain link fence into the Nova Prospect when a gate automatically shut in front of him. Stupidly, Gordon bumped into the fence. What was going on? He looked around in a confused manner, and he saw a camera on the wall to his right. There were two clicks, and the wall mounted camera took a picture of him.
Gordon turned around, and he tried to go back the way he came, but the guard pushed him back into the alcove between the chain linked fences. Next to the camera, a door opened, and out stepped a Combine officer in a white gas mask. “You, Citizen,” the guard ordered, “Come with me!”
What did this guard want from him? Was he in trouble? Gordon felt a wave of fear approach him. He turned and looked back at the guard that had pushed him. He couldn’t go that way. So, he just decided to obey the guard that had come out of the door, and he followed him into the dark passageway behind the door that read “Security.”
The guard walked along the hallway, and Gordon followed. The hallway was dark, lit only by a small light on the ceiling. To Gordon’s left, there was a door with a small slit in it. Gordon peered into the slit, and he could see a man in a blue jumpsuit sitting in a red chair, being interrogated by one of the officers.
“I don’t understand,” the man cried, “I got a standard relocation card just like everybody else!” The officer standing next to the man being interrogated noticed Gordon’s eyes, and he walked over to the door, and slammed the slit shut.
Gordon continued to follow the officer that was escorting him, and they came to the end of the hallway to another door. The officer beat on the door with his fist, making a deep banging sound. The slit on the door opened up quickly, and then closed again. Gordon could hear the sound of an unlocking latch on the door…and he could feel his fear building up inside of him. What were they going to do to him?
The door opened, and the guard ordered Gordon, “Get in!” Gordon came to the door, and then hesitated, looking back the way he came. Should he make a run for it? “Come on!” The guard snapped. Gordon turned back to the small room in front of him. There was a red chair ahead of him, bloodstained, and with a single light fixture hanging over it.
There were at least four guards in the room, and all of them seemed to want Gordon to come into the room. There was no turning back now…he would have to face the consequences… So, Gordon stepped into the interrogation room, and the door slammed shut behind him.
-Chapter 28, The Graveyard-
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