The Life of a Headcrab

by Wallace Breen

A seriously misunderstood headcrab tries to fix his life, and stop the so-called apocalypse without resorting to anything his fellow species does to make sure he's taken seriously and stop him being a threat. He's still a monster, so what more can he do?

1. Who am I?

Who am I? They call me a headcrab.

Why don't they like me? Because I kill them. At least, other headcrabs do.

It's not my fault. It's just what I do. I want to talk to you, but you try to kill me. There's nothing simpler than letting me try to communicate. But when you come from a place where all you can do is take and destroy, there's not much chance of them thinking of you differently, especially when you're technically a monster. Yes, I'm small, I have four legs, no eyes and a huge mouth. I was born to kill. I take over nervous systems and control my host. I've not done that, ever. I'm different.

Death. That's all that's left here. Bodies, rotting away, organs littering the streets. Some are burnt, some are missing parts, and some are just lying there. On a rooftop, a single raven stirs. It flaps its wings lightly, gliding to the ground in search of its next meal. It hops over to a doorway left open, and looks at a corpse left sitting with its back to a wall. It flies up to its head, but under its claws it feels wrong... The arm swings up, gripping the bird tightly. It's taken to the gaping hole in the chest, and stuffed straight inside the stomach. The zombie lies down against the wall again, ready for the next passing meal.

I walk along the streets, looking at the rotting bodies everywhere. I can see so many of us, but they're asleep, waiting for a meal. Sometimes I wonder what it's like, to have a body, to feel with hands, to eat, to sleep. But I know that if I do that then there will be no going back.

The last Combine helicopter took off, with one extra, unexpected passenger, hanging on.

And now I'm there. The next city. This one's under attack as well. There's shooting everywhere, and zombies of all kinds. Combine, too. Rebels, humans, robots. All of them fighting each other, except for the robots that just stand in the way. I don't know what I'll do, or where I'll go. I need to find somebody important and see if they'll listen. Whatever else, I'll have to find out.

City 17 was under attack. Headcrabs everywhere. They had amassed hordes of zombies, and were slowly taking over. Headcrabs were being shot on sight. Bodies littered the streets here, too, but less so, and definitely none were zombies. At least, none were zombies with headcrabs.

There were a few close moments when I was almost attacked. One person shot at me, another tried to hit me with a crowbar, but I managed to escape. And now I walk on, looking for a target.