Chapter 2

"Ohhhhhh . . ." It felt like an unstoppable army of painful minions was storming into my skull, sticking pikes into my brain and trebuchets were launching flaming debris at the fortress of my mind. Or so it felt.

I could sense myself being roughly jostled about, my head flopping around unsteadily, jarring my brain. Distorted huffing sounded above my head; boots pounded erratically against metal; my body moving in time to it, supported at both neck and knees by textured leather. Groggily, I opened my eyes, unveiling a blurred image of rushing lights.

My scream reverberated harshly back into my ears, but was abruptly cut off as a black gloved hand quickly descended over my mouth. Above me, the shadowy outline of a bulky mask looked down. In an instant I switched from groggy and pain-racked to a ball of live energy, squirming and kicking with all my might, pounding at the hand over my mouth with balled up fists and trying to bite through the tough leather.

"Stop it; I'm helping you!" came a deep, gravelly voice. The world spun around me suddenly as the support under my knees dropped. My feet contacted ground, a white hot fire lancing up my leg as I unsteadily reached out for anything to lean against. One hand grabbed a fistful of leather, while my other planted itself firmly against a wall.

"Don't EVER touch me," I managed to whisper. It vehemently echoed around as I stared at the floor, pain threatening to black me out. There was a pressure on my fingers as a rough glove hurriedly uncurled them from the thick material and pulled my arm around a pair of padded shoulders, yanking the support of the wall away from my grasp.

I groaned angrily as the humanoid started forward, pulling me along. My brain hardly registered the significance of leather armor, the presence of the stun baton openly visible at the waistbelt, the stark white mask hiding a face from the world. The lights from the corridor swirled around in my blurred vision, giving me the sensation of being in a circus and another onslaught of lightheadedness.

Together we moved, the man walking quickly towards an unknown destination with myself limping beside him, completely oblivious to anything that was going on. My leg was on fire every time I put weight on it, and I felt like I would fall to the ground if I didn't have the support of his shoulders.

Comprehending was beyond my mental capacity. The importance of the fact that there was a clink, a loud grating sound, was lost on my, as was the fact that my arm suddenly slipped from its brace as I was shoved into blackness. Then realization hit me like a giant wave, and I only knew one thing: I didn't want to be alone in that cold darkness. Gasping like a fish out of water, I whipped around unsteadily to face the lighted corridor I had traveled down, and the being that was either to be my savior or my end: a Civil Protection agent.

He stood in a sturdy position, framed in the doorway of light. Static crackled as the distorted voice spoke. "You need to get out of here now. Overwatch has the building surrounded and is raiding it as we speak. Here, you'll need this," the voice ordered me, deep and intimidating, despite its desperate, almost conversational tone. I felt something small and metal shoved into my hands. "Take this path all the way to the end, then go left. Follow the signs that say 'Northern Outlet' until you come to a red ceiling hatch; it leads to the surface. Once you're through it, you'll be in the open, so run as quickly as you can for the nearest alley. It will take you to an abandoned Northern Petrol building. Inside, in the basement, there is a soda machine; I'll meet you there in an hour. Stay low and be careful." The CP craned his neck over his shoulders as screaming sounded in the distance. "Go." I stood there silently, trying to absorb everything that had been said.

"Now!" he roared, pushing me further into the dark passage. I stumbled back blindly, glaring at him through my blurred vision. He turned on his heel and slammed the door, darkness engulfing me.

"NO!" I screamed, launching myself at the door, slamming my fists in a pitiful attempt to open it. "Open this door, dammit!!" Slowly, I sunk to the ground in a heap, tears streaming down my cheeks as I curled up in a defensive ball, my long black hair trailing down my back onto the ground. After several minutes I regained my composure, twirling the object in my hand over and over, fingering it to see if there was any switch of some sort. There was a minute click, then a fuzzy golden light illuminated my surroundings, revealing dingy walls and faded graffiti. I stood up, shaking, completely overwhelmed by what had just happened. So close I had been to being taken into their custody, but yet, here I was, standing in blackness. Maybe this was their custody.

I took a first reluctant step forward. There was no going back, and I didn't believe in dwelling on the past or what could have happened. It was a waste of time. There was only what had happened.

Down the dark passage I went, flinching at every odd squeak, every drip of water, every ominous echo. I hate the dark . . . The pain in my head had died down, quenched by an overwhelming fear that consumed my very being. All I wanted to do was get out of there as quickly as I could, and fleetingly I began to wonder if there was a God and if I had entered Hell.

But there was also a tinge of frustration to my thoughts. I couldn't remember anything that had happened before I had awoken in that windowed hallway, pursued by the Combine. My name and age I knew, but nothing of my past, my parents, how I came to be in this strange place. But, ironically, I recalled who the Combine were, I recalled Civil Protection, I recalled the predicament that City 17 was in. I recalled information, but nothing else as to the events leading up to my being there. Nothing at all.

Except . . . that man. The man with a blue suit . . . briefcase . . . piercing green eyes . . . Now why can I remember him but nothing else? What did he do that makes him so . . . special? That thought persisted the entire time I walked down that long passage of death and despair, and finally, when I reached the end and took a left, I was nearly at wits end.

My voice was hoarse as I queried to myself, "So, Alyssa, how's the family coming?"

"Fine, fine, life's great. How 'bout you?"

"Great, just perfect. Do you know what's going on?"

". . ."

"Hello?" Spontaneously, a small queasiness pricked my belly. I lifted up the tattered, baggy shirt I wore to look at it. "Oh, that's strange, Alyssa, I don't recall my stomach being so swollen. Do you?"

"Not at all."

I stared quizzically into the darkness, then my brow slowly crinkled in anger. "I need to lay off the Krispie Kremes, don't I? Damn. I love those Krispie Kremes. Wait . . . what are Krispie Kremes?" I thought hard about that, waving the flashlight around absentmindedly. I shoved my long, greasy black locks out of my face, then stopped suddenly to analyze my hand. Once dainty, my long fingers were calloused and dirt-stained inside the little wrinkles engraved in my skin. I stared at it, fascinated. An image flashed before my eyes:

Before my face, a bloody hand was raised, blocking the flames in the background. Fingers, normally thin and slender, were now torn and bloody, nails cracked and ripped off. Suddenly, the dirt ground rushed up to meet my face as I fell to my knees, a booted heel pressed against my neck, a voice in the background yelling, "You won't get away this time, little b-"

Something screeched. The flashback was torn from my mind as I whirled around, the beam of light dancing wildly all over the walls, fleetingly illuminating dark objects for a split second before leaving them to darkness. There was a slight scraping noise, and then a ghostly flash of blue in the distance. Ominously, a tisking noise resonated up the corridor, almost imperceptibly soft but gradually increasing in volume until it was right next to me. The hair on my arms stood on end as a cool breeze blew over me, making me feel like ice.

Nerves on end, I suddenly screamed as something wrapped around my arm. I bolted into the blackness, my light source bobbing up and down on the walls as I ran lopsidedly, ignoring all pain. The pounding of my shoes echoed hollowly down the dark halls. Though my strength was failing, I didn't realize it until I misstepped and lost balance, arms flailing. I dropped the flashlight with a clatter, and stumbled forward as it shattered into thick pieces of plastic, leaving the hall as black as night.

Something soft and squishy lay in wait to break my fall. The moment I made contact, a horrible stench hit my nostrils. Struggling to get up, I felt an arm wrap around my chest. Wheezily, and very faint, a voice whispered in my ear, "Please! Help . . . me . . . Get it . . . off . . . argghhh . . ." It tightened its grip around me, sharp nails digging into my skin. Little chirruping sounds suddenly erupted from behind my head as I sunk further into the soft flesh of a . . .

"ZOMBIE!!" Spasmodically, I ripped the gripping arm from my chest and scampered to my feet, in my haste slipping in something gooey, and I lurched backwards to the hard floor once more. Instantly, a weight fell on me, crushing my lungs as the chirruping sound started up again. There was another flash of blue light nearby, briefly illuminating the creature on top of me. The hideous image burned itself into my retinas: the fat, four-legged creature perched atop the head of a young man, his mouth open in terror, the flame of life draining from his eyes.

"Help me!! Aaaaggghh! Uhhhhhhhhhhhhgggggg . . ." The once high-pitched human pleas had now turned into garbled, intelligible utterances. I reached out my arm, frantically fingering through debris for the source of the blue flashing, frantically trying to hold the zombie above me with my other hand. I could feel the once-human slowly turning, his flesh dying and rebuilding into thick tissue, and imagine his vocal cords lengthening, his brain slowly being eaten alive. My searching fingers hit an object, and I grasped for it and pressed a button.

"Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!" Bright blue light poured into its face as I kicked the beast off of me. It painstakingly rolled off onto the ground with a sick thud, and the light flickered to the ceiling. There! The red hatch!! I heard the monster moaning on the floor as it reached out with a clawed hand to grab my leg. Up in a flash, I latched onto the exit ladder with my free hand and pulled upwards with all my strength. Finally, the grip on my ankle released; I was free, and hurriedly twirling the hatch wheel open. There was a clink, a puff of dust, and then I heaved on the metal "Northern Outlet" door, emerging along with it into the somewhat fresher air of midday.

Coughing and gasping, I rolled out of the hatch onto rough dirt and dried grass, my arms flopping outward. Too tired to move, exhausted from the flood of emotions and physical labor, I lay there on my back, reveling in my temporary freedom.

The now-familiar dull throb of pain came back to ruin my day. The headache had gone, but my leg still hurt abominably. Shielding my eyes, I looked straight up into the hazy blue sky, devoid of clouds. It would have been a beautiful day if I hadn't been spending the whole of it running for my life. I shifted slightly and suddenly the sun went out. Confused, I looked upwards towards a giant metal watch tower, sleek and black against the sky. How could I not have seen that before? Suddenly, I remembered the reason why I was even there. In all the excitement, I had forgotten. To find the Northern Petrol building. To meet up with a man from the force that was trying to kill me and all of mankind. That made no sense at all. Why was I even going? It was probably a trap.

With a sigh, I propped myself onto my hands, the metal object still grasped between bloody fingers, and then, very slowly, got to my feet. Screw this. I'm going my own way. Besides, it's been more than an hour anyways. They won't miss me if I don't come now. I shoved the heavy device into a pocket for further use, not bothering to look at it as an image of a blue-suited man flickered across its screen.

Well . . . what now? I scanned the clearing I was in. There was the alleyway, yes, but also some train tracks that I could possibly follow . . . eh, no, they'd be guarded heavily one way or another . . . but then again . . .

There was an ominous grating sound, and I looked up towards the massive, looming skyscraper that dominated City 17. The Citadel's giant plates were retracting, exposing inner mechanisms and . . . "Whoa!" Whirling around, I scampered towards the alleyway like a rat. Huge black clouds of scanners poured out of the open Citadel, blotting out the sky and swarming over the city. But also, enormous packs of gunships were being ejected from the skyscraper, flying around in search of their prey.

"No, no, no, no, NO! How can this be happening now!?" I yelled furiously. I ducked behind one of the many heaping dumpsters lining the alley, squeezing between it and the wall.

"Hey . . . ST 5 . . . come in . . . over . . ."

"What!?" I cautiously withdrew what I now realized was some sort of communication device. On its tiny blue screen I saw a woman, dressed in leather gear and a hat, her hair astray and her voice cracking in fear. I held flipped a switch that I assumed was used to talk.

"Uhh . . . ST 5 is . . . gone now . . . over?" I smacked the device against my hand to clear it of static, but that only made the screen go black. "Hello? Are you still there?" Frustrated, I chucked it against the wall with a smash, then I sunk to the ground, arms folded, a throbbing headache starting up again. Anger flared up in me quickly, almost for no reason at all. I felt pissed at the whole world. I mean, couldn't it just give me a break for five frickin' minutes!?

Apparently not, as there was an extremely loud booming alarm that permeated the air. I took my time getting to my feet, and then peered out of the alleyway. The Citadel was no longer moving; it's plates were locked in place, fully retracted, leaving gaping sections where sleek black parts were exposed. What the parts were for, who knows. Almost everything about the Citadel was unknown to me, and just looking at it gave me the jitters.

"Scout T . . . 5 . . . or whoever . . . are . . . come in . . . over." Groaning, I ran to find the com link device, digging through rubble and garbage alike.

"Yea? What's going on? Over."

"Citadel . . . alert . . . rumors . . . Freeman . . . back . . ."

"What!? What about what's his name?"

"Where are . . . located? Over."

"Uhhh . . . I'm by . . ." Should I lie or not? "I'm by . . . ST 5 . . . or where they used to be."

"Where's the . . . Team? Over."

"Zombified."

"Damn . . . get . . . away . . . there . . . Overwatch . . . coming . . ."

"What!? Where do I go? What do I do? How many . . . oh shit." Shadows started crawling up the distant alley walls as a steady thunder of boots slowly increased in volume. Suddenly, a loud hum started up, blade-like as a black chopper swooped above the alley.

"Go . . . now! Many . . . coming . . . squads . . . scanners . . . chopper . . . Get . . . out . . . there . . . canals . . . escape . . ."

"What!? Where!? Where are the canals!?" There was nothing but static in reply. I cursed, then ran out of the alleyway. "Ohhh, shhhhhhhhhhhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit!" The center of the clearing came into view, along with the very advanced looking Combine chopper that was landing in it. Its powerful rotors sliced through the air, throwing a mighty wind into my face as dark suited figures hopped out of its open sides, weapons in hand. Nooooo, not Overwatch!

Turning on heel, I hightailed it out of there towards the other end of the passage. I was fenced in on both sides; Overwatch and a copter on one, and an unknown amount of Combine on the other. The shadows kept on advancing, but I burst into the open canal regardless, sprinting away from the Civil Protection that shouted exclamations at me.

"Miscount sighted. Permission to engage?"

"Deploy non-lethal tactical rounds. Engage, disinfect, recover," a metallic, feminine voice ordered over the CP's radio. There was a burst of gunfire as I ran down a steep bank towards the canal, into the mucky water below. The fired rounds were poorly aimed and went splashing away, spraying putrid liquid all over my face. Awkwardly wading through the muck as quickly as I could, the Civil Protection were grunting as they ran to find better positions.

"Stop where you are, or you will be charged with anticitizen status!" Unexpectedly, a rage burned up inside of me. Twirling around, hair flying, I leaped out of the water at the nearest officer, instinct taking over. It was all a blur as I snatched the pistol out of his hands, butting him in the head with it, firing at the others. There was a flurry of color, a scream of "Outbreak! Outbreak! Outbreak!" from an officer, and before long, I stood above five Combine bodies, huffing for breath. Whoops.

I started running towards a nearby bridge overshadowing the canals, and not a moment too soon. Out of the alley poured four Overwatch soldiers, sleek alien rifles in their hands, donned with black armor and masks, staring out through glowing blue goggles. Simultaneously, they raised the rifles to their shoulders and fired as they ran towards me, advancing down the riverbank in formation. I ducked quickly underneath the bridge as bullets sprayed into the water where I was standing moments before. Struggling, my energy suddenly left me, with a sudden craving for rest . . . and a banana. Uhhhhh . . . What the hell?

I emerged from under the bridge to see another riverbank, hemmed in on two sides by concrete walls, with two bridges, one above me and one far off in the distance, arching over the canal on the other two. Oh, and it was chock full of large explosive barrels. With no time to think, I leaped behind one, out of sight from both the river and bridge. There was a moment of radio chatter while a droning started up in the distance, but then the Overwatch soldiers quieted. Thinking of the inevitable battle to come, I checked the pistol in my hand to see if it was in working order. All's well. Now I just need a frickin' banana . . . I mentally berated myself, Ugh, now's not the time for random food cravings!!

The distant droning became a hum. Something was coming up the river. I peeked from around the ugly red barrel just in time to see four rather intimidating alien hybrid soldiers running up the bank to meet me, their armor glistening from the water. In perfect formation, they fanned out to surround me and my difficult self, hiding behind a drum that could explode upon any sort of minute contact. The pistol in my sweaty hand started to look like my only sliver of hope as I readied myself to fire. Suddenly, there was a huge burst of garbled remarks as the Overwatch soldiers started shouting loudly and raucously.

Clad in orange armor, a man driving a metallic contraption of some sort shot up the river, water spraying in his wake, the motor humming loudly. A soldier cried, "Anticitizen sighted! We must cleanse the infection!" The man and his machine sped right under the bridge, the Combine splashing after him. The droning eventually faded off into the distance, followed by uncustomary expletives from the Combine soldiers.

The Overwatch Dispatcher announced in a feminine voice, "Eliminate secondary target immediately. Commence to expunge the anticitizen." Click! A small metal cylinder clinked next to me, glowing bright red and reeking of danger. My pupils widened in horror. With a curse on my lips, I dived out from behind the barrel, away from the grenade, with an absolutely horrible trajectory: straight for the Combine soldiers. My arm reaching forward, I shut my eyes tight as I felt my finger pull the pistol's trigger four times.

The blood throbbed in my ears, blocking out all noise but the sound of ragged breathing, of my startled heartbeat. Impacting ground, I rolled down the riverbank and plunged into the water, eyes closed all the while, waiting for the feeling of bullets penetrating flesh, waiting for it all to end. Nothing happened.

The pungent water shot up my nostrils and ear canals, making me squirm in disgust. Silence . . . and then the grenade blew. The decibels boomed through the canal, piercing my eardrums despite the muffling effect from the water. It resonated through the water, and after I couldn't stand living without air anymore, I breached the surface, hearing myself gulp down air and wheezing away. And then I saw him.

His dusty cobalt suit almost blended into the sky, but his black hair stood out in stark contrast as he stood behind the bridge's railing. He was poised almost as if nervously, but yet perfectly confident, briefcase in hand. Our gazes met for a split second; he nodded, and then walked away out of sight. I splashed through the water, yelling, "Hey! Who are you? What do you want from me!?"

"I just saved your butt, so you better be grateful!" I turned to look behind me, up at the wall above the canal. There stood a man, garbed in CP uniform but holding his helmet in the crook of his arm. His face was roundish, youthful but yet strained, hosting some stubble of a beard. "Where were you? I told you to meet me, and I find you almost getting yourself killed! You're lucky I was here to kill those Overwatch soldiers, otherwise you'd be just another floating corpse in that canal. Now c'mon! There's a ladder over there." He pointed with a gloved hand over to the corner of the bridge and the concrete wall. Anger and annoyance was etched in his face.

I glared up at him, mumbled, "Fine," then waded out of the water and climbed up the blasted riverbank. Why does he care so much? Most of the barrels had been decimated, but, surprisingly, the corpses were mostly intact. Pfft, the man thinks he killed those soldiers. I was the one that had to jump towards them to save my hide, and he just sits up there and decides its the perfect time to kill them off as I'm flying towards them . . .

"Hello? Are you alive? Over." Slowly, sighing a breath of exasperation, I reached my hand for the walkie talkie and brought it up to my mouth, flipping the switch.

"Yes, I'm alive. Over."

"Good. I'm sorry about that; we were encountering some strange interference in our radio patterns, but it's gone now. I don't know what could have caused it, but . . . wait, I hear that Barney has found you. Great; you two should head on over right away, we need to get you off of the streets . . . or in this case, the canals. Over."

Ugh . . . okay, but I don't share your enthusiasm. I have no where else to go. Might as well. I looked up at the CP . . . well, the man. Pfft, Barney . . . what a weird name. Should I trust him? He glared at me and urged me to go faster. Well . . .

I clambered up the ladder and jogged to meet up with him. Side by side, we went to the south, the sun gradually sinking lower on the horizon. There was a gargle of static, then my radio chattered to life once more. "Have you heard anything about Gordon Freeman? Are the rumors true? I can't get through to Barney right now. Over."

Smiling slyly, Barney grabbed the radio from my hands and transmitted, "Well, if you mean anything about an orange-suited man driving a motorboat, attracting the attention of Overwatch and forcing the Citadel to full alert, then Gordon Freeman has arrived. Over." I smiled. I guess I could get used to him.

He handed the radio back to me as we walked along the service road of the canals, elevated enough to see the water routes for a distance. The water was tinged orange with the sun's rays, though there was at least another hour of daylight left.

"Oh, and by the way, do you guys have any bananas? Over."