Water crept into his nostrils and open throat as he trashed in the water, bubbles of air being forced from his gapingmouth. Through dim, hazy eyes, he saw the bright blue tentacles streaking toward him, split into halves by the teeth. So this was it.
What a shit way for this to end, Gordon thought. Typical.
Then suddenly, without warning, the tentacles released him. They began to thrash wildly in the sewage, flipping this way and that, as though in pain. Bright blue light was flashing all around it, almost like lightning. A high pitched keening throbbed through his ears, a sonic pitch that he assumed was coming from the creature. What was happening?
Whatever it was, Gordon wasn't sticking around long enough to wonder. He kicked feebly for the surface, trying to urge strength back into his aching legs. His lungs screamed for air and the surface of the water seemed hazy and distant…
So close now… don't give up… just two more meters… one…
He broke the surface with a loud splash and sucked in air desperately; it filled his lungs with such intensity that he almost screamed in relief. Choking, gasping, he heaved again and again as precious oxygen flooded his system, sending strength back into his watery limbs.
With a surge of dismay he realized the creature was still below him. He swam towards the side of the water, heading towards an embankment of slag and junk. There was a figure up ahead; a green, scaly figure that was not proportioned right. Whatever it was, Gordon didn't care; he'd take castration before going back into the water.
Well, maybe not castration, but perhaps a good kick in the—
He arrived on the junk pile with a flurry of water and noise. Crawling forward and out of the water, he collapsed in a heap, breathing raggedly. Sewer water clung to his hair and face, and dripped in rivulets from the dark orange of his HEV Suit.
"It is the Freeman," a deep, gravelly voice said. "We have been waiting for you."
Gordon looked up from the ground to see two dark green, hoof-like feet several inches from his face. Scrambling to his feet, he whipped his pistol out and trained it on the creature before him.
"Be at ease," the thing said. "We serve the same mystery."
Its posture was slightly hunched, and the third arm protruding from its chest waved slightly in the air. The deep red of its eye stared directly into his face.
Slowly, Gordon lowered his weapon. The Vortigaunt nodded just as slowly, clasping its hands together. "You must come with us."
Suddenly, a loud splash drew Gordon's attention back to the sewage lake. Several more tentacles had breached the surface, waving in the air. From below the surface another high-pitched wail was being broadcast, and the tentacles writhed and whirled, aiming their deadly tips right at him.
Gordon raised his pistol and began to fire, stepping backwards in the junk heap as the tentacles arrowed towards his face. The Vortigaunt stepped forward, raising both arms. "Be gone, into the abyss," it said lowly, and two bright surges of electricity burst from its hands, flowing outward in a glowing blue arc. The lightning hit the tentacles dead on; the unseen creature below let out a deafening wail as the tentacles quivered and thrashed, before exploding before their very eyes in a burst of blue and purple gore.
Tiny plumes of smoke rose from where the tentacles had previously been. Gordon stepped forward in astonishment, gazing with a new found respect at the scaly green alien. "Thank you," he said. "You saved my life."
"You are the Freeman," the Vortigaunt replied, blinking slowly at him. "The reckoning of the Combine has come."
Gordon felt a sense of unease begin to stir his stomach. "Listen," he said. "Can you tell me what's going on? And how exactly do I get out of here? I need to take the canals to—"
"The Freeman must come with us," the Vortigaunt interrupted, loping off along the pile of refuse, towards a rusted red boxcar in the distance. "There is no time for explanations."
Slightly annoyed at the offhand dismissal, Gordon followed the creature. It picked its way around bits of broken, dirty machinery and heaps of burning scrap metal until it reached a small ladder, tucked out of sight next to the boxcar. It scaled the ladder nimbly and dropped through a roof compartment into the car. Gordon, not seeing other options, followed suit.
He landed with a heavy thump in a dirty, tiny space, with no other decoration than a small TV, sitting on a wooden stool in one corner. A man turned around in surprise as Gordon landed, his face haggard with worry. "Good God! You scared the shit out of me."
"Sorry," he said, still feeling confused. The Vortigaunt was hunched in a corner, pointing one arm towards the TV. A burst of green sparks flew from its clawed hand and connected with the TV, which suddenly blazed to life. Gordon blanched. Surely, he hadn't seen –? Not him, surely…
The man looked at Gordon with bright blue eyes, despite the grime that tarnished his face. Short, unruly blonde stubble littered his cheeks and chin. "Guess all those sirens are for you, huh?"
"It would seem so," Gordon said flippantly, stowing his pistol back in his waist holster.
"Good thing you found us," the man said. "You're not the first to come through by a—"
"This is the Freeman," the Vortigaunt interrupted, standing and turning to face them in one fluid motion. "The Vortessence calls us together at last."
"Freeman? Gordon Freeman?" the man whispered, eyes widening. Then, he burst out into hearty laughter, causing Gordon to jump. "HA! I knew it! I knew you'd be back one day, Freeman, and now it's true!" He grinned unabashedly. "We'll be able to take the Combine down now with no problem."
Gordon was utterly nonplussed. How did this stranger know who he was? And why would his presence mean anything in the wake of what had occurred? "I'm sorry, but who are you?"
"The name's Joe," the man replied, thumping his chest. "Otherwise known as Boxcar Joe. Me and Xeron here are just a lookout for the Underground Railroad. Main station is right around the corner. They'll get you started on the right foot." He laughed loudly once more. "Gordon Freeman! I can't believe it!"
"Step forward," the Vortigaunt Xeron said gravely. "Let us pass our strength to you."
Gordon moved closer to the Vortigaunt, somewhat hesitantly. He still wasn't entirely certain about being in close proximity with the creatures, not after what he had endured at Black Mesa. But this one had saved his life, and they seemed to be helping this… Underground Railroad, or whatever it was. And if they were helping other humans, then they were all right by him. Holding onto prejudices now was just going to get him killed.
The Vortigaunt nodded, almost as though it had read his mind. Then it reached out and before Gordon could say "wait" had discharged a blue beam of lightning directly at his chest.
The sensation, while certainly strange, wasn't altogether unpleasant. He felt warmth spread across his body, coupled with the strange tingling feeling one gets when their foot falls asleep. He almost wanted to giggle as the feeling spread to his legs and face. Then, almost as quickly as it had begun, it was over.
"That is all we can spare," Xeron said, lowering his arm. "But it should keep the Freeman safe."
Gordon looked down at himself, prodding his chest gingerly with a gloved finger. "What did you do?"
"Juiced up your suit," Boxcar Joe replied. "Vortigaunts can give a jolt just like the ones the Combine power outlets can. But it takes some out of them, so use 'em sparingly."
Gordon nodded. "Thank you," he said simply to Xeron, and he meant it.
"We serve the same mystery," Xeron repeated. Gordon felt that same creeping sense of unease grow deep within his bones. The Vortigaunt knew. It nodded at him, just once. It knew.
Boxcar Joe opened the side of the car with a loud scraping noise, peering furtively into the grey daylight. "Be careful, Doc. We really can't afford to get noticed. With the Citadel on alert like that, Civil Protection is going to be all over the place. Even more so than usual. And I'm willing to bet my mother's diamond necklace that a lot of it's probably cause of you."
"Does your mother even own a diamond necklace?"
"Well, no. It's a safe bet, this way I can't lose, see?" he grinned, looking years younger, but after a moment his face grew sober. "But all the same, if they catch you down here, it's bad news for the whole railroad. They'll start to tear it up just to get at you."
Gordon nodded. "I'd better go then."
Boxcar Joe grinned. "Give them an ass kicking."
Gordon stepped out of the boxcar and out into the landfill of broken parts and rubble. "Where do I go?" he asked, turning back to Xeron and Joe. "Which way to Eli Vance's lab?"
"You want Black Mesa East," Joe replied. "It's a dangerous road, but if anyone can make it, you can. Past Station 12 – that's just around the corner – there's a big pipe you can follow. Go through it and follow it. You'll reach more canals, but just keep going till you reach Station 6. There are more railroad members along the way; they'll help you if they can."
Gordon nodded and took a deep breath. He squared his shoulders and tightened his grip on the crowbar. "Got it. Thanks."
"Get outta here," Joe said, saluting him. "Viva la résistance!"
Gordon grinned and gave a two fingered salute before turning and making his way through the refuse heap. He heard another scraping and then the door of the abandoned train car slammed shut.
I can do this, Gordon thought as he jogged over hills of trash and heavily polluted streams of water. It's still nothing on Black Mesa, at least not yet.
Shaking his head, Gordon continued through the heaps of trash. The pathway through the garbage was relatively easy to follow, curving around oil canisters and empty containers and dirt-smeared boxes. The "floor" of the passage squished under his feet, a greenish-black sludge that sucked at his boots and tarnished the legs of his HEV suit. He was fairly certain he was in a riverbed of some sort. A heavily polluted, highly filthy riverbed.
As he trudged through the sticky sludge, he came up to a massive sewer grate, tucked into the wall of a large drain tunnel. From the inside, faint red lights winked out of the darkness at several intervals along the pipe, making the watery residue at the bottom look like blood.
How lovely.
Past the grate, the path diverged. It went both left and right. To the left was a massive heap of crushed metal and garbage, complete with a rusted pick-up truck on top of the heap. And to the right…
"Wait!"
Gordon automatically ducked lower, hunching into a defensive position and swinging his gun up in the direction of the sound. It was a male voice, one laced with fear and desperation. As Gordon peered into the dark grate, a citizen stumbled out of the reddish darkness, eyes wide and frantic.
"Help me," he gasped. "Please, please help me!"
Gordon took a step forward when a single gunshot rang out. The citizen slumped forward into the bars like a rag doll, blood spraying from the back of his head and splattering the pipe wall beside him. Gordon's jaw tightened as he whipped his pistol into the tunnel, where he could barely make out a glimpse of pale white – the white of a Civil Protection officer's mask.
You monster.
Three squeezes of the pistol trigger and it was over; the metro cop's corpse fell into the sludgy water, contorted in an odd, almost boneless fashion. Gordon heard shouts come from further down the pipe. He ejected the clip from his pistol with harried fingers, loading another as fast as he could. He cocked the gun with a snap and moved out, past the grate and into the open.
And what a mistake that was.
To his right there was a group of CPs, stationed slightly above him on top of a stone ridge overlooking the riverbed. He briefly counted five of them before they saw him. One of them gave a loud cry of surprise, and then they all swiveled to face him. With a jolt of fear, he saw that one of them was standing next to a mounted turret. The muzzle glared at him in the light.
Gordon dived to the side as bullets began screaming all around him, peppering the walls of the drainage pipe with loud pinging sounds. Bright flashes of light danced across the pipe as the bullets bounced off. Columns of dirty green water frothed up around his knees as the mounted rifle spat bullets into the river.
There was an open pipe entrance just a little ways ahead, closer to the CP group. Putting on a burst of speed, Gordon dashed for the pipe, doing his best to ignore the hailstorm of hot lead around his body. One of the bullets clipped his left rib and immediately the wind was driven out of him. The HEV Suit whined in protest.
"Morphine administered."
Thank you very much.
Gordon ducked into the pipe with a sigh of relief. Outside, the bullets continued to ravage the riverbed. Not wanting to see what other horrors the CPs would bestow upon him, Gordon followed the pipe deeper into the darkness, rounding a corner up ahead. He came out into an underground room, dimly lit by only two half-moon grates in the wall. Other than the dreary light from outside, the room was almost completely dark.
He wandered through the room, stepping past an overturned table and several mattresses. There was even a sofa, nestled next to the wall and hosting several battery packs. With a tinge of sadness Gordon realized that this meagre hideaway must have been Station 12.
A burst of static lit the room, and then a female voice broke through a radio somewhere in the room, confirming his suspicions.
"Station 12, come in. Station 12, do you read?" A female voice was coming from a table at the far end of the room. He headed over to it. There was a ladder next to the radio, heading upward into the sun. And that wasn't all. Slumped against the wall, which was coloured dark red with blood smears, were three dead bodies. Their faces – oh God, what faces? Gordon thought sickly – were fragments of blood and bone.
"This is Station 8!" a new voice crackled through the noise on the radio, male this time. Even through the radio, Gordon could hear the urgency in the man's tone.
"I repeat, this is Station 8! We heard 12 go down and out! Surgical strike units are targeting railway stations. Repeat, Civil Protection is coming down on underground stations!" Gordon's grip tightened around his crowbar. His fault.
"We're already getting refugees from 9 and outlying," the man was saying. "Look's like—"
Then static.
Fuck.
"Station 8, do you copy?" the female voice issued, sounding alarmed. "Station 8, are you there? We have confirmed reports of Manhacks. Repeat: they are filling the underground with Manhacks!"
There was another sharp burst of static and the voice tapered off. Gordon was alone again in the dark room. What the hell were Manhacks? Whatever they were, they sure sounded friendly. And he couldn't shake the feeling that he was probably going to know more about them than he ever wanted to.
Pushing his glasses up on his nose, Gordon placed his gloved hands on the ladder rungs and began to climb. When he reached the surface he gingerly poked his head out, blinking in the bright sunlight. He was on that stone ridge he had seen from below. The CPs were still there, including the one manning the turret. And they hadn't seen him yet.
And, there was one of those nice flammable containers standing just next to them…
A loud, roaring whoosh of air screamed out as a bright plume of fire illuminated the grey sky. Gordon ducked back down onto the ladder, feeling the wave of caustic heat wash over his head, almost singing his hair. A split second later a sequence of loud explosions went off somewhere above him, and he realized that there had been more than one of those flaming barrels lying around. The noise was exponential.
He climbed out of the hole, standing in one motion and dusting off his legs. Small bits of flaming rubble littered the ridge. Several burnt body parts had been thrown carelessly into the riverbed; two other flaming limbs were splayed out across the ridge. The stench was terrible. Gordon wrinkled his nose and looked upward, feeling his heart freeze inside his chest.
A huge, hulking, armoured grey van roared to a stop on an overpass situated above the riverbed. It halted at the centre of the bridge, a large turret swivelling at its crown. The van glinted dangerously in the light, its huge, powerful wheels looking like something off a monster truck.
Oh. Fu—
With a corrosive bellow that echoed all across the river, the turret let out a bright white flare. A sparking, slender missile was launched into the air, arcing briefly before levelling down in his direction. Gordon's eyes widened and he dove for cover, covering his head with his arms as the missile collided into the base of the ridge before him.
There was a colossal explosion; several huge chunks of stone and rubble went flying skyward and crashed with a loud clunk into the riverbed, sending up geysers of filth. Gordon scrambled to find his footing, his ears ringing painfully from the blast. No wait, that wasn't just the blast – it was a siren. A loud, Klaxon-like alarm was blaring through the city, alerting CPs left and right.
Idiot! Gordon raged at himself as he launched himself towards the mounted turret, which was surprisingly intact in the face of the explosion. Stupid bloody idiot! Why the hell did you shoot that goddamn barrel? You could have taken all those CPs out quickly and quietly, but no, you decided to play fuckin' Rambo and light the goddamn place up like a beacon!
Gordon grabbed onto the gun and quickly turned it to face the great hulking van. With another bang, it released a second missile, and Gordon opened fire on it. The missile exploded in midair; a bright ball of red and orange blossomed like a flower, sending bits of flaming metal into the river like falling stars. Steam rose in a sharp hiss from the shrapnel.
From the bridge came another small black object: a city scanner, the ones that led CPs to him. Gordon moved the turret and opened fire; the scanner exploded into parts and crashed into the river.
"Hey, there he is!"
A trio of CPs appeared on the left side of the overpass. The mounted rifle bucking in his arms, Gordon released another stream of biting lead, which tore through the officers like Swiss cheese. Bloody, flayed shapes fell into the murky water.
There's too many. Gotta get out. Get away.
The van sparked again and launched another rocket. Gordon abandoned the turret, scooping up his crowbar and booking it towards a long passage on the right side of the ridge, which in the distance bypassed the heap of garbage he had seen from below.
The missile exploded against the mounted turret, incinerating it. Gordon ducked his head as a large hunk of flaming gun went sailing past his head, spinning off the wall and leaving a deep, ashen groove. He heard a screech of tires above him as he passed under the bridge and instinctively knew that another grey car had taken up post there.
Can't these stupid metro police just fuck off?
Apparently not. With another blaring explosion, two more rockets landed just behind him, sending a wall of hot air and wind pushing into his back. Gordon let out a frenzied yell as he was propelled forward, past the hill of refuse and directly into a puddle of murky water behind it. He landed face first. Gagging, coughing up dirty water, Gordon staggered to his feet. Grime dripped from his glasses, now slightly askew. Above him, CPs were flooding the bridge. The grey cars launched two more rockets.
Gordon ran for a large tunnel opening before him, clambering in just as the rockets connected with the riverbed. There was a loud crunch as the explosions disturbed some dormant rubble, and the tunnel entrance was buried with a loud groan. Dirt, garbage and stone rained down from above. Then, there was silence.
Breathing hard, Gordon pulled his glasses off and gave them a cursory wipe with his gloved fingers. As he put them on, he realized all he had succeeded in doing was smear the dirt around. Sighing, he hefted his crowbar in his hand and moved off down the tunnel, turning on his Hazard Suit's built in flashlight as he did so.
He followed the tunnel around a sharp curve and then straight for a while. As he walked, he contemplated his situation. Did Civil Protection think he had perished in the blaze of the missiles? If so, he could use that to his advantage. Maybe the patrols they had called out would die down.
Gordon snorted. He somehow doubted it.
"Hey, you!" a loud voice issued from over to his left and Gordon nearly jumped out of his skin. Over here!"
It was coming from a grouping of concrete pipes tucked against the wall. Gordon went over, crowbar at the ready. A slight, pale face peeked out at him from one of the pipes. A woman, young and thin. She smiled grimly at him, brushing hair out of her eyes. "Keep going, friend. Station 12 was raided, but there are others up ahead."
"Are you from the station?" Gordon asked, looking over his shoulder. The woman nodded sadly. "They came right before you did. Something tipped them off; we aren't sure what. They came through the storm grate before we knew what hit us. Killed a few of us, and then the others put up a fight. They were captured and rounded up. And then that bastard gunned them down with the AR2 rifle." Her shoulders were shaking.
Gordon was at a loss. "I'm – I'm sorry."
"It's not your fault," the woman said quietly, wiping her eyes. "But you need to keep moving. Station 6 is a ways ahead; they'll take care of you. Try to hurry. At this rate, the Combine are going to be coming down hard on the entire railroad. They've already taken out Station 9, we know that much. They're capturing or killing any resistance members they find." She looked at him with dark eyes. "Survive. We need everyone we can get."
He nodded, full of fresh determination. "I will."
She smiled at him once more. "I'm going to stay here in case any others come on through. Got to keep the railway alive."
Gordon looked at her, impressed by her fortitude. Even now, calm in the face of certain death, she wouldn't waver in her duty. But there was nothing he could do to save her; she had made her choice. And he had to make his.
"Good luck," he said quietly.
"Same to you," the woman replied. "Go on."
So he went. He picked his way across the tunnel, heading into the underground, as the faint sound of sirens grew louder over his head.
x x x x
"Okay, favourite novel?" Adrian asked, as they followed the trickling stream of greyish water deeper into the pipe.
Jill smiled. "That's easy. A Complicated Kindness."
Adrian raised his eyebrows. "Really? I wouldn't have you pegged as such a cynic," he teased.
Jill swatted at his arm. "Oh, give me a break. It's an awesome book. It speaks to you."
"Yeah, it stands out," he agreed, wincing as his shoes sunk deep into a pool of muck. "Gross."
Jill gingerly picked her way around it, her hand warm on his arm. "Okay, your turn. Favourite movie?"
"Die Hard," Adrian grinned widely. "Hands down."
She stuck out her tongue at him. "My God, you're such a boy."
He winked at her. "Hey, don't knock it if you haven't tried it."
Jill rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "I have tried it. I just don't see what's so cool about two hours of guns going off."
"Add Bruce Willis to that, you have a recipe for pure awesomeness."
"Oh, of course." They both laughed, and Adrian was almost starting to feel at ease, when Jill's hand clamped down on his arm.
"Adrian. Quiet," she whispered. His laughter withered and died off. Jill was looking apprehensively down the dark tunnel, her pistol pointing out into the unknown.
"What is it?" he muttered, aiming his MP5 left and right. Aside from the steady drip drip drip of water from the tunnel ceiling, he couldn't hear anything.
"I heard something," she whispered. "Radio chatter. I'm almost sure of it."
He peered out into the darkness. "Civil Protection?"
"I think so. Above us somewhere. Let's just... keep quiet," she murmured, motioning her head to indicate they should keep going. Adrian nodded, slowly setting off into the tunnel. As they moved on the tunnel widened into a large, open area, illuminated only by sunlight that filtered through a circular grate in the ceiling. A huge pool of stagnant water took up the entirety of the room. On the wall to their right, another large pipe yawned out of the darkness, just above the water's surface.
"Guess we need to go through there," Adrian whispered. Then a shadow fell across his face Jill squeezed his arm tighter. Above, she mouthed.
He looked up. Two Civil Protection officers had stepped onto the grate, handguns drawn. Adrian shrank back into the shadows, pulling Jill with him. Go on, keep moving, he urged silently. But the officers didn't. Instead, they loitered on the grate, one of them pulling a small mechanical device from its belt.
"I'm getting a miscount for the 647-E sector," the officer said in his garbled, robotic voice. "You read that?"
"Nothing yet. Recheck it," the other replied, looking around. Adrian cursed inwardly and turned to Jill, who was biting her lip indecisively, looking both worried and incredibly appealing at the same time. We have to sneak by them, she mouthed. Adrian nodded. The water? he mouthed back.
She inclined her head slowly. Just be quiet.
He sighed and, with a furtive glance up to the grate, slowly slid one of his legs into the dark water. It sank deep with a soft noise, but none that the above CPs would have heard. He hoped.
Gently, Adrian eased himself entirely into the water, making sure to hold his gun above the surface. The temperature wasn't shockingly cold, but it wasn't warm either. In three strokes he swam over to the other pipe, softly placing his MP5 on the stone ground with a quiet scrape. He then turned and swam back to Jill. Come on, he mouthed.
"You'll have to hold me up," she whispered in a soft voice. "I don't know if my leg can support me."
"I've got you," he murmured back. "Quickly, before they hear us."
Jill sat on the edge of the pipe and swung her legs toward him, slowly placing them in the water. She exhaled softly as the water crept up to her thighs. Kicking with both legs to hold himself up, Adrian reached out with both hands and grabbed her by the waist, slowly pulling her forward and into the water. She shivered slightly at the contact, and he wasn't sure if it was from the cold or not.
"Let's go," he whispered. She looked into his eyes and he was suddenly very aware that her face was only inches from his own. His hands delicately clutched her petit waist, and her legs brushed against his own as they treaded water. His breathing hitched.
"Jill..."
"Hey, down there!"
Both their heads whipped upwards to see one of the CPs pointing down into the drain. "It's those escapees from Sector 4!"
"Open fire!"
Gunshots burst into the water around them, sending water spraying into Adrian's eyes and mouth. He pulled Jill toward the pipe. "Into the pipe, quick!" he yelled. She placed her hands on the bottom of the pipe and hauled herself up, her clothes sticking to her frame and dripping water. She immediately grabbed the MP5 from the floor of the tunnel and whirled it upward to face the CPs.
"We need reinforcements in 647-E! I repeat, suspects from Sector 4 are—"
As Adrian scrambled into the pipe, Jill squeezed off a short burst from the MP5, riddling the CPs with bullets. With the loud, enduring echo of their flat-lining radios, the two bodies slumped against the grate. Blood fell like rain from above, softly pattering against the water's surface.
"Fuck," Jill cursed as Adrian got to his feet and took the MP5 back. "The goddamned masks called for backup. Every CP in the city is going to come down on the canals soon."
"So what do we do?"
"Nothing. We have to keep going. If we can draw them towards us, maybe my father and the others will have more luck making it to Kleiner's." Then her face fell. "Oh. Shit."
"What is it?" he asked urgently. Jill put her head in her hands. "Kleiner. Sector 4 is just around where his lab is located. And that Civil Protection officer said something about us being from there."
Adrian's mind was working fast. "Which means they must have encountered something in Sector 4 to put them on alert."
Jill nodded miserably. "Or someone. If they think we're from that Sector, then Kleiner's lab is a hot zone now. We have no chance of reaching it without being spotted, and even if we did, we can't risk the Combine discovering it."
Adrian sighed. Another roadblock. "So what do we do?"
Jill's eyes moved skyward for a moment, thinking. "If Kleiner's is out, then our only option is Black Mesa East. It's a lot safer than Kleiner's, at any rate." An errant strand of auburn hair fell into one of her eyes and she blew it away. "Daddy and the others should have reached Kleiner's by now, so they'll know it's a hot zone. That means they're probably on their way to Black Mesa East right now."
"So we should high-tail it to Black Mesa East, then."
Jill sighed and nodded. "In a nutshell."
Adrian motioned down the pipe. "Then let's get going. But remember, stay close to me. They know we're down here."
They headed on. The pipe wandered and branched, leading them through a long dark tunnel for quite a long time. The water beneath their feet rose and the level grew higher as they went. Eventually, it was up to their shins. As Adrian sloshed through the pipe with Jill at his side, they came to another watery room, with another pipe continuing on the opposite side of a pool. "Through there," Jill said, pointing with her gun. Adrian nodded and together they went into the water.
"There they are!"
Adrian swore colourfully as a group of metro cops appeared in the open ceiling grate. One of them pointed downward. "Quick, hit them with the barrels!"
What the hell's he talking about? What bar—
"ADRIAN!" Jill suddenly screamed. "DIVE!"
As he looked up, the CPs began rolling several bright red barrels over the edge of the grate. Bright red flaming barrels. And if red barrels had taught him anything over the years...
Fuck.
He dove and Jill followed. She grabbed for his hand underwater and he seized onto her, pulling her deeper into the dark green water. She kicked valiantly with her good leg, and as Adrian went deeper he heard the dim splashes as the barrels hit the water's surface. Then the faint pops of gunshots.
A roiling screech punctured his eardrums underwater as the flammable containers at the surface exploded. Adrian swam deeper, leading Jill along with him. More barrels hit the water and more explosions burst from above.
What now? Can't stay down here forever. But can't surface, we'll be blown to pieces. Gotta be another way...
His eyes scanned the underwater room, stinging from the harsh water. There! Over in the bottom right corner of the room was an underwater passage. He didn't know where it led, if anywhere at all. But it was their only choice.
He pulled Jill's arm and pointed at the tunnel. She understood immediately, nodding and swimming in that direction. Her hair flowed like a red halo around her face. Adrian followed her, kicking his legs powerfully as he swam into the dark pipe.
It was small, cold and claustrophobic. He ignored the cold steel pressing at his body on all sides, forcing his way through the sluggish water. His lungs began to burn, protesting air. He swam harder. There must be an exit somewhere. Somewhere...
Behind him, Jill was flagging. Bubbles of air escaped from her pressed lips and her eyes were narrowed. Adrian reached back and tugged her up against him, holding her body close with one arm and stroking through the tunnel with his other. His legs burned and his lungs were screaming now. Air. Please.
Suddenly the pipe around them disappeared. They had made it through the tunnel, into a long, rectangular room. Adrian kicked for the surface, his chest about ready to explode.
They both broke through the water at the same moment, gasping and heaving deep gulps of air. Adrian shook his head, sending water flying everywhere as he looked around. He spotted another pipeline above the water and swam for it, coughing. Jill followed slowly.
With a wet splat, he hauled himself into the pipe and collapsed on the floor. Jill fell next to him a moment later, breathing hard, eyes closed. Adrian laid his head against the cool steel of the pipe, waiting for strength to come back to his body. After a while, his racing heart began to slow, and his breathing returned to normal. Jill's breathing was likewise growing quieter.
"You alright?" he said hoarsely. She inclined her head once. Her slick red hair was plastered to her scalp and several locks to her forehead, making her look like a wet, glistening sea creature. He reached out and before he even realized it, brushed it away from her face. She opened her eyes and stared at him. "Thank you," she murmured. "For staying with me."
He felt his cheeks starting to heat up and he was thankful that his face was already red. "It was nothing." He pushed himself into a sitting position and Jill did the same. "You have any idea where we are now?"
Jill peered down the tunnel. Up ahead, bright daylight was shining through the distant hole. "We're aboveground again. I'm not quite certain, but I think Station 5 is just up ahead."
"Let's see if they can give us a hand." Adrian stood and offered his hand to Jill, pulling her up. The two set off down the tunnel once more, tired and wet. Adrian just wanted to fall down and sleep. But there was no time for that now.
They emerged into the bright sunlight outside the tunnel, coming into what used to be a canal. It was drained almost to nothing; the water that had previously filled the bed had shrunk to a tiny river in the centre of the canal. The walls were stained a deep green, showing where the water level had originally been. Little bits of trash, crumpled paper, and broken bits of rubble dotted the empty waterway. The sight made Adrian feel strangely forlorn.
Down the canal there was a rickety wooden bridge, hastily constructed. At the bottom, rusted industrial barrels littered the canal. On both ridges, Civil Protection was storming past. Clumps of citizens were being herded into rough circles and shoved along the sides of the canal. Up ahead, before the bridge, Adrian could see broken furniture and scavenged radio equipment, smashed to pieces. More resistance equipment was being thrown from the bridge by the metro cops, dashing another railroad station to pieces.
"No," Jill breathed as she surveyed the scene. "They got Station 5."
The CPs were now starting to throw the citizens into the grey APCs.
"We've got to help them," Jill said, eyes blazing. "This isn't right!"
Adrian pointed to the right side of the canal. "Go for the ones up there. I'll take out the ones on the left. Ready?"
"Go!"
The duo burst from the pipe. Adrian raised his SMG and fired a quick burst that knocked a CP into the side of the canal, where he left a trail of blood as he was swept to its base. Jill was already firing at the APC, hitting two CPs with deadly accuracy; they fell with cries of pain. The citizens against the vehicle looked down in fear and surprise.
"Run for it!" Adrian yelled, exchanging a volley of gunfire with three other CPs, diving to the right and running for cover behind a pile of rusted metal girders. Bullets sparked off the barrier and Adrian ducked back as the CPs shouted for backup. Jill dove for cover on the opposite side of the canal, ducking behind a protruding pipe. Gunfire peppered the stone near her, sending fragments spinning into the air.
The citizens up above the canal began to run. CPs were shouting left and right, barking orders as they tried to regroup. When the gunfire died down around him, Adrian poked the barrel of his weapon out through the girders and sighted an officer above. The shot took the man in the neck, and a thin fountain of blood sprayed from the wound as the man fell. The spray hit his partner in the face, momentarily blinding him. Adrian took advantage of the distraction to cap the other officer in the chest. His body fell heavily to the canal floor.
Jill reloaded and fired again; another officer dropped in a burst of red. Only four more remained, firing rapidly at them from the wooden bridge. Adrian quickly scanned for an opening, and found one: another flammable propane canister at the base of the bridge's wooden support beams. He jerked his head towards it; Jill nodded from across the canal and fired her gun twice, drawing the CP's attention. As four pistols swerved to face her, Adrian leaped out of hiding and fired three shots.
The bridge was blown to pieces as the propane tank went up, sending chunks of flaming wood into the air like fireworks. Civil Protection bodies and smaller parts went flying in all directions, spouting flames. The lower half of a leg slammed into the girders near Adrian's face. He turned away, disgusted.
When the noise died down, the only remnants of the CP unit were several corpses sprinkled across the canal. Jill slowly eased out from behind her pipe, handgun at the ready. Adrian followed her example, sweeping the area with the barrel of his MP5. They were safe, for the moment.
"Thank you," someone called from above them; Adrian squinted upwards to see a citizen waving at them from the right side of the ruined bridge. "You saved our lives."
"Are you alright?" Jill called up. More citizens were emerging, grouping together at the top of the canal. "Are any of you hurt?"
"No, thanks to you," a man called down. "We're all okay. But we have to get out of here, more CPs are sure to show up soon."
"Where will you go?" Jill asked. "To Station 8?"
The man shook his head. "Station 8 went down about ten minutes before we did. Manhacks got them. It was a massacre."
Jill closed her eyes. Adrian looked at her quizzically and turned away. He wasn't entirely sure what Manhacks were, but their name left little to the imagination.
"Station 6 is the next closest railroad hideout," the man said. "We're going to head there."
"Be careful," Jill warned. "647-E is hot right now. There are miscounts off the charts."
"We'll keep our eyes open," the man responded. He pumped his fist into the air. "The Resistance!"
Jill raised her fist in reply, eyes bright. "The Resistance!" The man and his companions turned away and vanished beyond the canal. Jill turned to him. "We'd better keep moving."
The two made their way past the broken fragments of the bridge and into another darkened tunnel. Adrian heard shrieking tires and sirens from behind them and increased his pace. Civil Protection was replying faster to the reinforcement calls.
Deep through another sequence of tunnels led them to another canal, this one newer and less covered with grime. It was mostly full of old newspaper bits and small pieces of litter.
Adrian turned to Jill. "Which way do you think—"
A dull roar cut his words off as a helicopter floated over their heads, the rotor blades dancing in a blur too fast to be seen. A gust of wind blew the paper outwards in a cyclone as the helicopter moved to hover above the canal, obsidian and gleaming in the afternoon light. Adrian briefly thought that it looked somewhat like a RAH-66 Comanche, but more lethal and deadly. Tinted blue windows at the head of the copter glared down at the two like judging eyes, and a large jet turbine hung just below the helicopter's body. A large pulse cannon was mounted beneath the cockpit.
"Oh, no," Jill whispered, stopping in her tracks. "A hunter-chopper."
The helicopter began to emit a loud, whirring noise. Adrian had a nasty feeling that it didn't mean anything good.
Jill confirmed his suspicions by shoving him into the canal. "Run!"
Adrian exploded into movement as the helicopter began to fire; thick, high calibre bullets slammed into the canal stone beneath his feet, sending jarring vibrations through his legs. He tore across the canal and the helicopter slowly revolved to face him, firing as it did so. Adrian changed course and headed for the underside of the chopper. If he could get under it, maybe the shots wouldn't be able to get at him—
"Don't go under it!" Jill screamed, right as a compartment slid open in the belly of the chopper and a small, circular ball dropped out, about the size of a basketball. The object glinted as it fell towards the canal and Adrian rapidly swerved sideways to avoid it. A loud explosion roared behind him and a wave of hot air punched him in the back, sending his body flying through the air. He slammed into the canal wall some distance away, bruising his right shoulder.
The hail of bullets stopped briefly and the chopper moved forward, heading towards Jill. She waved her hand frantically at a doorway some ways up ahead, in the wall of the canal. Adrian nodded, scrambling to his feet and ignoring the pain searing through his right side. He pumped his legs, heading for the door as the helicopter gave that whirring noise again.
"Look—" he started to shout, but the drone of the bullet storm cut his words off in midsentence. They bit into the ground around Jill, sending chips of stone flying. Adrian felt a surge of panic as she covered her face and hunched over, running as best as she could with her wounded leg.
He raised his gun and began to spray wildly at the chopper, the bullets bouncing off the obsidian beast with no effect. However, it got the chopper's attention. It whirled to face him once more, the bullets gouging a deep arcing pattern across the canal floor. Adrian dove forward and barely avoided the spray as the helicopter turned again, its head lowering to get a clearer shot.
The door was just ahead. Jill shouldered it open and screamed something at him, something he couldn't hear over the roar of noise.
Adrian leapt for the door as the bullets ripped the air where his body had been mere seconds before. He collided with Jill in midair, knocking them through the doorway in a mass of tangled limbs and swearing. They rolled away from the door, into a darkened stairwell; before he could stop himself they went right over the edge and bounced all the way down the stairs, groaning and grunting until they finally lay in a heap at the base of the stairs, bruised and aching. Jill lay sprawled across his chest, her body folded into his own and their legs tangled awkwardly as the sounds of the helicopter slowly faded into the distance.
For a second no one spoke. Then Jill lightly socked his chest and grinned. "Yippee kay-yay, motherfucker."
He stared at her in disbelief for a split second, and they both burst out laughing at the exact same time.
