Chapter 9: Torture, Murder, and Smoking in Public
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Anthony awoke in an office room. His hands were tied tight behind his back. Mark sat unconscious to his right. Opposite from him were a squad of marines. One of the soldiers was complaining to the others.
"Why don't we just kill these bastards NOW!"
"Yeah! Why do we have to finish Cade's interrogation job anyhow?" A bulky African soldier said.
"It's not Captain Mennet's fault he got his ass handed to him by some cheap ass scientist! Makes you wonder what his squad was smoking eh? What the Hell was that wuss's name anyway? Gordon Frohman?"
"No No No. That's not it. Oh right! Gordon Freeman!" The first marine remembered
"What!" Anthony scoffed loudly surprising himself.
"That guy was late for work this morning AND survived ground zero in the test chamber?"
"Well, well, well! Looks like one of these pathetic shits woke up! " announced the second marine who promptly kicked Murtaugh in the shin, adding more pain on top of the wound that was already in his right side, which began bleeding again.
The door behind them swung open revealing a stern faced man in a beret and a scar across his left eye who stepped in.
"Zogg!" The man bellowed.
"Major Kong!" The burly man nervously addressed.
"What did I tell you about harassing that last group of prisoners lieutenant!?" Kong scolded.
"Sorry Sir! won't happen again sir!" He apologized.
Kong cut him off and yelled "Damn straight it won't soldier! Guard Duty! Pronto!"
The man grumbled and marched out the door obediently.
"Now!" The Major said reducing his tone to a harsh growl.
"Let's make this simple and maybe I won't crack you and your friend's skulls open."
"Look, if you want information on Freeman, I can give it to you. Just let us go. But I don't know what happened here and how."
"Then what do you know about this guy Freeman?" Kong asked.
Murtaugh didn't see any other way out of this for himself or Mark, he had no choice.
"Well," Anthony began, "he started here a few months ago. Occasionally late to work. He goofed off around the labs sometimes and is kind of a narcissist. He's only an associate and usually just winds up pushing a crystal sample into some beam for testing. That's about all I know"
The Major scowled "You pathetic liar! Freeman has been secretly trained in the use of multiple firearms and is responsible for killing dozens of elite soldiers. You're no use to us alive!" he growled.
Kong procured and reloaded a bloodied 357 Magnum Revolver and aimed it at Anthony's face.
"Any last words?" He hissed.
Anthony looked the man in the eyes, then past him. he smiled and calmly answered
"Watch your six!"
Roger Thompson could hardly believe his luck. Soldiers had arrived and were going to rescue us. He had not been used to things going his way for a while. Despite this joyful news, there was a small piece of him that doubted that anyone would be rescued. Roger pushed the pessimistic thoughts from his mind.
"Of course we'll be rescued!" He retorted.
"There is no reason to worry. Tomorrow I'll be in a hotel sipping coffee and watching the Daily Show."
His hopeful dreams of the future were interrupted by the rush of footsteps and the firing of rifles.
"It sounds like the rescue team has arrived!" He said smiling with glee.
He thrust open one of the red office doors and stared into the faces of a squad of marines.
"Thank heavens" He began. " I thought you might have been killed by...by..."
His train of thought was stopped dead in its tracks by what he saw behind the grim faces of his "rescuers".
Several Black Mesa employees lie in a giant pond of blood. Their bullet ridden bodies stacked sloppily in a pile behind the soldiers. Among them was Louis. Perhaps this wasn't a rescue operation, Roger pondered.
"Oh...Oh dear. Killing me will in no way advance this situation."
"Oh really?" The lead marine, whose uniform tag read "Myers", retorted. "How not?"
"Well for one, being a head administrator, I have level 5 security clearance. You need me." Thompson begged.
Another marine came from behind and smacked the scientist's head in with his mp5.
"Randolph take the prisoner topside for questioning!" Lt. Myers ordered.
"Can we kill em afterwards?" Randolph asked.
"No Sgt." Myers said. "Get him on an osprey evac. The Administration can use him for a scapegoat if we need to."
James Guthrie lay prostrate in a growing puddle of blood. Procuring a vile from his lab coat, Harold injected a greenish blue Antibiotic serum into the fallen security guard's arm.
When he finally stirred his voice was hoarse and he coughed up blood.
"I think...this old vest absorbed most of the damage..."
"Well", Cummings stammered. "I suggest we get you back on the bus and treat any wounds you have."
Dr. Palmer and Michael Selitto helped Guthrie to his feet and supported him on either side as they guided him onto the bus.
Laying James on the hospital bed squeezed between the bathroom and the last row of seats, they made their way onto the highway.
Harold gave James a medkit, a pillow and a blanket and told him to get some rest.
They passed a sign on the side of the road. Guthrie looked tiredly at the words.
"Now leaving the Black Mesa Research Facility"
