Tuesday, 10:55 A.M.- Thirty miles south of Raton, New Mexico

The camp was alive with activity, with soldiers, medics, officers and civilians running madly about like ants whose hill had just been destroyed. Sandbags were being placed on the south end of the camp, while sentry guns and mounted machine guns were being hammered in place. Scouts with binoculars were scanning the horizon for any sign of activity, and occasionally setting out to examine some anomaly. So far, all anomalies turned out to be merely animal life. Alfonso watched the activity with a child-like interest, until a soldier thrust himself in front of Alfonso's face.

"Do you know how to use a gun, sir?" the soldier said.

Alfonso stuttered for a moment, before replying, "I'm a cop, aren't I?"

The soldier silently handed him an AK-47. "This is a lot like using a pistol," he said. "Only it's more powerful. Fire in quick bursts for better efficiency. Keep the safety on until the order to fire is given or there'll be hell to pay." With that, the soldier rushed away. Alfonso blinked at the gun in his hands.

Meanwhile, Clark was leaning against an army truck, speaking to his superior through a radio. Sergeant Ford approached him, and stood rigidly and silently until the captain switched off the radio with a disgusted grunt. The sergeant saluted Clark.

"At ease," Clark muttered.

Ford relaxed his posture. "Sir, permission to speak freely?"

"Granted."

The sergeant glanced over at the medical tent, then leaned in and said, "Sir, how can we know if this Calhoun guy's reliable?"

Clark shrugged. "He's the only man alive with any connection to the disaster at Black Mesa," he said. "We have no choice but to trust him."

"May I ask him, sir?"

The captain nodded absently. "Sure."

Ford saluted again, before turning and ducking into the medical tent. Alfonso watched him go, and then when he was out of sight, continued examining his weapon.

"These people must be desperate," Cal said, walking up to him, with an AK-47 in his own hands. "Giving a weapon with live ammunition to a kid who periodically shoots beer cans with a shotgun."

Alfonso shrugged. "Must be," he said. "Although, seeing as we've already fought our way past these aliens, they probably trust us more than the average civilian."

Ford rushed out of the tent and went straight to Clark, who was putting a lighter to a cigarette in his mouth. "Well?" said the captain, taking the cigarette into his left hand.

Ford shook his head and frowned. "He said something about the document relating to the series of events leading up to the present," he said. "Since the attacks began yesterday at roughly around four in the morning, the 'Half-Life' of the invasion... that is, the turning point... would be today at noon."

Clark snorted. "Those aliens sure are cocky," he said. "They assume the turning point before it begins."

Ford shifted his weight uncomfortably. "Well," he said. "If the invasion force could divide itself into a dozen or more parts and conquer a city with each part before dawn, then if they attack here..."

Clark rolled his eyes and exhaled a stream of smoke. "Relax, sergeant," he said. He jiggled the radio in his right hand. "See this? With it, I can call in reinforcements from Fort Carson and Schriever, and in less than an hour, our forces will be increased tenfold. If that's not enough, the general's going to give the OK for this place to be nuked. Understood?"

Ford did not seem satisfied. He said quietly, "Yes, sir," and walked away.

Tuesday, 11:46 A.M.- Thirty miles south of Raton, New Mexico

"What are you going to do when this mess is over?" Cal asked. He and Alfonso were on a couple of green boxes, watching the military scramble die down as their defense was nearing completion.

Alfonso chuckled. "Quit the force," he said. "Or what's left of it. Then I'm gonna get a case of cold ones and drink myself silly. You?"

Cal thought hard for a long time. "Well, I can tell you one thing I'm not going to do," he said.

"What's that?"

"Watch sci-fi films," he said. "Ever."

Cal and Alfonso both laughed. Cal looked down and kicked a clump of dirt with his right foot. "You think we'll be able to?" he said.

"Sure," Alfonso said. "This gig is more than enough to hold them off."

"I think Barney would disagree."

Alfonso shrugged. "What can I say," he said. "Barney spent God-knows-how-long in an underground labyrinth, fighting those things at unfair odds with an uncertain supply of ammo. Here, the playing field is level, the allies are numerous, and the ammo is plentiful. However well these things warped his mind into thinking of doom and despair, it doesn't change the fact that we stand a good chance."

Cal nodded. "I hope you're right," he said.

There were shouts coming from the south. A pair of scouts were running up to camp, shouting. When they got closer, Cal made out the words, "Hostiles! We've got hostiles!"

"Battle stations!" Captain Clark shouted.

Hundreds of soldiers simultaneously crouched behind the sandbags, pointing their weapons at the horizon. A technician ducked into a nearby tent and activated the sentry guns. Cal and Alfonso joined the soldiers, fumbling to get the safeties off their weapons. They watched the horizon, waiting for the clusters of vortigaunts, grunts and controllers to turn into a seething mass of thousands. But no more came over the horizon.

A series of electric bursts from the other three sides of the camp caught their attention. The soldiers looked up and around, and, in their final moment of peace, realized their fallacy.

Mounted guns were abandoned and sentry guns were overturned as vicious aliens rushed the soldiers from behind. Machine gun fire filled the air as they struggled to fight back. Many were instantly slain, and the others found themselves leaping over the sandbags and rolling into a ravine, only to find themselves face-to-face with the clusters of aliens that had come from the south.

Cal pushed through the opposing force into the center of the camp, finding himself in a confusing melee. Soldiers crouched behind whatever barriers they could find, shooting at aliens as they darted back and forth, picking them off one by one. Cal saw Sergeant Ford climb out of a military truck and, with a pistol, fire thrice into a vortigaunt's chest. When it fell, he stood there, tensely glancing about for any more attackers. There was a booming groan from behind. Ford dropped his pistol and looked at the ground, eyes closed.

The military truck was thrown onto its side, landing squarely on Ford. Behind it stood a growling garg.

We meet again, Cal thought, scrambling away until he was hidden behind a tent. The garg shot a stream of fire through the center of the camp, tearing through tents and sandbags and bodies. The sound of a series of metal clanking together came from behind, and Cal turned to see three tanks approach the garg. They each fired four rounds, but each shot only seemed to anger the brute. It charged up its attack and sent forth a stream of fire, instantly rendering all three tanks into scrap metal.

Cal turned to find himself face-to-face with a grunt, its bee weapon ready. Clark tackled Cal with a yell, then turned and let loose a flurry of bullets from his AK-47. The grunt shot five bees through Clark's chest, and the captain fell. Cal pushed his body aside and fired his own weapon, finishing the job.

Cal patted the captain's body down until he came up with the radio. He switched it on and, doing his best to imitate Clark, said, "Emergency. Reinforcements needed. Send as soon as..."

"Who the hell is this?" said a voice on the other end of the line.

But before Cal could answer, a group of Controllers appeared in the sky above, growing from a mere half dozen to well over four score. It began raining orbs of energy. Cal tucked the radio into his pocket and dove for cover.

He turned and saw the garg rip away the medical tent, and then grunt in surprise at all the immobile humans within. It growled with sadistic pleasure, raised its fists, charged its fire attack… it was at this moment that Cal realized he was in the path of the fire attack, but it was too late. The attack was released.

Tuesday, 12:15 A.M.- Albuquerque Corrections Facility, New Mexico

When Cal felt his senses gradually trickle back into reality, he knew all too well what had happened to him.

He found himself lying on a damp concrete floor, naked and unarmed. When he pushed himself up, the first thing he saw was a row of rusty metal bars. He was in a prison.

Glancing around, he saw that the rest of his cell was just as bad. The walls were once painted white, but this had worn away to sparse white patches, and was now replaced by the aliens' morbid sense of fashion; splatters of dried human blood.

Aside from the walls and the corroded bars, Cal saw a toilet of crumbling porcelain attached to a rusty pipe going into the wall, and a bench. On top of the bench was a crumpled prison uniform. Cal picked it up and looked at it. It was at least five sizes too big for him, and it had a hole surrounded by a ring of old blood in the chest area. Cal shivered, but put the uniform on nevertheless.

Cal turned. In the corridor outside, a Nihilanth had appeared, and was now probing in Cal's mind. Within moments, the creature began to speak.

"Hear me, O unlucky survivors," the Nihilanth said. Cal realized that he was not the only one spared, and that the Nihilanth was now speaking simultaneously to all the survivors in the prison. "I speak for all the conquistadors from Xen. You have been spared simply because our plan calls for it. When a certain percentage of the inferiors have been eliminated, the rest, preferably the strongest, will be relocated to a prison hold, where they will await assignments to slavery. If you were not able-bodied when we captured you and wonder why you were spared, woe is you. Your destiny lies not in slavery, but rather, as food for our precious mawmen, bullsquids and barnacles."

Cal thought of Barney and swallowed hard.

"Our conquest has gone according to plan so far. As I speak, our forces are moving on to other inferior-populated areas. But know that, for you, the war is over."

The Nihilanth drifted away.

Tuesday, 12:21 A.M.- Albuquerque Corrections Facility, New Mexico

Barney sat on the bench in his cell, wearing a prison uniform and cradling his broken arm. He listened intently as the Nihilanth spoke. When it was done, he groaned softly.

Hours passed. Vortigaunts traveled up and down the corridors regularly. When they entered a cell, blood-curdling screams echoed out into the giant prison. This occurred infrequently at first, but then it became nonstop. Occasionally, a prisoner was escorted to the basement, where Barney could faintly discern sounds of a feeding frenzy.

"I can't believe this," he muttered. "I've made it this far, only to be penned in like a pig waiting to be slaughtered."

He heard some rustling in one of the neighboring cells. Then, a voice: "Barney. Is that you?"

Barney put his face up to the bars.

"Cal!" he cried. "You made it!"

"Yeah," Cal said. "But I think this is it. I don't think they're going to spare us anymore."

Barney jiggled the bars. They felt loose. "Well, don't give up all hope," he said. "We may just be able to…"

A vortigaunt shuffled down the corridor, stopping at Barney's cell. Barney's face turned white.

But the creature moved on. It stopped again. Barney heard it open the door to Cal's cell and walk inside.

"Remember me you do?" The vortigaunt sputtered.

Cal said nothing.

"We talk high up there place," the vortigaunt continued.

"Oh… yes," Cal said monotonously.

"You not obey me command," the vortigaunt said harshly. "Now, you die long."

The creature began charging the all-too-familiar electrical attack, but stopped short. The bolt struck Cal, and instantly, his limbs went dead and he hit his head hard on the floor. The creature began charging again, and again stopped short. Cal's limbs flailed uncontrollably, and he screamed, hearing nothing but the crackle of high-energy electricity eating his flesh, seeing nothing but swirling spots of color, feeling nothing but the pain.

Another bolt struck, and another, and another. Cal was shuddering uncontrollably. At one point, he was sure he broke his arm against the bedpost, but the pain was lost in the intense agony the vortigaunt was causing him.

At last, after what seemed like years of torment, the vortigaunt stopped. Cal lay on the floor, his skin black and his hair singed, moaning. Through one open eye, he saw the vortigaunt, standing at the door and watching him with merciless eyes.

"Back soon I will be," the vortigaunt said, and he shut the door behind him.

Tuesday, 12:25 A.M.- Albuquerque Corrections Facility, New Mexico

Barney heard it all. When the vortigaunt finally left the cell, he leaned his head out, trying to see if Cal was still alive.

"Pst," he whispered. "Hey, Cal, are you all right?"

Cal mumbled something. Although it was a sign that he was alive, it wasn't helpful.

"Cal!" he said, louder this time.

"Yeah," came the quiet reply.

Barney shook the bars again. The concrete base began to crumble away, and the first bar came loose in his hands. He carefully put it back in place. "Hey, kid, about my idea," he said. "This prison looks old. I bet they… that is, the Earthlings… haven't used it for decades. If we managed to break through these bars…"

"Barney," Cal said weakly. "I'm probably not going to make it."

Barney knew it to be true, still, he pressed on. "Nonsense," he said. "Look, I'll wait until the nighttime. Then, I'll break down my bars, and when I'm out, I'll go over and help you break down yours!"

"I don't have until nighttime," Cal muttered. "He says he'll be back soon."

"Well, I'll just…"

"Listen, Barney," Cal said. Barney could hear him trying to get up in the other cell. "They took all our stuff. It's probably locked up somewhere in this prison."

"So…"

"The radio, Barney. I put Clark's radio in my pants pocket. If you can break free, find where they put our stuff and use the radio to call in reinforcements."

Barney nodded. He moved away from the bars as the vortigaunt returned to Cal's cell. He grimaced and held his hands over his ears until the screams and electrical bursts stopped. Unfortunately, the screams ended much earlier than the electrical bursts. The vortigaunt left the cell, and continued on to its next victim.

"Dirty bastards," he growled. But there was nothing he could do. Nothing to do but wait, and endure the screams and howls of the other prisoners until the darkness of night fell upon the prison.

Tuesday, 9:03 P.M.- Albuquerque Corrections Facility, New Mexico

Barney waited until the alien activity in the area came almost to a halt. There were still a few vortigaunts patrolling the corridors, but none near his cell.

Barney quietly removed the first bar he had loosened, and set it on the cot. He moved to the second, removed that with nothing but a few scrapings of metal against concrete to be heard, and placed it next to the first one. He had the most trouble with the third, since he had the least time to loosen it, but managed to get it out of the floor and onto the bed with little noise.

Barney almost went into the corridor without a weapon. He looked around, saw the toilet, and removed the short pipe from the back. It was long enough to be a weapon, and short enough to carry with ease.

When he was sure no vortigaunts were looking, Barney squeezed through the gap in the bars and crawled along the floor. He was on the second floor of the prison. When he looked around for some stairs, he saw with dismay that there was a vortigaunt at the nearest flight of stairs, and another was blocking his way to the stairs on the other end of the corridor. Barney looked over the railing to the floor below. He climbed over the railing, took a deep breath, and jumped.

His bare feet hit the concrete floor hard, and he rolled to dampen the sound and his fall. He managed to stifle a cry as his body rolled over his broken arm. He got to his feet, and moved onward. He saw a door at the other end of the prison block, and if he managed to…

It's the dream, he heard himself say. The dream is coming to life.

"Then why is it different?" he replied. "My dreams were during the day, and there were screams… I remember the screams…"

Neither dream was exactly the same. But they both shared one thing in common.

"What's that?"

When you went through that door down there, you were killed.

Barney stopped. He looked at the door with a frown. He could faintly hear the gutteral mutterings of the vortigaunts within.

"Where do I go then?"

The other way.

Barney turned around, and sure enough, there was a door at the other end of the blockHe ran towards it.

When he entered and turned the first corner, he found himself in a more comfortable, but equally aging, room. To the left was a library, filled with rotting file cabinets. To his right was the warden's office. At the door of the warden's office, a vortigaunt stood. It didn't seem to see him. Barney held up the pipe and exhaled.

He lunged forward, bringing the pipe over his head, and brought it down on the vortigaunt, crushing its skull and bursting one of its eyes. The creature fell without a sound, landing in a pool of its own green blood.

Barney moved quickly now, entering the warden's office and shutting the door. He saw a set of switches at the far wall, and without a thought of which one to hit, he hit them all.

In the prison block, two things happened. The lights each came on with a click, illuminating the block and the surprised vortigaunts within. And, more importantly, every one of the prison doors opened simultaneously.

"Jailbreak!" Barney screamed, and left the office.

Tuesday, 9:10 P.M.- Albuquerque Corrections Facility, New Mexico

As he had hoped, the remaining prisoners flooded into the corridor, each hoping the chaos they created collectively would give them a chance to escape. At first, the few vortigaunts who were there were so overwhelmed that they could not hit a single prisoner; in fact, one vortigaunt went from predator to prey as a group of five prisoners ganged up on it and beat it to death.

But, as if the entire place were watched by some supreme being, the vortigaunts had sudden reinforcements. At least a dozen alien creatures had warped into the block, and they began bringing the prisoners down one by one.

Barney found himself swarmed by panicked prisoners as they flooded into the hallway, nearly trampling him. Among them, Barney recognized a familiar face.

"Lopez!" he shouted. "Lietuenant Lopez!"

Alfonso stopped and joined Barney. "Hey!" he said with a grin. "So, this was your doing, huh?"

"Yeah," Barney said. "No time to explain. We've got to find out where they're hiding our stuff."

Alfonso shrugged. "I can't help you without a weapon…"

Barney ducked into the warden's office and searched the drawers. In the bottom one, he found a loaded revolver. He tossed it to Alfonso, and the two of them moved down the hallway.

They turned another corner, and Barney found that they might not have the advantage of numbers for long. Three vortigaunts were lined up in their way, and behind them stood a towering grunt. The prisoners were being slaughtered. Those who remained turned around and ran off. Alfonso took down the three vortigaunts with a shot to the chest each, but the grunt took the last three bullets.

"I'm out," he said.

"Forget it," Barney answered. "Let's keep moving. Search the rooms around here for their stash of clothing Hurry!"

Barney moved into the library. In there, he bashed the cabinets open to see if they had been stuffed with clothes.

"Hey, Calhoun!" Alfonso shouted. "In here!"

Barney rushed out of the library and ran down the hall, where he saw Alfonso pointing to a large utility room.

"Look out!" he screamed.

Alfonso dove for cover just as he was struck by a bolt of electricity from behind. The utility room was being guarded by a vortigaunt. Yelling like a madman, Barney ran, leapt up, and swung his pipe into the creature's neck, before it had time to even begin charging up for another attack. Its backbone was cracked and its windpipe crushed, the vortigaunt fell to the ground and slowly began to die.

Barney helped Alfonso to his feet. The vortigaunt's attack had put a deep, sizzling gouge in his right shoulder, and his arm hung dead.

"I'll be all right," Alfonso muttered through set teeth. "You look."

The room was filled with clothes, but they were thankfully filled with mostly military uniforms; Cal's jeans were easy to spot. Barney leapt upon them and began searching the pockets.

"Gah!" Alfonso cried. Barney looked, and he saw Alfonso crouched against the wall by the door, holding his good hand over a fresh wound in his abdomen. At the door was a grunt, preparing another attack.

"Calhoun! The pipe!" Alfonso shouted. Barney threw him the pipe, and before the grunt could fill Barney full of alien insects, Alfonso leapt upon its shoulders and swung his pipe repeatedly at the brute's head. It was a brave effort, albeit fatal, but it did buy Barney some time.

Barney crawled into a corner and began tuning the radio. He hoped the thick concrete and metal structure of the prison wouldn't block out any signal.

"Hello? Clark?" came the voice on the other end.

Barney actually gasped. He looked at the door, where Alfonso was still smacking the grunt with a pipe. He began with a slight stutter: "This is, ah, Barney Calhoun, Black Mesa Research Facility security guard. We have been…"

"What?!" the voice shouted angrily. "How'd you get ahold of that device? That's property of Captain Edward Clark, jackass, and if you don't tell…"

"Listen to me!" Barney screamed. "Clark has been killed! Everyone has been killed! And if you don't do something now, there'll be no chance for you to make a recovery! The whole fucking world will be meat if you don't send the goddamned nukes right this damn minute!"

There was a pause. Then, "You think that's necessary, ah, Calhoun? If we go ahead and move along with that plan, there's be no chance for survival…"

Across the utility room, the grunt had thrown Alfonso bodily into a pipe. Bloody pulp splattered the wall, and his corpse fell limp. The grunt took a moment to survey its victory, then moved on to Barney.

"Yes," Barney said. His eyes were full of tears. "There's no other way. The plan must be executed."

Another pause. Then, sullenly, "Good luck, Calhoun." And the line went dead.

Barney stood up, stared the approaching grunt in the eyes, and grinned sadistically. "You're too late," he said. "It doesn't matter whether you kill me or not. You're all dead! Yeah, you understand me, don't you? You're all fucking dead!"

The grunt fired eight insects into its target, and heard the satisfying thud of his fallen victim. The grunt paused, reflecting on the creature's last outburst, completely devoid of fear.

It moved out of the room, and through the window in the warden's office, saw white streaks coming from the sky. A sudden flash filled the air, and at the horizon, it saw a growing, red cloud. It screamed in horror, ran down the hallway, burst through the wall to the outside, and ran, ran along with the prisoners who managed to escape the building through the yard outside the prison. It gave one last look to the building, gasped to see that one of the white streaks was about to strike the building, and knew no more.

That night, the state of New Mexico, conquered by alien forces, was lit up by a thousand explosions. In the city of Albuquerque, vortigaunts, grunts, and even gargs ran aimlessly, knowing very well the meaning of the white streak heading for the heard of their city. They, and the city around them, were consumed in an instant, while the nihilanths, millions of miles away on Xen, were shocked to discover that some unknown force had disrupted their powers; no more could they warp soldiers to that area.

In one terrifying moment, the entire alien infested state was scrubbed clean. But when it was finished, the spirits of its former inhabitants rested easier. Barney Calhoun, level 2-access security guard of the Black Mesa Research Facility, had done his job. He won the war.