Part 1 – Ground Zero
The fog had set in thick, engulfing the streets and enshrouding the decrepit, tin-roofed shanties that lined the block. The avenue was torn by shells; here and there, torrents of smoke fumed from enormous craters, filled with burning wreckage. Abandoned cars, sprawled out on vacant axles, lay desolate atop the pavement. Beside them rested numerous mangled bodies, strewn about haphazardly amidst streams of black gore. The streams converged into vapid pools that smelled sickly of death and decay.
It was 6:34 in the morning and the sun remained suffocated by gray clouds. The chatter of gun fire had already sprung up. Between the loud fusillades, distant cries could be heard from beyond the hollow buildings, barred off by towering piles of rubble and fallen debris.
Lying fast against a concrete barrier, Gordon peered calmly out into the darkness. He hadn't eaten for over eighteen hours and his stomach now ached terribly. His mind, drowsy from prolonged periods of trepidation, was unfocused. Periodically, a shot would blare harshly, ricochet from afar, and zing dangerously overhead. This would arouse him briefly. Then the shooting would stop and the intermediate silence would return, making the wait all the more unbearable.
Feeling around in his pockets, he removed the last of his rations and, relinquishing his assault rifle, proceeded to devour the few remnants of stale bread. He would have to scavenge for more food during the night, when the threat of the Combine salvo was less severe. If he was at all fortunate, he could usually find supplies scattered about in crates, or left behind in some seldom apartment that had withstood the bombardment. Occasionally, during these clandestine raids, he would encounter other resistance fighters. Too often they were desperately weary, appearing bloodied and haggard, and on the verge of defecting. He knew he could not reside with them long, or he would risk being informed on.
Glancing down, Gordon noticed a red light flickering on the front dial of his hazard suit. His last power cell was almost depleted.
He stayed leaning against the barrier until, suddenly, he was alerted by a subtle clicking sound. A scanner had descended through the collapsed spire of a derelict church, opposite his position, and was zigzagging swiftly down the avenue. He thought, momentarily, that it might pass by without notice, but an abrupt change in course, at the last minute, sent the scanner gliding directly towards him. He crouched low, unfastening his crowbar from his belt. He would have to strike it since firing at it with his assault rifle would attract unwanted attention. The scanner emitted a soft whir as it oscillated about the road, swerving between the smoldering refuse. Then, finally catching sight of him, it stopped in midair and began to click rapidly.
Rushing out from behind the barrier, Gordon lunged at the scanner, which continued to hover in place. He swung his crowbar fiercely at the twirling machine, which, at the last moment, having realized the objective of its pursuer, zoomed away cannily. Gordon cursed loudly as he watched the scanner take flight, disappearing into the fog. They knew where he was now and they would be coming for him.
Without hesitating for a moment, he grabbed his rifle and dashed back up along the avenue. It was almost 7 o'clock. In a short while, the entire area would be crawling with Combine troops. He made his way past the graveyard of rundown buildings that paralleled the street, finally veering off down a deserted alleyway littered with heaps of trash. Vaulting over an overturned waste bin, he plunged, by accident, into a puddle of filth. This sudden lurch made him lose his balance and sent him toppling onto the ground.
Gordon looked up in time to glimpse the incandescent jets of a Combine drop ship as it made an aerial arc above the alleyway. He arose quick, continuing frantically down the polluted passage. The craft vented a shrill screech as it swooped past, no doubt en route to the place where he was spotted by the scanner.
When he reached the end, he took off hastily down another side street, being careful to stay out of sight. As he made his way through the shadows, he listened periodically for the loud radio static of his unrelenting nemesis, but heard nothing.