I prepared to leave early the next morning. Using the note that Durgen gave me, I was able to take a couple weapons from the base's armory. I packed light, taking only a semiautomatic rifle and pistol sidearm. I grabbed a medical kit, flashlight, radio, and ammo supplements while I was there. I also presented Durgen's note to the guards at the base's lot, and they allowed me to choose one vehicle to take. I chose to take an old but sturdy Ford truck that could be used to haul people in the back. I didn't stop to speak to anyone on my out. The pain of leaving my friends and the possibility of not coming back would be too much for me to handle. I set out like this, all my supplies in the passenger seat beside me. I had some idea of where I was going; I knew the big city would be a bad choice to start, because the Combine had probably used force and troops to capture rather than destroy that area, making it enemy territory. I decided instead to start in the suburbs, a place where people may still be hiding out, like the way I did. I decided to start with areas I know: the large and newly completed mini-town of Baldwin Park would be my best (and probably, safest) bet of finding survivors and refugees. I drove of into the dusty limestone wastes in order to save those still out there, and almost more importantly, prove myself to the blasted Corporal.
My initial ride to Baldwin Park was uneventful. I drove hastily along suburb road, but nothing came out of the dark houses to meet me. Everyone here must have evacuated, or fallen victim to worse things, already. Those worse things mentioned above did not stir to bother me either, whether or not that was because they feared my car or that they just weren't interested I didn't know. As I approached the Park, I had to swerve out of the way of huge canisters that had carved chunks out of the asphalt of the road. The canisters looked like large rockets, but strangely, the back was blown off instead of the actual body exploding like a normal rocket. I eyed these canisters carefully, wondering if they might still be volatile. After passing many, I concluded that they must serve some other purpose than to destroy landscapes. It was getting around mid-morning by the time I had gotten into the first outskirts of the Park, and I had still seen very few signs of life. It was extremely unnerving. I pulled up to a closed garage door and got out of my truck, thinking that this would be a good place to set up a base camp. The garage door was heavy, but the automatic mechanism that pulls the door up electronically was broken, so I managed to swing the door up with a little effort. At that moment I realized with a sickening churn of my stomach why I had not seen any life in this town. In the dark garage, its bile reflecting off the morning sun, was a withering headcrab zombie. Its ghastly head turned toward me when I opened the door, arms outstretched. It began to shriek in an almost human like voice. I swore that the human left in that zombie was screaming out for a merciful death, while the headcrab was growling out to feed on sickly flesh. I pushed my hand down to grab a gun, but I remembered I had left my supplies in the passenger seat of the car. Of all the damn foolish things to do! The zombie lurched toward me and dived, but I managed to throw my weight onto the hood of the truck, barley dodging the sharp claw of hand that wanted to introduce itself to my neck. I hurled myself over the car to the other side and flung open the door and snatched the pistol out from the seat. I cocked it and pointed it over the hood of the truck just as the zombie stood up again to lash out. Without hesitation I pumped 3 shots into its head. With an inhuman shriek, the whole zombie collapsed to the ground in a heap, green alien blood mixing with the crimson blood of man. I exhaled a long sigh and put the gun down. After a couple seconds, I realized my situation. What other creatures had heard the scuffle? How long until they came to investigate? I jumped over the hood again and examined the body. I searched the pockets for anything useful, and found a ring of keys and a wallet. I took the keys for their necessity, and the wallet for the hell of it. I pocketed both items and dragged the body to the other side of the street, away from my base camp. I nearly vomited due to the reeking stench, but resisted the urge. I had limited time before other zombies turned up. I hastily pulled my truck into the garage and closed the heavy door behind me. At once I realized my mistake. I put my gun up in readiness. I only saw one zombie in this garage, but there may be other headcrabs! Fortunately, my suspicions were vain; a full sweep of every nook and cranny of the garage failed to turn up anything alien. I worked quickly, but silently, to move anything heavy against the door of the garage, to keep anything outside from opening it. I surveyed my base one last time, and named it secure. "Now," I said to myself, finding my voice rather shaky and cold. "It's time to lay low and plan my next move."