Chapter 1
At that very moment, I longed for the return of a sea breeze. The weapon I clutched in my hands was incomparable to the fistfuls of sand I had held a day prior. Limitless blue sky, dotted with white puffs of cloud which slowly drifted away to another part of the world without a single worry. The caw of the seagulls, dipping and diving through the air with such sophisticated elegance I could seldom think of anything else as it happened. I even missed the breeze, a cool caress on my skin with a tinge of seasalt. I couldn't 'taste' the sea any longer. The metallic flavour that currently occupied my tongue was far from what I had grown used to. I spat on the floor. I think that's probably the fifth time in less than a minute. Still the taste persevered. I wish it wouldn't.
I let out a long sigh. One mixed with regret, sadness and a small yet very noticeable degree of 'well, at least I saw another day'. Except 'day' was an incredibly liberal way of putting it. Liberal. I scoffed. Why couldn't I be arguing with DJ and my mother over politics? Instead I'm here, a place where the sun never rises, where every creaking floorboard raises all the hairs on my skin and snatches my breath away from me. The grip on my weapon tightened as I heard an all too familiar groan and a cumbersome set of footsteps. It still felt strange in my hand. Foreign. This town was foreign. The footsteps had been stumbling around an adjacent room for an eternity. Whatever owned them wasn't sure if I was there, but seemed to have detected a new smell in the air. And so I was confined to slump against the wall. I was almost getting comfortable.
Enough is enough. For a man whose permanent residence was on the fence, I found myself making a lot of decisions in the last few hours. To my joy, one of those decisions paid off. I was here, I was alive. To my horror, I had made about twenty-nine other decisions that had not paid off. This next decision was crucial. I calculated the odds and found my chances of survival are slim. However if I stayed exactly where I was and the situation did not change whatsoever, I would die. It was just a matter of would I die fast or would I die slow. Let's give it a go. I slowly stood, pressing my back against the wall as leverage to help me to my feet. My eyes dropped to the weapon. Yep, still there. I let out another sigh, trying to settle down the pounding in my chest. I spat on the ground. Sixth. I raised the weapon to my eyeline and shifted focus towards the doorway.
I took a step. I took another step. A bead of sweat trickled past my left eye. I blinked. My shoulders tensed and locked as I made my way slowly toward the doorway. A groan. My fingers squeezed the grip. My eyes widened and my heartbeat turned into a marching drum. I saw the opening beyond the doorway. The next room over was bigger than this one. More places for the groaning to be coming from. The doorway lurched above me as I got closer. The groan loudened. I peeked around the frame of the doorway. There it was. Horror gripped me round the throat as my jaw dropped. How could something so human look so...so...
Its arm twitched. My finger snapped to the trigger and didn't release it until that thing hit the floor. I kept the gun locked on the corpse. No further twitches. I was the only person alive in that room. I was before I even started shooting. I could not drag my eyes off the body. Its white shirt stained with a sickening red, reaching down from the collar. There were bloody splotches on its jeans. It looked dry. Very dry. As much a part of the material of the shirt as the polyester was. The bloody spatters that had decorated the flooring beneath it were new. A concoction of a deep crimson and a murky yellow. I slowly relaxed my arms and the gun was held by my waist.
"Fuck." I said aloud, now aware of the adrenaline coursing through my veins. My arms quivered as my shoulders ached. I felt like I had tensed new muscles into existance. I walked to the body, my face convulsing as I saw that deformed-
I coughed and spluttered into my palm. The man's neck was obviously broken. As if someone had grabbed his forehead and yanked it back as they violently punched through the base of his skull through his Adam's apple. His eyes were wide. Terrified. Pained. My stomach dropped. I wasn't going to be sick, I suppose I didn't have the time to be. I felt sympathy. A man who had spent his last moments trapped in a husk, completely aware of what was happening yet had no way of controlling his fate. I was hit with a wave of sadness. My eyes flashed to the creature that had been atop his head. Sadness was replaced with disgust. I didn't...understand what I was looking at. It looked disgusting.
A hole which may as well have been the gateway to the abyss, flanked by bloodied razors for teeth. I checked back at the neck of the man. I identified the deep incisions into his neck. I winced. I scanned the room for an exit. I had to keep moving. I knew, somewhere, there was a way out of this town. I was running off pure adrenaline. I saw a door and my body went on autopilot. I reloaded. Two magazines left, excluding the one I had just loaded into the gun. One hundred and thirty-five bullets. I prayed it would be enough.
I approached the door at the back of the room and twisted the handle. Locked. Or maybe it was stiff, or jammed. I tried again, this time with added vigor. Nothing. Well then, I mused. Old school force it is. I stepped back, slowly mimicked kicking the door beside the lock, trying to force muscle memory upon the menial act. This time I thrusted my leg and foot forward, my boot connecting sweetly with the area of door I had aimed for. The door buckled by its frame and swung open.
The cold air swept in and kissed my face, sending a shiver down my spine. A midnight blue sky offered little illumination, but the moonlight glinting off corrugated metal roofs provided some light. I readied myself and my weapon. I took a tentative step outside and swept the area with my eyes. Bodies of the creatures were strewn around the floor. Some looked burned, some were surrounded by pools of blood. Some of those things were lying on their backs devoid of life. Good riddance. The sight was a welcome one. But it raised questions in my head.
I could see shreds of a dark rusted metal laid out randomly. It was odd. Someone, or God forbid something, had been through here and left nothing but corpses in its wake. A mixture of morbid curiosity and fear of what had caused this led me to give one of the bodies a once over. It was hard to pick out any particular details that stood out. The blood stains, the ripped open torso, the stench that stung at my eyes. I had hoped to spot wounds that looked fresh. And I did.
I crouched down with my weapon held firmly in my hand. It was hard to discern for sure, but it looked like bullet wounds. I swallowed. I stood and quickly scanned the rooftops that lurched over me, the moon's glinting beams now looking like curious eyes. Who had done this? Who had rolled through here and killed all these things? Another human like me? Combine? Both answers disturbed me.
I was grateful on one hand. I wasn't a killer and while I knew these things weren't human anymore, I knew what they had once been. It was a mercy killing, I reasoned with myself. But nowadays there were many things capable of inflicting damage to a person and a minority of those were friendly. Still, I hoped that the potential threat had bypassed me completely and we were moving in parallel directions.
I caught something in the corner of my eye. I hadn't noticed before, what with the bodies and the knowledge that someone had been here before me, but there were two cars suspended some distance above the ground. Below them were sickly brown stains, old blood that had seeped into the cracks of the cobbled street. Disfigured bodies lay on top, swimmers floating on a sea of death. The cars were traps. The winch and pulley system gave that away. Who could've possibly created it? Who had the time, given what they would've had to be dealing with too? A man with far too much time on his hands. I felt unsettled.
I walked underneath the car and stared at it the whole way. It didn't fall on my head. Finally, some luck. I approached a doorway that had broken wooden planks littered by its entrance. I frowned for a moment, looking at the doorway. The planks were broken toward me, meaning that someone had come from the inside. They hadn't come from the same direction I had, but the opposite. I gingerly looked behind me and let out a sigh of relief when I wasn't suddenly confronted by another being. I felt less unsettled.
The smell that greeted my nostrils was putrid. Burned oil hit me first. Then followed a more meaty smell. Imagine gone off pork that had then been set ablaze and left to stew in its own rotten self. Blackened creatures with their circular row of teeth lay motionless on the ground. I knew they were dead but with what I'd seen I fired a few bullets into them. I saw a burned human body in the corner. I didn't have the stomach to give it the same treatment.
There was flooring above me, supported by wooden pillars. It was high, but with a run up and getting my foot on the pillar I should be able to get enough momentum and height. I checked the room again for a door or a-window. A window in the corner of the room looked my best way out. I walked to it, keeping an eye on the body. I peered out and was satisfied. No obvious danger.
I clambered out of it and landed on the sloped street below me. There was this unmistakable stink of gas around. I headed down the slope and saw something I will never be able to forget. Wooden stakes, with bodies of the monsters I had seen impaled on them. Some had been torched. The smell of burning flesh isn't something anyone expects to smell. It's indescribable, yet so distinctive once you've smelled it once.
The impaled bodies acted as...I'm not sure. I'm not sure I wanted to know. Were they warnings? A threat to outsiders? Were they trophies? A celebration of man's ability to kill the unknown? I felt my stomach gurgling and I couldn't stop myself from vomiting. My skin burned with embarrassment. How odd. To feel embarrassed in the company of nothing but corpses. I felt a fleeting sense of amusement before I vomited again. I decided to leave.
I'd seen things today I had never seen before. Things I couldn't understand. Things I didn't want to understand. What had happened to the people here, who had killed these monsters, who had displayed them for the world to see? These only scratched the surface. I was sickened to a pit deep inside of me, I was confused as to what had happened here, I was enraged it had happened. I was scared, I was sad, I was despairing. I wanted to cry, I wanted to scream, I wanted to laugh. My mind was all over the place.
I was ignoring the bodies now. There were more of them, all clumped together and laid out like they were seeing how far their bodies could stretch on the ground. More bullet holes and more blood splatters decorating the flesh and surroundings alike. The stench had buried itself in my nose. It stunk, don't get me wrong. My world would be the tiniest bit better if the smell didn't exist in my world. But it was just...dull. Like the fatigue I felt in my legs. I knew it was there but it was background noise. A noticeable hum from a television on standby. I miss television.
I rounded the corner and stepped outside. The sky had lightened and was now a numb blue. My eyes locked onto a rotating blade of corrugated iron or metal. It continued to churn as faint black smoke emptied out of whatever was powering it as it clutched to life. There was a coating of blood brushed over its sharp edges and its victims laid at its base sliced in half. The machine was clearly capable of cutting through human bodies when it was working at a hundred percent. Another death trap. I suddenly felt uneasy. My hairs prickled on my arms and on the back of my neck. I wrapped my fingers around the handle of my weapon tightly. My index laid loose on the trigger. I snapped my eyes to the rooftop to my right. Then to my left. I had this dreadful sensation someone was watching me.
I kept my eyes fixed to the rooftops. I held out my other hand and tried to get a hold of the blade. It was too slow to do me any harm. The engine grunted a few times as its natural course was disrupted, but it let out a gradual hiss as it died out. I returned my hand to the vertical grip of my weapon and passed by the blade. Crows squaked as they flew from the rooftop to my left. Three black blurs flew across the sky. My body relaxed a little. Fucking crows. I turned to some steps on my left.
"Birds always sense danger before it appears. If only we men were capable of that."
The voice froze me. My body seized up. Fuck. I felt resigned. I had walked through Hell to only end up as another inhabitant. This must've been the man who had killed all those things before. The man who made the traps.
"But you...you end up in Ravenholm and you don't leave as soon as you can. Ha. Maybe you are as foolish as me."
His accent wasn't one I'd heard before. I didn't recognise the voice. Any shred of hope I still clutched to floated off into the air to fly away with the crows.
"Face me, brother."
I passed off the weapon into my left hand, holding it aloft by the grip as I extended my right arm. Surrender. I carefully turned around to face the voice. I didn't want a sudden movement to trigger whatever instinct had kept him alive to this point. Had he hunted me down? Was this a kind of psychopathic playground? I saw him. And I was shocked.
A bald man with a full beard. His bluey grey clothing was torn in places. Strips of cloth hung off while others had been turned into makeshift bandages around his arms and legs. Something golden hung around his wrist on the end of golden beads. There was a vertical rip from just beneath his collar that extended down his sternum. Covered by some shadow was an obvious incision. A dark crimson streak. I thought I had been through Hell.
"I mean you no harm. You have surely already passed through a dark path, unenviable in the mind of weaker souls." His voice echoed and was guttural. I sensed that he was a good speaker. I was going to be a good listener. Especially as I had noticed the shotgun that he carried. It looked old, from a bygone age. So did the man carrying it.
"I'm...I'm just trying to leave-"
"Ha! There is a wise mind between your ears, brother." The man sounded upbeat. Amused and impressed by my response. I didn't feel safe. But I didn't feel like death was about to take me. Not yet. "Seldom do people leave Ravenholm. Their souls leave this realm, but their bodies remain in this cursed town."
"I'd like my soul and body to leave this realm." I attempted a joke. I'm not sure why. Maybe I wanted one more person to laugh at one of my jokes before I ceased to be. The man bellowed with laughter before recoiling and clutching at his side. I had thought the dark patch on his clothing was a result of the darkness obscuring it. Now I recognised it as blood. There were many dark patches on his clothing.
"I feel I will be leaving this mortal plane before you, my friend. I have cheated death many times but now I yearn for the Lord's embrace." I couldn't help but notice the tinge of sadness in his voice.
"You could come with me. We could get you some help." I offered tentatively. I figured he was a religious man and might well welcome death with open arms knowing what it was leading to, that there was a purpose to his passing. But he was the only friendly face I had seen since coming here. I didn't want to lose that. "Please."
The man studied my face from his position. He helped himself to the ground and sat atop the tiles. He groaned and grunted with the strain.
"I am afraid we all have our own path, brother. Yours does not end here. I can see that. Mine..." His voice trailed off as he mused over his options, "Well, there is little path left for me to tread." I lowered my arms as I disregarded the man as a threat. If he wanted me dead, I would've only heard the boom of his shotgun. He rested the shotgun in his lap, glancing it over with keen eyes.
"Do you not even want to try? Maybe God is giving you another chance." The man snorted at my suggestion.
"The Lord gave me enough chances. I have cleansed and forgiven those then cast them unto salvation. I have begged forgiveness for my sins. It is my turn, like my flock before me, to face Him," He was certain. He had made peace with whatever God he followed and was content. I made ready to say my goodbyes, "You know, heh, you are not the first person I have guided." I frowned slightly.
"What do you mean?"
"There was another man before you. Another man blind to the true horrors of this place. I protected him as he left this place. The Lord insisted I help him on his path. I did my best. He is safe from Ravenholm but the journey ahead of him will be a testing one. I felt another calling when you entered here. I believed that I was at my end but the Lord took me from the fire and guided me back. Now you, ha ha, are safe from evil and I have done my part." Another man? I looked back to the bodies that were littered by the spinning blade. The religious man was on the rooftops, maybe he had been from the start. Another man came through on the ground. Another man capable of so much killing.
I looked back to the man and a small gasp escaped my lips. He was flat on his back, shotgun held to his chest. I couldn't see the rise and fall of his stomach as breath worked its way through his body. My lips pursed as a lump arose in my throat. Another person I knew had died. I clenched my jaw as I battled back tears. I lost the battle.
I ran. I went into autopilot as I sobbed and ran past more desecrated bodies. Saw blades. Broken tables. Broken planks. I got to a tree with a tyre swing and burst into full blown tears. I cried loudly. I didn't care what heard me. I collapsed against its trunk and bawled into my hands. I was never a crier, but over the last few years I had become quite good at it. I let the negativity and pain wash over and through me. My eyes ached. My throat did too. The tears dried out. I sat for a few moments. I was exhausted.
Come on. Pick yourself up. It's time to move. My conscience was beginning to annoy me. You know it makes sense. Let's go. It spoke some sense though. I pulled myself up against the tree and headed up an earthy slope towards a wooden corridor. For the first time there wasn't a mound of dead bodies in the corridor or even before it. Some progress, at least. It was dark, but a light rebounding round a corner showed there was an area to the right. I popped my head round the corner, satisfied that it was safe. There wasn't any groaning or wailing beyond. How I yearned to never hear noise like that again.
I kept myself close to the wall at my back as I approached another corner. The light brightened and I felt an innate sense of safety. Light. People...maybe just electricity.
The light itself was hidden by a lowered section of ceiling, but I could make out my surroundings with total clarity for the first time since...well, by my estimates for a while. Graffiti adorned the wall, harsh curves of white paint etched onto the wooden wall. Maybe it was a sign of those who had headed into Ravenholm before me. Hopefully it was a sign of those who had passed through Ravenholm on the way to some other place.
Opposite the graffitied wall was a sudden drop. I took a few careful steps towards the cusp of the drop and peered over. My stomach sank as I took in the height. Jesus wept. My brain forced me to backpedal, then allowed me to move forward once again. There was a ladder attached to the wall and it ran all the way down. It looked like there was a small square pool of water at its feet. Something looked to be floating on the surface. I took a grand total of three seconds to work out what to do next. Go back to Ravenholm or take a chance with the ladder. My foot was already leaving the first rung as I came to my conclusion.
The ladder was long but didn't show signs of creaking. The paint looked fairly unaffected, bar a few patches of rust. I didn't get the impression the ladder was used often. Given what was at the top of it, who the fuck would ever use it? As I came to the last quarter of the ladder, I couldn't help but notice there was a cage of sorts attached to the side of the ladder. Dried blood stained the rock face at my feet. The stone confirmed I was underground.
"Shit." A deformed and inflated body of a creature I had become all too familiar with lay face down in the water. I'd forgotten the smell of a rotting body. The smell had come back to smack me in the face. I quickly exited the flimsy looking platform and my attention was snatched by three signs. One was a skull in a red bordered triangle. The other two told simple warnings. 'WARNING: KEEP OUT'. 'WARNING: NO TRESPASSING'. A hefty padlock lay at my feet. Something had ripped it completely from its home. 'DANGER: CONTAMINATED AREA' read another sign. Why weren't these on the other way in?
More graffiti. My brow furrowed as I inspected it closer.
"Damn it." Water had flooded wherever the Hell I was and came halfway up my shin. Forgot to bring spare socks, too. I returned my focus to the graffiti. Caste. A picture of a male figure with a Combine head clutching a bewildered baby to its chest. I'd seen this 'Caste' drawing before. There were rumours of who he was, or what it was. There was such uniquely human behaviour portrayed all too well for it to be some kind of Combine artist. Maybe Civil Protection?
I trudged through the water as quietly as I could manage. A desk, wooden pallet and green cabinet all laid dormant in the water. As I progressed further there was a metal door frame to my right. I glanced back to the cabinet that was on its side. I looked back to the door frame. An attempted barricade. A long set of stairs led up to another light source. I traversed the concrete mountain and saw another Caste drawing. Had my feet not been soaking I'd have maybe spent more time wondering why there were two.
I came to an intimidating concrete hallway. Its roof was high, sturdy. A pipeline ran from one wall and into another. At the very end of the hallway was a large steel door. It had gaps in it, three viewing holes that seeped in light from the otherside. I marched toward it with renewed belief. The only people who bothered with doors and gates and entrances and exits were people. Human people. People like me. The Combine would've sealed this tunnel off ages ago. I knew it just had to be home to people-shit I'd take a person at this rate.
My eyes searched the concrete walls the gate was attached to for a button. Nothing. I started looking along the door, being as meticulous as I could. Still nothing. I took in a deep breath as my heart beat started to beat its drum a little faster. There must be a way out. I stuck my head through one of the gaps and looked at the walls. Nothing on the left. Nothing on the right. I chewed my lip as I brought my head back. There was a flashing red light beyond the next hallway this gate was keeping me from. I felt so close yet so far.
A cough.
I held my breath. I listened. My ears rang, creating noise to fill the silence. I stuck my head through the gap again. I was still. Waiting.
Another cough. More provoked. A reaction. Accidental.
"Could you not cough on me?" A scolding voice. A voice. A real voice.
"Hello?" I yelled before I fell into a coughing fit. My throat was dry from all the crying, from all the panting, from all the straining not to breathe too loudly in case a threat heard me. I got a grip of myself. I internalised the coughs and tried to suck out spit from my mouth to swallow. There was a silence. The same silence that smothers the air when the nasty teacher catches you out.
A very faint low hum. Whispers. A manly whisper. You just hear the basey tones of the voice. No words. Just that hum. Relaxing, in a way. I decided to try again.
"Please. I heard you coughing."
A thud. Maybe a slap onto a clothed arm. I thought I heard a curse. Good news. Have you ever heard the Combine say 'shit'? 'Fuck'?
"I just came through fucking Hell." I forced my throat to widen and paid for it in violent coughs. Have you ever heard the Combine cough? Sneeze?
A face round the corner. I gasped. It was distant, but human. A man. Stubble. A dark green beanie. I didn't bat for his team, but he was the most beautiful man I had ever seen. Steadily he stepped forward. Then stopped. The red light behind him obscured his features.
"Hello?" He called.
"Hello." I spluttered. His friend briskly walked to join him by his side. The friend leant into him. He nodded. He stepped forward.
"What are you?"
"What do you mean, what am I?"
"You came from Ravenholm?" I pulled a face. Why did that matter?
"Yes." I answered. 'Yes' prompted more discussions between the two. The friend seemed to be in charge and had told him off for coughing. He was going to love me.
"How did you come from Ravenholm?"
"I've left my bicycle around the corner." I dryly, quite literally, said. His friend looked at him and spoke again. I could hear sounds. More than a hum. I couldn't articulate them into words. The friend began to walk toward me. Confidently. A physical way of telling me he was in control. I could make out his face a little better. Prominent cheekbones and jawline but faint eyebrows. Could just be the light. His eyes looked dark. Hazel, brown, dark blue maybe. I moved to rest my arms on the gap and he fluidly aimed a pistol at my face and switched into a strong stance. I stopped immediately.
"I'm friendly."
"Yeah, I'm fuckin' Wallace Breen," His voice was harsh. Harsher than expected. A man facing what he considered to be a potential threat, "You armed?"
"I've got a gun in my right hand. I can throw it behind me, or-"
"Don't move a muscle," he angled his face as if to speak to the man behind him, "Gerry, come here," Gerry jogged up to the friend, "Grab his gun for me," he looked back to me, "Slowly, okay. We don't need another body to cover." I offered a nod and slowly raised my weapon by the barrel. Gerry took it carefully.
"Barrel's warm." He commented, glancing between his friend and I. He attached it to a makeshift holster on his back. Gerry was also holding a pistol.
"What's your name?"
"Chalky."
"Chal-" The friend processed half my name before shooting me a puzzled look, "Your ma and pa went through all that trouble to call you Chalky? That's gotta be a nickname, right?" By his tone I don't think he liked my nickname, "You are pale."
"Yeah, that's how I got it."
"What's your real name?"
"Ezra." The man hummed a high note of approval.
"Yeah. Good name. Do you mind telling us, Ezra, what the fuck have you been doing in Ravenholm?"
"How did you survive it?" Gerry chimed in. Too many questions.
"Can I get some water? I'm struggling to talk." The man grabbed something from his belt and offered it to me. A cantina. I grabbed the cantina, popped the top open and began guzzling water down. It tasted metallic. I couldn't give two shits. It trickled down my chin and dampened my neck. I think I consumed about half of what was in it before remembering where I was. I let out a thankful sigh.
"Thirsty work, I take it." The man jibed. I rested the cantina on the gap.
"Thank you. Really, thank you." I said.
"Don't mention it," I felt the man was becoming a little less uptight, "Now, what have you been doing in Ravenholm?"
"Running away, mostly. Panicking. Crying. Wishing I was somewhere else." I rested my forehead on the gate. It was cool. It was lovely. I sensed the man and Gerry weighing up the answer.
"I don't blame you. You didn't see any of our friends, did you? Living ones?" The man asked quietly. Living ones. A specific phrase.
"I saw monsters. A lot of those." I answered. The man took in a slow intake of breath. The wrong answer. Because it was the truth.
"Shit." Gerry sighed.
"Didn't see anyone like us, no? People?"
"I saw a person. A bald guy, beard, big shotgun. Religious." I looked at the man and Gerry. They shook their heads at one another. Not one of theirs.
"Should we open the door, Max?" Gerry inquired softly. Max. No longer just 'the friend'.
"Hmm. Go on," Gerry took little time running back down the hall then to his left. The gate let out a croaky alarm and slowly began to rise. Its pistons murmured and grumbled as they activated. The gate was taking its time, "Crawl under, it's faster," I did as I was told, "'Kay, Gerry, you can shut it again." The alarm jarringly began its looped cry again and the gate shut quickly.
"Thank you." I sighed, picking up the cantina. I offered it back to Max and he shook his head.
"Keep that one," Gerry stood at the end of the hall, "C'mon, we better get you to Erwin." Erwin? Max took off at a pace I wasn't ready for. I took a few steps and fell to my knees. My body knew it was safe. It didn't want to go on without a rest. Gerry jogged towards me and offered a hand. Max mirrored him. I took their hands and they heaved me up, throwing my arms over their shoulders.
"You've really been through it, huh?" Gerry murmured. I nodded, "I'll warn you now, 'cause Max is too professional to do it, Erwin's gonna ask you a lot about it." I nodded again. As long as I could sit down for it I didn't care. We continued down another carbon copy stone hallway. People on ladders, wearing the same uniform as Max and Gerry. Blue denim jeans, the golden Lambda patch on the shoulder. The same thick jumper. Rebels. I smiled to myself.
Some worked on the walls and ceilings, others fiddled with piping. There were bits of debris piled up at the side of the hallway. Some people in high vis jackets congregated, gesticulating broadly at sections of the walls as others clad in other high vis jackets scribbled down notes in clipboards and notepads. A lot of construction, engineering, fixing, whatever you wanted to call it. There was no shortage of weapons either. It seemed like everyone was armed.
Had I not been so emotionally spent, I could've cried tears of joy. Max prodded a keypad with his index beside a tall door about twelve feet high that had been painted and repainted a handful of times. It was mainly brown, but had grey and light green patches. The keypad chirped and the door whined as it opened.
Wow. The door revealed a hub of activity. Rebels chatted, walked in pairs, and went over their individual equipment. Some wore lab coats, some wore white shirts and some kept their 'citizen' garments the Combine had given them. I felt safe. I felt the stress leaving my body. Normal living people. A whole room of them. Electronics whirred with people more intelligent than I were using them. Lab coats held up clipboards and gestured to screens. Rebels gave their weapons a once over and cleaned parts. It was like I was back on the highway.
A Rebel with a red cross band on their arm noticed me and alerted some others around him. A chair was cleared and my two escorts walked me over.
"Come on, man, get comfy. You okay?" The medic asked.
"He's come from Ravenholm, guy's exhausted." Max spoke for me and I was grateful for it. I fell into the chair and rested my arms on my knees. I caught my breath.
"Ravenholm?" A hush descended onto the room. I became the centre of attention. Oh boy.
"We don't need to stop and stare, do we?" Max addressed the room. There were a couple of mumbles and then the usual hubbub continued, "You'll get that a lot. Can't blame 'em myself. No one ever goes into Ravenholm. Even fewer people come out of Ravenholm." Max whispered into my ear.
I nodded curtly. Everyone seemed to get Ravenholm. They had maybe heard some stories or briefly visited and upon seeing the sights they decided, in a moment of pure genius I could not exhibit, to get the Hell away from there. I considered mentioning that I hadn't intended to ever be in Ravenholm. I'd probably be treated as even more of a marvel if they knew I had, accidentally, ended up there.
"All good, no injuries at all. I'd collapse on a bed somewhere soon, if I were you." The medic's soft tone brought me back from my daze. I offered a smile and continued to stare at the floor.
"You alright?" Gerry asked. I nodded again, "Tired?" I snorted quietly.
"Just a bit." I looked up at Gerry and exchanged a smile. He had green eyes and short brown hair, the longer strands forming small curls. Given the situation of the world we were in, it was amazing how unweathered he was. He must've been at least thirty, but he could pass as a twenty five year old. Max reappeared. I hadn't noticed he'd gone.
"You good to walk another twenty feet? Erwin doesn't think you'd want a chat in front of this lot," He stuck a thumb towards the group of Rebels who occupied near all the room, "I'll give you a hand. It's just round here."
I raised my arm and Max hooked his arm under it. My legs were sore and stiff. The soles of my feet ached with every step. I was sick of walking and running and everything in between. But here I was walking yet again. We drifted left away from a large elevator. There's another level to this place. Max knocked on a metal door that led to a small room in the corner. It was walled off from the rest of the open area and had dark tinted windows from the outside. The door opened. A head popped out, his eyes flicking immediately to me. He regarded me with brown eyes and a frown. He blinked a couple of times.
"Who have you brought me today, Maximilian?" The man asked gruffly. A rougher voice than I expected. This guy looked nearer forty than thirty.
"Erwin will wanna speak to him."
"Why?" The voice came back instantly and now his attention was stuck on Max. Max sighed.
"Come on, Parker. This guy's come from Ravenholm." Parker stood upright. His brow furrowed further. The brown eyes bored into mine.
"Really?" I didn't think it was a question. Parker extended his arm and the door opened fully. He remained in the doorway, "Best come in, then."
Max led me into the room. The windows that looked out into the open area were slightly less tinted on this side but not overly so. A very large map was on the wall to my right, with its own light illuminating it from above. Ahead of me was a large wooden desk which looked to be in good condition. On it was a microphone, presumably for a tannoy system, an astray that smoke was elegantly curling up from and a revolver that glinted in the light. All a man needs. A cushioned chair sat behind it with a smaller chair with a single worn cushion on it sat in front. TV panels adorned the far wall and contained the date and live time. Occasionally the screens would flicker and change. CCTV. Staring at the screens with his back to us was a man with a pair of headphones on. He was slim, with slicked back dark blond hair that was neatly groomed.
"That's Erwin." Max whispered.
The door shut quietly behind us. The thud of Parker's boots echoed around the room and he walked by me and Max. His manner didn't scream a quiet man and his march toward the CCTV wall only reinforced that belief. He cleared his throat and Erwin held up a finger. I felt an eyebrow raise. He slowly raised his hands to his headphones, eyes fixed on a screen, then quickly removed them. He placed them carefully on a small table below the screens.
"Yes, Parker?"
"Max has got someone worth your time."
"Has he?"
"I think so."
"Well..." Erwin folded his arms and his head bounced from side to side in thought, "That's enough for me." He spun around and looked at me, his face being darkened with the light from the screens behind him.
"Erwin, this is Ezra. We found him down the Ravenholm tunnel, says he came from there. Mad bastard." A bit unnecessary. Erwin seemed unaffected by the revelation. He chewed on the information.
"Take a seat, Ezra," Erwin gestured to the smaller seat opposite his, "I will be but a moment." He turned around to look at the screens again and slipped the headphones back on. His attention darted between screens before settling on one on the left and he hopped over to it. I looked at Max. What's he doing?
"I'll tell you later." Max murmured. He led me to the chair and I sunk down into it. The cushion, while tattered, was the comfiest thing I had sat on for what felt like years. I rested my arms on the desk for support.
"Ravenholm, huh?" Parker said, leaning against the wall in the corner. There was amusement on his face, "And you made it here."
"Somehow." I answered. Parker nodded in approval. Erwin spun around like he had done earlier. A smile played on his lips.
"Apologies, Ezra. Business to attend to and all that," He began, setting himself down in his chair and reaching for the cigarette that had since gone out. He promptly stuck it in his mouth, lit it, and blew smoke into the air, "It's not easy maintaining a facility of this size with all that's going on-" He raised his hands into the air and his smile widened, "Do forgive me, you probably aren't concerned with me rattling on about..." He tried to find the words and his hands tried to pull them out the air, "Unimportant things. Right. Now, why has Max brought you in?" Piercing blue eyes seamlessly switched attention from me to Max.
"Me and Gerry found him in the Ravenholm tunnel." Max said. The smile remained on Erwin's face but his eyes had stopped smiling. He looked like a painting. He sunk back into his seat and he looked at me. His smile had faded.
"What were you doing there, Ezra?" He asked softly. I felt I was being questioned by a police officer.
"I came from Ravenholm."
"Everyone there is dead. What's your surname?" The line of questioning caught me off guard. I looked at Parker for some kind of assistance. His expression was blank.
"Uh, it's Zielinski." Erwin thought about it for a second.
"I don't know that name. You're not from Ravenholm, are you?" His relaxed posture and his direct questions unsettled me slightly. I shook my head, "How did you come to be in Ravenholm?" I thought over my answer. Erwin had a plan for these questions. He knew what answers he wanted to get to and didn't care for trying to disarm me. Then again, what reason did I have to be cautious?
"I came from the highways-"
"Which one?" Christ. Let me speak. I studied Erwin's face. Unmoving. Much like Parker's. But the cogs were turning. Constantly thinking. Considering.
"Seventeen," I paused, anticipating Erwin would take another bite. He didn't, "I was with Shorepoint Base." Erwin blinked a few times. He swiveled in his chair to look at Parker. They didn't say anything. The blue eyes looked back to me.
"Is Winston still there?" His tone was friendlier. I was surprised. You know Winston?
"Yeah. He was the last time I was there, at least."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I'm not sure he'd still be there right now." I didn't have the answer. I could only estimate. That wasn't enough for Erwin.
"You were at Shorepoint, surely you know better than anyone their current status. Though, maybe therein lies the point. You were at Shorepoint. You've traversed through Ravenholm. Miraculously you made it here. I'll change my question. What caused you to leave Shorepoint and end up here?" He took a long drag of his cigarette. A small celebration he'd sidestepped a fruitless line of inquiry and arrived at his destination all the same. He exhaled the smoke and it clouded above my head.
"I take it you know Leon," I asked. Erwin flashed a satisfied smile, "Thought you would. He sent us on patrol down the train tracks. There's a wreckage before the tunnel, we've been happy to leave it there as a defensive wall of sorts. But he wanted us to explore beyond it. See where that tunnel went."
"And where does it go?" This time Parker asked the question. Erwin kept his eyes on me. I looked between the two before deciding to answer Parker.
"We don't know." I replied. I felt that even my only ally in this situation was questioning why I had given such a bad, yet truthful, answer.
"You don't know." Parker eventually said quietly. I shook my head.
"No. The tunnels go on forever. We presumed a generator or a backup generator would've kept the lights on down the tunnel, but it was pitch black down there. We could only go so far." I had a suspicion that Erwin considered this a failure. He was both curious about this task and disappointed in me that we had failed it.
"Okay," Erwin was back on the speaker's podium, "So then how do you end up from this tunnel to Ravenholm? It's not a simple wrong turn." I felt myself swallow down nerves.
"We ran into trouble."
