Gordon dressed in his heavy combat fatigues and soft warm shirt, picked up the Gravity gun and headed outside. The compound was warm and sunny, and he felt in a good mood as he headed for the gate. There were still many questions he felt needed answering, but he had resolved to stop tormenting himself with all the things he didn't know. His father had told him that true wisdom lay in picking your battles; that you should save the energy spent worrying over things you couldn't change, and direct it towards the things you could. It had been his second favourite piece of advice to give to his son, the first being "put that down, you'll kill us all!" So Gordon had decided to wait for the answers to come to him, for the time being.
Gordon smiled at the memories of his dad, and paused to take in the atmosphere of the base. The war was by no means won, but the battle seemed over for now, and the Resistance was taking advantage of the opportunity to rest. A small group of female rebels were sitting in a circle, gossiping amongst themselves as they broke down and cleaned their weapons. Behind them in the distance a game of touch football was taking place, using one of the dark energy pods from the AR2, which Gordon sincerely hoped had been deactivated in some way. People called out friendly greetings, their faces happy and relaxed after the tension of the Strider attack. But the idyllic image was suddenly shattered as a horrifying scream rang out around the compound. A woman's scream.
Gordon ran in what he hoped was the right direction. Confusingly, no one else seemed to be reacting. As he rounded the corner of the base he stopped, and studied the scene before him. A female rebel walked past, slightly unsteady on her feet. She was clutching at her mouth, but she was also giggling, as was the friend who was supporting her. At the back of the compound was an absolute giant of a man, blond, with a huge beard. He stood behind a chair, and was flanked by two equally huge medics. Two other men stood before him, and Gordon found their voices strangely familiar.
"Maybe I should just leave it, see if it goes away on it's own. Whaddaya think, Sheck?"
"I've had to put up with your complaining all the way here. You're getting this fixed. Today."
The expression on the blond giant's face was grave. "Please sit down. If the infection is not removed, it may spread to the bone, and from there to the blood stream. This we do not want, yes?"
Griggs settled himself apprehensively into the chair. "Can't I get like some painkillers or some gas and air or something?" Sheckley rolled his eyes.
"Jesus, Griggs. What do you think this is, Johns Hopkins? They have to save the good stuff for the people who've lost an arm."
"Actually, we may offer him something." The dentist handed Griggs a bottle of murky looking liquor. As he took a drink, he relaxed his guard slightly. This was the signal the medics had been waiting for. One of them grabbed his upper arms and pinned him back against the chair. The other removed the bottle of booze and clamped his hand over Griggs' chin, wrenching his mouth open. The dentist grabbed a pair of long handled pliers from a pan of boiling water behind him and moved forwards, blocking Gordon's vision. There was a sharp crack and a shriek, and then the unfortunate Griggs was released. One of the medics unscrewed the cap from a vial of green medkit liquid and placed it to his lips.
"Rinse and spit."
Griggs complied, and then hauled himself from the chair. His face was pale, but he sounded enthusiastic as ever. "Did ya see that, Sheckley? These guys are quick!" He turned back. "Can I keep the tooth?"
"Oh my God… are you hoping for the tooth fairy?"
As the bickering pain made their way towards him, Gordon too opted to beat a tactical retreat, clamping his lips tightly shut. He didn't want to risk the Viking dentist catching sight of his own chipped teeth.
Gordon headed for the front gate, and found it was already open. A column of fighters were making their way into the base, and at their head was-
"Anticitizen One!" Barney called out to Gordon, a broad grin on his tired and dirty face. "I hear you're been giving the Striders a bit of trouble." He strode over and clasped his friend's shoulders. "Sorry I couldn't get here sooner, man. Wait til you hear about what happened to us. Wanna go grab a beer?"
" Actually, I was just going to…" He didn't need to finish the sentence as Alyx pulled up in the muscle car behind them.
"Oh, you two are heading out?" They walked over to the car. Alyx leaped out and embraced Barney.
"I'm so glad you guys are all safe!"
"You too. Listen, I'm sorry to hear what happened to your dad. We picked it up on the radio, couldn't believe it…" Alyx's face fell.
"It's ok, Barney. We're going to make the Combine pay." Then she was all smiles again. Almost as if nothing had happened. "Are you ready, Gordon? Hop in!" She patted the seat enticingly. Barney had an expression of dawning comprehension on his face. He had initially attributed Gordon's slightly proprietorial manner to the car. He leaned in to Gordon.
"Are you two…?" Gordon checked that Alyx's back was turned before grinning and nodding enthusiastically. Barney punched the air, then turned the gesture into a wave as Alyx turned back. "See ya, Alyx! Gordon, I guess we'll get that beer later." Details later! he mouthed, but the scientist pretended not to notice, and waved cheerfully as the car sped off.
"By the way, Gordon, look in the back seat." He turned, and was delighted to see his crowbar. He picked it up and moved it to the space between the front seats, what he thought of as the cup holder. "Dr Magnusson insisted it was cluttering up his workshop. I mean it's a tool, and it was in a workshop, so you'd think that would be fine, right? But apparently not." Alyx changed up a gear. "He's the biggest tool in that workshop," she muttered to herself.
Gordon was still a little worried about Alyx, but she just smiled and winked as he glanced across, so he settled back in the seat and let his mind wander as she drove them deeper into the forest. He knew there was still a long hard struggle ahead of them, but he was doing what he usually did when faced with a difficult or unpleasant task, which was to spend time imagining what he would do once it was over. It was a form of procrastination that had driven Magnusson to distraction on more than one occasion; and there had to be a downside to it somewhere too, Gordon thought, as he grinned lazily to himself.
He was thinking about fixing up one of the abandoned farmhouses that dotted the landscape. They could have chickens in the yard, and he'd get to eat scrambled eggs for breakfast every day. It was strange how most birds seemed to have survived unscathed. Maybe avian DNA was unpalatable to Xen creatures, or they just didn't like the feathers? And while the Combine liked to build synths, they had Striders, Hunters and the weird gunship insects; they would have no use for smaller creatures.
Scavenging some Combine technology and rigging up one of those force fields to keep the wildlife out shouldn't be too difficult. They could find an overgrown wheat field or else break into a seed bank, and bake bread. You needed yeast for that, but he'd seen ample evidence of stills on his travels, and baker's yeast was basically the same as brewer's yeast, right? A biologist would know; he'd always known they would turn out to be useful for something. They could sweep the cities clean, and the people from the safe holding areas could begin to move back in. Perhaps Alyx would want to have a baby. That would be the ultimate act of creation. In your face, Dr Breen. He imagined the work he would do with Dr Kleiner. Dark energy for power, travel, defense…
The car came to a halt in front of a concrete bunker, and Alyx hopped out. "Come on, day dreamer, let's get those parts!"
Gordon let himself be directed by Alyx as he used the Grav gun to retrieve the appropriate boxes from the shelves and stack them in the car. It wasn't strictly necessary, but it was fun. Then they quickly swept the room for supplies. They weren't quite as thorough as they could have been, though, and they soon found themselves backed up into a private little corner. Gordon loved making out, but he felt oddly distracted, not by a sound, but the memory of a sound. He was in a dark confined space, one that was filled with protruding shelves and crates that would inhibit a quick getaway, yet also tantalizingly full of supplies. The situation seemed familiar somehow.
It was a soft, wet, laboured sound, yet somehow it was threatening. It got louder, to the point where he was sure he wasn't imagining it. Gordon was frozen, and Alyx's eyes met his as realization dawned on them both. The sound was very close now, and there was a sick chuckling quality to it, as though it was congratulating itself on its cleverness.
Run, Gordon mouthed to Alyx, then shoved her blindly towards the door as he heard the familiar hissing sound. The black headcrab landed on the shelf right next to his head, and gave a hideously cheerful whistle as it turned to face him. It rattled as he blasted it away from him with the Grav gun. The poison zombie bellowed as he ran for the door, Alyx just ahead of him. They made it out, and he slammed the door behind him, holding onto the handle with all his strength as Alyx made for the car. There was a bang and part of the planking fell away, and he could see the dark decaying face of the zombie as it charged the door. God, it was grotesque, and the sick rotten smell… how had he never noticed?
Suddenly he heard a clanging above him, and a rasping, gibbering, hateful sound, like the ranting of a lunatic with no tongue. He looked up and saw two fast zombies, their faces frozen in their eternal baleful grins. They leaped for him, and he let go of the door and ran. Alyx was calling to him, but he saw with a jolt of horror that she was in the passenger seat. Why did she always expect him to drive when they were fleeing from zombies? The fast ones were right behind him, he wasn't going to make it… He leaped into the car and jammed his feet onto the pedals. The car fishtailed, and crushed one of the zombies under its rear wheels. It had been right at the car! Where was the other one?
He looked to his left and there it was, shrieking and grabbing for him. He felt its claws tear through his left arm. He grabbed for the crowbar with his othert hand and swung it like a baseball bat, knocking the controlling headcrab away from the zombie's frail frame. The car shot forward as he stepped on the gas, and he could hear Alyx whooping and cheering as they sped back towards White Forest with their load of supplies. He felt incredulous. She was relishing the adrenaline, actually enjoying it! Was that what growing up in a war zone did to you?
Gordon felt nothing but sheer terror. He had always hated the zombies, but mainly because of the distortion of human life that they represented. They had never been the most difficult things to actually kill. But that was while he'd been wearing the HEV suit. This was what it must be like for the civilians in Dr Kleiner's designated safe zones. He had faith in the Resistance guards, they seemed well disciplined and they cared about the citizens, and he thought that a good fence and a band of snipers could easily keep out the zombies. But all it would take was a few headcrabs to get into a room where people were sleeping or injured… a horrible image. He thought about the people he'd left behind when he accepted the Grey Man's offer. His brother and sister-in-law had been very fit, the kind of people who ran marathons for fun; and he thought it was quite possible they'd managed to grab Lucas and run. His nephew could be one of these kids with the AR2s, telling him to reload and watch out for hoppers. But his mom's knees had never been good.
Gordon was overwhelmed by the image of a zombie wearing a purple cardigan, standing next to a stove with a pan of macaroni and cheese that had long since burned dry… He was forced to pull over, and leapt from the car just in time to avoid getting it messy with the combination of stale adrenaline and motion sickness from his erratic driving. In a way he was pleased to have thrown up; he needed to be empty for what he was planning to do. He got back in the car and Alyx made sympathetic noises. She gave the back of his neck a little stroke, which made him tingle. He was going to miss that; but they needed to put an end to this situation, and he wasn't going to achieve that by daydreaming about it.
They set off again, more slowly. "Those zombies must have followed the people out of City 17. Looks like it's going to get more dangerous around here," Alyx observed.
"Yeah," he nodded, and tailed off, apparently deep in thought, but then he added "dangerous." Alyx just smiled. That was about par for a conversation with Gordon. He remained quiet as they arrived at the base and he helped her carry the supplies to the hangar; and made no more sound than a hiss through his teeth when Dr Fred dressed his wound in the infirmary. Alyx headed back outside afterwards to catch up with friends, but Gordon went to find Dr Kleiner.
A/N - a confession: some people, on reading chapter 1, might have thought that Gordon has something of a weird obsession with chickens. This was meant to be a reference to the section in Concerned, where a citizen asks Frohman if he is "Gordon Freeman, the sausage king of chic-" Now for some reason, I thought the missing word was "chicken", possibly based on the references to chikens and Cuccos elsewhere in the comic. Having now seen Ferris Bueller's Day Off, I now realise the missing word is "Chicago." So that's why that's there. I realise that some people have grown quite fond of the idea of Alyx and Gordon living in a cottage and keeping chickens, so I'll be leaving it in ;) Anyway thanks for reading, please keep the reviews coming!