acts_of_gord | We Don't Go To Ravenholm- Oh Wait, Looks Like We Do

"You are welcome," says Father Grigori. "Now, come. And tread softly, for we pass through hallowed ground."

Namely, the graveyard. Which looks peaceful enough at first, but this is an old town and an old church, and that means many dead; and it's not long before the zombies start staggering out of the shadows.

Dinah almost sighs.

But then she doesn't have time for emotions, because she's launching herself at the first few, striking out quickly with fists and feet and keeps them as far back as possible.

So much for treading softly.

Father Grigori doesn't sigh himself, but there's a brief moment of regret visible on his face in the moonlight. Then, of course, he's firing into the staggering horrors that used to be the people of Ravenholm and shouting, "The grave holds nothing worse for you, my child! Return to your true form!"

Gordon doesn't say anything. He's too busy firing on anything that comes up on their rear. But his is an approving silence, if that helps at all?

Nobody can really say just how long it takes to battle across the graveyard to the equipment shed at the far end. It's probably best not to think too much on that time anyway. Gordon's got enough experience with this sort of thing to know there are patches of time you don't want to remember in too much detail.

But they reach the shed eventually, and Father Grigori hastens to unlock the gate to the mines. "Farewell, the both of you," says the priest, glancing towards the graveyard proper. "I fear I deliver you to a darker place. May the Light of Lights be with you. Look to your own salvation."

He steps back into the shadows, one hand raised in benediction. It doesn't last long, as he needs both hands to work his gun.

"This way," says Gordon as Father Grigori fires. "The faster we're out of here the better."

There's almost a temptation to plough through the crowd on her own, but Dinah stays close to the two men. She concentrates on the combat, only peripherally aware of the gunshots and hoping no one manages to shoot her.

She's already decided she prefers fighting muggers. At least they fight back.

Maybe next time she winds up here by mistake, she'll find herself in City 17. Not so much muggers, but Civil Protection- masked thugs who have a daily beating quota and serve oppressive alien masters. They deserve a good beatdown.

At least there's no zombies where they're going; the building they slip into has several working generators that illuminate an extremely precarious descent into a mineshaft, but there's no sight nor sound of zombies anywhere below. Gordon considers what he can see before looking up. "Dinah," he says, "I didn't mean to drag you into this. The door to Milliways opened up on me without warning. It might happen again. If we get separated, I'll look for you- but if the door opens and I'm not there, you'd better take it. I don't know how often it's likely to happen again."

Dinah doesn't look altogether happy about leaving him, and opens her mouth with the intention of saying so.

"Let's stay together," she says instead. "Otherwise I guess Milliways is a good enough meeting place."

"I did say if," Gordon points out with something that might almost be a smile. "Fury'd kill me if he found out I deliberately separated from somebody who wound up in my world by mistake. Not to mention Valerie's reaction."

That being said, he starts picking his way down the mineshaft. The ladder is... let's just say it's a typical former Iron Curtain country's idea of a sop to safety regulations, neglected for many years, so the trip down is slow going. There's a raised platform- no, a raised walkway- directly under the shaft's far end... which is probably just as well, since Dinah will start hearing and seeing pretty soon that the floor of the tunnel is alive with headcrabs.

"Oh," is Dinah's succinct reaction to that sight. "Crap."

She puts a hand out again for the crowbar and gives Gordon a meaningful look. "I vote for running for it."

Gordon hands over the crowbar without a further word, then undoes the duct-tape loop on his belt that holds a gun she won't have seen him use before. This many headcrabs, he wants full automatic fire and the possibility of canister grenades. "Three," he says, taking aim at an oil barrel in the opposite direction from the one they plan to go. "Two. One-"

As the BRRRABOOOM! of the barrel's explosion sends headcrab parts flying everywhere, they bolt. "Keep an eye out for barnacle tongues!" he shouts as they run. "Anything hanging from the ceiling might be trying to kill you- they're really common these days!"

"Got it!" Dinah shouts back. She glances up at the ceiling once then focuses forward to really sprint, trying to block out the noise of that many headcrabs dying horribly.

There's nothing on the ceiling just yet, thankfully. And the headcrabs are screaming with animal rage to a degree that might block out the death noises. The spidery-legged ones present the most problems; they're faster than the black ones or the ones that look like bloated ticks, and they leap without warning. Gordon is mostly firing at them as they flee through the twisty tunnels.

It's not until they come to a gap too wide for a human to jump that this becomes a problem. Gordon looks as if he'd like to swear at the sight, but says nothing; instead he peers over the edge. "Water," he says tersely. "It's got a current- it's flowing somewhere. And I think I see light in the distance. Can you swim?"

"Yeah," Dinah assures him, tugging at her sweater. It's already ruined, and will just slow her down. It only takes a second to pull it off anyway.

"Deep enough to dive?"

It had better be, because she's diving.

"And then some."

The water is cold, clear, and deep enough for Gordon to dive- and he's wearing armor and covered in guns. There's nothing living in it, a fact for which he's fervently grateful. The last thing he needs right now are those leech creatures he remembers from Black Mesa- or a juvenile dinoshark. In fact, the only sign of life in the waters is a faintly swaying reddish thing dangling down from the surface as they make their way through to the light at the far end.

At the sight, Gordon stops and gestures to Dinah to move out of the way. Several pistol shots later, the red thing withdraws upwards like a suddenly-cut pulley cable, and several half-digested...it's probably best to think of them as things... tumble downwards. "Barnacle," is all Gordon says before pushing on.

The light, it happens, is from a small electrical rig on dry land. They've passed through the watery tunnels and come to the bottom end of a slanted mineshaft- one with a cart in it that bears one of Father Grigori's chopper blade rigs. At the far end of the tunnel, there's just barely visible-

"Daylight," Gordon says. "We're almost at the surface. If we can get that cart started we should be able to get there safely."

"Great," says Dinah, hauling herself out easily and offering a hand to Gordon - that suit can't be light.

"At least the cart's armed."

It's not. He's pushing himself out of the water with one hand and holding onto Dinah's with the other and it's still a hell of a job to get out. He has to wait a moment for the water to trickle out of everything before he can continue.

"Too bad neither of us are small enough to fit under the blade for the whole ride there," he says ruefully. "All right, let's get moving."

He pulls the brake release lever next to the cart and skitters back. The blade spins up, slowly at first, then faster, and the cart starts moving up the slope at a remarkable rate of speed.

The whackity chop splud urrrgh noises start within moments of it slipping out of the light's range and into the darkness.

"Gonna be a fun walk," Gordon observes as he starts off.

"Yeah," Dinah says, sticking close to him and grimacing at the noise. She nudges him slightly with the crowbar to make him takes it and keeps a hold of the other end.

"Nothing like a nighttime stroll through dismembered corpses."

"Could be worse," Gordon says, wrapping his hand around the curved part. It's too dark in here to see much of anything but the light at the far end, and his suit light's battery is almost out. "Had to make it through the residue processing section of Black Mesa once. You have any idea how much 'residue' a self-contained base that size puts out in a week?"

Why yes, it is meant as a distraction from the remains of the zombies, why do you ask?

"Do I even want to know what it's residue of?"

Dinah grimaces in the dark, resigned to finding out anyway.

"We had on-site employee dormitories. And a private sewer system. And that was the nice stuff-"

They're almost at the end of the cart's track now. The surface is still some distance away, but that's all right. The daylight is growing brighter and brighter beyond the cart's reach; anything that tries to attack them now should be visible, right? Mind you, even without the corpses, the tunnel floor here's still less than ideal to cross...

...it's uneven and irregular and difficult to navigate, especially when holding on to one end of a crowbar.

They're near the surface when the track runs out and the cart stops, at around the same time that the path slopes up suddenly at an angle that suddenly allowed direct sunlight through and into Dinah's eyes.

The combination of sudden light and uneven ground work at just the wrong time, and she trips, letting go of the crowbar.

Gordon staggers a little himself; the crowbar's motion jerks him off balance, and the light's a little worse for a man wearing heavily scratched and otherwise vile eyeglasses. By the time he rights himself-

"Dinah? Where..."

... she's gone.

...it's uneven and irregular and difficult to navigate, especially when holding on to one end of a crowbar.

They're near the surface when the track runs out and the cart stops, at around the same time that the path slopes up suddenly at an angle that suddenly allowed direct sunlight through and into Dinah's eyes.

The combination of sudden light and uneven ground work at just the wrong time, and she lets go of the crowbar when she trips.

We Don't Go To Ravenholm- Oh Wait, Looks Like We Do

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