HALF LIFE: FULL LIFE CONSEQUENCES [REWRITTEN!]

CHAPTER TWO: WHAT HAS TO BE DONE.

Later that night, John got home and went straight to bed. Collapsing amongst his pillows and tangled sheets as he recalled the horrors he had seen today. He looked back down at his hands. Just as shaky as they had always been, regardless of the anxiety. He brushed an opposing thumb over his palm to soothe himself, though it did nothing besides remind himself of how similar his brother's hands had felt to his own, and John Freeman was ready to burst into tears once more.

Losing a loved one is something incredibly difficult to cope with, and coping had never been his strong suit.

That night, his grief found a way to manifest in his dreams.

After about twenty minutes of fighting the overwhelming urge to cry, the young man had passed out to find himself walking along in a forest of his own imagination's creation.

The stroll had been rather pleasant up until he heard the near-deafening cry of a distressed bird. John decided the least he could do was try to help, and so he attempted to run in the direction of the noise. Even if last time he tried to help had ended in...complete disaster.

The man frowned as he came across a bird's nest, jostled in places and flaking at the edges but still somewhat intact. The twiggy fortress contained a mother bird and her two eggs. The third had unfortunately splattered upon impact, something that John had noticed with a great pang of what he guessed to be sadness. As softly as he could, he picked the nest up and placed it on a nearby branch. He wished the imaginary bird a nice day under his breath and he started to walk away, the dream already crumbling beneath him.

John Freeman woke up later that night in a cold sweat, wondering what any of it could have meant.

Even later that day and after a particularly heartless breakfast of nothing but poorly-brewed coffee, John reluctantly went back to his job. He knew they'd probably try and fire him at the next chance they got, and he could not afford to lose it now, or ever for that matter.

He spent most of his work hours that day looking at pictures of birds. Trying anything to keep his mind off of it. A few of his co-workers had dropped by and asked him what was wrong, but he had just simply brushed them off. A few other co-workers appeared to be dead on the floor. The janitor would've cleaned them up, but he was dead too.

The brown-haired man shuddered, turning his chair back around to face his computer which was clogged with tabs and tabs of canaries. Birds had always been interesting to him, even as a small child. Though, one tab wasn't full of yellow-toned birds, no. It was gmail.com.

And John Freeman had a new email.

It was one from his mother, however. So, maybe things weren't all bad. He clicked it open, wondering what sort of heartfelt e-letter she had sent her favorite son today.

Oh.

'Dear My-Favorite-Son John, how are you? I miss you! Make sure to come and visit sometime, ok? You should bring Gordon along too! It's been so long since the whole family's been together. Okay, goodbye! Love, Mom.'

Oh, poor Gordon. Gone far, far too soon. How was John going to break the news to his mother that her eldest son had died tragically no less than a few days ago?

Wait! What if he just didn't? It's like they always said, ignorance is bliss. Perhaps even John could ignore the Gordon shaped hole in his heart if he tried hard enough.

On the walk back home, he swore he heard someone trying to talk to him. Everytime he heard a snippet of a sentence he would whip around, only to find that no one was there. The whispering and the murmuring and the haunting continued up until he reached his front door, where the spirits from Black Mesa had already been standing. As pale and as dead as ever.