The road to the Cordon was long and difficult, I made several stops because my legs were aching terribly. I even had to walk along the edge of the swamps, it wasn't always possible to walk on the road. Either a blockage, or too high radiation background, it's good that I bought a dosimeter, otherwise I would have been fried by X-rays.
Somewhere there, as far as I remember from the game, the Chistoye Nebo group is hidden deep in the swamps. Interesting guys, I even thought about dropping by, but immediately dismissed the idea. The real map was very different from the game, and I don't know exactly where their base is, and I'm more likely to get stuck in the quagmire than to get anywhere without normal paths. And who knows what kind of filth lives there.
It was already starting to get dark when I reached a concrete tunnel passing through a large and overgrown embankment. I tried to climb up and see what was there, but suddenly appearing metal debris and remnants of railway tracks made the dosimeter play a cheerful melody. Not an option, I'll have to go through the tunnel after all.
I take out a pack of potassium iodide from my chest pocket, swallow a pill and wash it down with water. The daily dose of the drug has been taken for today, I've done this several times on the way here. I put on my gas mask, screw in the filter, and why did I even unscrew it? I turn on the flashlight and start walking through the tunnel. I sweep the beam of light over the scuffed sections of the walls, here and there peeking through bricks and piles of construction debris on the floor. Once I stumbled, almost fell, but managed to react. The tunnel itself was about fifteen meters long, so I passed it quickly. As I exited it, something started hissing in my backpack. I quickly take it off, and the hissing object turned out to be the communicator. I take it out and hear:
"...local merchant, Sidorovich," a hoarse voice whispers quietly, so I increase the volume. I didn't know this device had a long-range communication function, I'll have to ask later. "No one has come from that side for a long time, so I'm telling you - the military have tightened the rules. If they notice you, they'll start shooting."
Damn. I could have remembered myself that the military there were firing like crazy from a machine gun. I take off the gas mask with slightly fogged lenses, the dosimeter has stopped crackling anyway, I crouch down and peek out of the tunnel. I can't see anything, the tunnel is covered by trees and green foliage. I take out my PDA and check the map to see where I'll have to crawl on my belly. So, I found the tunnel on the map, the checkpoint, the village to the north of here. Oh, and it's bigger than the one in the game.
I emerge from the tunnel on bent legs and approach a thick oak, peeking out from behind the tree to see a military checkpoint. It's about a kilometer away, maybe a bit more or less. From here, I can even see the soldiers scurrying back and forth. Bad. That means they'll easily spot me too if I stand up. I look to the left and see a barbed wire fence. What kind of idiot put that here? I could jump over it, but I have nothing to throw over, and they'd see me. Apparently, I'll have to crawl on my belly. Well, nothing to be done. I tuck the sawed-off shotgun behind my belt, pull out my pistol, and assume a penguin pose. And I crawl, just like they taught us in school.
The first few meters were easy, then it became less so. The stones and branches digging into my body didn't exactly make for pleasant sensations, and then my neck got stiff. I don't know how long I crawled like that, but when I decided to lift my head, I saw a dog's muzzle in front of me. The red mutt had already bared its teeth, saliva dripping from its mouth. I practically leap up, kick it in the head with my boot, and bolt, praying to anyone who would listen that they wouldn't start shooting at me.
A cheerful bark erupted behind me; the dog, it seemed, wasn't alone. Fortunately, there were no gunshots. And ahead, houses and a wooden fence appeared; the village was close! I run with all my might, realizing I'd made a serious mistake. I'd walked right into the mutants' jaws! Well, I'll reach the village, jump over the fence, and then I'll hold them off, as long as the stalkers don't get too angry.
One of the dogs breaks free to my right, clearly intending to intercept its prey. But some shimmering haze appears in its path, and the mutt runs headlong into it. Out of the corner of my eye, I see it spinning, twisting, and being turned inside out with a sickening squelch of meat and a crack of bones. Damn, I completely forgot about the anomalies!
The salvation of a fence appears before me, only a short distance away. I leap, grab its edge with both hands, and tumble over it at full speed. Right in front of the stalkers, who were stunned by the sight, sitting by the fire. The barking behind the fence turned into whimpering, and the Zone's creatures decided to retreat. They know there are people in this camp; they're afraid to intrude.
"Hey, guys," I greet them, standing up and shaking off my pants. I immediately check my pockets to make sure everything is in place. The backpack is on my back, the sawed-off shotgun in my pants, the Hunter's rifle in its case over my shoulder, and the pistol lies a step away from me, having fallen from my hands when I tumbled over the fence.
"Well, you're something else, rookie," one of them whistled. He
was tall, wearing a bandana, and sitting on a stump by the fire. "Were you running from the blind ones like that?"
"Yeah," I nod. "I had to crawl on my belly to avoid getting shortened by a machine gun from the military. And I crawled right into those dogs."
"Heh," chuckles another, a more stocky stalker. He was sitting on a wooden crate. "Get used to it; something always goes wrong here. You think you're almost at the camp, you can relax, but nope, it's just the beginning."
"Are you starting again?" the first one sighs, then addresses me. "Byk always tells this story."
"And that's good, I'd listen, I'd learn something," I say and walk closer, watching Byk deflate a bit when the other stalker shut him down. "So, what happened?"
"See, Gradus," he smiles. "There are normal listeners here, not like some. Well, listen, rookie. It was last year, before the first frosts. We were on a mission for Sidorovich, our local trader, he sits in a bunker behind the village. We had to shoot some dogs beyond the Elevator, it's not far from here, north of the village. I was there, Zayats, and Olen. A whole zoo, damn it. It seemed like an easy job, a piece of cake. We went, shot them, and turned back. It's not far, about twenty minutes on foot. And we'd already taken this path, why hesitate? We're walking, the scenery is beautiful, no one around. And then, out of nowhere, a boar ran out from behind the bushes. Olen and I jumped in different directions, but Zayats didn't react in time. The boar impaled him on its tusks, guts everywhere, blood everywhere. We killed the boar, of course, but Zayats was already a goner. So, remember what I'm about to say. Always be careful when you walk an unknown path, and be doubly careful when you walk a path you've already taken."
"That's all nonsense," Gradus grumbled. "A normal person wouldn't believe in superstitions. And if I say, 'May I drop dead,' does that mean I'll immediately sink into the ground? Ha! May I drop dead if all this superstitious nonsense works!"
"O-oh, you shouldn't have said that, Gradus," Byk shook his head. "The Zone, it hears everything. And sees. And reads thoughts. So, rookie, remember. Never challenge it like this fool, and you'll be safer."
"I'll remember, Byk," I say, getting up from the crate I sat on during the stalker's story. "Can you tell me where the Hunter's house is? I need to deliver something to him."
"The house with the faded blue roof, on the outskirts of the village," Gradus answers this time. "But I don't know if you'll be able to give him what you brought."
"And why not?"
"The Hunter's drunk, seriously drunk. Sometimes he comes out of it, but it's rare and for a short time," Byk says. "Some bastard, I don't remember his nickname, stole his rifle. Right in broad daylight, by the time they noticed, he was gone. And it wasn't just any rifle; his deceased son gave it to the Hunter. So the old man started drinking. The Zone took his son, and the last memory of him."
"You always go on about that," the second stalker couldn't help himself, got up from the stump, and stomped into the house next door. "The Zone this, the Zone that, ugh, I'm tired of it."
"Thanks anyway," I nod to Byk one last time and go outside the fence.
The novice village resembled the one in the game, but only resembled it. The village in reality turned out to be somewhat larger. There weren't six or seven houses, but about twice as many. Crooked roofs, missing slate in places, somewhat dilapidated boards, even a couple of almost completely destroyed houses. You could say it was a typical abandoned village, but people still lived here. There were fewer stalkers than in the Abandoned Town in the Ante-room, but perhaps that was only at first glance. I walk to the outskirts of the village, looking for the faded blue roof, but I don't forget to glance at the stalkers. There were novices in leather jackets, as well as more experienced stalkers, who wore overalls with lots of pockets and carried more substantial weapons.
And here's the house I was looking for. I enter the yard enclosed by a fence, approach the door, and knock loudly. Nothing happens. I knock again, the same result. On the third try, I hear footsteps inside the house, and a minute later, the door opens.
"Volk, if you've come again to nag me about training the young ones, you know my answer," a sturdy but gaunt man in his sixties greets me. Black hair with streaks of gray, a couple of scars on his face, a slightly hooked nose, and displeased, narrowed eyes with a keen gaze. "And who are you? Why have you come?"
"Just a novice, don't even have a nickname yet," I reply to the Hunter, taking the rifle case off my shoulder and handing it to him. "And I've come to return what was lost."
"This is..." he practically snatches it from my hands, opens it, and pulls the rifle out into the light, then takes a step towards me and hugs me tightly. "Well, thank you, son! I thought I'd never see it again. Come on in, why are you standing at the threshold?"
I enter the house behind the stalker and close the door behind me. Surprisingly, the house was cool, and the hunter himself didn't smell of alcohol. The hallway is quite clean, and the owner himself walks around the house in slippers, so I sit on a small stool and start unlacing my boots. The Hunter disappears into another room. As soon as I take off my shoes, I put on the first slippers I find and walk into the other room. A spacious room with a stove, a kitchen set hanging on the walls, a table covered with empty bottles, and a few chairs.
"Sit, sit, I'll put the kettle on, brew some herbs," the man bustles, clearing bottles from the table and indeed placing a large iron kettle on the stove, where a fire was already crackling. "I gathered and dried them myself. I'll go down to the cellar now and get something to eat. You must be hungry, right? I haven't seen you at the Cordon before, did you come from far away?"
"From the Ante-room, it was indeed quite a long walk," I reply, watching the Hunter open the cellar lid and descend, then a few minutes later pulling out jars of various pickles, meat, and even eggs with potatoes. "And where did all this wealth come from? There was never anything like this at the Ante-room."
"Food?" the stalker asks and answers my question. "I get the meat myself, and don't worry, I checked it with a dosimeter, the radiation is normal, the rest I traded for trophies from Sidorovich. He has established supplies with the military."
"How? Don't the military shoot stalkers?"
"They do, and how, those bastards. Need a hand?" The Hunter gestures towards the potatoes, and I nod in agreement to peel them. "But money is money everywhere. Sidorovich bribes the checkpoint commander, who then sends soldiers to transport supplies to a certain location, but I don't know exactly where. Our trader sends stalkers, they pick it up, everyone's happy. It costs a fortune, but you can't live on canned food, grains, and pasta alone. And thank you, truly, thank you. My son gave me this rifle; he, like me, was fond of hunting until he was killed in the Gut."
"My condolences."
"No need, it was a long time ago, back at the dawn of stalkerdom," the Hunter says, slicing the meat. "And how did you find it? I thought that Spill-something-or-other sold it, or kept it for himself. It's a good rifle, especially against mutants."
"He hid the rifle in a cache," I say, then take a sip of the herbal tea poured into a large glass. It's delicious. "He was probably afraid they'd find out whose rifle it really was; I don't think there are many of such beauty in the Zone. So it just lay hidden for all these months under the floorboards of one of the houses. But you should check it; I don't think six months of lying around did it any good."
"Heh, don't teach a scholar, son," the old man chuckles, taking out a large frying pan and generously greasing it with oil.
"And how did I find out... he turned out to be a murderer, he killed two stalkers," I say, watching the Hunter place the potatoes and meat in the pan. My stomach rumbled loudly. "It so happened that I caught him, with a fatal outcome for him. I read it on the PDA. Both that you quarreled, and how he stole your rifle, and where he hid it."
"Well, he deserved it, that rat," the stalker replies, putting the pan in the stove. "We quarreled with him because I didn't like how he looked at my house. You probably heard that there are untold riches here, right. The most valuable thing I have is this rifle that you returned, and a workbench and tools for reloading cartridges."
"Reloading cartridges?"
"Yes," the Hunter nods, sitting down at the table and taking a sip of tea. "There are a lot of creatures in the Zone, and each requires a different approach. Unless, of course, you have a heavy-caliber sniper rifle or a machine gun of the same caliber. But no one has such things in the Zone, at least I haven't heard of it. So if you need to kill a particularly annoying and resilient creature, they come to me or a couple of my other acquaintances who also reload cartridges."
"And are such cartridges much more powerful?" I lean forward slightly. Such cartridges wouldn't hurt me.
"Heh, already got your hopes up?" the old man smiled. "You can't make them much more powerful, or the barrel will burst. And in general, homemade ammunition wears out weapons quickly; after a few shots, it will need repair."
"That's a shame," I exhale, leaning back in my chair. "I wouldn't mind such ammunition."
"And who wouldn't, son," the Hunter says, checking if the food is ready. "Hmm, I can't promise cartridges, but I can offer something better."
"What?"
"You know, lately I've been thinking that I need to quit the Zone, and..." he paused for a moment, looking at the rifle leaning against the wall. "I think that's the right decision. But before I do, I want
to teach you, if not everything I know about hunting, then a lot. And I'll teach you how to reload cartridges too. You're not in a hurry to get to the center of the Zone, like many rookies?"
"No, no, and I'd gladly learn from you," I smile, rejoicing at this turn of events.
"That's good, but first we'll eat, and then we'll sort everything out."