I take off one of the renegades' backpacks and start putting all the valuable things I can find into it. Pistols, some money, ammunition, and a PDA; all of it went into the bag. I only leave food and personal hygiene items. I pick up the double-barreled shotgun from the fallen dead man and head back to the farmstead. I have no desire to meet an armed Clear Sky detachment. Especially since they're on edge right now. They'll shoot me first and then ask what happened.
Proton and Nick are in the same house where I left them. They were sitting tensely and exhaled with relief when I entered. I hand my backpack and shotgun to my partner; he obediently takes the items.
"We heard shooting," Proton begins, hesitating a bit.
"I dealt with the renegades," I reply, then turn to Nick. "Hide it in the attic; we'll pick it up on the way back."
"Okay," the young stalker nods.
"And now you, Proton," I say, taking a map from my breast pocket and unfolding it. "Tell me about Shaman, where he lives, or at least where he was last seen."
"An interesting thing," he examines my map while Nick leaves the house. "The last time he was seen was near our base, but where it is, forgive me, that's confidential information. You saw what happened today. As for Shaman, he often trades with us. We give him some products, and he gives us herbal remedies and ointments of his own making. They heal well. Medicine is scarce here."
"Where can I find him?"
"Let's see, I'll orient myself now," he hesitates, carefully examining the map, then begins to trace his finger across it, pointing to the marks. "We are here now, at the southern farmstead. And Shaman lives here, near Tuzla, where the destroyed bridge is. There's a small cave there behind the barbed wire."
"Will you tell me the easiest way to get there?"
"Sorry, man," he shrugs. "But I can't help you there. You can only go through the swamp or through the renegade camps. Here, the mechanic's yard, their largest camp, a burned-down farmstead, ruins, a boat station. Our guys have hardly ever been there. They sent a few, and none returned. You have a detailed map; you'll figure out what's best for you."
"Hmm," I purse my lips; I expected more help from this Clear Sky man. "Well, tell me at least what mutants live around here."
"That I can do," he smiles. "That's easy for me. Flesh, boars, and bloodsuckers. Sometimes you can meet dogs, but very rarely. We've seen jerboas a few times, those pests. The size of a palm, you can crush them and not notice, but their teeth are sharp as razors. If one latches onto your boot, it'll bite through. If you hear a squeak, immediately jump onto some elevated spot and shoot them."
"Thanks for the help. Goodbye, Proton," I say goodbye to the stalker, shaking his hand and going outside.
Nick is standing leaning against the wall of the house opposite. The stalker sees me, detaches himself from the wall, and takes a few steps towards me. We need to decide what to do. The path to Tuzla is long and dangerous. On one hand, he will help me if I have to shoot my way through mutants, but on the other hand, if I have to sneak carefully past renegades, he could be a hindrance.
"What did you find out?" my partner asks, approaching me.
"The news is not encouraging," I reply. "Getting to Shaman will be difficult. Either swamps or renegade camps."
"Well, it's okay, we'll break through together," Nick pats me on the shoulder and smiles encouragingly. This trip has done him good.
"We need to figure out how to go; Proton isn't much help with that," I reply with the same gesture. "Let's go; I don't want to meet any Clear Sky guys."
"Let's go," without further questions, we leave the farmstead, heading north.
A few minutes later, we find ourselves by a large puddle, hidden from the trodden path by large bushes. To the left of the water, several boulders lie in a pile, and the bank is covered with reeds and cattails mixed together. On the opposite side stands a power transmission tower, at the base of which electrical flashes occasionally run. A wild thought even crossed my mind to check the anomaly for artifacts, but I didn't dare to venture into such a dangerous place. Stopping by an old campfire, I take out the map, unfold it, and show it to Nick. He takes it by the other edge so I can more easily trace my finger on it.
"Here, here, here, and here are renegade camps," I point out the places the Clear Sky man told me about in turn. "The cave where Shaman is holed up is approximately here, and as you can see, it's quite close to one of the camps."
"Mmm, things are..." the stalker replies with a sigh, drawing out the last word.
"I suggest we go around the burned-down farmstead on the right side, then pass by the bridge at the mechanic's yard and, before reaching the ruins, turn right, towards the railway tracks. We'll cross the fence there, and we'll be almost there."
"We'll do that," he agrees with me. "I don't understand anything about this anyway."
The rest of the journey was almost peaceful. A couple of times, we had to hide in the bushes from passing renegade squads, many of whom looked worse than homeless people. Dressed in rags, but they walked like they owned the Swamps. It seems that the Clear Sky guys have had problems with these people long before they saved Shram.
We looked from afar at the burned-down farmstead and the mechanic's yard. Nothing interesting; what I saw almost
completely matched what I remembered from the game. Several burned-down houses, of which only the foundation, embers, and a few heavily charred boards remained. I wonder if the fire started because of fire anomalies or something else?
The mechanic's yard consisted of several tanks, garbage bins, and two houses, one of which was almost completely destroyed. In the middle of the yard was a canopy, under which lay the remnants of the locals' former wealth – several cars and even a tractor. Nick and I didn't dare to go closer; luckily, the renegades hadn't bothered with patrols and sentries, otherwise, advancing would have been much more difficult.
As we approached the bridge, an unforeseen situation occurred. We were spotted by a renegade standing nearby in the bushes, relieving himself. I saw all this after his cry of "suckers." We turned around too late; he managed to draw his pistol and even fire. I raise my shotgun and blow off the top of his face with a charge of buckshot from ten meters. I turn my head to Nick and see him starting to sink, clutching his stomach, where a brown stain has begun to spread. I catch him, put his arm around my neck, and support him by the waist, trying to get away as quickly as possible.
Behind the bridge, curses erupt, and I see out of the corner of my eye several renegades pouring onto it; I couldn't count them. Cursing, I try to speed up, but Nick barely moves his legs. Shooting begins; we manage to hide behind the bushes, but they still keep firing. I even get hit twice. One shot leaves a scratch on my left arm, the second gets stuck in my body armor. From surprise and sharp pain, I almost fall into the swamp mud, but I hold on and continue to drag the almost unconscious stalker.
Exchanging fire with them would be death; I don't even know how many there are, let alone that there isn't a single normal cover here. The only way is to try to escape; Shaman is not far away. My heart beats so fast that it feels like it's about to jump out of my chest, my ears are ringing, and I feel a surge of energy from adrenaline. I look at the stalker's pale face and see that he has somehow managed to lose his rifle. I clench my teeth and drag him further, praying that the renegades don't follow. To scare them, I take my pistol out of its holster and fire a couple of times behind me.
I don't know if they were scared by my shots or just decided that we would perish in the swamps without their help, but they didn't pursue us. I relax a little; at least there won't be problems from this side. The main thing is to get Nick, who is barely moving his legs, to Shaman. I just hope he doesn't bleed out on the way.
But all these troubles that happened to us were not enough. Dragging the stalker was difficult, and we even fell into the mud a couple of times when either he or I stumbled over hummocks, roots, or stones sticking out of the ground. He moaned loudly the whole time, and it felt like he was delirious. Nick didn't react to my speech at all, only moaned and moved his legs slowly.
As soon as I saw the long-awaited barbed wire in the cattail thicket, I was overjoyed because it was torn, and I wouldn't even have to contrive to get through it. But the joy didn't last long, because a nasty, high-pitched squeak, which Proton had warned about, was heard from the side. I grip my pistol tightly in my hand, hoping I can shoot my way through the small creatures.
And then several small, agile gray rodents emerge from the thicket, immediately rushing towards us. I raise my pistol and start shooting at them. I miss a couple of times due to their speed, and when only the last rodent remains, the pistol makes a dry click. No more ammo. I had to kick this jerboa, sending it flying far into the thicket. I carefully lower Nick and immediately change the magazine in my weapon, aiming at new opponents. No one.
I pick up the stalker and go behind the barbed wire. Behind it, I immediately turn left, heading towards Tuzla. I really hope Shaman is there. After a few minutes, I find myself by a dug-out cave, very close to a fallen train from the bridge. I somehow drag the stalker into the dark passage and find myself in a small room with a couple of mattresses lying in the corner, some boxes, and the remains of a campfire in the center of the room. I dump Nick on one of the mattresses when I hear a voice behind me:
"Who are you?"
The slightly raspy voice made me turn sharply, and I see a man about forty years old, of short stature, with wrinkles. On his head is some kind of shaman bandana with a bunch of beaded trinkets. His gray eyes look directly at me.
"Stalkers," I reply, putting away my pistol. "We came to you for help."
"Help? And what kind of help do stalkers need from me?"
"We need to patch him up," I nod towards the moaning Nick. "He was wounded on the way to you."
"Go out," he says curtly. "I'll do it myself, then we'll talk."
I nod and leave the cave. I didn't want to argue or impose my help. While I wait for Shaman to finish with Nick, I peer into the water surface stretching under the destroyed bridge leading to Tuzla. I wonder if there's anything interesting in that tunnel. But I didn't dare to go into the water. I'd get stuck or catch radiation; I don't want that. After looking at the water again, I kick a stone lying on the bank, and it lands in the water with a loud gurgle. I turn around and sit directly on the ground by a rusty wagon. My clothes won't get any dirtier. After a few minutes, I hear footsteps.
"How is he?" I ask, fixing my gaze on Shaman.
"It's gratifying that you're so worried about him," he replies, handing me a bundle. "Your partner will recover, in time. You'll have to leave alone. Here."
"What is this?" I take the bundle from his hands, unwrap it, and see some vials and even a plastic jar.
"This is the medicine you came here for."
"But I didn't come alone," I look at him in surprise. "And I didn't say what we needed."
"You came here for medicine; he," Shaman nods towards the cave, and only now do I realize that the stalker standing before me was completely unarmed. "Came here for you. Take it and leave; I've written the instructions."
"How can I repay your help?"
"You'll come back here with food in a week for the medicine," he replies, turning his back to me. "Your partner will settle with me himself. Have a good journey, stalker."