"Why?" I shift my obviously stunned gaze from the anomalies to the Shaman, who is still sitting on the ground.
"It was necessary," he replies firmly, starting to get up from the ground. "Just as it was necessary for you to arrive before the time I named. The Zone itself is leading you, stalker."
"What does that mean?" I ask, taking a couple of steps closer to him, standing almost at his side.
"That's what it means, stalker," the Shaman says calmly, paying no attention to how close I've come. "You will get answers to your questions, not now and not all of them, but you will get them."
I clench my teeth and step back from the stalker, peering intently at his serene face, but he pays no attention to the glances I cast at him. Thoughts one after another surfaced in my head, forming such a twisted knot, but I had to push it all away. It's not the time or place for such deep reflections, especially since there's really no one to trust here. And the Zone, even in the game, was always a place full of mysteries. Realization, the Monolith, various experiments... Could it be?
"You're not thinking about the right thing now, stalker," the Shaman's voice pulls me out of my thoughts.
"What should I be thinking about, Shaman?" I raise my voice slightly in response.
"Don't bare your teeth at me," he says just as calmly. "I am not your enemy."
"And who are you? A friend?"
"Not yet," the Shaman says, sniffing the cool air slightly. "But you wanted to ask about your partner. He's recovering."
"How do you manage to know everything?" I shake my head. "But thank you."
"Let's go," he ignores my question. "It's time for us to go. It will get dark soon, and even your new gift won't help you."
The Shaman takes a few steps towards me until he is behind my back, and, judging by the sound of his steps, continues to walk. I watch him for a moment, then shift my gaze to the evening Sun, which has painted the sky orange and gold. I didn't even notice how much time had passed. It really is worth hurrying, so I turn and quickly catch up with the stalker.
As we walked to the Clear Sky camp, I was staring intently at the anomalies we encountered. It seems I can really get by without bolts and an anomaly detector now, but it's better to have them at hand just in case. And I still need to conduct a few practical experiments. At least I'll find out how it works and maybe I'll be able to accurately determine the boundaries of anomalies by eye.
The road to the farmstead took little time; the Shaman walked just as fast as before, and I tried to keep up with him. On the approach to the camp, we were met by several Clear Sky members who had decided to chop some branches from nearby bushes. I don't know why they need these half-dry wooden sticks, but whatever. As soon as we enter the camp territory, a young guy runs up to us, to whom the Shaman had entrusted the bag of food for safekeeping, and hands it over to the stalker. He picks it up and, without saying goodbye, leaves the camp. In the late evening.
"Is that normal?" I ask the guy, who is still standing nearby.
"That he left almost at night?" he replies with a question. "Yes. I don't know how, but anomalies and beasts are not afraid of him. He can afford it."
"And renegades?"
"He avoids them by a wide margin, and I've heard that they are afraid of him, like he'll curse them, ha," he laughs briefly, and then continues. "By the way, Triton said to come to him as soon as you show up. He's in that house, if you forgot."
I nod to him gratefully and hurry to the leader of this outpost, if one can call it that. I need to talk about Sidorovich's business, and I also need to find a place to stay for the night, preferably somewhere warmer and drier. I really don't want to look for a tree in the swamps at night to sleep. I enter the house, and I am immediately met by the grim gaze of the stalker who had pointed his automatic rifle at me in the morning. I stop to say hello, but before I can, he interrupts me.
"Why are you standing there?" he says angrily, then nods his chin towards the corridor. "Triton is there, he's been waiting for you."
"It's nothing," I reply simply, not wanting to get into an argument.
I walk further and enter a single large room, furnished with several crates, a couple of chairs, and a wide, but very worn table, at which Triton was sitting. In his hands, he held some kind of book with a faded title and a metal mug, from which he occasionally took a sip. Hearing my steps, he looked up from the book at me and nodded, pointing to a chair. I sit down.
"You and Shaman were gone for a long time," he begins, putting the book aside. "Well, never mind, while you were gone, our trader prepared everything. Here's the flash drive, we're returning it. Now, where did I put it?"
Triton gets up from his place, starting to look for something in the room, until he lightly slaps his forehead. The stalker turns 180 degrees and walks to one of the crates, opens the lid, and pulls out a case, something like a tool container. He puts it on the table and continues.
"This is what Sidorovich asked for," he says, and then sips from his mug again. "Radio parts for his station. So be careful when you return to the Cordon."
"About that," I say, looking at the dark green plastic case without any
identifying marks. "Can I stay the night here?"
"Heh, of course!" the stalker replies with a smile. "What kind of questions? There's a place for you in the shed, the guys will make room."
"And one more thing. Do you have a spare sleeping bag to rent? I'll pay."
"You came without yours?" Triton raises an eyebrow in surprise.
"I thought I'd be back quickly, so I didn't take it."
"That was a mistake, kid," he chuckles. "We plan, but the Zone disposes! We'll get you a sleeping bag now, no need to pay, but keep this in mind – if you're going on a one-day raid, pack as if you're going for two. If you're going for two, pack for four. So many good guys have perished, simply by miscalculating supplies and other things."
"Thank you," I nod and shake the stalker's firm hand.
"You go," Triton says. "Mitya will bring you the sleeping bag by the fire, and you'll take the parts in the morning."
I say goodbye and go outside, stretching and yawning. The sun was already rapidly setting below the horizon, the sunset rays disappearing one by one. I'm about to take the first step towards the campfire, where several stalkers were gathered, when my gaze meets the gaze of Stone. It slipped my mind, but what can you do, I walk towards him.
The stocky stalker was leaning against the wall of the house where Triton was sitting, and casting brief glances at everyone present on the farmstead. Seeing me, he waved his hand, as if to say, come here. As soon as I got closer, he detached himself from the wall and said briefly:
"Let's go a little ways," his voice sounded a bit hoarse.
We walk not far from the camp, only about ten meters or so. Stone stops by a large puddle and takes out a pack of cigarettes, offering me to join. I refuse. He chuckles briefly and, taking out a lighter, lights up. We are silent for a while as the stalker inhales and exhales tobacco smoke.
"Haa," he sighs, is silent for a moment longer, and begins. "I asked Proton about you."
"How is he, by the way? The wound was serious."
"He'll be fine, a couple of weeks and he'll be back in service," another puff. "Aren't you interested in what he told me about you?"
"I'm unlikely to learn anything new about myself," I shake my head. "You said you had business with me?"
"Yes," Stone replies. "I need to kill a creature."
"Some renegade?" if Proton told him how I killed several of them.
"What?" the stalker says, frowning, stopping his hand with the cigarette a few centimeters from his lips and turning to face me. "No, no renegades. We need to kill a bloodsucker."
"Then why couldn't this be discussed at the camp, if there's no crime?" I ask him.
"Because Triton is categorically against this idea, and others agree with him," Stone spits into the puddle, causing ripples on the water. "If you refuse too, I'll go alone."
"There's a story behind this, right?"
"You bet," he inhales. "Recently, about a week ago, a detachment of ours stumbled upon a bloodsucker lair. And the worst part is, they settled not too far away."
"You said you needed to kill one."
"That's right," he nods in agreement. "We observed first, then gathered with the guys, went there, and made such a racket, but we only took down two creatures. Three survived, and one of them was badly wounded. Get it?"
"Two went to the Cordon, and the third is still operating here?"
"Exactly."
"So what's the problem? You could have gathered again and wiped it out, there are experienced people among your group, it seems.
"The problem is that this creature is a complete bastard. It only attacks ours and only lone ones," the cigarette butt flew into the puddle. "It identifies victims by the color of their suits. The situation was already difficult before Proton's capture, and now you might as well hang yourself, you can't always move in groups. These renegades, damn them, are suffocating us on all fronts. By the way, the bloodsucker doesn't touch them, it's taking revenge on us. Where one renegade passes and just scratches his ass, ours will definitely be eaten."
"Well, you have quite a situation here."
"Indeed," Stone exhales. "It's such a shitty situation. And you can't gather a large detachment, the creature will just hide, and going with a small group is dangerous, the renegades will kill you. And Proton said you're a renowned shooter. And you've dealt with bloodsuckers yourself. That's why I'm calling you."
"Are there no other renowned shooters in Clear Sky? Am I some kind of last hope?"
"That's not true, stalker," Stone objects. "We have many cool stalkers in our clan, you're not even close to them. It's just that they're not here, they're on very important missions. And there's a bloodsucker. And there's you. Will you help?"
"What about payment?"
"Isn't a big human thank you enough for an honest stalker?" the stalker says, and then can't help but laugh. "Heh, you should have seen your face, kid. I'll pay with money, three thousand, I don't have any more, and you can keep the tentacles. Deal?"
"Deal," I nod in agreement and shake the offered hand. "When do we start?"
"Tomorrow morning, I'll wake you up," Stone replies. "Let's go back."
Returning to the camp, I find Triton's messenger sitting by the fire with my eyes, and I take the sleeping bag from him, asking him to return it in the morning, to which I nod in agreement. Then, after a quick dinner of heated stew and a pack of crackers, I go to sleep. The morning promises to be eventful, and before that, I need to get a good night's sleep and rest. In the shed, besides me, there were a few other stalkers; the rest were outside. So I settle comfortably in the sleeping bag by the wall, half-listening to the stories that reached my ears.
Before falling asleep, I thought hard about the situation. I didn't like Shaman's "the Zone is leading you, stalker" at all; I don't want to be led in some incomprehensible games. And what to do now is also unclear. I can't blindly trust either Shaman or the System, although they both treat me loyally and help me a lot in the realities of the Zone.
"Well, you've outdone yourself," a cheerful voice says, laughing loudly and heartily.
On the one hand, the unknown System that pulled me into this world but gave me special skills for survival in the Exclusion Zone. And for all this "goodness," it demands absolutely nothing, because its goal is simply to help me survive. Who knows where this help might lead me later.
"It's not funny," grumbles the second. "Don't you have anything newer than these bearded jokes?"
On the other hand, Shaman, a shady character who anticipates all my actions. He knew that I would come to him with Nick, and that I would come the next day. I wouldn't be surprised if he specifically came to the Clear Sky base to ambush me so I wouldn't wander around the Swamps for too long. And most importantly, he somehow managed to teach me to see anomalies. Who says he's not capable of more? He somehow manages without weapons in these parts.
The only thing that is clear to me now is that nothing is clear. All that remains is to patiently accumulate questions and wait for the opportunity to ask them. The System will remain silent, I am almost sure of it. Shaman is still dodging, saying it's not time, stalker. Well, nothing, we'll get through it.