First, I help Shrike into a semi-sitting position and carefully examine his head. A large bump on the back of his head, a couple of bruises on his left cheek, and a few scratches, which he likely got during the fall. Nothing serious, but it needs to be treated. I take off my backpack and rummage inside for everything I need.
"Okay, I'll give you a painkiller and treat all your injuries," I say, taking a blister pack of painkillers from the first-aid kit. "How are you feeling?"
"Are you even asking?" Shrike exhales. "Terrible... The freaks hit me on the head with something..."
"Well, if you can complain, then everything will be fine, here, open your mouth," I put the medicine on his tongue and bring a flask of water to his lips, after which the mercenary greedily latches onto the neck. "Now I'll wipe it with an alcohol wipe and try to help you up."
I take out the last few wipes from the pack and start wiping Shrike's dirty face, then move on to the bump on the back of his head. It would be better to use green antiseptic on all these injuries, but beggars can't be choosers. After finishing the treatment, I stand up and offer the mercenary my hand, carefully helping him to his feet. He squints hard, then shakes his head slightly and almost falls when he tries to lean towards one of the marauders' corpses.
"Hey, be careful," I say, managing to catch him and prevent him from falling on the dirty concrete again. "Just stand there, and I'll collect everything you need here."
"I can myself..." Shrike starts to say, but I immediately interrupt him.
"Yeah, yeah," I say, looking him up and down. The once formidable mercenary now looked quite pathetic. Pale, shivering from the basement's coolness, and without clothes – the marauders had only left him his underwear and a t-shirt – he looked more like an unfortunate lover caught in the act by a suddenly arrived husband. "Just shut up and accept my help. If you act up, you'll only hurt yourself more."
"Why?" he asks, looking at me distrustfully, but still steps back to the wall, leaning against it.
"Why what?"
"Why are you helping me like this?"
"Do you need special reasons to help?" I reply, taking a backpack stuffed with clothes and other items from one of the corpses. "Here, take your stuff. Will you dress yourself?"
"The last time I was helped, I was signed up for dangerous and low-paying work..." he mutters quietly, starting to carefully put on his clothes. "I don't understand you. Almost anyone would have taken this opportunity and run off with my loot. But you treated my wounds, shared your medicine, and are even helping me collect my things now..."
"Why not help someone in trouble, especially when it costs you nothing to do so," I say, continuing to search the marauders and piling the found loot on the floor next to me. "Don't worry about it. Today I helped you, and maybe tomorrow you'll help me out of a jam. By the way, why did you come here at all?"
"It's a long story," Shrike sighs deeply, ruffling his light hair on the back of his head. "In short, I'm looking for a stalker. His PDA coordinates point to this basement, so I decided to go down. I got too relaxed, thought that since it's a digger camp, there wouldn't be anything dangerous. That's how I got..."
"PDA, you say," I draw out thoughtfully, shifting my gaze from the mercenary to a small opening in the wall leading to a small room. "I'll be right back."
I enter the small room and immediately take out my flashlight from my pocket, illuminating the darkness. To my right and left lay two old mattresses, long past their prime. Behind the left one, in the corner, long since affected by black mold, lies the communicator Shrike was looking for. I push the mattress aside and find a few more items. A worn pistol, a response with a long dead battery, and a flash drive in a plastic bag. If I remember correctly, there was information on some upgrades in the game. I'll give it to Furgon.
I pick up the PDA and return to the mercenary, who was tensely awaiting my return. I had the thought of digging thoroughly into the communicator of one of Strelok's group members, but I immediately dismissed it. Moreover, I didn't catch Klyk escaping to Agroprom and didn't know if he had appeared here. And I know the game's plot, and as I recall, there was nothing interesting in that PDA except warnings about the hunt that had begun by the Clear Sky faction and a marker for their hideout in the subway. Although... Perhaps in reality, there might be something special there. Well, whatever, it would be awkward to ask Shrike for a quest item.
"Here, take it," I hand him the device. "Is it it?"
"Possibly," he replies cautiously, taking the PDA from my hands, and immediately turns it on. "I'll check now. So... Yes, it is. Send... Done. Here, take it back."
"Why are you giving it back to me?" I raise an eyebrow in confusion, taking the communicator back anyway. "Isn't that why you came here?"
"Payment for your help," the mercenary grins, starting to explain. "This PDA belongs to Klyk, one of the few stalkers who got closest to the center of the Zone. And, as you've already guessed, my mission is related to finding members of his group. And there might be very valuable data on this device. How you handle this information is up to you, you can sell it to someone for a lot of money, or you can use it yourself. Only... Listen to my advice, Executioner, try not to go to the center, it's... fraught with big problems."
"Are you threatening me, mercenary?"
"Just a simple warning, nothing more," Shrike shrugs.
"Alright," I sigh, pick up the backpack with the mercenary's belongings and his assault rifle, and taking him by the elbow, head towards the exit of the basement. "Let's go, I'll put in a good word for you with the diggers. At least you'll get a good rest by the fire."
"With the diggers?" Shrike asks, slowly climbing the stairs with me. "Did you leave Valerian and become a garbage collector?"
"What? No, of course not," I reply, smiling slightly. "It's just that we have a skirmish with the bandits coming up. So listen to my advice, Shrike, try not to get in the way. Everything will be in an uproar here soon."
"Hah, we're even."
As soon as the mercenary and I reach the top step and emerge from the basement, several armed vagrants led by Shnur run up to us. With bulging eyes at the wounded Shrike, the digger turns his surprised gaze to me.
"We heard shooting," Shnur says. "What happened? And where did you get him from?"
"I had to shoot your rats," I reply, nodding towards the basement. "If you're interested, go and see. You'll understand everything."
A couple of days later
Our detachment gradually approached the bandit checkpoint on the south of the main and longest asphalt road of the Dump, which ran through it from end to end. We and the diggers tried to stay near the trees and small
bushes scattered along the highway so as not to be noticed prematurely. Large boxes, placed on the asphalt, covering the bandits from external dangers, were already visible. Behind them, a large and long-rusted army-green ZIL truck and a small piece of stretched green tent were visible.
I was in the company of three well-armed diggers, who were now no less equipped than experienced stalkers. They had replaced their worn leather jackets with sturdy stalker suits, and their pistols and sawn-off shotguns with Kalashnikovs.
We approach within about a hundred meters and stop, dispersing on both sides of the road. I raise my rifle and aim through the bushes at the head of one of the bandits guarding the path to the Cordon. Our task now is to draw their attention to ourselves and force them to move to the northern side of the checkpoint, completely forgetting about the southern path. The stalkers are supposed to come up behind them and simply shoot the bandits. Just like in a shooting gallery.
"Tell me when they're ready," I whisper to a solidly built digger about thirty years old, who remained with me on the left shoulder and held a PDA in his hands.
"Uh-huh," he replies quietly and falls silent for a moment, barely audibly typing with his stylus. "They're ready, they'll start right after us."
I take a deep breath and exhale, smoothly pressing the trigger, hitting the target precisely. The dead bandit, with the contents of his skull splattered on his comrades, falls to the ground as if struck by lightning. The others jump to their feet, but immediately fall to the ground as the diggers engage in a firefight. One of them manages to rake a bandit in a cloak with a short burst, and he falls to the asphalt with a gurgling gasp. Then another bandit pokes his Makarov pistol over the box and starts firing in all directions, but all the bullets go wide.
"Well, hold on, you bastards!" someone shouts from among them. "Yoga will rip your guts out through your asses!"
"He'd better worry about his own guts," a digger shouts back, sending another burst towards the bandits. "When we come for him!"
And now, precisely timing the moment, three stalkers appear from behind the slightly opened metal gates, their assault rifles already raised, and shoot the remaining bandits, who had no chance. Looking closely at the faces of the stalkers through the rifle scope, I can't help but smile at the appearance of familiar faces. I never thought I'd miss them so much in just over a week here.
I step out from behind the tree, walking quickly towards the arriving stalkers. Somewhere behind me, I hear the sound of diggers' footsteps. As I approach the checkpoint, Valerian emerges from the crowd and hugs me tightly, almost lifting me off the ground. What strength. I return his warm greeting, and after standing in an embrace for a little while, the leader lets me go. Many stalkers smile and even laugh, greeting me joyfully.
"Alive, you rascal! You really made us worry, Executioner!" Valerian says, pleased, and slaps me on the shoulder, then notices the remnants of a bruise on my face. "And what's this? What creature dared to lay a hand on you?"
"Oh, just got hit by a snork," I reply with a slight smile. "Everything's fine, really."
"R-really?" Valerian draws out suspiciously, squinting his eyes, then calms down. "Well, see for yourself. Remember, we always stand up for our own. Am I right, Yakut?"
"Right, right," the commander of the first detachment smiles, firmly shaking my hand. "Hello, Executioner. Glad to see you're alive and well. So, how are you doing here? Haven't you gotten too bored crawling around the garbage dump?"
"Next time, I'll definitely take you with me."
"Alright, enough, it's time to talk business, let's step aside," Valerian says, suddenly serious, and we move towards the iron gates. "What do you think of these guys?"
"Overall, they're decent guys," I shrug, watching as several stalkers strike up a conversation with the diggers, who shift awkwardly on their feet. It was clear that the three vagrants were uncomfortable in the company of a group superior in numbers, and they kept glancing around nervously. "They know the Dump well, and they know a lot about the bandits. They recently got good guns and suits, they won't be superfluous in this war for us."
"If you're sure, then good," the stalker leader sighs, patting me on the shoulder. "Is there anything else I should know before negotiations?"
"I won't say anything more about the diggers," I shrug, pondering for a moment. "But I'll repeat again that the bandits are firmly entrenched in the Dump. They've occupied the most fortified point for many kilometers around. And they have a lot of men, like locusts. And the most disgusting thing is that not all their forces are concentrated in the Dump. There are at least two more detachments of unknown strength that could easily hit our rear. One at Agroprom, the second in the Dark Valley. You can get more precise information from the diggers."
"Mmm, that doesn't sound very cheerful," the mustachioed stalker exhales deeply, ruffling the dark hair on the back of his head. "A well-defended base, large enemy forces, and then several detachments in ambush. I'll have to see their lair with my own eyes and estimate in my mind what and how much will be needed for the assault."
"Isn't Orest's detachment supposed to be at Agroprom?" Yakut asks Valerian. "Why don't we ask them for help?"
"We can try, why not," he replies, calculating something in his head. "So, here's what. I'll contact the second detachment now and tell them to retreat to our camp, there's nothing for them to do here yet. You, Executioner, will go to Agroprom and personally negotiate with Orest for help. And this time, I won't let you go alone, so you'll take your people. As far as I know, he and his men are holed up in the former research institute building. First, go straight along the main road, and then, at the fork, turn right. You won't miss it."
"And what will you do, retreat to the Cordon too?"
"No, first we'll talk with the diggers face-to-face, discuss the prospects of our cooperation, and then we'll think about what to do next," Valerian claps me on the shoulder as a parting gesture. "Well, Godspeed."