Standing before the three fresh hunter corpses, I couldn't help but wonder. Had I been too hasty? Of course, they couldn't be left alive. Not for what they were about to do to me, nor for what they did to the Hunter's son, there was no forgiveness for them. But couldn't I have gotten some important information, and what information could three such hunters, sitting in the ass-end of the Zone, possess? About Vedmak's affairs? Well, he's dead, he has no affairs, and the bandits he collaborated with are also dispersed.
In short, the answer came on its own. They were useless and even dangerous. Any rat cornered is like that. The moment I turn away, relax, or anything else – they would immediately try to attack. Therefore... it's better not to risk it. Besides, I only needed them as guides to Zhalo's grave, but I could easily find the way from the Hunter himself, just open the PDA and write. He just thought it would be easier if someone led me. Plus, I would have helped his old acquaintances. Alas, the acquaintances turned out to be rather mediocre.
I really didn't want to write to my mentor now. After all, I didn't want to worry him at night. He's a tough guy, despite everything that's happened lately and his recent prolonged binge, but I'll write to him in the morning when he's rested. And now... now I need to search these scoundrels' bodies. Where to start?...
I am met with further disappointment in these people. No money, nor anything interesting was found on their bodies. Just pathetic pennies and all sorts of trinkets like lighters, matches, and things like that. The PDAs were blocked on everyone except Chizh, but there was no useful information on his. Only old correspondence from which he had deleted everything compromising. I didn't have software to hack equipment, and picking combinations could take until Operation Fairway.
"So, I'll have to spend this night with the dead, ha-a," I sigh at length, prudently taking the key to the sawmill for myself and standing up. "Plan for tomorrow – drag these bodies out to feed the dogs, write to the Hunter, and find his son's grave."
Hunter's House, Kordon, the next morning.
The Hunter was preparing breakfast according to his usual routine. Aromatic black tea without sugar, oatmeal with a couple of spoonfuls of raspberry jam, and two small sandwiches on white bread with sausage, cheese, and butter. The old stalker saw no point in limiting himself in food, considering he had accumulated plenty of money anyway.
"Eh-h," the old man shifts his gaze to the empty chair where his student usually sat. "What's the point if there's no one to spend it on? And how can I give it to him..."
In the short time they had spent together, the Hunter had developed the warmest feelings for Palach. And how could he not? Honest, kind, brave, understanding, and treating everyone with due respect, selfless. To help someone, even if it's dangerous? Easily! A mix of amazing qualities for this place, especially for one person.
And Palach is not weak, far from it, despite all of the above. His character and skills screamed of strength, of a strong inner core. To tell the truth, the Hunter was proud of his student. But until recently, he thought he was only good at hunting. He was mistaken.
That incident when they tailed three strange stalkers opposite Valerian's base opened his eyes to many things. Palach hunted any game, even talking and bipedal. The ease and simplicity with which he shot those guys could only be explained by practice. Long practice.
The Hunter had long noticed that his student was not telling him everything, only talking about hunting mutants and mentioning only minor skirmishes with people, but the stalker knew – his student held an important position in Valerian's clan. And a person like him wouldn't just send a valuable asset to hang around the Garbage and Agroprom without a reason. So, there was a reason. To learn more about everything, he had to contact this "Father." It went against his nature, against everything he knew about the Zone, its customs, but he couldn't help himself.
And when he learned more, he calmed down. Completely. And only laughed heartily, coughing for a long time afterward. The Hunter actually approached such a complex ethical issue quite simply. If someone threatens your life – threaten theirs, any hunter must be prepared to become a victim. He himself preferred not to kill people, he had no interest in it, but if necessary, his hand would not tremble. And the old stalker was glad that his student was like his teacher in this regard. Palach would definitely not get lost in the Zone without him. And those who tried to harm his student... well, they would be very unlucky.
"Eh, if only you, Ilyushka, were alive," the old man's lips whispered. "I couldn't have wished you a better comrade than him..."
Just then, his PDA vibrated, notifying him of a new message. Could Palach have reached the grave so early? The Hunter wiped his slightly damp hands on a towel, stood up, and walked over to the small nightstand by the door where the communicator lay. And upon reading it, he froze in place, almost forgetting how to breathe.
Palach: Bad news. Chizh, Finn, and Ryk were involved in Zhalo's death. They lied to you, Hunter.
18.07.2011, 8:39.
Palach: Last night, Chizh got talkative and told a story that your son was shot by bandits during a raid. And the hunters, instigated by Vedmak, were afraid to tell you about it. They were afraid they'd get in trouble with the bandits if they found out they were the ones who took down the squad of thugs. So, it was decided to lie to you that your son died hunting from a boar's tusks, so you wouldn't make a fuss.
18.07.2011, 8:40.
Palach: After this story, they asked me not to tell you about it, but they realized I wouldn't stay silent. I didn't like their looks. I had to pretend to be asleep to overhear their conversations. And then I managed to find out that they were the ones who dealt with Zhalo on the orders of the already dead Vedmak.
18.07.2011, 8:40.
Palach: They were going to kill me, so I couldn't leave them alive. In any case, I don't think the pawns were aware of Vedmak's plans and were unlikely to shed light on this story.
18.07.2011, 8:41.
Palach: And... I sympathize, teacher. I'm very sorry to tell you this, but it would have been even worse to stay silent. Towards both of you.
Please let me know you're okay, otherwise I'll write to Volk right away to check on you.
And, when you can, write to me about the location of Zhalo's grave. I'll try to find it by landmarks.
18.07.2011, 8:41.
These... bastards lied to him? About the death of his boy? How... How dare they? For what?! Anger, rage, and disappointment washed over the old stalker in waves. Those whom his son considered friends and comrades were responsible for his death. And for two whole years, they didn't bat an eye and continued to walk this earth, mocking his grief!
The Hunter staggered back from the nightstand, barely reaching the chair and slumping onto it. It was too great a shock for him. Old memories, like a kaleidoscope of images, began to flash before his eyes. Here, his son goes on his last hunt, promising to return in a couple of weeks, and here come his "comrades," tearfully begging for forgiveness and taking all the blame for not noticing and letting a fierce boar get away. Bastards, scum, and scoundrels.
"Hunter, help us, we're trapped by Tarkovites here..." he whispered with such malice that it could scare off a bloodsucker. "And you sent my boy to his death? Grrr... Ungrateful scum! So that's how you treated me, Vedmak, that's how you repaid all the good I did for you? You raised your hand against the most valuable and sacred thing in my life!?"
"Hunter, open up! Otherwise, I'll break down the window and get in that way!" Volk shouted from outside, banging loudly on the front door. "I borrowed a blood pressure monitor from Sidor, and some pills!"
"I'm opening it now!" the stalker replies with a shout and immediately returns his attention to the PDA. "Just need to reply to my student..."
Sawmill, Dark Hollow, morning.
Waiting for the Hunter's reply, I exhale with relief. The old man is alive
and more or less well. And, although I did the right thing, my heart was still gnawed by guilt. Guilt for dumping such truth on my mentor. I could have taken the easy way out, lied that these scumbags were torn apart by mutants, or that they fell into an anomaly, but... No, I couldn't do that to him. However bitter this truth might be, he deserved to know.
"And now I can examine this place in more detail," I exhale.
Before writing to the Hunter, I had already dragged the bodies outside. Nothing for them to rot here, let the mutants devour this scum. And judging by the quiet munching sounds coming from behind the tightly closed door, someone was already feasting on them. Serves them right.
And rummaging through the sawmill was as pointless as examining the corpses. Absolutely nothing valuable. Most of the crates loaded here and there were empty, and the loot I managed to find was barely worth a few thousand. Rusty and old guns without proper maintenance, scattered shot of various calibers, some food, clothes, and other trifles. Either the hunters lived very poorly, subsisting only on rare hunts, or they hid most of their riches elsewhere. Or maybe the deceased Vedmak stole it? Who knows.
I decide it's time to move on. If I'm unlucky and can't find the grave immediately, I'll have to wander through the forest for a long time... I shouldn't be afraid of mutants, though. I open the iron door and go outside, immediately running into huge-looking gray wolves. Sleek fur of gray-white color, attentive yellow eyes, bushy tails, and blood-stained muzzles. Almost nothing was left of the Hunters, except scraps of clothing, bones, and blood. I pat one of the dogs on the head and turn right, heading into the forest.
The day promises to be long.
A small clearing in the middle of the forest, a few hours later.
Despite the provided landmarks, it took a lot of time to find the right path that could lead me to the grave, and I simply wandered through the forest, sometimes leaving it, sometimes returning to its embrace. The grave itself was an ordinary wooden cross, crudely and hastily nailed together from two boards, apparently once part of a fence. On the upper part of the cross, a worn gas mask was nailed directly to a nail, and below, in the center, the nickname was written in white paint with two dates:
"Zhalo
2007-2009"
"Is this how they mark the years of stalking?" I ask myself, approaching closer. "Hello, Zhalo. You won't mind if I gather my thoughts and look around a bit? I hope not."
I throw my backpack onto the soft, juicy grass and look around. Not because I was looking for enemies in the bushes and grass, or admiring the scenery, no. I was genuinely gathering my thoughts. Even though no one saw me, and no one could tell how I fulfilled the Hunter's request, I still wanted to approach it as seriously as possible. Out of respect for two people.
I can't help but notice that white daisies with bright yellow centers have grown under the cross, and the rest of the clearing was dotted with various flowers. Blue cornflowers, a few dandelions, and others. A beautiful, peaceful place. Huh, there are even a few raspberry bushes here. They were just a few meters from the cross.
"You know," I address the invisible interlocutor. "I'm very sorry that this happened to you. But, if it comforts you, I dealt with everyone – Vedmak and the others paid for what they did to you and for deceiving your father. Eh, it seems we could have become friends, it's sad we never got to meet. And now..."
A pleasant, refreshing breeze blew in my face, dying down almost immediately.
"I'll move on to the part the Hunter wanted me to tell you," I pause briefly, refreshing the memorized lines in my mind. Of course, I could have just read them, but... it was more proper to memorize them. "I love you infinitely, my precious son, and I miss you immensely, your loud laughter and bright smile. You were and always will be the pride of your mother and me. I love you both, and in my allotted hour, we will be together again."
I tried to put as much emotion as possible into each of these words. Because that was the right thing to do. And when I finished, a fresh wind blew in my face again, as if with new force, pleasantly caressing my face and hair. I'll consider it a good sign.
"Well, now for a farewell drink," I chuckle and pull out two small shot glasses and a bottle of vodka, along with some chocolate candies bought the day before from Sidorovich, from the backpack lying on the ground. I pour the vodka into the glasses, and place one of them very close to the cross, and put the candies there as well. "To the Hunter's health!.. Ugh-h, it went down well... I'll leave the bottle for you, just don't litter with glass and wrappers, okay? And, by the way, I hope you don't mind if I take some raspberries with me?"
Newbie Village, late evening, transitioning into night.
The stalker camp greeted me with silence – the bonfires had died down and the guitars had fallen silent. Only the night watchman, posted here by Volk, gave me a hostile look, as if warning of possible problems if I dared to touch him, and that was it. I immediately head towards the Hunter's house, and as soon as I round the corner of the fence, I see that the light from the kerosene lamp is still burning in the window. He's still awake?
As soon as I touch the door, it immediately gives way with a slight creak and opens. He had kept it open all this time. I enter the hallway, take off my shoes, and only after that proceed further into the kitchen. The Hunter sat grimly. Pale skin, furrowed brows, pursed lips, hands clasped in front of him on the table, and a heavy gaze from eyes reddened by burst capillaries.
"Sit down," he says in an emotionless voice, very quietly, and lazily gestures to a chair.
"Is everything really bad?" I ask him.
"What do you think, student?" the teacher replies with a bitter smirk. "Those I trusted, my son and myself, turned out to be such vile creatures... For two years they visited me, asked for advice, make new, more powerful bullets for them. And they fed me stories about how Ilyusha helped them out so many times. He helped them out too much!"
A fist hits the table, making the dishes on it almost jump.
"How bad do you think it is!?" the mentor looks at me, enraged, but then deflates as if all the air has gone out of him. "Sorry... Forgive me, Palach, I shouldn't be yelling at you. You... You're not to blame. On the contrary, thank you..."
And then he bends over the table, bringing his hands to his eyes, his shoulders shake, and the Hunter begins to sob bitterly. My heart breaks at the sight of my unshakeable mentor weeping uncontrollably. I move my chair closer and gently place my hand on his shoulder, showing that I'm there. We sat like that for a few minutes while the mentor quietly cried, and I didn't know what to say.
"How did those three bastards die?" the Hunter whispers, having calmed down a bit.
"Shot them like rabid dogs and gave them to the mutants to eat," I reply. "When I left, there wasn't much left of them..."
"They got off easy, the scum!" the Hunter erupts again. "And how they asked me for help, huh? How they begged? I didn't want to send you there at first, but I changed my mind... And why? Because my son's friends, who saw him off on his last journey, couldn't leave them alone in trouble. And how did it turn out?... And what about Vedmak? You killed him that time you went into the gut, didn't you?"
"He tried to win me over to his side, came close, and I stuck this blade into him," I say, taking out my hunting knife and placing it on the table. "Right into his stomach, and cut him all the way up, practically to the sternum. His guts spilled out, and then I emptied the whole magazine of my pistol into him."
"I hope that bitch suffered before she died," the teacher sighs, and the room falls silent again. "Lying scum... They tricked me, and I, like a fool, believed that some ragged boar could take down my son! I even helped them when needed, tossed them orders for their own jobs, gave them money to live on... How will I look Ilya in the eye when I see him?"
Then I stand up and walk to the wall where my backpack was, open it, and take out a small plastic bag with raspberries. I return to the table and place the berries in front of the Hunter, who looks at me in surprise.
"Ilya's place is beautiful," I decide to change the subject. "Lush greenery, flowers everywhere. Daisies, cornflowers, dandelions, all sorts of different ones... It's so peaceful there, quiet. Only the wind rustles the branches, whispering with its leaves. And I brought you these berries from there, they grew in the same clearing."
"How so? There were no raspberries there two years ago... The Zone!.." And moisture reappears in his tear-filled eyes. "Son... This was always our favorite berry, it sprouted somehow..."
"Everything is fine, teacher," I gently stroke his hand. "Everything is decided. The guilty have been punished and, excuse the expression, have already fertilized a few bushes. And Ilya, I'm sure, will understand you, he won't blame you for believing lies in your grief."
"Thank you, thank you. For everything... You've done so much for me, it's indescribable..."
"Enough, I had to do all this."
"I'll bring the money now..." The Hunter tries to stand up, but I grab his wrist with an iron grip and barely manage to sit him back down.
"I don't need any money, tell me about your son instead. I'm curious, what kind of person was he..."
So, under quiet conversation with frequent breaks for tears, we talked until almost morning.