"What can you tell me about this anomaly?" I ask Lovchiy, following him.
"An anomaly is an anomaly. If you get in without thinking, it'll kill you," he replies with too general a phrase, shrugging his shoulders as he walks. "And as for what's there, there's everything. Craters, burners, and even a couple of jellies..."
"Is that possible?" Petrukha exclaims, trotting behind me. "That such different anomalies are all nearby..."
"And why not," Lovchiy's shoulders rise and fall smoothly once again. "In the Zone, there are things much more amazing than adjacent anomalies..."
Our conversation ends there. The hunter was in no hurry to share information, either he didn't want to, or he really didn't understand anything about the Zone's formations. At least he said what we would have to deal with, and that's good. And asking him about the density of anomalies seemed pointless to me. If he knew, the hunters would have already retrieved the artifact, and Father Diodor with his sermons about sin and everything else would have been sent to hell. When the forbidden fruit is out of reach, it's much easier to resist its temptation.
After a little more than half an hour of unhurried walking, we reach the shore of a small, algae-covered lake, which is more like a puddle. No inflow was visible, which means the water comes from underground... A sloping and pristine shore with, surprisingly, dry
and cracked earth where nothing grew at all. Craters, trampolines, flashes of hot burners, and acid-green vapors from jellies were visible. And somewhere there, beyond the water's surface, on the other side, an almost impassable forest could be seen with a couple of trees growing right out of the water.
The anomaly zone itself is very clearly separated by a grassy border. Where the greenery begins to thin, its boundaries are located. Convenient. I carefully examine the anomalous field from a distance, trying to spot the artifact by eye, but nothing is visible yet.
"Is there really an artifact there?" the newcomer impatiently asks, looking at Lovchiy with a serious expression. He just smirks and crosses his arms over his chest.
"Who knows," he replies, squinting slightly. "Ugol said he saw some white-blue ball. He didn't go in himself, and when we arrived, there was nothing left. But I trust my guys, he wouldn't lie for no reason, so I asked Sidorovich to send a specialist in artifacts with a detector. You have one, don't you?"
"Yes," I answer briefly and take out the Veles, which I will use for the first time.
The device's body fits comfortably in my left palm, and I turn it on with my right index finger. The programs start loading, activating, and the screen lights up with a steady, dark green color, and localization waves begin to emanate from the bottom of the screen, like on a real radar. Nothing is visible yet.
"We need to get closer," I say to my escorts. "From this distance, the detector hasn't detected anything yet."
"Pff," Lovchiy snorts. "You should have gotten a better detector. Oh, this greedy bastard, he gave you a cool suit, but not a good device..."
I decide to leave this remark uncommented. If this hunter is so ignorant, let him be. I move closer, step by step, meter by meter, until a single large dot lights up on the screen. I found it. And, apparently, the artifact rolled into the water and stayed there. I quickly pass through the anomalous field, avoiding clusters of formations, and approach the water's edge. So, the artifact is a couple of meters away from me.
I take the first step, and the icy water envelops my ankle, then the second and third. The suit, although it maintained the temperature, was still not very pleasant... And now, the artifact is practically under me, and the water barely reaches my knees, so I bend down and wade into the puddle, starting to search the bottom until my fingertips feel something round. I grab it and pull the artifact out of the water.
In my right palm lies a small, dull blue-blue ball, hard and smooth in appearance, and a slight ripple runs across its entire surface – just like on water. I put the detector back to carefully touch the artifact, and indeed, at my touch, it rippled again, and the waves that went out broke against my other fingers. I've never seen anything like it. After admiring it for a little longer, I finally put it in the container and leave the anomalous zone.
"That's it," I say to the stalkers, who are watching me with interest. "We can go back. Lovchiy, you and your guys won't mind if we spend the night at your place?"
"We won't," he replies with a small smirk on his face. "But money upfront."
"What money?" I ask in confusion and notice out of the corner of my eye how Petrukha flinches and glares at the hunter.
"For the artifact," he continues, frowning slightly. "We agreed with the trader. We give him reliable info about the artifact, he gives us money if it can be obtained. Money, I say, give it."
"Uh-huh," I reach into my bag for the PDA to ask the trader what the hell just happened, while Lovchiy has already started to get agitated.
"What 'uh-huh'? Where's the damn money? Do you think you can rob us!?" he even raised his voice at the end, and after that, I couldn't hold back.
"Shut your mouth, hunter," I tear my gaze away from the communicator and say in a cold tone, not wanting to continue this farce. "Or I'll beat you half to death right now, drag you to your camp, mutilate your entire merry company, and, as the cherry on top, refresh you right in front of them. So they know that joking with me is a bad idea. And now, if you don't want my threat to come true, be silent."
It was clear that Lovchiy wanted to say something, but decided to remain silent for the sake of caution. A good decision. Meanwhile, I'm already typing a message to Sidorovich.
Executioner: Your eagles are demanding money from me for the artifact.
07/29/2011, 18:32.
Sidorovich: What!? What the hell money? I clearly wrote that I would send the money with the next courier.
07/29/2011, 18:33.
"The trader said it was agreed that he would send the money with the next courier. And I'm not a courier," I decide to clarify for good measure.
"Then let the artifact stay with us!"
Executioner: Now he demands that the artifact stay with them.
07/29/2011, 18:33.
Sidorovich: Why is all this happening to me... Idiot! What kind of artifact is it anyway?
07/29/2011, 18:34.
Executioner: It's a beautiful, smooth ball of dull blue-blue color. I haven't checked the radiation with a dosimeter.
07/29/2011, 18:34.
Sidorovich: What a bastard. He saw that it was something unusual and grabbed it, he wouldn't have bothered with common artifacts like this. How much is he asking?
07/29/2011, 18:35.
"How much are you asking?"
"One hundred thousand," he says weightily, but, encountering my confused silence, immediately cuts the price in half. "At least fifty."
Executioner: He's doing everything to make me beat him. He demanded a hundred grand at first, then "at least fifty."
07/29/2011, 18:36.
Sidorovich: Do you have money with you?
07/29/2011, 18:36.
Executioner: Yes. Do you want me to pay?
07/29/2011, 18:37.
Sidorovich: Yes, so as not to escalate the situation. I'll return it to you with interest, and these "hunters" will shed tears for such a stunt. Well, well, let's see how they sing when I buy their guts for next to nothing.
07/29/2011, 18:37.
Ha-a, I silently reach for the money in my bag and, right there, without taking it out into the open, count out fifty thousand, which I hand to Lovchiy. He takes them and starts examining them carefully, as if I could have given him a fake. Annoying.
"You should have paid right away," he says maliciously, turning his back to us, walks a few meters, stops, and says over his shoulder: "For the stay, five from each, if you decide to."
"What a bastard," I purse my lips and say aloud.
"Why didn't you pay right away if you had the money?" asks Petrukha.
"This is my personal money, earned from selling artifacts. Sidor asked me to pay for him," I reply. "That's how it is, Petrukha."
"What are we going to do now? I don't have five thousand to pay him... Shall we stay in some shack on the edge of the village?"
"So that he either shits under our door or comes to assert his rights that the whole village is his property?" I chuckle. "If it weren't for Sidorovich's request, Lovchiy would already be spitting blood for such behavior. But now, he felt his strength and power. But this is now Sidorovich's headache. And where to sleep... well, even here. It's a good spot, we'll make a campfire by that willow. The sky is just starting to clear up, there won't be any rain."
Hunter village, some time later.
Lovchiy, rubbing his palms mentally, danced the can-can and celebrated how easily he earned fifty grand. That's a full two months of work for the basement scumbag and only for a couple of minutes. It's a shame he'll have to give part of the earnings to the others. If only they had paid him a hundred... But that bastard is too terrifying, and his glass, opaque visor is like a window into the abyss!
"Well, what about those stalkers?" asks Ukol, sitting on one of the few intact chairs in the kitchen where other group members have gathered.
"They took the art and paid fifty thousand," replies the hunter leader, laying the money on the table.
"Wait, didn't you say Sidor would send the money later?" Ugol asks, not understanding, looking disapprovingly from under his furrowed brows at Lovchiy.
"And why wait?" he shrugs. "Sidor and his little people won't get poorer if they pay immediately. Especially since, as I understand it, it's not in his interest to quarrel with us too much, and therefore... We can afford it."
"You robbed them!?" the wounded stalker hits the table with his fist, jumping up and immediately falling back into his seat from a sharp pain in his foot. "Ouch!"
"Not them, but the greedy bastard trader who buys our goods, obtained through blood and sweat, for next to nothing!" Lovchiy exclaims in response, rising above the table. "How many times have we been on the verge of death, hunting Zone beasts?! And do you remember Pyltsa, Bomba? How they died in a fight with bloodsuckers? And what did Sidor pay us for that loot, for our lost friends? Only ten thousand, ten! And here, to some swindlers who never really risked anything, he gave a huge sum of money! Do you think they got poorer, huh? Hell no, that Executioner has much more money stashed away, he had to count it again!"
For a moment, a grim silence hangs in the room, broken only by the loud and heavy breathing of the senior hunter. He looks at the impenetrable faces of his men, waves his hand, and angrily sits down in a creaking chair, lighting a cheap cigarette. Each of them thought their own thoughts, but they all agreed on one thing: Sidorovich had treated each of them unfairly. And anger mixed with quiet sadness seethed under their hearts.
"You said there was more than fifty grand there?" Ukol asks quietly, his voice slightly hoarse, fixing his gaze on the leader's wrinkled face.
"Yes," he nods, exhaling another puff of white smoke, which immediately dissipated throughout the room.
"So maybe we should take it?" the only medic asks everyone and immediately scans
the room with a quick glance. "What? We've had enough of toiling away for Sidor. We'll take the money from the stalkers, buy some good guns, normal armor, and live. We'll raise our own clan, no one will dare to squeak."
"Yeah, how much money can they have?" Petro purses his lips and shakes his head. "Twenty or thirty thousand, or maybe another fifty on top? That kind of money won't be enough for anything..."
"Money isn't just paper, you know," Ukol replies. "Did you see that charged suit? Such a suit costs a fortune, and he had a very unusual pistol hanging in his holster... Boss, does he have a detector with him?"
"Yes, but it's weak. A black one, with a radar on the screen," says Lovchiy, watching the unfolding situation with interest. The medic's idea was very close to him... If Executioner could intimidate him alone, he wouldn't dare to squeak against three.
"Weak!?" exclaims the bald hunter. "That's a Veles, damn it. There's nothing better than that detector, and you can't even buy it!"
"So it turns out that on one stalker alone, at least, we can make two hundred thousand," Lovchiy sums up, tapping his index finger on the tabletop.
"More," the medic objects. "The suit alone will cost two hundred grand."
"This is somehow wrong..." Ugol weakly objects, but then Petro's strong hand rests on his shoulder.
"We're not taking it from them directly, are we, guys?" Petro looks around at the other hunters, and they nod confidently. "But from Sidor, it's a piece of cake for him to reimburse these losses, he won't even notice. Especially since the stalkers themselves won't be touched. They'll remain whole and unharmed, maybe we'll beat them a little to make them more compliant, and tomorrow they'll be on the Cordon and will be crying to the trader."
"We'll have to paint them up nicely," Ukol remarks. "So that the trader doesn't suspect anything. That way, they'll say they resisted, and show the bruises as proof!"
"If you just beat them a little..." the wounded hunter replies with a hint of doubt, giving his consent to the plan.
"Then we'll wait until one of them falls asleep and go," Lovchiy concludes. "They're camped right by the anomaly."
Hunter village, some time later.
The night sky is dotted with myriads of the brightest stars. Time seems to have frozen, and the wind has completely died down, not daring to disturb the peace at this night hour. Usually restless mutants are now sleeping soundly, not going out to hunt, and the anomalies have completely quieted down. The Zone, the most mysterious place on the entire planet, was sleeping. But not people. Several hunters, having conceived something evil, sat in ambush in their den, downing shot after shot, waiting for their victims to lower their guard to strike.
All promises made to each other were quickly forgotten, replaced only by a thirst for someone's blood. The hunters could not change their nature, and instead of simple extortion, they decided to arrange a hunt. Lovchiy, as if justifying his nickname, proposed a plan for a bloody feast. First, they would completely strip the stalkers, take everything, down to their underwear, leaving them no chance of survival in the dangerous forests, and with a small head start, they would follow them. Like prey.
They didn't care about radiation, mutants, or even night anomalies. Who cared about them when such fun was at stake? And the feeling of euphoria, tearing through their veins from within, echoed their thoughts.
"It's time, men!" the Hunter hissed menacingly, rising to his feet. He, like the others, was sober as a judge, even despite a couple of condemned bottles of vodka.
And the anticipating hunters rose after him, heading into the night. Only Coal, left behind them, watched his comrades with horror, unable to believe that such monsters could have settled within them, but he could not resist them, forced to pretend to be asleep so that they wouldn't tear him apart for an appetizer before the main course.
Anomalous zone, some time later.
Petruk shivered, huddling in his only sleeping bag, and something again tore him from the realm of dreams, for the umpteenth time that night. Well, he couldn't sleep, he couldn't! And the Executioner, as if on purpose, wanted to take the first watch, and now the rookie had to suffer, trying to fall asleep to the crackling of a small campfire, lit in a cleared spot under a willow. Then heavy footsteps were heard, and the stalker opened his eyes to see what his escort was up to.
And what was his surprise when, instead of the Executioner, he saw three hunters with malicious and contorted faces. He tried to break free from the strong embrace of the sleeping bag, but due to a careless and too hasty attempt, he lost precious time, not managing to grab his weapon. They had already got him in their sights. The Hunter, that scoundrel, held his rifle at arm's length, aimed directly at the rookie's forehead.
"Boss, all the gear is here," Ukol exclaimed joyfully, grabbing the Executioner's removed suit with both hands.
"Shit!" Petruk thought, spitting mentally, darkening with the realization that the Executioner, who had hidden somewhere nearby, wouldn't be able to save him. "Why did he leave all his weapons here?"
"Where is he?" the leader of the hunters asked slowly but impatiently.
"What difference does it make to you, you louse?" the rookie retorted.
"We'll find him anyway," the leader grinned. "We are hunters, no one can hide from us in the dense forest..."
"And the Executioner is a student of the Hunter himself, to whom each of you is as far as Peking is by ass!"
"What are you talking about..." Petruk said menacingly, swinging the butt of his shotgun to strike, but only broke into a terrible wheeze – the tip of a knife stuck out of his throat. "Kha-a..."
The Hunter flinched, taking a step aside and aiming his weapon at the still invisible opponent, but the latter pushed the dying hunter with all his might. And the dying body knocked the slow-witted hunter off his feet, and a thunderous rifle shot echoed throughout the area. A moment passed, and someone's hands grabbed the weapon. The Hunter saw Petruk's face, contorted with rage, holding the rifle with a death grip, trying to take it away.
Somewhere behind them, several more shots boomed, and the leader of the hunters hoped that Ukol hadn't missed that creature that killed Petruk! Taking a deep breath, the Hunter, with a single movement, tore the rifle from the stalker's paws and struck Petruk's face with the butt, then threw off both fallen bodies and jumped to his feet, sharply turning and raising his rifle.
The hunter's eyes widened at the sight of the crushed and bloody face of the medic, lying face down by the willow trunk, and he aimed his rifle directly at the Executioner, squeezing the trigger. Bang! The barrel of the rifle in his hands burst, and the Hunter's heart skipped a beat from shock.
"Did that bastard hit the barrel exactly when I shot?" he thought. "Who the hell is he..." but his thought was interrupted by a precise blow with the bloody butt directly to the forehead from the stalker who had instantly approached him.
The Hunter fell to the ground, and the last thing he heard was the crunch of his own Adam's apple, broken by another heavy blow from the shotgun.
Anomalous zone, a couple of minutes later.
"Well, well, master..." the slightly breathless voice of the only stalker who remained standing in the death struggle said quietly.