It was getting late, the sun casting long shadows from the trees on the Limansk side of the river down onto the makeshift camp on the edge of the Red Forest. Once they'd eventually stopped gossiping like schoolgirls Hog had managed to pull them all together into retreating back into the ruined entrance of the tunnel north of their camp, mostly sealed with a metal wall but for a single man-sized doorway. A dark tunnel full of old trucks and APC's wasn't an ideal place to hole up, a classic lair for snorks or bloodsuckers, but with him and Degtayrev taking point sweeping it it looked a risk worth taking. Strelok had insisted he'd bombed the place back in the day, rendering it impassable.
It was nervewracking work, none of them were in great shape or well stocked on ammo but their lucky stars were all aligned. Every shadow or indistinct shape was just detritus, no sound other than the quiet murmuring of their fellows in the distance and their own footsteps on the dusty concrete. As their paced it's eerie hallways, lighting up all the ruined vehicles, the darkness stopped being that sinister malignance waiting to sink claws into you the second you lost your focus, and took on a more mournful quality. So much of the Zone was a tragic relic of a bygone era that had been swept under the carpet of history. With the danger it posed now, barely a soul would ever be able to see the remains left from those days that marked one of it's darkest hours.
Hog was taking one last survey of the tunnel noting the anomaly positions, all the irradiated heaps and hot waste trucks when he noticed the small rectangle of darkness recessed into the righthand side of the tunnel. His heart suddenly burst into overtime, any stalker still breathing knew there was no such thing as jumping the gun, and his rifle was pointed at it before he even had time to consider what it was. As the long seconds dragged on and nothing had tried to disembowl him, he cautiously advanced towards it. As he moved closer, avoiding an errant sparkler anomaly flashing from a damaged lamp to reach it, his torchlight illuminated a small antechamber with a further square of darkness in the side.
He hissed to Degtayrev for backup, wishing more than ever he had his mercs back with him he could trust to positon and cover him properly. The underground areas of the Zone had a terrible reputation, even in comparison to the surface horrors. They'd charged double for having anything to do with them back when he was operating. He didn't take his eyes off that deeper opening, letting the addition of new torchlight let him know how Degtayrev was moving into position behind him.
"Looks like your friend wasn't completely sure after all. I expected better."
"He's lived up to the reputation so far merc."
"Cover me?"
He let the torchlight behind him shift to the right to illuminate the left of the antechamber and entrance to the small tunnel within before he decisively swept to the left inside, revealing nothing but dusty concrete walls and fuseboxes.
"Clear."
Swiftly turning about, he pointed his torch directly down the tunnel. Cables and brackets lined the walls in a ramrod straight corridor that led featurelessly into the darkness beyond the limit of the torchlight. Nothing moved. His heart slowed it's thudding a tad, it didn't leave any nasty dark corners for things to hide in and surprise them.
"Get Strelok, see if he knows where this goes. Could be a nice backdoor exit if things go south."
He stood there, staring into darkness, stewing over the irritation of the danger one little piece of misinformation could have caused to avoid the fear that he'd almost missed it himself on their sweep. He couldn't afford to get soft, not now. The irregular footsteps echoing towards him signalled Strelok's limping approach,
"What is this Marked One? Your memory getting hazy in your old age?"
"Last time I went through this tunnel was before I got taken out in the plant and woke up on a death truck. Not long before. I'm amazed anything is still left in me after that." He drew up next to Hog, unslinging his rifle and kneeling against the wall to rest his bad leg. "Get some stuff to patch this will you, we need to talk."
"Too right." muttered Hog as he relaxed and worked his way back out into the main tunnel to look for barrels and metal scrap to bar the corridor. There wasn't a shortage, but it wasn't easy finding bits that didn't make his counter click. Upon his return Strelok ushered him over, letting him sit down beside him.
"If I had to guess, I'd say this must lead to Southern Pripyat, like the main road tunnel. You're right to be damn careful, but it's so small and looks untouched. We'd be going out of the frying pan and into the fire, but it might be a way out. We barricade it lightly now, but leave the bits so we can quickly swap it to cover our retreat if need be."
"My thoughts exactly."
Strelok lowered his voice, letting Hog's work on beginning hauling the scrap cover his echoing words, "Now onto the more important matters. Me and Alex here have been sent to clear up this mess by the higher ups in the big land. An offer we couldn't refuse. Now I don't think it's possible, and I doubt he does either but we're stuck in a shit-tip between a rock and a hard place. Those mutant girls, aliens, whatever, throw a spanner in the works; no doubt there's some big money to be made out in the big land for getting them out. The fact your group is a load of babushkas that don't leave the base just adds insult to injury."
"They're whiney shits aren't they? Unlike the big boys with balls that died back up north, those traders and techies didn't believe that standing ground against the hordes of mutants was a good idea and paid me to help them take their chances making a run for it. Not sure how it's managed to pay off so far but that's that. Honestly they're not so bad and without Nitro and Cardan we'd have run out of working guns by this point. Nimble's got connections, might be able to help us slip under the radar if we ever make it out alive."
"The question remains what the fuck we're doing next. I'm with you that getting out alive as fast as possible is the only sane option, but that's easier said than done. We went in via the cordon, which was under seige daily. It could have easily fallen since we left, they looked on their last legs. Apparently the mutants are really bad in areas we stalkers used to populate."
"They're fucking everywhere, yeah. It's scary shit." Hog headed out for a minute or two to haul in more supplies before continuing, "They were definitely heading in swarms to overwhelm all the bases, but in the quiet areas we've managed to dodge most of the heat. I was going to haul them to Forester's tower for a proper place to rest and plan our next move but that seems out now, I'm not trying my luck in that fucking forest again. I figured that Freedom and Duty attracting everything was probably going to make the next leg even nastier. Wasn't sure what other route we could take."
"We got here via the back road out of the old factory by the ecologist bunker at Yantar. Whole area had been dead for days. Apparently the army pulled out of their base south of there so those two big compounds were pretty deserted too."
"And the Garbage?"
"No go apparently, Alex's contact at the Cordon sent us through a tunnel into the southern swamps. Quiet as the grave until a hundred odd zombies just waltzed out of the mists."
"Serious? Shit man."
Strelok sat quietly for a minute as Hog stacked up more detrius on the barricade. All the information channels had gone dark, but hearing the dark tales that confirmed their fears was still jarring. Eventually Hog broke the silence,
"I can't imagine we'll have much chance getting this lot out quietly. We got away the horde at the Skadovsk as quickly as possible and still had to deal with quite a few stragglers and wandering beasts."
"I wouldn't want to risk backtracking myself. We were wounded, I'm sure we left a scent trail that turned a few noses even if they didn't turn up while we were there. How are you doing for supplies?"
"Crap. The purple one literally cannot eat meat. She violently retches at the thought. If it wasn't for the black girl having some kind of sixth sense for working out edible plants to slow her rampage through our food stocks we'd be starving more than we already are. Thankfully Cardan knows his way around a mutant carcass. It's been really rough trying to stay fuelled. Ammo stocks won't more than a skirmish now, we're down to..."
He continued rattling through the details of what ammo was left and what they had weapons to use, but Strelok was just staring mutely down the corridor to Pripyat in contemplation, only half aware of what he was saying.
Battleborn had spent the day frantically trying to organise whatever surplies and ponies he needed for this fresh expedition into this Tartarian land that the humans lived in. No shortage of ponies were hesitant to volunteer to save their Princess, but he needed the best and they seemed to have their heads screwed on tight enough to pick up on how few had returned from their last foray. Traditional scouting methods seemed out of the question, even the experts who'd been trained to deal with harsh enviroments in case they ever ended up deep in the Everfree Forest were out of their depth here, he needed to cover them with small elite combat force to hope to tackle whatever monsters lurked out there. It took calling in all his favours and even reduced him to bargaining with a small chunk of his will, but by sundown he'd managed to rustle up half a dozen of the elite Royal Guards that did stints protecting the Princesses themselves while not employed in honing their skills or as the pointed tip of Equestria's military.
A lot of the pegasi he'd brought with him had died, in even greater numbers than those on the ground. As much as he was loathe to admit it, air superiority might have to be ceded to a natural enviroment of all things. Whatever those stormclouds that plagued the place were deadly in the extreme, and alongside the weather those same near invisible freakish abominations of natural law that could burst into flame, electrocute without warning or pull a pony into shreds were there in the sky too. They'd learned the hard way how much more difficult it was to avoid them when you didn't have the ground close behind them to see them coming and the wind in your ears stopping you hearing the eerie sounds they emitted quietly alerting you to their presence.
Lying in bed his mind refused to let him sleep. The whole affair had been hushed up so far, but rumors were beginning to spread from the castle with the escaped aliens weeks ago, and now more and more loyal guardsponies failing to return home. The one-off encounter in Ponyville was written off as one of the many freak occurances that happened there involving the Elements and the talk had died down, but before long there didn't seem to be much to stop it rising again into a tsunami that would sweep through Canterlot and the news. Everything hinged on him getting Luna and the Elements with her home safely. As he tossed and turned through the small hours, he didn't think he'd ever be able to rest easy until he did.
The affair with the poltergeist had managed to lift some of the terror that gripped Yar, kneeling alone in the dark of the stairwell. By the time he'd come to his senses the emission had already passed through, the faint rumble echoing away in the distance. It took time, but he managed to crawl his way up to the mouth of the doorway, leaning out of sight behind the heavy metal doorframe. Staring out at the receding stormclouds all the terror was gone, just silent contemplation remained. It felt all the fear had overloaded his system and broken his ability to take in the gravity of the situation.
He sat like that for a while, musing on the fading flashes. They were far away now.
Sitting there things came back slowly, avoiding the two near-death experiences within the last couple of hours, instead looking out to the future following the storm. The emission clearly rolled out far north too, and everything beyond him was uncharted by stalkers. He'd simply heard nothing about whatever was out there, not even rumors carried from outside the Zone. If he was going to try heading out north he'd have nowhere to to shelter the next time an emission came in. Maybe he'd find a house, maybe full of bloodsuckers. Sitting and staring out at the route he'd hoped would lead him out of hell his hopes curled up and died.
Not only that but his rifle and backpack were dumped somewhere in the grass out there, along the side of that disturbing lightning-rod hill. Sitting here staring at the landscape infront of him the instinctual fear returned. Those huge channels carved out of the dirt as if by the hands of titans poked through the gnarled trees. The bloodstains and corpses were things he'd seen before in his time in the Zone, but if ever he was cavalier about death it was really coming home to him now.
The prospect of having to trek back and forth through the grass out there like some rookie was beyond anger or fustration, even fear. A cold numbness had settled through him. He'd had real hope somehow but this was like a wave of cold water hitting him. The mutants would have taken shelter too though. Perhaps even in the depths behind him.... no time like the present.
It was do or die really, maybe and, so without letting himself deliberate any longer he forced himself to his feet, doing whatever he could to ignore the weariness in his limbs and aching joints, the terror, the future. The wind had picked up in the aftermath of the emission, scattered clouds remaining trailing across the sky, throwing the place into a patchwork of shade and sunlight. Just placing foot after foot ahead of him, alternating between scanning the horizon for danger and ground for whatever he'd dropped on the way. Every sense was on overdrive, like a man suddenly dropped naked in an alien wilderness.
There were hermits in the Zone, a tiny handful that eschewed weapons altogether in exploring it's dangers. Most shunned them, something they were quite happy with. Tales said the Zone knew the ill-intentions of stalkers, and the mutants and anomalies were punishment for it. The more sensible ones though, from those that talked longer to these mad recluses said that not carrying weapons seemed to fundamentally alter how they took in the Zone, everything from the obvious decisions to how their eyes took in it's lands and ears heard it's sounds.
Most of these campfire tales shared over vodka were met with a healthy dose of skepticism, but now forced into their shoes so brutally Yar felt every tiny detail that he'd learned (and forgotten) over the years returning in how he assessed the paths he would have taken; where the anomalies might lie invisible in wait; the kinds of terrain mutants prefered to rest or look for food, the subtlest of whispers on the wind betraying the various low hums and rumbles of unnatural activity. Every sense was screaming for information like eyes trying to seek light in a cave, flooding his conscious and blocking every other petty distraction. He'd heard in the more frank discussions late at light, when the tales of bravado were finished and the older ones started to let down their guard, that some stalkers went into what was almost a meditative state or a trance when they went out into the Zone. He'd never been one that had made sense of that approach truly until now. He was far more experienced than almost all he met in the latter days, but even so he'd marvelled at how some could truly survive out in the wilderness beyond all reason. Experiencing this heightened level of awareness with his own eyes felt like one of those great mysteries had unlocked itself.
He was so focused on his task and surroundings that it felt like sleepwalking as carefully picked through the wooded grasslands ruined by anomalous activity, unconsciously finding safe vantage points to seek out his backpack left nearer his position. It was a green needle in a green haystack, but he wasn't even that surprised when he managed to pick it out without the shadows lengthening overmuch. The way the grass lay trampled by his running footsteps and unnatural depression it created within gave it away in ways he'd never have appreciated back in his freedom days. For a brief moment he wondered if the sensation was like unlocking that hunter-gatherer spirit buried deep within modern mankind.
He wended his way towards the pack lying discarded on the floor, instinctively going to throw it over his shoulders and fasten the belt before checking himself. The next step was even more dangerous, not a time to make the same mistake, or forget the lesson he'd just learned. Settling for slinging one strap over a shoulder, he continued as before, heading on round the hill in a sauntering but purposeful manner. He'd thought entering some kind of trance would slow you down to mutant food but the pressing fear of death with no way to defend yourself forced you to keep moving forward as steadily as possible without rushing, constantly adjusting to the waves of sights and smells and sounds.
Cresting the ridge that revealed the distant tunnel he'd sought out earlier was rattling. With every step he'd found it harder and harder to stop the alertness turn to real debilitating terror of that piercing agony in mind that could be lurking in a controller's misshapen head appearing over the rustling grass. As the tunnel crept further into view, revealing the rest of the clearing leading down the hill towards it he let out a sigh of relief at the serene landscrape. The only things moving were the leaves of the living trees in the distance moving gently in the wind, along with a handful of ripples obscuring one side of the tunnel opening. The relatively bare hillside didn't offer much help locating his rifle though.
It took some careful thought looking back at the way he came to work out how he would have headed for the tunnel before- directly, in a hurry to escape the emission, to get a sense of where to search. He felt awfully exposed, even if this place seemed almost untouched by stalkers in comparison to the rest of the Zone, those were probably all servants of the Monolith. Where before time seemed to drift past unnoticed, his attention entirely on his surroundings, now walking back and forth across the hillside felt like it was taking an age.
He had to restrain himself from sprinting towards it and cradling it in his arms when he spotted it in the dirt, even more so to leave it in it's bedraggled and mudstained state as he slung it over his shoulder, considering where had some hope of a future for him left. As much as it pained him, the only way seemed to towards the colossal slabs of concrete breaking the horizon to the south.
They were fully settled into their camp in the road tunnel entrance now, a queer bunch, gun-nuts nattering away that spent too little time firing them, reserved veterans like water-worn stones that had spent too much, and somehow women with inhuman skin sitting there openly. Strelok felt like an empty husk in comparison. Even the three of the others that could handle themselves weren't any kind of replacement for his old friends, Ghost and Fang, Guide and Doctor. They'd all become stalkers second, by necessity for Hog when the proper mercenary jobs started drying up in favour of grabbing whatever could be had in the collapse, when the scientific efforts had stopped being the role of the uninvolved observer for Kulgrov, when the brass had sent him to do their dirty work for Alex. They were highly capable at stalker-ing, surviving in the Zone, but for Strelok and his late comrades the Zone was really the entire world, surviving, thriving and learning it's carefully guarded secrets the meaning behind their life.
Even for Alexander, who he'd gotten along with better than most stalkers and was a real rarity, intelligent and a fierce fighter but with the sense to submit to the Zone's foibles, wasn't really the same. He took it in and learned it's ways better than most others he'd ever met in his travels but there was still an other, an outside to the Zone's inside. He'd gone along with his assessment when they'd been sent here, mindful of the threat of returning unsuccessfully but now he was back here, deep in the wreckage of humanity's pride in it's knowledge and control of the world, the outside felt like a pale shadow. Ever since he'd set eyes on it's stark wonders and dangers, pulling the fantastical baubles and artifacts from the unnatural disturbances and telling his tales like an enthusiastic kid to Doc, nothing else in life had the power to replace it.
No matter how much he tried, he couldn't bring himself to take the prospect of running the gauntlet to escape it's clutches seriously. Heading deep into the Zone to solve this latest disturbance that had set off fickle temper had stoked something in him that he hadn't felt since he'd last set foot in the power plant's grounds well before Operation Fairway had failed and brought Alex to the Zone. Dying trying to escape with a bunch of half-competent fools slowing him down just to live a quiet life of hiding from the powers that be in the big land just felt wrong now he was sitting here.
Sitting here watching them chat about heading back, searching for that mystery undiscovered by any other man felt more appealing, no matter how suicidal. The other stalkers, the small-timers and career men, even the thrill-seekers and crazies had said it was suicidal to break through the brainscorcher and reach it the first time. When it was there for the taking it stopped mattering. He just regretted not having those pillars of Ghost and Fang to back him up this time.