Hiker looked around at the dark underground space they were in, and the cloudy sky of Pripyat outside, contemplating the bleakness of his situation. Applejack looked forlorn. For such a family-orientated pony, to be stranded in an inhospitable place like the Zone was loneliness of the highest kind. She missed the comforts of her farm and family, applebloom's laughter, her brother's stoicism.
As Garry clambered out from the manhole after them, the giant doused the small fire, collecting his gear. Seeing the stalker and the pony staying put, his voice rumbled again,
“We can't stay here. It's not safe in places like this after dark.”
Applejack looked up at the imposing man, towering over her. Not once had he shown any surprise at her appearance. How did he so calmly accept her, a pony, when all the others had been as shocked as she was at their alien appearances, and their strange mannerisms? There was obviously something off with him, something intangible.
She sighed. This world was far more harsh and cold than she had imagined from volunteering back in Ponyville, that even the man that had been transported there, this 'Hiker', seemed less of a monster and more of a creature of depth and feeling. Of Garry, she didn't know what to make. On one hand, he was forceful and definite, almost domineering. Yet to one as skilled at reading personalities as her, there was a easy-going, optimistic side to him crushed by the tremendous strain of trying to stay alive here that she could only imagine. As the other three in her party prepared to leave, she mused on just how much her life had been changed in the last two days.
They set off, up the ramp leading out of this dark concrete hole, up to the open air. She longed for it after her long underground march. As they approached the top, the giant rushed forward, pausing at the intersection with the road, on edge with his rifle ready. She and the others paused, watching him. He had clearly seen something. Slowly, he waved them up.
“Don't worry, the Zombified are nothing to worry about at this distance. We are safe.”
As they came out, and followed his gaze, the sight of a gaggle of the brain-dead stalkers that were hit by the brain scorcher graced their eyes, far off many blocks down, milling around aimlessly. Hopefully they wouldn't shamble this way, Applejack had headache just thinking about it.
The movement of the stalkers around her jolted her from her thoughts, as they quickly jogged off, guided by Garry. Galloping after them was hard work on the uneven cracked road surface. All around her now the apartment blocks loomed over her, intimidating her with their size. The only buildings their size back home were the parts of Canterlot castle.
He led them this way and that, around buildings looted and sacked, past roads whirling and rippling with the strange gravitational anomalies Hiker had lectured her on this morning. Past withered, gnarled trees and bushes, and into the grounds of a building that resembled some kind of school, with rotting outdoor play-areas dotted around the grounds, and faded murals of small humans playing painted on the walls. Garry led them through the front door, along the corridors away from the roadside end of the building. After numerous passages, turns and a set of stairs, she found herself in a large classroom, with a fire-pit in the middle, and bedrolls and supplies dotted around it.
The three humans crashed down onto the soft mattresses, pulling off their webbing and ammunition, relaxing and murmuring amongst themselves. She certainly felt more relaxed than she had done so far in this world. No monsters or evil creatures nearby. Even if there were, nothing would find them in this rat-warren. Still, the headache from earlier was back, no longer imagined this time. It felt like a grinding and burning inside her skull. She massaged her tender forehead with a forehoof. The giant turned to her again, peering at her with his skull-faced mask.
“Are you okay, little thing?”
“Jus' a headache, nothing more.”
“A headache?”
“It only just started up again, I felt it last time when we saw those zombie things.”
“A headache only when we passed the zombies, that is not good.”
He looked at Garry. Garry looked back, puzzled. Suddenly, the puzzled look turned to a concerned look. Something about her headache must be bad, it showed. The giant stood up abruptly.
“I'm just going to go and have a little look outside. I might be a short while, don't worry.”
He marched off, out into the corridor. Garry still looked concerned. Hiker was just opening up a loaf of bread from his sack, passing around.
“What's gotten into him? All I said was that I had a headache. I'm a tough mare, I can handle it.”
“I don't know. But it worries me. He knows things like avoiding anomalies instinctively, he can just wander around the Zone on autopilot safely. This must be one of those weird things he remembers from his time as a Monolithian.”
“Anyway, is there any way I can help out with you guys? I feel like a dead weight not being able to carry any of your weapons or anything.”
“That's true. Without a gun, you can't go alone in the Zone, it would mean almost certain death. Maybe we can get a technician to rig something up for you, but I don't really want to reveal you to other stalkers. There's no telling how they would react. Personally, at the moment it doesn't too much, as Pripyat seems pretty deserted at the moment. You never know when shit will hit the fan in the Zone. Things get nasty faster than you can scream for help around here.”
“That's a mighty lot to think about, Mister Garry.”
They sat there in silence, eating the bread Hiker had brought, listening to the sounds of the quiet evening of the ghost city. The calls of crows, the rustle of trees outside, the occasional howls and groans of far-away packs of dogs. One sound was new though, every so often groups of soft thumps, usually about a dozen each time, came from outside. What started as a few solitary sounds turned into an almost constant, fast-paced thudding, louder and sharper than before. Hiker turned restlessly.
“I'm going to go to the front of the building, see what the din is outside. I can't sleep, my head is just spinning and aching, its driving me insane.”
He wandered off.
“Him too, that makes three of us with headaches. There's gotta be something causing this.,” said Garry, looking at Applejack. As she opened her mouth to say something, a voice pierced through the evening.
“Shit! Garry, get here quick, its that damn giant of yours. He's a bloody tank in combat.”
Garry snatched up his VSS, sprinting out the doorway, along the corridors, to the front face of the school. Hiker was standing there, clutching his shotgun helplessly. A fell sight confronted his eyes.
On the long, open courtyard in front of the school stood a horde of the brain-dead zombified, illuminated by each other's head-torches. Many of them were firing at some dark, large shape, closer to the school. Suddenly, the shape moved, and the silhouette of an exoskeleton was light by the flashing of a long machine-gun in his hands, spewing bullets into the zombies, cutting through them like a knife through tissue paper.
Garry dropped to a crouch, bringing up his sniper-rifle, and started firing off bursts at the horde, covering his mad ally. As the ranks began to thin however, the figure in the exoskeleton recoiled, bringing his hand to his head. With the other, he slowly brought the MG back to bear, now firing wildly at a single target, ignoring the encroaching zombies. As he fired, he was stunned a second time, almost thrown onto his knees. Resting the foregrip on one knee, clutching his helmet with the other, he continued firing, spraying at an unknown target. The stray bullets from the zombes' wildly inaccurate shots were starting to hit him now.
Now Garry could see his target, it by the gunfire. A horrible, misshaped, bloated body. A twisted, bulbous head. It was a Controller. He too ignored the zombies now, firing on full auto from the window at it emptying the magazine in an instant. The bullets hit it, stunning it for a second, stopping its wild, evil gestures. The exosuited giant leapt up, dropping his machine-gun, running at it, pulling a compact rifle from his side, and slamming into it head on. It was knocked back, and surprisingly quiet burst from the rifle annihilated its skull at point blank range.
Turning around, the brown-coloured exoskeleton bearer started to jog as fast as he could away from the remaining zombies, firing bursts of bullets at them, ducking behind an old van. Bullets pinged and ricocheted off its sides, trapping the lone stalker. Garry pulled away from his scope, his ammo almost gone. The action was cooling off now. In the dark, the zombies had lost sight of the stalker hiding in the wrecked van. If he made a run for it, however, he would be shredded, that was certain.
“What're we gonna do Garry?” said Applejack, by his side. She looked just as concerned as he felt; she was no use here, and she knew it.
“I don't know. There's not much we can do.”
They stood there, man and pony, watching the lone figure, trapped wounded and helpless by his heroics. Not many could claim to have killed a controller, as their fierce telepathic attacks fried the brains of its victims, turning them into the zombies that often are found near them. They were notoriously resilient as well. Garry pulled his binoculars out, trying the make out the half visible stalker huddling inside the wreck of the van. He had a lightly-coloured camo on his arms and legs, and brown Kevlar plates on his chest. Monolith colours. It must be the giant. He had said he was going out to look for something. Looking around at the variety of zombies, he spotted all sorts of factions and stalkers. Rookie loners, betrayed by their inexperience, older zombies, relics of the long-dead brain scorcher, hulking master stalkers, with their exoskeletons and SPAS12s, obviously converted while trying to kill the controller. And there, a zombie wearing a SEVA suit, moving strangely for a-
“Wait, hellfire, that's Hiker.” exclaimed Garry.
“Where?”
“Look, amongst the zombies.”
He was walking slowly, holding his shotgun loosely in one hand, avoiding the spread out zombies as he wandered nonchalantly among them. At a snails pace, often stopping and pausing, he reached the giant in the van. He helped him to his feet Carefully guiding him, Hiker led the stalker through the horde, in the same way. Eventually, they were lost from sight, on the other side of the mass of zombies.
“How the... how did he just walk into them, and walk straight back out again?”
______________________________________________________________
Some time later, Hiker and the giant emerged into the ruined school.
“Where the hell did you learn that trick Hiker? How is that even possible?”
Hiker grinned.
“It's an old trick good old Uncle Yar taught me back at Yanov, before he left for this hellhole. It's all in the body language and posture, my friend. That little trick's got me out a few sticky situations, it has.”
They looked round at the man with him. The giant Monolithian was in bad shape, red stains from bullet holes dotted his exoskeleton, and the small bandages pressed onto them were doing almost nothing to cover them up. He crashed down to his bedroll, carefully removing the servomotors from his suit, discarding them, his breathing labored. He gladly took a military-grade first aid kit from Hiker, first taking out some rubber gloves. Removing the exoskeleton’s gauntlets, and taking a large swig of vodka, he applied the gloves. With each small red hole, he dipped two fingers in, groaning in pain, to remove the small lead pellets. After that, he took a brightly shining green and white artifact from his pack, and held it against each wound. Applejack watched in morbid curiosity. The rest were asleep by now. Soon, he retrieved another artifact, a lime green twist-shaped blob. He sat back to sleep, holding each close to his chest, gently puffing in and out of his mask. All was quiet and still.