Under Eternal Winds

by TheFictionalWriter

I - Vojka - I

Hope...

... Echoed in her mind with each sped-up heartbeat forcing its way up her throat, where each labored breath drew a loud gasp from her gasmask. She couldn't turn away from what was beyond her; her muscles froze like ice, and her mind raced away from her grasp. The sounds surrounding her were drowned out by the obsession within her vision. The only thing she heard was the loud beating in her chest.

Beyond her lay the overgrown bunker, still sealed and unscarred. It stuck out to her; it was so familiar from every dream and every absent thought she ever had, but she stared at it like an awestruck child, unable to do little more than gaze upon it. Her eyes locked on the crease between the heavy doors, their color drowned out and obscured by the overgrown and twisted plants surrounding the concrete doors.

She heard a voice, and she panicked, dragging over a clump of fallen branches still floating in the muddy swamp water to conceal the bunker. She heaved over the branches and fallen leaves, covering the exposed bunker door. She took a step back, her gaze fixed on it, hoping that was enough. She smiled at her work. From a distance, the bunker door was well hidden; she just hoped no one else got close enough to see it first.

She turned back, the image of the door and its surroundings burned into her mind. The dreams of what it held from the world turned her heart into a beating drum—wild with its sound, every muffled breath holding every note only to join the next. The drumming beat rose and fell with her breath, slowing her panic down to only her shaking hands tapping nervously at her hips. Another breath slowed her anxious hands, and with an exhale, her body shook and brought itself back to normal ever so slightly, her heart slowing to a steady tap-tappity-tap. Another breath followed her as she turned, breaking her gaze with the hidden obsession. Her feet sloshed in the mud, and her gaze drew up to a figure standing on the bank of the bog, his rifle resting in his arms. His mask was slightly cracked—the voice came from him, her escort across the surface. He looked down at her from the bank of the swamp, scanning the desolate wilderness before staring at her.

“Thirty minutes, мусорщик.” The man said, taping his watchface. Her eyes ran him up and down, as if inspecting him just for a moment. His suit is kitted for exploration and escort. It was durable, even if its wearer was not.

‘Мусорщик...’ She thought. ‘Calling me a scavenger again, he never just uses my name, does he?’

She nodded, her eyes sticking to the man in front of her as she let out a deep sigh. “There's nothing here, Мишка. We should head back.” Her feet hit firm ground with the next step, and she lifted herself out of the bog. Her eyes locked onto the cracked mask, and the revolver at her hip sung at its sight, but she held herself. His equipment was valuable, but one miss, and she'd be the one left for the shrimps. She looked around aimlessly and took a step past him. “There's a storm inbound. Let's get somewhere safe.”

“Whatever you say.” The man nodded with a tired voice, giving no time as he turned, setting off back into the city with her following behind. The swamps were dangerous and toxic, but the rotting, snow-capped buildings were where the true threats lay.

Whenever she was outside of the metro, she had to be vigilant for anything, but the wilderness gave her a strange feeling of serenity, even if it felt like there were eyes everywhere. The city, on the other hand, was a warzone in its own right. Any number of dangers existed: demons, nosalises, bandits, and even other stalkers, though that's rarer. One mistake would result in another unmarked grave.

It didn't take long to walk back to the city edge, but within the shattered streets, it would feel like an age had passed by the time they reentered the metro. Growls and roars from nosalis packs, screeches from demons flying above, and a few gunshots in the distance put the two on edge. At any moment, anything could go wrong. They started by crouching between buildings as they made their way through the robbed and empty businesses and deserted offices, cleaned out by scavs and stalkers equally. They were still several blocks from the metro as they kept their slow pace. The only thing that mattered was that it was safer; they didn't care about the time it took to weave between buildings on snow-covered streets and hide for a moment before moving from alley to alley. They got closer to their goal with each step. At last, the stairs leading down to the metro entrance could be seen. It felt as though a weight had been lifted off their shoulders as they dove below into the metro entrance. They ought to be safe there within the metro. For now.

Alarms blare, and the room is filled with fresh air. The antechamber's makeshift decontamination system screamed from the vents and pipes lining the chamber as it was bathed in red and yellow lights. As she waits for the cycle to end, water aggressively splashes down the young woman's protective gear. The alarm ends as the water stops, ending the cycle as the grinding sounds of steel and concrete fill the space as the two enormous doors grind open in front of the woman. She heads through, walking into a side room, splitting from her escort, and allowing her to take a moment of privacy while she redresses.

The room was half a set of benches and half a shower and restroom. It was barebones, made for dressing and cleaning without thought of luxury. The bare concrete and steel supports made it obvious of the rushed job, but even still, it had survived the collapse.

A deep gasp and a rough fit of coughing as the woman heaves in the "fresh" recycled air of the metro system welcomed her, taking off the gas mask and the outer layer of her protective clothing. She crouched down, spilling blood into her palm as she coughed. Her eyes were drawn to the blood's red velvet sheen and unsettling metallic odor. She grins, her gaze fixed on the little pool of viscous liquid in her palm. She inhaled slowly and deeply, a smooth velvet line tracing the rims of her mouth. She murmured under each subsequent breath in a quiet, rugged voice.

“Every drop—it's all going to be worth it. Every. Last. Drop.” She straightens herself slowly, staring into a mirror hung up on the wall. It was old, but it was cleaned up as much as it could be. She takes a moment to stare into her own eyes, a lovely dark red staring back behind a worn layer of gray. She took in her image, pushing through the exhaustion to see something beyond the sickly woman before her. The fruitlessness of her hope brought a sense of reservedness to the surface. She broke the gaze, taking the time alone to get better dressed for the metro's underground and to clean up the stain in her hand.

Dressed in an earthy brown long shirt and rugged wool pants, she donned a warm coat over her plate carrier—a valuable piece, even without its plate—and pulled over a darker shawl around her neck, throwing its fabric over her head as a hood. Her gas mask hung strapped to her hip, and her revolver sat cold within its holster, hung on the other side of her waist. Her kit had been built over a year of hard but well-paying work, and her face reflected it. Staring back at herself in the mirror hung against the wall one last time, a vivid sangria stared back at her. Her eyes sat sunken against her matching mane and slate coat. Her soft face had turned rugged over the long year she lived in Ponianka. She sighed deeply and rinsed off her face with the sink below the mirror, the ice-cold water putting her coat on its ends.

She stepped out of the side room, her eyes connecting with her escort's, awaiting his payment. She stepped up to him, digging out a well-kept rifle magazine; set within it was a handful of high-quality ammunition, made in factories before the fall and never reloaded. This was the only currency of the metro besides one's own actions and reputation—ammunition. It could be traded or even used in a desperate enough situation; the higher the quality, the higher the value.

“Ten high qual.” Uttered the woman as she thumbed out ten rounds from the magazine.

“We agreed on fifteen.” The stallion replied, a dissatisfied sigh escaping him, his eyes staring down at her, his forest green coat now pronounced without his mask.

“That was if I found something; I didn't exactly find any artifacts out there.” Said the woman, her eyes staring back at him as she extended the hand with the ten rounds. “Take it or leave it.”

“Fine. You can't keep shorting your escorts, мусорщик. Debts will mount.” A grunt escapes the stallion as he swipes the ten rounds into a pouch on his side, tightening it closed. “You'll be taken like every other lost сталкер.”

“Stalkers work alone.” She says this as she puts away the magazine. “So far, I'm not there yet.”

“Don't let the others hear that,” he scoffs. “You'll never make another hit.”

“Yeah, sure.” The woman sighed and gazed around the entryway. Her focus jumped from guard to guard before going back to her escort. “Maybe you'll get another hit soon.” She gently taps her fist on his shoulder, earning a shy smile on each of their faces.

“Пока-пока, сталкер.” He lets a quiet, soft chuckle escape him, a soft smile growing.

“Yeah. I'll see you around.” She shifts her focus from him and walks further inside the metro station. As she makes her way through another set of massive doors, she wraps her scarf closer around her mouth. The sound of heavy doors and the sight of the aging concrete walls surrounding her brought back the dim memory of the bunker. It was holding something—something she wasn't supposed to know about. She could just feel it waiting for her—for her to rip those doors wide open so she could smell the old air and the scent of hidden riches. As she went among the masses of people going about their daily lives, her fingers trembled against her leg. Her hands shook as the noise of a crowded, bustling market filled her ears. She became distracted by the business of gossip, whispers, shouts, and chaos. She could feel the layers of quiet and calm melting away with the overwhelming noise of a busy market. The pushing and shoving required to merely get through brought her back into the present, but her mind was bouncing around like a racket ball and was unable to hear itself. Her eyes darted around the crowd as paranoia gripped her; what she knew was worth more than her life, and she knew it. Every few stalls around her stood an armed guard, a loaded rifle in hand—even now she doesn't feel safe. Theft was not an unusual occurrence; nonetheless, the open threat did help to control it to some degree; however, even that much was too much for Ponianka's High Command. The guards were trigger-happy and always on edge—the threat of violence went both ways in the metro. The politics at play were as palpable as the metro's bustling spirit.

After leaving the market, the woman made her way further into the station, weaving through the various corridors and passages with a wind in her step. Over the course of her walk, she could pick up on conversations that had been carried with the wind and ricocheted off of every gray wall. When people were packed together so closely, like they were in the metro, information spread quickly. Today, there was yet another event near The Chasm—a section of tunnels collapsing and exposing the inhabitants to the inhospitable environment above. Life in the far regions—like Ponianka—was safe to a degree, but the closer the station was to the city center, the greater the threat.

The woman would find herself in the Сервисный district of Ponianka, which was the second largest district in the station and was packed with restaurants, cafés, and eateries with an entertainment zone at the heart of it. She would duck into random coffee shops, seeking refuge from the hustle and bustle outside, only to move back through the crowd until she hit the next store. She slipped into another café, booking it towards the shop’s backroom—somewhere she could sit alone, someplace she could contemplate in silence.

‘Well, now it's obvious. I was right. There was something more outside the city; they called me crazy, but I was right!’ She thought to herself. ‘But there's the issue—what happens now?’ ‘Well, isn't it obvious? We’d need a crew. Someone I can trust—someone not afraid to explore...’ She sighs out loud, cupping her head in her hands and rubbing her eyes as she finds the answer to her need. ‘The only souls like that are-’

“Воюшка?” A soft, familiar voice calling her name—at least a nickname she uses—from across the table cuts off her thoughts. ‘Voyushka’ pulls her head up out of her hands, her eyes staring into the face of Galina, her best friend. “I thought I saw you heading back here.”

“Галечка! I was hoping to see you, actually-” Vojka breaks into a coughing fit, trying to talk through it. “I think I stumbled onto something!” She clears her throat and wipes her mouth. Scooting forward in her seat, she leans over the table with a soft smile. “Something big...”

Galina chuckles. ”И я солдат!” She shakes her head softly and sighs. “I love you, Vojka, but be serious with me.” She leans forward. “Is it actually something big, or is it another one of your old wives-tales?”

“I'm serious!” Vojka scoffs, nearly coughing again. Tapping the table with her palms, she leans forward, nearly off her seat. “I really found something, Galina!” She speaks in a hushed voice, grinning like a child. “I really did. An-And it's big, really big—bigger than anything scrapped from the old mines and bogs!”

Galina chuckles softly, a gentle smile on her face. Galina had rarely seen her best friend so ecstatic; it was strange, but she wanted to understand. “Подруга, calm yourself, please.” She looks up at Vojka and leans back, crossing her arms smugly. “We should move somewhere a bit more apt then, yeah?”

Vojka gently nods, her grin subduing slightly, before sitting back down and taking a breath. “You're right.” She stands up and lets out a deep-seated sigh, steeling herself for a moment before taking a step toward the café's entrance, with Galina following close afterwards. As they make their way out of the café, Galina takes the initiative, and Vojka swiftly follows after. The two women make their way out of the crowded streets of the service district and disappear into the winding passageways of Ponianka. They travel together till they reach one of the several slum dwellings that are dispersed across the station. Galina takes Vojka's hand and leads her into the cramped, secluded area, tugging her inside.

“So, this is yours too?” Vojka asks Galina as they sit across from each other in the small living room. “Bit of a downgrade, no?”

“Borrowing it from a friend, you know well enough where I live.” Galina smiles as she shuffles about the house, preparing a small kettle of tea for them. “You practically live with me now, my little stalker.” Vojka responds with a timid smile to Galina's remark, prompting Galina to offer a quiet chuckle to herself.

“And I thank you every time, don't I?” Vojka says, her eyes wandering off to the corner of the room, her timid smile falling away with the gaze. Galina looks back at her friend, her expression dropping to one of empathy. “The square is still too dangerous, you know? The bogs can only bring in so much after so long.”

“Vojka...” Galina sighs tiredly. “I'm not asking you to-”

“I know.” Vojka sighs, her tired gaze looking back up at Galina. “But it's not enough. Not yet.”

“Yet?” Galina takes off the kettle as it whistles, pouring each of them a small cup of tea, her eyes looking through her brow at each other. “Vojka, please, I don’t want you to...” Galina caught herself, and they both understood. Vojka takes a sip of her tea; the heat it brings gives her a moment of calm and ease, and its earthy smell restores her timid smile ever so much.

“I know, Galina, I know. But… I found a bunker. One out in the bog—and it's untouched!” Vojka's easy smile turns into a grin of pride. Galina stares back at her, setting down her cup before she can take a sip. Her face changed to pure interest.

“And you remember where it is? Is it open? What could be inside? What-” Galina is cut off as her questions build rapidly.

“Галечка! Please. I know what I saw, and I know exactly where it is. I hid it in the brush, and the doors were still mostly closed. It was only apart, maybe, an inch at most.”

“So that's that, then? Pry open the doors, and boom! Easy fortune and fame?” Galina picks up her tea, taking a sip with a smile. “Vojka, the latest stalker of legend!”

“Hush, Галечка~!” She giggles, leaning back against the wall and taking another sip once she stops imagining herself in the place of such a legend. “Wouldn't want the Metro to get jealous already!” They chuckle back and forth between attempted sips of tea. After soft sighs bring an end to the bouncing giggles, Galina smiles at Vojka.

“Since we were both much younger, I can't remember the last time I've seen you smile this much. And it's been years since I've last heard your real laugh, Воюшка. Your voice has been on my mind a lot lately, especially with you always gone on the surface. I fear for you. And it makes me happy to hear it again.”

“Galina, I...” Vojka gave herself a short pause while her mind scrambled to come up with the right words to say. She quickly followed her repressed sigh with a false smile on her face and a nod. The sigh was painful, not cathartic, but Galina couldn’t tell the difference. “Thank you, Galina. I count myself blessed to have you as a friend. Your voice is a treasure that will never get old to me in the cold of the surface.” They both give a small toast to each other. Vojka continues to take modest sips of her tea before giving an audible sigh. “But... the bunker. I'm afraid it won't be so simple. I can't do this on my own; going into a place like this would be suicidal. I'll need help, but I don't trust anyone here.”

“There must be some stalkers that would give their lives for this chance, right?”

“That's the problem; they'd die, and they'd kill for it. Even other stalkers. It's too much of a risk to bet on those in the game. I'd need at least two or three more people who I can trust. Then, we keep it quick; keep it quiet.” Vojka sighs, slightly shaking her head. “I know you, and maybe Тимур... maybe not.”

“But neither of us are soldiers, or even trained.”

Vojka nods. “Neither of you are stalkers either.” she said, her hands softly quivering as they clutched the cup of tea tightly. Stillness sits between them for a few moments. Galina runs her finger over the edge of her teacup, tracing it, while Vojka looks into the dreary liquid before taking another feeble sip. Galina takes a short breath before opening her mouth, her eyes swiveling to Vojka.

“I may have an answer to your issue, but I don't think you'll like it, Воюшка.” Vojka's eyes light up as she locks eyes with Galina's, and she motions for her to continue. Galina smiles briefly before continuing. “Timur has some mutual friends of ours, maybe-”

“Don't. I am not asking fucking Aleksander of all people to help!” Vojka shot forward, nearly standing at the suggestion, if not for the small roof.

“Every time you need help, he's there, but you'll never just accept his help!” Galina sat forward, straightening herself up and setting her cup down.

“Because he's a damned dog! I wouldn't feed him my scraps, let alone a fucking bunker, Galina! He always wants more and more in return for the littlest shit!”

“Vojka, Aleksi is the only person in Ponianka with what you need and the reputation to back it! He's not in league with any lone stalker, and Timur said-”

Vojka laughs, scoffing off Galina's remark. “Oh, 'Timur said! 'I love Timur, but he isn't exactly the king of reputations!”

“It's better than you dying alone in a God-forsaken bunker, Vojka!” Galina shot up at Vojka, standing up as Vojka sat back, taken by surprise. “You're barely a stalker, let alone a soldier! I can't lose you to some dreams mashed together by our despair.” Galina yells, almost hitting the roof as she sits up. An air of fury filled the room as it went silent. For once, the business of Ponianka couldn't be heard, just the heavy breathing between the two. “Воюшка, for the love of what's left, please. Please just accept his help this one time. I don't want you to just become another picture on the wall. Not like Дима.” Vojka stared at Galina; her heart had nearly stopped. Galina let go of a heavy sigh, the tension defusing slightly as she stared down at Vojka.

“Галечка...” Vojka sits still, a tired and cold look on her face. Vojka held Galina as her closest friend, and she could feel the turning point laying in front of her. Vojka rarely saw the anger Galina had inside; it was rare, but it had worsened every day since Dima’s death during an expedition to the city’s center. “I'll talk to him.” Vojka's face softened with a level of understanding, and her eyes locked with Galina's. Vojka could see right through Galina; she wasn’t staring at her anymore; instead, Galina saw Dima sitting across from her, saying goodbye—for the second time. “For you, подруга.”

“Thank you.” Galina let out a deep sigh. Equestria had taken one of her lights away before, but she dreaded what it would do to Vojka. The tension in the air came back down as they both eased into a breath. They sat in silence for an exhausting moment, and their eyes avoided each other for what felt like an eternity before Galina gently took the cup from Vojka's hands, cleaning up the room and preparing it for bed.

They lay together in the small shack, the air still uneasy as they both tried their best to drift off. Even with Vojka's exhaustion, she managed to lie there awake even longer than Galina. Her mind roamed as she stared up at the ceiling. The bunker remained burned in her mind; her eagerness nearly forced her awake, but she calmed herself with Galina’s presence. Galina occupied her thoughts once again, forever an anchor for when she spends days or weeks outside at a time. She doesn’t always bring home what she hopes for, but it's enough for them to live without the constant worry. Galina makes some down here in the metro, but together they have a decent income—something most in the tunnels can't claim. Finally, her mind goes to Aleksander. Vojka never trusted him—even with the backing of Galina and Timur, she still couldn't. Aleksander was wicked in her eyes and preyed on the weak in her view. It wasn't going to be an easy meeting for her, but it had to happen. For Galina.

Vojka drifted slowly, finally falling and passing into a dream of the bog. The bunker sat before her, open wide, with a blinding light emanating from the open doors. It lured her to come ever closer, to be washed away in light. If she could just dig out anything useful, she'd be set for the rest of her life. Enough money to no longer worry about expeditions, enough money to stay in Ponianka, or even enough to travel the metro—even past The Chasm. It took everything she had to not go sprinting into the bunker, to not dive into its depths head first and seize whatever lay at its heart.

Vojka knew she might not come back at all. Even with a group, bunkers were dangerous places. Mutants, radiation, toxic air, and so on awaited her. The dream fell dark with the sound of rolling thunder, a storm of endless might reigning above all of Краснобарда. It brought fear to Vojka’s dreams, trapping her beneath the nightmares deep in her mind. She would face the figures in the darkest corners of the metro, her mind leaving her outside the south gate of Горные Копыта, alone. Left to the beasts flowing in from the Equestrian wastes outside the mountain valley above the metro. Left to that endless darkness that sat just beyond the station.

Left to the fear of the metro.

Comments

[Starlight Nova]

What does Krasnobarda mean? It doesn’t even come up in my spellcheck.

[TheFictionalWriter]

11747570
Krasnobarda is the name of the city. It's a mashed word made from the real life city of "Krasnodar" and "Kabarda" which is a Russian horse breed.