The Zone

by Rostok

2: Convergence

As the three of them limped into the camp by the Limansk Bridge behind Hog, Degtayrev let out a sigh of relief and turned to Strelok, "Seems like we've found the group Pilot was talking about, who'd've knew all it took was a couple of girls to trigger the Zone, eh?". He didn't look amused. This place didn't hold good memories for him, last time he'd been here he was running for the nearby tunnel under sniper fire. The whole place was too exposed, fine for an organised group with plenty of men to control both sides of the rusty drawbridge but a deathtrap for a small group trapped between the Red Forest and deadly unknown of the old town across the river. The camp itself barely had cover, a damaged watchtower next to the bridge with too many windows and a couple of burned out vehicles.

With a shrug Degtayrev helped him sit down against a truck. Kulgrov slumped down beside him as the adrenaline crash set in combined with his already frail body. The two of them set to work unpacking Strelok's food and medical kit at pace more like men twice their age. With the commotion the two stalkers engrossed in tinkering by the fire had noticed them now,

"Major?"

"Hey Nimble, it's the old FSB Major, Alex!"

Nimble, that name again, presumably the guy on lookout in the tower. Strelok swore he'd heard it before, but with the hood and half-mask over his mouth he couldn't place him. While Strelok was caught up in the past, Alex had strode forward and embraced the two technicians,

"What are you dogs doing out here eh? Don't tell me, this is the annual rare shooter convention right?"

"Real funny man, what are you doing here walking in wrong direction?", replied Nitro. Both of them looked strained, understandably. "Who's the buddies?"

"Couple of strays I picked up on the way. More to the point a stalker called Pilot we met on the road told me you went to see Forester but all I see are some old wives chatting away and not leaving the house."

Hog looked over from his perch on the truck, "Fuck you, there's a solid wall of anomalies leading up to that tower. I think there's a way over some rocks but I had bail your sorry asses out first."

"Chill, it's fine, I didn't mean anything by it. Why're you going to meet this old guy instead of getting the fuck out of here anyway. Surely there's some cash waiting out in the big land for mercenary boy like you?"

"Like you'd know government man. I'm Hog by way. It's a long story and the storyteller don't feel like chatting much." Hog nodded at the stalker with long bright purple hair spilling down over her back (he guessed it was a girl, under all the thick layers of bodysuit it wasn't obvious). She was sitting away from the rest, head in hands in knees, like so many stalkers before trying to hide from the fear and despair. "Pretty shameful display really, sitting around the fire out in the open like a bunch of kids. Only the rookie Z had the damn sense to hide properly."

"Come off it man, we both know this place is pretty deserted and we're fucked something comes either way," drawled Cardan.

"You're not fucked if it doesn't see you, dumbass"

"What mutant isn't gonna smell Cardan's stink of vod from miles around?" Nitro snapped back.

While they were bitching as stalkers are wont to do, the black woman, who Hog had called "Z", crouched down next to Strelok and helped him prepare his bandages. She looked a bit older than most of the guys that ended up in the Zone, not helped by the prominent grey streaks in the hair poking out from under her hood.

"What ails you my new friend? Perhaps I can help your leg to mend?"

He pulled back the curtain visor from his face and looked coldly up at her. Like almost every stalker he'd seen, she had a lean, almost gaunt face from all the poor-quality, infrequent food but where it mattered most, deep down in the eyes, there was the hard piercing gaze of the survivor. Most of the stranger characters that turned up in the Zone from across the world didn't have the wariness or the keen observation needed to stop their insides becoming outsides.

"You'll need to take off your boot if I'm to tend to your foot."

Her accent definitely sounded African, the way she pronounced boot and foot were almost identical. He reached down to free up the ankle-clasp around the bottom of the SEVA suit leg that helped maintain it's excellent enviromental protection and got to work on the laces of his boot. Once it was off she tenderly lifted his ankle up to inspect it.

"Looks like a nasty sprain, no doubt a cause of pain. Nought much to do but to rest and rue."

Now he was forced to think on it he was mentally kicking himself over and over. Caught up with the shitstorm brewing here him and Alex had commited one of the greatest cardinal sins of good stalkering. They'd rushed. In their haste they'd ignored the groundwork; observing the area and it's residents, searching the anomaly fields for artefacts. Neither of them had been able to smuggle in some of the rare treasures blessed with all sorts helpful properties. What he'd give for a Soul right now. Being back in the Zone without those strange energies influencing his body felt unnerving, Alex probably felt the same.

He looked over at the two technicians arguing with Hog. "Maybe there's a old gun around here, has to be a decent length. Those two might be able to strip the barrel out for a splint."

He looked across at Kulgrov, but the poor fellow had fallen asleep halfway through one of the classic Zone diet sausages. The only thing to do in the meantime was crack open the vodka, sterilize the cuts and numb the pain. He was alive and if this were the old days he'd gotten away lightly all things considered. These weren't the old days though. Nowhere safe to sit and wait for a couple of days to heal and buy more ammo. Without the ability to walk beyond a hobble now though he'd be target one for any mutant they came across; free lunch. He tossed the vodka to Alex, who took a big gulp and splashed some on his own gash before handing it to Cardan.

"Thanks man." He paused for second, looking at Strelok, "Hey, why don't you use that busted piece of shit vintorez you're carrying?" said Cardan with laugh.

"Why don't you fix it up Mr Fix It? I lost my shooter, I saw it on the ground, it piqued my interest."

"Yeah, yeah, hot trash is what that shooter is. Come on, give it here, it'll hold your leg up better than an exo in no time."

---

Freedom was dead. He could see it's lifeblood seeping into the dirt through his scope.

Lukash's mangled corpse wasn't a pretty sight, but it was hard to look away from the last time he'd see the man that had led and defined his life for the last couple of years. When some of the more ansty members had taken off and left day after yesterday Max knew deep down it was over, but didn't have the heart to leave before the end. They managed to defend that night, but the casualties were building and the mutants were getting to close to maintain fire discipline. When most of the surrounding area had calmed the next day it seemed like things could improve.

They didn't muster in the afternoon like before, but as the moon started to lower in the sky the howls began and the shapes appeared from the darkness soon after. The unlucky men on the perimeter when they came had all died, no exceptions, but managed to stem enough of the tide that it didn't wipe everyone out before they got into the fight. Every hand held a gun that night, and just about every gun was shot.

When it was all said and done, 4 men that stayed and fought were alive come dawn. In the confusion they'd got split into 2 groups, each defending one of the old military base's watchtowers. The only one left with Max was one of the younger guys, covered in all sorts of lacerations that any number of bandages were struggling to deal with. He'd thrust a vodka bottle into his hand when the attack ended and listened to the poor lad try to drown the pain as the light of dawn started to emerge. The other two he spotted making their way down to the firepit once it got light enough to see there was nothing else coming. It was too far to really make out who they were.

Sitting there in the morning light, watching the sun rise over strewn corpses of Max utterly empty, even more so than when he'd decided there was nothing left for him out there in the real world where people hustled and bustled over the most insignificant things. For the first time in his life the contents of his pockets, the clothes on his back and the shooter in his hand were all he had. Even when he first came to the Zone he had something else: hope.

The armored horses were there, trying to be stealthy with slightly tragic effectiveness. They were watching him, he was watching them. It was pretty clear this shithole didn't belong to humans anymore. If the dumb things wanted it they could have it.

It was time to come up with plan, one that ended up with him alive, somewhere warm with women.

---

Yar hadn't felt so disturbed since he'd explored the Zone as a rookie. Whatever this place was, it was serious bad fucking juju. At first it looked just like another deserted corner of the Zone, all woods and rolling hills and ruined trucks and the odd corpse. Then the massive scars like something had crashed from space started to appear, leading up a hill wreathed in fog to huge metal spheres. Gently flashing lights sporadically emerged from the mist. He'd skirted round to the east, only to see another huge unnatural trench leading to the same summit.

At least next to it was another lead: a walled compound. From his perch under one of the twisted fingers of the scar in the hill, he could see it was pretty sizable, a single large building in the centre surrounded by containers and old trucks. And bodies. A lot of bodies, all Monolith soldiers, except for the mutilated amorphous blob of rotting flesh of a pseudogiant sitting in the middle of the main courtyard. There were a lot of Monolith though, and they never lacked firepower. Something didn't add up. He raised his binocs for a better view.

On closer inspection it just got stranger. Most of the bodies had been dead quite a while perhaps the few weeks since things went to shit. The blood from their wounds had dried to dark brown splodges mixing with the assorted greys, greens and browns of the monolith uniform colours and rotted flesh and bones poked out from sleeves and dismembered limbs. It seemed fairly expected until he noticed a few were far less decayed, a week or so dead tops. Maybe they'd fled here and met the same fate?

Then there were the wounds. Pseudogiants crushed their victims, but all the corpses looked like they'd died of lacerations or being simply pulled apart judging by the damage to the bodies. It was hard to tell, but the rotted giant was the same, no sign of damage from the explosives usually needed to bring them down.

He sat back and considered for a moment. The Zone was in meltdown, and all the life he'd seen was a couple of mutant rats and a single zombified stalker that barely qualified as alive. The thing that forced the Monolith out of Pripyat and the NPP must have chased down at least some of the survivors here. The fact he was still alive supported the idea it probably had moved on elsewhere.

A rumble broke the near silence of the light wind blowing past him up the hill. Hairs started to raise on his arms and neck. Large clouds were darkening over Chernobyl. Darkening red.

Before he was even really aware what he was doing he was on his feet with his pack and shooter over his shoulder, walking briskly the opposite direction, before breaking into a light jog. He had to find shelter right now, and almost anything was preferable to a graveyard like that. Skirting round the hill more of the trenches leading upward appeared, all pointing to a veiled black orb of metal in the mist. The whole thing felt roughly circular. The erratically flashing shapes in the mist were clearly anomalies of some kind, and he had no intention of finding out. The rest of the valley seemed devoid of any sign of human habitation besides the flattened remains of a solitary brick building.

It wasn't long before he'd gone round about half the hill, and heaven seemed to send a gift. A semi-circular vehicle tunnel, roughly the opposite side of hill from the road from Chernobyl, was cut into the side of the ridge. It looked deserted. He broke into a run. The clouds were definitely a building emission, and if there was anything inside any seconds gained to deal with them could be the difference between life and death.

His breathing was heavy, his head throbbing. The sensation was building by the second.

He tripped.

Smashing face first into the dirt his head was killing him now. Something was really wrong. His skull felt like it wanted to explode.

A controller hidden in the dark?

Pushing himself to his feet with what seemed like herculean effort he started to stagger back up the hill, his gun forgotten in the mud. It was barely noticeable at first, but soon with every step the jackhammer in his head was replaced by his hammering heart and labouring breath. Ahead of him dark clouds loomed. Behind him lay certain death.

He disentangled his pack from his shoulders and sprinted for the compound of corpses. He wasn't young buck anymore and smoked far too much in the last few years for this. He was barely aware as the lights to his left on the hill raised in intensity to a roaring pillar of lighting stretching up into the swirling red clouds above. Eventually the concrete walls came into view, but by this point they were little more than a blur lost in the red glow from above and roar of the oncoming deadly wave of rolling radioactive material. A door was ajar in the wall of the building and he pelted through it as his legs gave out in exhaustion. He tumbled down the stairs into darkness as the square of light behind him screamed blood red.

---

Looking again at Lukash's lifeless body it really hit him. Freedom is dead. All the structure of the Zone in the past is dead. Holding onto it means death too. Anything that didn't help him get out alive was worthless. Sitting there and thinking about it there the best path to procede seemed obvious. Cut and run.

Looking out over the sunlight reflected in the mist gently flowing over the rolling hills nearby all the worries and memories faded from his mind, replaced by the calm and utter focus of clarity of mind and intent. The last thought to go is wondering if those little horses would even consider doing what he's about to do.

He looked down at the boy slumped against the watchtower rail, passed out from the alchohol and down at the two dazed stalkers eating by the campfire. Reaching out he pulled the young man closer to him and went through his pockets. A half eaten pack of biscuits, half a mag of spare 5.45, some other useless sundries. He pocketed the biscuits before removing his knife from it's sheath and slitting the boy's throat. He'd used all the Gauss batteries during the night and tossed the useless weapon away, resorting to cutting into his supply of ammo for his pride and joy SVU to clean up the last mutants. There's nothing left for him up here, time to move.

It's difficult going on the stairs, climbing over dead dogs, boars and men, made even slower by time looting the corpses. The pair by the fire have noticed him coming down now, and give him a wave. He waves back and flashes them a smile. When it comes to survival you don't skimp on the details. Further down at the base of the tower sits the next key ingredient, a G36 not trashed by dirt and gore, still with about a third a mag. It's not gun he's used much, not his style but it's fine for one use. Double checking it's loaded and in working order he heads towards the old warehouse and shop by the exercise yard. Not much point checking it, all the gear was emptied from it days ago.

Quiet voices tumble through the cool morning air. It's Pasha and Devil Dimi, two of the solid core of Freedom's once proud fighting force, always able to keep cool and- he quashes the thought. He can't let it matter to him now. As he's rounding the building he takes a moment to close his eyes and regulate his heartbeat. He's a little nervous, butterflies in his stomach different to the usual fear but the stalker in him understands what to do and why. In a single smooth motion he steps round the corner, shoulders the G36 and guns them down in two clean bursts.

There's something tumultous brewing in the back of his mind, but right now he can't even acknowledge it. Carefully picking supplies from their still warm bodies he knows the only thing that can matter right now is calmly doing everything in his power to survive. Time to disappear.

---

Battleborn could scarely believe what he'd just seen. That any of them had survived the night was a miracle in itself; he wondered how the hoofful of remaining humans planned to proceed, surely leaving to find shelter with more of their kind. He'd thought the ordeal would have brought them closer together to patch the differences the rather rag-tag group had originally, two of them were resting and sharing a joke as they try to recover what's left taking. The other pair still in the tower looked worse for wear, one didn't look conscious and the other was just sat there staring into the distance.

He'd been lying there awkwardly for a while watching with morbid fascination as the more active pair on the ground picked at the corpse of one of the beasts, cutting chunks of flesh from it's misshapen body when Iron Resolve, the guardspony next to him on watch kicked him forcefully in the leg under their makeshift shelter of branches. Battleborn turned to admonish him only to see his face fixed forwards but eyes turned towards him like he'd been paralysed by seeing a ghost. With a flick of his eyes Iron indicated for him to look back.

The one sitting in the tower was staring right at them.

They were a long way off and covered in foliage, up until now he'd assumed those tiny eyes these humans had couldn't see over distance without the tubes he presumed were lenses on their weapons and what he guessed must be binoculars, even though they looked too thin to be very effective. His heart lodged itself in his throat, since they'd set up the observation post there'd been no indication they'd been noticed at all. Surely the humans would have attacked or asked for help in such a dire situation rather than ignoring them. Even as the shock of underestimating them wore off it it was still sat motionless facing them.

They sat there, watching each other in silence as the wind blew the stench of death gently through their nostrils until a thought sent a chill up his spine.

"Check our flanks," he hissed at Iron Resolve, who started wriggling back behind the ridge; "They know we're here and it's playing us for green colts. Who knows what they're up to". It was a tense minute before the human turned away to deal with its wounded friend. At least it seemed that way until he saw it gather up a few small items and head down the stairs without doing anything about the wounds. It even gave a half-hearted wave to it's mates down below before starting to join them looting the dead. Maybe it was just mourning his friend? Maybe it was just chance it chose to look their way?

He didn't register anything odd immediately as it pulled a weapon from the hands of a body and raised it to it's shoulder, and before he could even begin to guess what was going on the shrill crack of it messily blowing holes in it's friends made him flinch after days of having to sit there watching death like he'd never seriously imagined when he joined the guard. He could scarely believe it. It killed it's comrades it had fought with tooth and hoof with for days in cold blood and started taking their equiptment as if it had spotted some nice wildflowers to pick. Looking up at the one it had left in the tower there was large new red stain spreading through it's clothes from it's neck.

Still barely able to process what he'd just seen, Battleborn shuffled backwards towards the small encampment and magically alerted his small squad to head back from their observation points to join him. They all seemed confused and suspicious, not helped by days of little to no sleep.

"We've seen enough. There's no doubt in my mind that there's nothing here's that's not corrupted to the core. We need to warn the Princess."

An odd blue flash in the hills was largely ignored by the handful of living creatures around the old army warehouses that still had eyes.

---

As he was weighing it up, the man in blue started coming down the tower, swapping posts with Hog. Finally able to pay attention and look at the little gathering his eyes met Strelok's for a moment. His leg froze in midair and he toppled face first down the steps, collapsing at the bottom. There was something about his face that Strelok couldn't place, he definitely remembered it from after the amnesia, but it was none of the seasoned stalkers from places he used to frequent.

"What the fuck was that Nimble? Stop being fucking clowns the lot of you!" shouted down Hog after him.

"Marked One!" shouted Nimble, scrambling to his feet hastily. "Never thought I'd see you again." All the stalker's eyes were on him now, except the truculent one with the purple hair. They looked liked they'd seen a ghost. In a way he supposed he might as well be a ghost, the way stalkers apparently told tales of how he'd been the first to penetrate the Brain Scorcher and the supposed mystical treasure trove beyond.

"No. Surely not." said Hog.

Strelok carefully unsealed his glove, put it in his lap and rolled up his sleeve, revealing the legendary tattoo itself that gave him the name 'Marked One' when he was dragged half dead infront of Sid. Nitro and Cardan stood there stunned while Degtayrev quietly chuckled to himself.

"Shiiit, some stray huh," whistled Cardan, "thought those tales were just guys talking bollocks. Either that or you copped it long ago or something."

"If you're quite finished staring like a load of kids at the zoo,"

"Yeah, yeah, one splint coming up."

Cardan took the battered rifle and lay it down on his mat next to half-dissassembled rifle he'd been working on and set to work tidying up the .

"What's with this blue camo stuff you're wearing Nimble? Saw a body wearing it way back in the swamps."

"Shit, you didn't remember anything when they found you, did they? It's from my old faction, Clear Sky. We hid out in the swamps away from all the fighting between the other stalkers, monitoring the zone and trying to keep it in balance. Not like those scientists owned by the West that just meddled blindly. Long story short you breaking into the power plant that first time pissed the Zone off big time. Emissions every few days, mutants going wild."

"You say that now," joked Alex.

"Well, real bad for then. We had stop you, at all costs. So we hired a merc who got hit by an emission in the swamp to hunt you down, and, well, kill you." Nimble shrugged and looked pained. "I might be the only one left now, I guess I kinda owe you double between that and you saving me from those bandits. Anyway when you went back in a second time we knew it was now or never and sent pretty much every one of us who could shoot a proper rifle well with this guy Scar to stop you. From what I know there was this big battle at the NPP, a massive emission hit and the Zone went haywire for a couple days. It must have caught everyone there, none of our boys came back. Not a single one. Me and some of the others like Cold and Novi just gave up sitting in our empty base and went our own ways after a few days. Then you turn up on a death truck and I get caught by some thugs like the idiot I was."

It was a sombre tale, and made some sense of what he'd seen in the swamps. Strelok started laughing, he just couldn't stop himself. Nimble looked at him awkwardly.

"I'm sorry, after all this time, it makes sense. The PDA I had, when I got found, it must have belonged to one of your boys. All it had was one task: 'Kill Strelok'." He paused, thinking again, "Explains why Monolithians had so many stalkers after that too, if your whole faction went there and got their brains scrambled."

Nimble gave him a shrug. "I guess so".

They both sat there quietly in memory until Degtayrev broke the silence.

"Talking about the Zone being a bitch from unwanted visitors and unpaid debts it's time we got on with our job." He shot Strelok a look and twitched his head slightly at the purple one, still curled up facing away from the rest.

"Which is?" asked Hog.

"Unfucking what's up with the Zone and/or die trying. Just like Clear Sky really."

Degtayrev walked up behind the girl, reaching out to her, before recoiling suddenly as if he'd seen a bloodsucker. His hand instinctively found it's way around the grip of his pistol before he was even able to process what he'd just seen.

"She's real horny eh?" said Hog with a chuckle,

She swung her head around to shoot him daggers with bloodshot eyes, revealing the horn protruding from her forhead and vivid violent skin.

"Fuck me, I think we just found our cause."

Author's Note:

late update for the late story

might try to get some pictures for of the generators for yar's section since the area was cut from the original game, but it's a bitch to reach so it's going to take time

next chapter should definitely be done this decade

Comments

[Humbucker]

Got me hyped for the return of this story.