I enter the house, immediately unlacing my boots and taking them off in the hallway. I slip my feet into the first slippers I find and walk into the kitchen, meeting Hunter's gaze as he drinks tea from a metal mug. The old man looked much better. His skin had a healthier color, and there were no such deep bags under his eyes. It's even strange how effective the medicine can be.
"Hello, young man," the stalker greets me, setting aside his mug and standing up from his chair. "Sit down, sit down, I just cooked something, I'll serve you."
"How are you feeling?" I ask him, placing my backpack by the wall, and go to wash my hands. "You should sit, I can get the food myself."
"Thanks to you, kid, I feel great, I'm still weak, but I'm not dying anymore," the old man smiles, putting his cooking into a deep bowl. "Sit down, don't grumble like an old man."
"Thank you," I thank Hunter, taking the steaming bowl from his hands, and sit down at the table, starting to eat. "It's delicious."
"Of course," the stalker smiles again, taking a sip from his mug. "Stewed potatoes with meat are always delicious. If only you could try my wife's cooking..."
For a moment, silence hangs over the table, broken only by the spoon scraping against the bottom of the bowl. A few minutes later, I empty the plate and use a piece of bread to gather the remaining food, putting it in my mouth. I was about to get up and wash the dishes, but Hunter stopped me:
"I'll do it," he says, taking the bowl from my hands. "You go clean yourself up, take a shower, and I'll tidy up here, I'll call Wolf too, we'll talk."
"But..."
"No objections!"
There's nothing left but to retreat from the kitchen, taking my backpack with me. After unpacking its contents in my small room, I go to the bathroom and undress, throwing my sweaty clothes into the laundry basin, although I'll have to throw away the jacket, unfortunately, it won't come out by hand. It's good that Hunter had heated water recently, as if he knew I would come. So I just take a shower, shaving off the stubble that has grown in the last few days.
After the bath, I change into clean clothes and go back to my room. Once in the room, I plop down on the mattress and pick up the new PDA. I press the power button, the screen lights up, and the loading begins. I wait a bit longer, and immediately go to the settings menu, setting a password. Then I transfer all the data from the old device via Bluetooth. And now I can go to the stalker network section. As soon as I select this tab, the inscription appears on the entire screen.
Enter your callsign, stalker.
"Executioner," I type my nickname and press the "accept" button.
Welcome to the stalker network, Executioner.
Following this message, I gain access to my profile page. There was nothing unusual there. Nickname, faction affiliation, which had a dash in the field, and an empty status that I could edit myself. I shift my gaze to the top of the screen and see the names of several sections: general chat, group chat, and private messages. The first one, on the right, had a green indicator. Apparently, new messages, I go there.
To Eshelchak: Oh, we have a new brother stalker!
Kolyada: Never heard of such a stalker. A novice?
Grunt: Another piece of meat who decided a fearsome nickname is something cool, obviously.
Tikhiy: I heard that a stalker appeared on the Cordon, in the novice village. I didn't think he'd save up for a second-generation PDA so quickly.
Grunt: As expected, hah.
Executioner: Hello everyone, guys.
After typing the message, I turn off the PDA and put it on the mattress. Then I leave the room and head to the kitchen, from which the voices of Wolf and Hunter can be heard. The Stalker was helping the old man set the table, which already had a plate of sliced sausage and cheese. Soon, a jar of pickles, several thick slices of bread, three shot glasses, and a clear, unlabeled bottle joined it.
"You're already here, kid," Hunter notices me first. "Sit down, everything's ready."
"Hello, Executioner," Wolf shakes my hand with a smile.
"And to you," I sit down opposite the old man, the stalker sits between us, moving a chair. "What's the occasion for such a feast?"
"We're celebrating," Hunter says, uncorking the bottle and pouring its contents into the shot glasses. "My future recovery and the appearance of a wonderful person in our ranks. To you, Executioner!"
"To you!" Wolf echoes, clinking glasses with me and the old man.
"Ahem," I cough, unaccustomed to it, very strongly, and immediately chase it with a piece of sausage. "What is this?"
"Moonshine of my own making," Hunter replies. "It's good, the devil!"
"That's true," says the second stalker, starting to crunch on a pickle. "Well, Executioner, tell us, how is it out there in the swamps? But now with details, not like a couple of days ago."
"What details?" I answer him. "It's damp, anomalies all around, and plenty of scum. Renegades, by the way, have become active, they'll be fighting with Clear Sky for the swamps."
"Mda," Wolf says, his face darkening. "I hope they don't come after us later."
"That's unlikely," the old man says. "If they do, Valerian will give them a good fight. And this, what's his name, Clear Sky, what kind of clan is that? I've never heard of them."
"Secretive guys," I shrug. "They've dug in somewhere in the south of the swamps, and only they know where, they don't let strangers in. They seem like normal stalkers. I helped one of them, and he gave me an assault rifle, and another invited me hunting."
"Oh," Hunter exclaims, pouring another round. "To good prey!"
"To prey!" I clink glasses with the stalkers, downing the shot, and immediately reach for the cheese.
"What were you hunting?" Wolf asks a little later.
"A bloodsucker," I pop a piece of cheese into my mouth and answer. "As it turned out, there was a whole brood of them not long ago. So the Clear Sky guys decided to exterminate them, but they messed up, letting three escape. One stayed in the swamps, hunting the blue jumpsuits, but two disappeared in an unknown direction. Get it?"
"Heh," Hunter chuckles. "Of course. It was obvious that the creatures came from the swamps. Now they know who scared them from their nesting places. That's what happens when amateurs get involved. They don't want to deal with hunters, they want it here and now. They rush in, rattling their assault rifles, kill a couple of mutants, miss the rest, and then walk around proud. Wow, they cleared out a whole mutant lair. And this filth then eats ordinary stalkers."
"Have there been cases like this before?" I lean forward, asking Hunter with interest.
"Plenty," the old man replies, scratching his chin. "Usually, stalkers don't realize that few creatures live alone. Many of them are the same animals, just badly damaged by radiation, and they have a breeding season."
"I never even thought
about that."
"It's forgivable for you," Hunter pats the table with his palm. "You just got here, and these experienced veterans of the Zone, pfft, rarely use their heads, so they die like flies."
"There's a story, Executioner," Wolf draws my attention. "About a year or so ago, Duty, if I'm not mistaken, assembled an advance detachment to clear the territory. They were trying to get to the Rostock factory through Yantar, but couldn't get through the anomalous fields, so they settled at Agroprom. Ten tough guys with cool body armor, assault rifles, and grenades, one of them even had a machine gun, it seemed. A formidable force in the Zone. They arrived at the location, cleared out the small fry, and then a chimera stumbled upon them by chance. A creature is extremely terrible and resilient, it managed to kill two before its own demise. After cutting off everything necessary and unnecessary from the mutant and burying their comrades, they moved back. It was too late, though, they stopped for a break. They put one man on watch, because what did they have to fear in a relatively safe territory? But the chimera wasn't alone there. You can guess for yourself what happened to them."
"The watchman didn't even have time to squeak, and it tore the others apart while they slept?"
"Yeah," Hunter replies this time, barely chuckling. "Everyone should have etched it into their minds that hunting such creatures should be left to professionals, but no. If Clear Sky had contacted hunters through Sidorovich, they would have sent them some capable guys to help for a modest fee. By the way, how much were you paid for the bloodsucker?"
"Three thousand," I shrug. "We hunted in pairs, though it didn't quite work out successfully. The bastard dodged. I had to gut the bloodsucker with a knife in close combat."
"You should be called Butcher, not Executioner," Wolf says with a smile.
"When I recover," the old man says in turn. "We'll work on your marksmanship."
Then we sat for a few more hours, occasionally filling and emptying the shot glasses. Hunter told stories from his hunts, Wolf shared the latest news and rumors he heard in the village. Thus, it turned out that in the Gut, besides hunters, another very shady group had settled, and if I went there, I should be careful.
Among other things, the leader of the newcomers asked me to do the old man's job. He, though occasionally, provided the village with meat. And since I am his student and already know how to butcher animal carcasses, I can do it myself for a symbolic fee from all the stalkers living in the camp. I agreed on the condition that he would provide me with a few guys to help. Afterward, after a warm farewell, we parted ways. Wolf went home, and Hunter and I, after cleaning up the kitchen, went to sleep.
Coming out of my small room a little after nine in the morning, I meet Hunter, who is already preparing breakfast. A light vegetable salad was already on the table, and buckwheat porridge was cooking in the stove. I sit down at the table, waiting for the food to be ready.
"Where's the best place to go for game?" I ask the stalker, taking a hot mug of fragrant tea from his hands.
"You can look behind the elevator, near the tunnel," he replies after a moment's thought. "There are many stones, bushes, a convenient place for animals. If you don't find anyone, you can go through the tunnel, and turn left at the exit. You can often see boars there too."
"Thank you," I thank him, taking a cautious sip.
After breakfast, I helped Hunter wash the dishes and went to prepare for the hunt. I still needed to clean my rifle and pistol before going on the job. I agreed with Wolf that he would assign stalkers for the hunt this morning, and the payment would be part of the loot. As I finished cleaning the weapons, there was a knock on the door.
"I'll open it," I warn Hunter, so the old man doesn't have to run back and forth, and go to the hallway.
I open the door and see four stalkers I know on the threshold. The trio with whom I carried supplies for Sidorovich, and Byk, who recently lost his partner. If Pukh, Kulak, and Voron looked normal, the appearance of the fourth stalker was quite pathetic. Disheveled clothes and hair, his face was a large swelling, and a huge purple bruise was spreading under his left eye.
"Hello, guys," I greet them and listen to their greetings, then turn to Byk. "How are you, can you go with us? Because, honestly, you don't look good."
"Better now, I've recovered a bit after... after," he replies. "I can walk, and carry, but it's better not to get to shooting."
"Understood. Does anyone need to leave their things here?" I ask them, and after negative nods, I continue. "Wait a couple of minutes, I'll get ready and come out."
Quickly getting ready and slinging my rifle over my shoulder, I go outside, closing the door behind me. Byk stood a little further away, at the exit of the yard, Kulak was leaning against the wall of the house, and Pukh and Voron were by the porch. The latter, as soon as I took the key out of the lock, spoke:
"What's our plan, Executioner?" asks the black-haired stalker, taking his pistol out of its holster and pointing its muzzle at the ground.
"Let's go behind the elevator, see if there are any boars there," I reply, picking up my rifle. "If there aren't any, we'll have to cross the embankment, it's not far."
"Well, let's go then," Kulak rumbled.