"Just don't think we're crazy, Executioner," Beard says, putting on a sad expression. "But… something is definitely not right here. And not in the usual Zone way – mutants, anomalies, radiation, but something much more serious. Something bad happened in these places, and we need to figure out what exactly. Until we do, there's no way back – the fog is too thick, we can't get through the anomaly fields, plus it…"
"Confuses directions," I finish for him. "I noticed it myself; as long as this foggy thing keeps working, we'll always be wandering in these parts."
Beard just nods thoughtfully, agreeing with my words. No matter what you say, the fog is a real and very serious problem in our case. Even if you walk in a straight line, without turning anywhere, you'll still end up not where you intended to go. Because of this, you constantly have to check your direction, but it still doesn't help much.
"And maybe we put a cross on the caves too early, huh, brothers?" Teterev interjects into our conversation after a few seconds. "The Executioner, of course, told us about the laboratory, but who says there's only one exit from those caves? There could be two, or three."
"Maybe," I nod readily. "Only consider the fact that we have very little food, and the problem with water and ammunition is exactly the same. And the total length of these caves could be tens of kilometers, if not more. My personal decision is this – first, we'll try to solve this damn riddle, and only then, if there are absolutely no other options left, we'll go underground."
"Okay," Glukhar replies with a full mouth. "I see no point in going into the caves now when there's a chance to get out on the surface. There's only one problem – that unknown thing that killed four of our guys already."
"Four? Gypsy and Father aren't the only ones?"
"Yes," the investigator continues. "It ate Mitrich and Shmel; only one foot remained of the two men. It tried to attack a couple more times, but we opened fire on it in time, and it ran away. Whether it's alone, this creature, or there are several of them – who the hell knows, but it's scary, terrifyingly scary."
"What does it look like?"
"That's the thing, we don't know," Beard says grimly, pushing his plate away. "Because of the fog, you can't see a damn thing, and the mutant moves too fast and silently. But it has clearly dealt with people before us; it's afraid of firearms like fire. As soon as it realizes we're ready to attack – it immediately bolts. How's your ammunition supply, Executioner?"
"A few magazines for the Fort, even more bullets for the revolver."
"Not much, but it'll do," the squad leader nods. "There are almost no other mutants here, so… there's almost no one to fight off."
Silence falls in the room for a couple of minutes. The stalkers sit at the table with unreadable expressions, each thinking their own thoughts. It was clear that the latest news they received from me had not pleased them at all, and now they had a lot to consider. I, in turn, thought about that mutant; of course, it posed no personal threat to me, but it turned out that if I wanted to get out of here, I would have to deal with it as well. I don't want to solve riddles alone, so that unknown beast becomes an enemy. Firmly.
"So, what about the solution to our common problem?" I ask. "Enlighten me, at least."
"We should start from the very beginning," Beard says and reaches for his backpack, from which he pulls out a worn notebook. "A long time ago, when the first explosion at the Chernobyl NPP happened, the residents of the surrounding lands decided not to leave their ancestral homes. To be honest, many of them didn't believe in any radiation at all, considering it all a plot by evil communists who wanted to rob their families again – many, as it turned out later, were descendants of repressed individuals who had miraculously managed to move to the central part of the Soviet Union. So they continued to live here."
The stalker pauses briefly to clear his throat and take a couple of sips of water.
"So… they didn't feel any harm from radiation at first, and therefore fully believed in their own righteousness, which later caught up with them," he continues. "Then the grown children started to leave, the old people began to die, some developed serious health problems. All that sort of thing."
"Nothing surprising," Teterev snorts contemptuously, leaning back in his chair. "Fools they are, and fools they remain; they paid for their stupidity."
"I won't judge them," Beard replies peacefully, and Glukhar just nods at his words. "By the events of two thousand and sixth year, not many residents remained – about fifty to seventy people in all the surrounding houses. And among them, one interests us all – Father Feoktist, the priest of a small local church. We, by the way, set up our main camp in it and found this notebook there."
"And what happened after the Emission in the sixth year?"
"Nothing good. Anomalies appeared, animals began to mutate rapidly, people, again, began to pass away faster. Feoktist recorded everything. Who, how, and when died, how the funeral service went… And how the fog first appeared here. It happened a few weeks after the Emission, and the remaining residents of the Misty Thicket found themselves trapped here."
"So, the only one who might know something is that very Father Feoktist, who, moreover, left behind a series of notes. And probably not complete, with a hint of continuation?" I voice my assumption aloud. "So, we must find his notes to localize the problem and start searching for a solution…"
"Whoa," Glukhar whistles. "Are you a cop by any chance?"
"I have a different kind of experience," I can't admit that I've played a lot of games and read as many books. "Will you let me read the notes? So that I can participate in the discussion on equal footing."
"Yes, of course," he hands me the thick notebook. "Here."
"Then I'll go to the next room to read," I flip through a few pages, admiring the neat handwriting. "Call me if you need anything, otherwise, you can do whatever you want here."
Nikanor's house, after the Executioner left for another room.
Glukhar slowly and quietly gets up from his chair, tiptoes to the doorway, and peeks out, seeing the Executioner comfortably settling on the sofa with his head towards him. After that, the former investigator carefully closes the door to muffle the sound of conversations, and then turns to his group members.
"What do you think of the guy?" he asks Beard and Teterev very quietly.
"Seems like a good kid," the first stalker shrugs. "Smart, attentive, and look at his gear. He probably didn't take it off a corpse; the armor is too intact, which means he bought it. In that case, he might even outshine us all in terms of experience. We look more like vagrants."
And indeed, Beard's squad looked more like a group of ragged diggers or not very experienced stalkers. Ordinary suits like Zarya, heavily worn, a couple of Ksyukhas, and one pump-action shotgun that rested on the second bird-stalker's shoulder. And against their background, the fully equipped Executioner stood out very strongly, even without his main weapon. And Glukhar was very interested in how the stalker lost it. And where. If it was some high-tech gun with a powerful caliber, it would make sense to find it. There should have been at least
a few bullets left with the Executioner?
Just as Teterev was about to open his mouth, the door behind Glukhar suddenly opened, and the Executioner re-entered the kitchen, making the investigator jump, the stalker's step in SEVA was too quiet. Too quiet. And after walking to the center of the room, he reached into the pockets of his load-bearing vest and pulled out several magazines for an assault rifle and a small scattering of bullets. Looking at the surprised faces of the company, he smiles mischievously, placing a hand behind his head.
"I completely forgot that I had bullets left from my assault rifle," he says. "I have nothing to shoot with now, but it seems they will be more useful to you. And now I'll definitely go read and won't disturb your secret talks. Ciao."
"Still not greedy at all and thinks about the common cause," Beard remarks again as soon as the stalker closes the door behind him. "The same Gypsy, may he rest in peace, would have managed to overcharge for bullets in such a situation. My opinion is that we can and should work with the guy."
"I think about the same," Teterev chimes in. "He's a calm, reasonable guy. He's just secretive, but we all have that flaw. The main thing is that he doesn't bail at a crucial moment, but… I can see in his eyes that he won't chicken out."
"We all think along the same lines," Glukhar notes with a smile. Somewhere deep in his police heart, he felt and knew that this meeting would be fateful for each of them. He had seen all sorts of people in his years, and the Executioner… so far looked the most promising of them.
The Nameless Thicket, some time after the emission.
Feoktist gets up wearily on the bed, looks ahead for a long time, and only then heads for the exit of the small cell that had been his home for many years. Due to the catastrophe, maintaining faith was extremely important, because if there was no faith, the world would completely plunge into the abyss. Only God can help. At least, the priest wanted to believe so, because… deep down, he understood that God had abandoned these places. What are those strange formations in the air that kill people worth? And the animals that attack his parishioners?
"This is not a good sign, not a good sign…" the priest whispers as he descends the narrow spiral staircase, whose steps creak incessantly under the weight of the clergyman.
His beloved temple was going through hard times. To tell the truth… the worst times had come for them. There were fewer and fewer parishioners, and they all cared primarily about themselves, about worldly matters. But Feoktist himself, despite everything, remembered his duty. And as soon as he wanted to light candles, he heard heavy blows on the entrance door of the church. The priest hurried to open it, and an out-of-breath old man stood on his doorstep. Quickly scanning his memory, the priest remembered who was standing before him. Nikanor, an old resident of the farthest farmstead. He held a weapon in his hands, but the priest did not comment on it.
"What brings you here?" Feoktist asks in a bass voice, stroking his long curly beard.
"I need help, Father, help!" Nikanor pleads, almost shouting. "Things are very bad, Father Feoktist. Not only that devilry that burned Stepanych out of nowhere, but now the animals have gone mad too!"
"Did anyone get hurt?" the priest asks in a worried tone, clasping his hands on his chest.
"Nyurka was mauled by her own goat," Nikanor says colorlessly, lowering his gaze. "I wanted to shoot that infernal beast, but I missed – only wounded it. And it, roaring, rushed into the forest. But that's not all…"
"Merciful God," Father whispers wearily and raises his eyes to the sky, as if trying to draw the attention of heavenly forces to himself and these unfortunate laypeople. "May the Lord God rest the soul of his servant Anna… What else happened, Nikanor?"
"A strange fog has filled the forest. I had to wander quite a bit to get to you. And you know yourself that I know these places better than many!" the old man exclaims the last sentence heatedly. "It seems to me that the source of this fog is somewhere near my farmstead. It's still okay here, apparently, it hasn't spread yet."
"I understand you, Nikanor," Feoktist nods with grim determination. Whatever this devilry is, he must try to deal with it. In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit! "I'll get ready and we'll go."
The Misty Thicket, our time.
In addition to general memories and notes on how and whom the priest had officiated, the personal notebook also contained truly valuable entries. Based on what was written, it can be assumed that the fog is man-made. My logic is simple: if the fog were a formation of the Zone itself, like other anomalies, it would have immediately covered the entire territory of the Thicket. This means we have a chance to turn it off. If only we could reach the source.
But… I am more concerned about the effect this fog has on each of us. I don't know what it's like for other stalkers, but Nikanor, that very one… None of this was for nothing. Either the psychotropic effect is much stronger than I can imagine, or the fog has a side effect, so to speak, of "reproducing people who died in it," or the Zone itself intervened to pacify a restless soul and give a hint. The search should begin from here, namely… from a certain ravine that is sadly familiar to me. I need to discuss it with the others.
I get up from the sofa and head to the kitchen, where the stalkers are still sitting. Only instead of regular water, something ruby-red is splashing in their glasses. Beard answers my raised eyebrow.
"This is my own herbal blend," he explains with a smile. "Well, it's… a mixture of tea and some aromatic herbs that grow here, in the Zone. It's very invigorating and lifts your mood. Shall I pour you some?"
"I think so," I agree to Beard's famous tea from stalker modifications. Beard gets up from his chair and starts brewing tea for me. After a few minutes, a transparent glass stands before me, from which a sweet aroma with a hint of mint and something emanates. I take a cautious sip. And it turns out to be very tasty tea. "A delightful taste."
"Just what we need now, huh?" Glukhar grins. "Well, have you read everything?"
"Yeah," I say, placing the notebook on the table, a notebook none of the stalkers reached for. "What do you think yourselves?"
"We need to find this Feoktist or at least Nikonor," Teterev shrugs. "They know more than us, and without their help, we're unlikely to figure it out on our own."
"If corpses could only talk, my profession wouldn't exist," grumbles another stalker, taking a sip from his glass.
"At least their bones will point us in the right direction," Teterev counters. "Unlikely, though, but..."
"Teterev is right," Boroda interjects, stopping Glukhar. "This way, we'll at least know where to start our search. Sorry, Palach, you probably thought we were halfway to solving the mystery? But no, we haven't the faintest idea where Nikonor's farmstead is. This one or the next..."
"This one," it's my turn to confess. "Yesterday, I met an old man at this farmstead. Wrinkled, in a plaid shirt and with a double-barreled shotgun. He introduced himself as Nikonor and asked me, in exchange for lodging until you arrived, to do him a favor. Bury the bones of his 'buddy' in the backyard of his house. I thought, what the heck, it's the Zone. Well, the old-timer survived and survived, especially since he told me how he used to trade food for ammo for his shotgun..."
"Wait," Teterev jumps up. "If this is really his house, then there should be old cartridges somewhere! I'm going to look."
He disappears into the next room, actively searching. Glukhar gives me a wary and skeptical look, while Boroda just smiles good-naturedly. Soon, a triumphant shout comes from another part of the house, and the stalker returns to the kitchen with a large handful of cartridges for his shotgun.
"It's even the same caliber! U-u, you bitch, hold on now," the stalker says joyfully, distributing the cartridges into the pouches on his gear.
"I..." Glukhar begins. "I don't really believe in mysticism, but... I won't be mistaken if I say that you really buried someone's bones?"
I nod silently, agreeing.
"It's the Zone, Glukhar," the group leader exhales. "Miracles happen at every step here, pleasant and otherwise. So, it turns out we've come to the right place... Can you lead us to where Nikonor died, Palach? I think we should start our search from there."
"Of course."