The next morning, I received a folder of papers from Barmaley, which I was supposed to deliver to Belka, and the stalker leader immediately paid me for the delivery. It wasn't much, of course, but a thousand on a clear spot is quite decent. I head for the exit from the territory of the Abandoned Town, and out of the corner of my eye, I notice the Swindler standing not far from the checkpoint. He pretended to be very engrossed in conversation with a couple of other stalkers, but secretly cast sideways glances at me, once even pointing at me with a nod when I pretended to re-lace my boots. I need to come up with something.
I sharply turn around and go into the basement, immediately approaching Pirôg for a bottle of vodka, I pay, and just as quickly go back, almost bumping into one of the Swindler's buddies at the entrance. He himself was standing there, by the checkpoint.
"Oh, and where is our new hero of detective work heading?" asks me one of the stalkers guarding the Abandoned Town. A regular guy who is bored just standing at his post. But it's better for me.
"I want to go to Shtyr's grave, his guys buried Zhuk behind the Boiler House," I start explaining to the guard, deliberately raising my voice a little so it's heard better. "Only my head is leaky, I went, but forgot to take vodka, so I had to run back. Well, goodbye, guys."
I leave, walking a few dozen meters at a normal pace, barely holding myself back from breaking into a run, and switch to a brisk walk. I'll give my pursuers an unpleasant surprise.
On the way to the Boiler House, I thought about all this, being surprised and upset. On the one hand, it's good that I don't feel pangs of conscience for killing Spielberg, nor for what I'm about to do to the Swindler and his gang. But on the other hand, it's scary to lose myself so easily. But now it's impossible to do otherwise, they'll just kill me. As long as I go with the flow, I won't get out of the Zone without documents anyway, and I have no other plan of action. There is no plan at all.
I don't want to risk my skin in the northern territories at all, but there's no other way. Without risk, I won't be able to save money and reputation, become a valuable asset for scientists, get access to the military, get documents, and have the opportunity to get out of here. I'll finish with local affairs, grab the Hunter's rifle, and head for the Cordon. Far away from this Boiler House, lakes, and the like.
Here I am. I quickly enter the yard, frantically looking for a place to hide, and find nothing better than to hide in the corner of the garage. I can see the entrance to the Boiler House territory, and I can hear everything well. They might not go into the buildings themselves, and peeking out the windows or sticking out onto the roof is an unnecessary risk. They think I went to Shtyr's grave, I'll use this, let them pass me by, and shoot them in the back...
"Swindler, are you sure the crow went this way?" someone, not yet visible to me, asks hoarsely.
"Chifir, you heard it yourself, this pretty boy went this way," my acquaintance replies with a chuckle, well, well, you don't have long to live.
"And maybe forget about your pretty boy?" a third person intervenes in the dialogue. "I feel uneasy somehow, and how much will we take from these street urchins?"
"Calm down, Woodpecker," the Swindler tells his friend. "The deal is good, and our client has gotten money in a couple of days. He bought a sawed-off shotgun and carries a fort on his belt. We'll shoot him, and all this will be ours. All right, quiet. The grave is there, behind the building, to the right."
I listen to the whole conversation, holding my breath and waiting for the owners of these voices to appear. I raise my pistol, which I had previously removed from safety. When the first of my killers appears in my field of vision, I restrain my impulse to start shooting. The second. The third. I wait for more. No one. It's time. I shoot.
Three quick and accurate shots from the pistol end their lives, and I cautiously peek around the corner looking for possible threats, but everything is clear. No one else is here but me. I don't put my pistol back in its holster and go to check the bodies. I turn one over, then the second, and the third, the Swindler himself, turns out to be still alive.
"Thh..." he tries to say something, but chokes on bloody coughs, and I watch as life leaves him.
"What a monster I am," I say to no one and start searching them, receiving a message from the System.
Congratulations, user! Your Stealth skill has reached the Experienced rank.
Now you hide even better than before and can move with as little noise as possible.
They didn't have any bags with them, so I just rummage through their pockets. A little money, their communicators, several magazines with ammunition, two PMs and one TT. I throw all this into a bag, then I'll study it and sell it to Pirôg. Then my gaze falls on the vodka I bought for Shtyr. I should still go to him...
"It's not bad here, even beautiful," I say aloud, looking around his grave.
Green grass, various flowers beginning to sprout, a descent downwards, and at its foot, that very lake. A rather peaceful landscape. How good it was here when there was no Zone. But now this view is spoiled, if I can say so, by a crudely made cross from torn boards with "Shtyr" scratched on the intersection with a knife. I take the vodka out of my bag, take one sip, and pour the rest onto the stalker's grave, throwing the bottle aside.
"I don't even know where to start," I say with a slight hesitation. "I never knew what to say in such cases. And I don't know if you can hear me now or not. But, in any case, I'm sorry it turned out this way. Old Man had many friends here, he won't be alone. And you... you have no one here. An unknown and unnecessary stalker nicknamed Shtyr. I'm going to head North, I don't know when I'll be here next, if I
live to see that moment. But... well, goodbye, stalker. May the earth be your pillow."
I turn and head for the exit from the Boiler House territory, reflecting on how many people have fallen here. And if I am destined to die here, then where? And how? I need to go to the North of the Zone, and every step there promises danger and death. How many more will I condemn to death, like these bandits? Could I have just walked past and left them alone? I could have. Did I want to? I don't know. I always thought that every human life is sacred, and I continue to think so now, but for some reason, I feel nothing at all from the fact that on the third day of my stay here, my personal cemetery has grown to four people. When I step over the corpses, nothing stirs in my heart, it beats as calmly as when I shot them in the back.
Beyond the fence, I see a scruffy dog. At the sight of me, it flinched, but didn't run away. Apparently, it was completely starving. Patches all over its skin, remnants of fur sticking out in dirty clumps. Once, this dog was probably white, but now it's just a gray something.
"Food there," I wave my hand towards the corpses and walk past the dog, which is looking at me intently.
Nothing has changed in the bar in one day. The atmosphere was the same, and even in the morning there were many visitors, several of whom started whispering when I appeared. I just walk to Belka, sit on a bar stool, and throw the folder of documents on the counter.
"This is a greeting from Barmaley for you," I start the conversation, Belka flinches and turns to me, focusing his gaze on the papers.
"Pass on my regards to him too," he chuckles and takes the documents, hiding them somewhere under the counter. "I heard about Spielberg, you did well. It's not right to cut down honest stalkers. No one here has any complaints against you."
"Glad to hear it," I reply to Belka. "But I'm here on business. You said you needed something delivered to Krokhobor?"
"Yes, yes," he says. "You've obviously looked at what you brought me. So I'll tell you right away that the package for Krokhobor won't be much different, the same delivery sheets."
Honestly, I didn't even think to look there. Barmaley would hardly have entrusted anything important to a stranger, so there was no point in looking through these papers. For more important deliveries, he has trusted people, and quite a few. As I understood, Barmaley's group consists of about fifteen experienced stalkers who are tired of constantly risking themselves. So he could have found a courier for an important package.
"Here, take this," Belka hands me another folder.
"Well, goodbye then, Belka," I say and head for the exit from the bar.
Having learned from the experience with the Swindler, I decided to see if anyone would follow me, so I hid in a grocery store, which, in my opinion, is a typical Soviet store, at the exit of the village, but for fifteen minutes, no one came out onto the road. There will be no tail. I decided to look around the store, but realized that I was right about it on the first day I got here. Everything they could, they took before me. There were still locked doors, but I don't think I can break them down. And I don't think there will be anything really valuable there. And without rotten canned goods and other products, I can live quite well.
I take out my PDA and immediately go to the map section to plan a route to the second village, although, in my opinion, these few houses visible on the map are more correctly called a farmstead. So, I'll have to walk through the forest, I don't really want to. First, walk along the road and, not reaching the lake, turn right and continue along the ledge, then turn right again and then just walk straight, and I'll be there.
When I have to turn off the road, I reload my sawed-off shotgun, changing buckshot to bullets, and grip the weapon tighter. In the forest itself, I start using stealth to the fullest, trying to move as quietly as possible. And it even worked, although I never knew how to move quietly in the forest. All the time I stepped on a branch or rustled through bushes. But here it works almost intuitively.
Thanks to the skill, I notice the boars before they notice me. Three large individuals, apparently, they are all like this here. Two, smaller in size, are walking and chewing grass, and the larger one is sleeping, having fallen on its side. I could try to go around, but I don't think it's a good idea. If something goes wrong, they will have the advantage due to a surprise attack. And I don't think I can handle three wild boars in a direct confrontation. And I only have two bullets in my sawed-off shotgun.
I sharply peek out from behind a tree, raise my sawed-off shotgun and fire two quick shots, hitting two grazing piglets. The large boar starts to get up, and I'm already reloading the weapon and hiding behind a sturdy oak again. I peek out a few moments later and see the boar rushing at me with all its might. I wait and jump out from behind the tree before the boar hits it. The oak cracks, but withstands the powerful blow, and the boar shakes its snout and is already turning towards me, but it's too late. I take it down with a double shot.
Congratulations, user! Your Hunting skill has reached the Experienced rank.
Now you intuitively feel where it's best to shoot to effectively kill your prey, and you also know how to dress game.
The farmstead greeted me with a few dilapidated houses, remnants of fences, and a lot of abandoned garbage. Honestly, I don't understand why a merchant would settle so far from normal stalker camps. But, apparently, there are some advantages to being close to the Cordon path. I walk past a rusted trailer and see three stalkers about ten meters away, sitting by a fire and telling jokes.
"...damn, so many zombies! There's no room for a brick to fall," says a young guy in a regular leather jacket.
"Ah-ha-ha, you're a comedian," replies another, the third just laughs.
"Hello, guys," I greet them, approaching closer. "Where is Krokhobor?"
"Where, where, in his basement, there," answers the first, waving his hand towards the basement.
I enter the basement and go down the stairs. Scuffed walls of gray cladding, scraps of paper and some colorful packaging. In the basement, I am met by a hollowed-out grate in the wall, and behind it is Krokhobor himself. Fat, with a black short beard and an unpleasant-looking man of about fifty in a greasy t-shirt and the same vest over it. Behind him were some boxes, piles of canned goods and other goods, and at the end of the room was an iron door, leading to an unknown destination. The merchant himself was busy watching something on his laptop, but the unmistakable moans made it clear what he was watching.
"You should at least clean up here once in a while, Krokhobor," I approach the grate and lean forward, resting on the countertop that peeks out from under the grate.
"If you're so smart, then clean it up yourself, newbie," says the merchant, turning off the video and looking at me. "You've become too bold in a couple of days, just recently you were a puppy-puppy..."
"After your friend ripped me off, I'll become even bolder."
"So you came to demand money from me?" Krokhobor chuckles and leans back in his chair.
"I know you won't give me anything," I say and take the folder out of my bag, sliding it under the grate. "Here, take this, from Belka. And goodbye, Krokhobor."
"Well, well, you'll crawl back," I hear behind me, but I pay no attention.
I arrived at the Abandoned Town around noon, the way back was calm. No dogs, no boars, no stalkers. By the way, it's strange that almost no one walks here. I've been wandering back and forth for three days, and I've only met Rybak, not counting Shtyr and his killer. I dropped by Barmaley, said I delivered everything to Belka and left, he was dealing with some papers and didn't have time for me. As I was going down the stairs, I met Zhuk and asked him to read Spielberg's map for me. We also got to talking.
"Here and here there should be anomalous fields," he explains, pointing at the map with marks on my PDA. "And I don't know what these marks mean, it's better to ask the guys on the Cordon. Don't go there yourself. It's better not to."
"Thanks for the help," I nod to the stalker. "By the way, why does almost no one walk here? There are many people here and in the bar, but I've only seen three outside."
"There's nothing to do here," Zhuk explains. "No anomalies, no artifacts either. It's like the Zone, but it's not, from it there's only increased radiation background and mutated animals. Stalkers either live out their days, or drink their money away, or prepare for a raid."
"And is your group preparing for a raid?"
"Well, they don't make a secret of it, but yes, we're preparing," the stalker replies. "We were supposed to set out in a month or a month and a half, after Old Man finishes the repairs, but you know what happened. By the time another technician gets here, figures it out, fixes everything. It might be winter by the time we have to go on a raid."
"Well, okay, thank you for the explanations, I'm leaving. Good luck," I say goodbye to Zhuk and go to the basement, I need to sell unnecessary guns and stock up for the trip to the Cordon.
I go down to the basement and head straight for Pirôg to trade. He notices me, but somehow strangely averts his gaze. And when I get closer, he tries not to look at me at all. Strange.
"Here, for sale," I take out pistols and magazines from my bag, to which the merchant silently hands me three thousand. "Did something happen? Or did I offend you in some way?"
"No, no," he quickly says, still avoiding looking at me. "Just busy."
"Well, if you're busy, then okay," I reply. "I'll come by again later."
It's not my problem if a person doesn't want to say what
happened. The main thing is that he trades with me. I sit on my bunk and start figuring out what I need to take with me to the Cordon. I have weapons, but it wouldn't hurt to buy a couple of packs of bullets for the sawed-off shotgun. A first-aid kit, or better yet, two, and a larger backpack to carry everything. A flashlight and batteries for it wouldn't hurt. Also, a gas mask or respirator with filters. Don't forget potassium iodide, it's not a 100% protection from radiation, but it's better than nothing. After writing down a rough list of what I need in my PDA, I decided to ask the old-timers if I had listed everything necessary.
"Everything is correct, son," one of them tells me. "Only you forgot to list a dosimeter, without it you won't know where you'll be fried by radiation. And don't overload yourself with food, there's a merchant there on the Cordon, called Sidorovich. You can buy food from him."
Thanking him and adding the dosimeter to the list, I went with my list to Pirôg, figuring out if the accumulated eleven thousand would be enough for everything necessary or if I would have to give something up. But no, it was enough, almost barely, but enough. And then I sold the extra packs of pistol bullets, I don't need as many as I had, food, I only kept beef stew and a couple of packs of crackers. So I even had money left.
As I was packing my things into a new backpack, a good idea came to me. I can charge the Swindler's gang's PDA, and then take out their batteries and use them for my communicator if it runs out of power. But before that, I decided to check what interesting things were on them. To my regret, only the leader himself had any information, the rest had no notes, nor map markers.
Note from 05.14.2011, 13:35.
Wow, the crow got some stuff, I'll have to approach him and brotherly, hehe, ask him to share.
Note from 05.14.2011, 14:57.
Damn Pirôg! He didn't let the pretty boy be dealt with, but oh well, we'll deal with both Pirôg and the pretty boy.
Note from 05.14.2011, 17:58.
Got a message from the boss, tomorrow or the day after tomorrow we need to move to our guys. We'll shoot the phony tomorrow, take the goods, and move.
Note from 05.15.2011, 10:32.
Pirôg knows what we'll do with that crow, he knows, I can see it in his eyes. All we had to do was tell him about our protection. Well, nothing, now we'll have a shot for a successful deal and go.
Yeah, now it's clear why Pirôg averts his gaze like that and why he barely bargained. Now I'm sure that if it weren't for the situation with the bandit, I wouldn't have been able to buy everything so profitably. The merchant is too ashamed that he sold a fellow stalker, so he was able to sell me goods cheaply. Did I feel resentment from this betrayal? No, I mostly didn't care. Tomorrow I won't be here anymore, and I won't see any of them for a long time. Let them do what they want, but I'll give the Swindler's PDA to Sledak, they'll decide what to do.
I dropped by Sledak and gave him the bandit's PDA, besides my case, there were other dark deeds recorded there. He'll be interested to read it. After that, I went to Shtolts and gave him three communicators to charge, he was clearly surprised, but said nothing. Now I can relax, I'll head to the Cordon tomorrow.
The next morning, I stood by the tunnel where my journey began. On the way here, I managed to shoot some scruffy dogs, but I didn't come here for that. I turn right and go straight into a dilapidated house, which was missing most of the roofing felt, and one of the walls was completely destroyed. Somewhere here Spielberg hid the Hunter's rifle. But where? There is no furniture here, only bare brick walls with remnants of wallpaper and bare boards... Or maybe he hid it under some board? If you didn't know that something was hidden here, no one would look on the floor.
And my guess turns out to be correct. After a few minutes of searching, I find a board that was nailed only on one side, and I lift the other edge, finding a gun case underneath. I open it and see a semi-automatic shotgun there. Decorated with a bear engraving, on the wooden stock the inscription "MP-153". A luxurious weapon, and it looks good even after lying here for half a year, but I don't feel like checking it. It might jam at the most inopportune moment, so let the owner deal with it.
"Wait, Cordon. I'll be there soon."