The morning village greeted us with its usual bustle. Awakened vagrants chatted cheerfully, discussing their dreams or plans for the day, and slowly gathered around the rekindled fires to cook something. A relaxed atmosphere reigned everywhere. Wolf, already fully clad in a stalker suit and with a Kalashnikov slung over his shoulder, stood, as usual, at the end of his house, looking grimly at the stalkers flooding the street.
"You go, Hunter," I say quietly to my mentor. "And I want to discuss the situation with Wolf."
"Okay," he nods, heading towards his house.
I, with a relaxed, almost slow pace, walked towards the village leader. If anyone was watching us, let them think it was just a friendly conversation that outsiders didn't need to know about. And for that, I needed to act unhurriedly and carefully.
"Good morning, Wolf," I greet him and extend my hand for a handshake.
"Good," he replies and involuntarily yawns widely. It even made me want to repeat it, but with an effort of will, I don't let my jaw unhinge. "I see the hunt wasn't very successful? You brought back so little meat."
"Why? These are just the hooves, we shot three boars," I say and lift the bag, from which, frankly, excess blood should be drained. "The Hunter complained that your game isn't selling well, so we didn't butcher anyone."
"Oh, really?" Wolf draws out thoughtfully. "I've gotten too relaxed, I don't participate in camp life at all... Haha, I don't even know what the stalkers are eating for lunch, can you imagine?"
"Did something happen?"
"No, just been daydreaming lately..."
"And what are your dreams about?"
"Not here," Wolf glances at the stalkers warming themselves by the fire, and we go inside the house.
"So what's bothering you?" I ask him after we sit down at the table.
"The Zone, brother, that's what's bothering me," the stalker replies quietly, sighs deeply, and looks away. But I knew he wasn't looking at the walls or the house's decor. "I dream about it, it keeps calling me... I'm sick of the Cordon, just sick. These newcomers, they don't know how to do anything, they're scared to go more than a hundred meters from the village, and they all call themselves stalkers. What kind of stalkers are they, for God's sake? You, the Hunter, me, a couple of other guys here - that's who we are stalkers. The real ones."
"You know," I chuckle after his words. "How about you come with me on a trip?"
"Where?" Wolf is taken aback.
"What difference does it make to us stalkers?" I shrug. "Let's go wherever our eyes lead us. We'll shoot some game, collect some artifacts. By the way, I got a detector from Valerian... It's amazing."
"Ah, you're tempting me," the stalker said sadly, rubbing his eyebrows. "But no, I can't. Not now."
"Why not?"
"And these," he nodded towards the window. "I have no one to leave them with. No matter what I think or say about them, I gave myself my word. And I can't just leave. Next autumn... I arranged with an experienced stalker, well, we often chat online, and he once wrote that he wanted to settle down somewhere. I offered him my place. He's not against it, but he can't yet."
"You're a good man, Wolf..."
"Ha, hardly!" my interlocutor laughed briefly. "What, maybe a hundred grams? To make the day a bit more cheerful."
"I won't, but you'll have a reason to drink," I leaned back in my chair, finally deciding to speak. "Do you know who Hollow left the village with this morning?"
"Did he leave? Sorry, but I didn't pay attention. I'm not some kind of controller to note who left and who arrived..."
"Haa," I sighed. "I killed them. When we were returning from a hunt, we stumbled upon them. They were sitting in a ruin opposite Valerian's base and watching. Hunter took them in his sights, Hollow immediately started threatening. Suddenly there was a rustle behind him, the old man turned to look, and they... immediately reached for their guns. And I didn't want to risk it."
Wolf, who had been watching me intently, grew gloomier with each word spoken. Then he frowned, poured a full shot glass of cold vodka, drained it, and repeated. After that, he reached for a sliced
piece of sausage and threw it whole into his mouth.
"Damn it," the stalker murmured barely audibly, then turned to me. "I have zero complaints against you or Hunter. I'll even go further – you did the right thing. There was a rumor about Hollow's friends that they rushed here because of a charge. Premeditated murder in conspiracy with a group of persons, that's how it is. But what worries me more is why they were watching Valerian... This whole situation stinks of shit."
"I've already written to him."
"That's right, let him sort out this mess himself. The best we can do now is wash our hands of it. The rookies won't complain too much, another reminder that the Zone is a very dangerous place and it's better not to let your guard down..."
"Do you suspect someone?" His intonation and appearance suggested he knew something for sure.
"Worse, Executioner. I know," he grew even gloomier. "But I can't tell you. Not because I don't want to myself... It's dangerous for me, you understand?"
"I understand," I nodded. And I really did. Who else could intimidate such an experienced stalker as Wolf, on the Cordon? Either the military, or Sidorovich, or all of them together. But what to do about this... "And I don't blame you. Alright, thanks for talking to me. I'm going."
"Your offer about the raid... Is it still valid?"
"Of course," I smiled at him one last time.
The situation was very ambiguous. I didn't want to set Wolf up or get myself into trouble. After all, an offended Sidorovich is not a misfortune that is easily survived. He'll shut down your trade, inflate prices, turn other people against you, or even start sending his goons to deal with a thorn in his ass. On the other hand, I had to notify Valerian about all this somehow. Let him at least know which direction to dig in.
It was also unclear to me why Sidorovich would do this. In my view, having a whole stalker clan on the Cordon would be beneficial for a trader. Here you have clients and labor. Although other people's souls are dark, who knows, maybe they offended him somehow. Ha-a. I took out my PDA to write to Valerian immediately, but he beat me to it.
Valerian the Father: Checked the bodies. Sidor, the scumbag, sent his boys.
17.07.2011, 11.32.
Executioner: But why would he do that?
17.07.2011, 11.32.
Valerian the Father: Who the hell knows! He didn't like that we started to control many financial flows, to get close to the military... So, that scoundrel, he freed Khaletsky, and now he's sending spies.
17.07.2011, 11.33.
Executioner: Sidor is behind Khaletsky's escape?
17.07.2011, 11.33.
Valerian the Father: Yeah. Those idiots didn't delete the correspondence. It's clear from it that they helped him escape.
17.07.2011, 11.33.
Executioner: They? How?
17.07.2011, 11.33.
Valerian the Father: They met us at the tunnel under the embankment and escorted us to Sidor. And what happened next is clear. In short, thank you. We're going to focus on packing and leave as soon as we can. Fighting against the wind is a foolish endeavor, we can't overcome Sidor and Khaletsky's alliance. And please, don't spoil your relationship with the old man because of us. He's afraid to openly conflict with us, he knows, the bastard, that he'll have problems then. And you'll be too easy prey now. Good luck, Executioner.
17.07.2011, 11.34.
Executioner: Understood. You too.
17.07.2011, 11.34.
So the problem was solved with minimal participation from me. Ah, it felt kind of sad. Are some petty coins really worth it? Alas, no one will answer me now. Neither the blue sky, nor the Zone, nor even Sidorovich himself. Especially the latter.
Trader's bunker, five minutes later.
"Here," I handed Sidor a bag of boar hooves. "Twelve pieces, fresh."
"Just for you, as a great favor, a special price of one hundred and seventy-five rubles per hoof," Sidorovich grinned, stretching his cracked lips, and took the bag, immediately pouring the blood-soaked hooves into a container. "So, twelve pieces... That means two thousand one hundred from me. Here, take it, Executioner. How was our sit-down yesterday, by the way?"
"Very good," I chuckled slightly. "Thanks for the treat."
"Thank you," Sidorovich said, and then his face began to darken. Frowning, the trader continued. "You know what rumors go around about me? I see, I see, you know everything. And you still treat me normally, don't make a face like some, and don't fawn over me. You're too righteous for these parts, too... If you had asked me for money or some goods for the last message from an old friend, I would have immediately thrown his diary at you. But what did you ask for? Ha, spit and forget! Just food, which is worth nothing to me."
The trader paused for a moment and looked at me intently, greedily examining the features of my face. It even became interesting what he could see there. But there was no mirror in his cubicle, so Sidorovich and I couldn't admire ourselves together. I crossed my arms on my chest, waiting for the continuation of the sudden revelation.
"Over many years spent here, I've learned a lot," the trader said, chuckling with satisfaction. "Trust no one, always expect a trick, and only money will not deceive you. Old and long-standing friendship is like aged cognac. While it sits on the shelf and gathers dust, its value only increases, but as soon as you open this bottle... It won't be long before nothing remains. I have been betrayed, and I have betrayed many times myself... But you, Executioner, are made of different stuff. You remind me of what I once gave up. Faith in people. Will you allow me to give you some advice?"
"What?"
"You'd better leave Valerian. As a result of some actions on my part, his group is now in great danger. The Zone..." With each word, Sidorovich began to speak quieter and quieter, until he finally whispered the last word. "I don't believe what I'm saying myself... In two days, a combat sortie of several helicopters is scheduled, and I wouldn't mind if you told your leader about it. I understand everything."
"He already knows," since we're at it, why not admit it? "And by the appointed time, my former group won't be here anymore. Just as you wanted."
"Really?" the trader looked at me in surprise, but then guessed the source of our knowledge. "Hah, I knew those blockheads couldn't be trusted... Alright, Executioner, if that's all, then go... And I need to think here. About a lot of things."
I nodded to him goodbye and, turning, stomped towards the exit. I took my weapons from the locker, shook Stas's hand, and left. To say I was surprised would be an understatement. Complete shock. That's what I experienced during the conversation with the trader. I don't even know what came over him, but... In any case, I have to warn Valerian.
Executioner: Helicopter sortie is scheduled for the day after tomorrow.
17.07.2011, 11.57.
Valerian the Father: Where'd you get that info?
17.07.2011, 11.57.
Executioner: You won't believe it. Sidorovich told me.
17.07.2011, 11.58.
Valerian the Father: Did you torture him? Did he at least survive?
17.07.2011, 11.58.
Executioner: He told me HIMSELF.
17.07.2011, 11.58.
Valerian the Father: Thank you. We'll try to make it in time.
17.07.2011, 11.58.
"That's definitely all this time," I whispered to myself in the silence, filled only by the gentle wind, the rustling grass, and the occasional fragments of distant conversations. "I've done all I could. It's up to you guys now."
This time, with a clear conscience, no longer burdened by obligations to Valerian and the clan, even those I imposed on myself, I headed towards the mentor's house. All that remained was to help him and then rush off somewhere for a month, collect some artifacts, and fulfill my childhood dream of wandering through abandoned places.
I opened the unlocked door, finding myself in a small hallway, took off my boots, and went further. The old man was in the kitchen, in a gloomy mood. His eyebrows were drawn together, his lips pursed into a thin line, and his lean fingers tapped a brisk rhythm on the countertop.
"Your share," I handed him several folded bills totaling eleven hundred. It wouldn't hurt me, and it would be a small help for him to buy a house.
"Eleven hundred?" The Hunter took the money from my hands thoughtfully. "How much did you sell them to Sidor for?"
"One hundred and seventy-five each."
"What did you do for him, apprentice? Even from me, he takes them for one hundred and fifty. Like everyone else."
"Who the hell knows," I shrugged. "He's strange today."
"You're hiding something, but whatever, that's your business with him," the mentor chuckled and handed the money back. "Take it, I don't need it."
"But what about buying a house, a plot of land? You definitely won't have too much money," I was in no hurry to take it back.
"I have one hundred and fifty thousand saved up, take it," the Hunter forcibly placed it in my palm.
"But how? That's not enough... One hundred and fifty for the plot alone, probably, and the house? And repairs? And the rest? Let me add what I can."
"Ha, I'm not buying a dacha in Moscow," the teacher replied cheerfully, looking at me with a sly glint in his eye. "I'll manage with one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
"Dollars?" I asked, dumbfounded.
"Well, yes, or you didn't know the exchange rate of Zone rubles to real currency?"
"No."
"Tsk," the Hunter laughed loudly and even wiped a tear from his right eye. "All the rookies rush to find out how much everything costs here first, and you... My God, I haven't laughed like this in a long time... Alright, since no one told you, and you didn't ask yourself, I'll tell you about the monetary circulation in the Zone."
"I'm listening," I settled more comfortably in my chair.
"In general, the Zone is a multinational place, right? Belarusians, Ukrainians, Russians, and people from other countries
are present here," the mentor began his story. "And you can't stock up on national currency for all of them. So it was decided to use something very popular – the dollar. But no one would bring currency here, there are no fools. Shortly before that, a few lucky diggers managed to unearth a Soviet state reserve. Gold, naturally, as well as other precious metals, they took out. And the remaining huge amount of Soviet rubles was decided to be used in stalker trade."
"And how do they exchange it? I haven't noticed any signs advertising exchange booths here."
"Who in their right mind would admit to having dollars stashed away? You approach any trader who has connections to the mainland and exchange it. The rate is usually one to one. And the more you exchange, the more favorable the commission." The Hunter paused for a moment. "I think Sidorovich will charge me about ten percent for a bearer check. Of course, these fifteen thousand won't fall from the sky, but he'll save a lot on me."
"So, that means all monetary transactions can be safely converted to dollars, right?"
"Yeah," my interlocutor nodded. "Not so fun anymore, is it? Earning in the Zone is easy, just shoot animals and carry artifacts to traders. But canned food, grains, first-aid kits – all this is also sold in dollars."
"It used to be easier not to pay attention to the cost of money," I said, feeling awkward. "So, even shooting three boars brings real money, right?"
"Yes, only I've never heard of anyone stopping at that. Greed is like that, as soon as you smell money, your head will spin. Even those who initially came for a small sum of money," the Hunter sighed and got up from his seat to quickly stoke the stove and put on the kettle. "I knew one like that, about a year or so ago. His younger sister needed an operation, a large part of the money was collected by good people, three or four thousand remained to be raised. You understand, for the Zone, that's not much money. Just a one-off job or an unsuccessful trip."
"So, what happened next?"
"He collected even more than he needed in a couple of days, the guy was lucky. Although," the Hunter began to arrange mugs on the table with tea leaves. I wanted to help him, but he stopped me with a wave of his hand. "Over time, I've begun to understand that the Zone gave him this chance. You can laugh at me, but it seems alive to me. So, he thought and decided. The operation is still three months away, he says, I've only been here a short while, and I've earned so much. I'll earn more for her rehabilitation. That's how he stayed each time. First, he wanted to save for rehabilitation, then for her dowry, then for an apartment for his parents, then for a dacha, then for a hundred other reasons. As a result, he perished during an Emission. His body was found only a week later, it turned out he was trying to carry a Boulder. An artifact of amazing uselessness, just a glowing stone weighing almost fifty kilograms. He didn't even crawl a couple of meters to the shelter, he was punished for his greed."
"What a fool he was," all I could do was chuckle.
"A fool," the teacher agreed with me. "But you, thank the Zone, are not like that. If you remain like this, you'll go far and earn much more than other petty profiteers."
"By the way, why were you so gloomy when I came in?"
"You have a sharp eye," he nodded approvingly. "That's what I wanted to talk about now. I have a request for you. I'll pay you half of all my money reserves for it."