They surfaced a hundred paces from the antenna complex.
Despite the earlier earthquake, it was still standing fine, but the area around—
A bombed-out war zone, with actual corpses scattered all over the place.
"I take it, you have already looted everything," Konrad asked, covering his nose.
That backpack on the Captain looked like it was about to burst.
"Ammo, bandages, got them all," Dmitry claimed, looking proud. "But still no food."
Konrad scoffed.
"You expected skeletons with fresh apples in their hands? I bet we'd been the first non-zombified humans here in the last five years. And what are all those first aid kits for?"
How much did he spend on those Meat Chunk and Slug artifacts to handle any wounds?!
"You never know what emergency might come up," the Captain muttered, taken aback.
Looking at the PDA, Konrad shook his head.
"We have a ten-mile hike ahead," he pointed out. "Three hours, or four, not counting anomalies and rest. You think you could carry all those without collapsing halfway through?"
Dmitry adjusted his backpack, the whole thing clattering with stuff.
He'd open his mouth, and Konrad expected some bullshit like he's a trained soldier, but—
"Ugh. Okay. I might've overdone it," the Captain admitted, putting the heavy package down.
So he turned out to be a hoarder.
"These are 5.45 magazines, right?" Konrad asked, looking over the junk. "And the Krinkov is only your secondary weapon. You don't need twelve mags. Keep four, leave the rest."
His logistical brain kicked into gear.
"And all these pistol rounds?! Unnecessary weight. Keep the Five-seveNs and forget about the Makarovs. You can pick your favorite first-aid kit and throw the rest out. What are even these?!"
But before Dmitry could answer, Konrad already yanked his hands away.
The Bloodsuckers' freaking tentacles. For fucks sake.
"Ugh. Make a stash for the useful junk that won't fit," he groaned, disgusted, trying to wipe his hands clean. But nothing helped. "That crazy rifle will already be tough to carry all the way."
"Yes, Mom," the Captain mumbled, resigned as he sorted out his backpack.
Once done, he no longer had to struggle with the weight, but kept moaning about it anyway.
"You sound like my greedy warehouse manager," he complained. "He had us count every bullet, measure every gram of gear, and rejected any extra requests."
Konrad laughed, for the first time since he missed Strelok again.
"I'll take it as a compliment," he noted. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but before I became the Duke of Halaima, I worked my whole life in logistics. And we aren't greedy. We're smart."
'And hungry, too,' the parallel brain pointed out, a split second before his stomach growled.
"Well, what's your solution to that, smart guy?" Dmitry scoffed, piling all the junk in a hidden crevice behind a tree. Then, to make sure he'd find it later, marked it with a huge X.
And he had a PDA to do that without screaming it out for the entire world.
Oh well.
"Don't know where the locals source their food from," Konrad admitted. "But I ain't gonna walk back to the bar now. That'd be half a day extra, and I already wasted too much here."
The only problem with this was that they were in uncharted territory.
And the Zone had already lacked convenience stores.
They couldn't expect anyone to sell food on the road ahead.
'You could try hunting?' the voice suggested, though even he sounded unsure about it. 'No, I'm not. I mean, you have all the tools for processing and cooking, but—'
Yeah, which monster would he have to eat?!
"Holy shit, look at that thing," Dmitry yelped, scanning the area through the Gepard's scope.
Konrad had to strain his eyes and thought he couldn't see that far, but no.
He did. His eyes worked as they should have.
But the creature in his sight was so distorted that he couldn't make sense of it.
'Oh, actually, that's Meat,' the parallel brain said. 'Another cloning project. They wanted to enhance pigs, but I guess you can tell. Even if they tasted all right, nobody wanted to eat them.'
"That thing tastes good?" Konrad repeated in disbelief.
But unfortunately, the Captain took it as encouragement.
"You want to eat that?!" he asked, checking if he had a round in the chamber. "Would be an easy shot from here. Only two hundred paces."
Konrad had to stop him before he did something stupid.
"That .50 round would leave us nothing to eat, idiot."
Not that he wanted to eat that thing.
But in case he forgot, his stomach growled again, the voice in his head laughing.
'I agree with you. The Gepard is overkill, and the Krinkov has no proper long-range sights. But you have a sword, and these things are dumb as hell. It'll charge straight at you, begging to die.'
"Are you sure it tastes good?" Konrad asked, still not convinced.
'Of course,' the brain claimed. Not that he had a tongue or even a mouth to know that. 'Rude. I have felt the taste through the researchers' memories. It's like a pig. Their words, not mine.'
"Fine," he grunted, taking his sword out. "Dmitry, get a fire going—and loot a sight for the AK."
The Captain saluted with a grin, watching him go.
"Copy that, Commander. Have a good hunt."
And despite all the hunger, the closer Konrad got to that mutant, the more unsure he got.
Imagine a pig, but much larger. Its face was flat and deformed, the eyes almost on its side.
It must have been at least half a ton, but those legs—
That was the most disturbing part. Like a crab or a spider.
Long and pointy, and should have been too thin to carry all that weight.
But they did, and they did it fast.
As soon as it noticed Konrad, it screamed like a pig, charging dead ahead.
And so did his friends, too, grazing in the cover of a treeline until then.
"Shit," he grunted, preparing for the impact.
'Don't worry, they're easy,' the brain said. 'And slow to change directions. Their legs are rough, and they can use their weight against you, but as long as you're on your feet, you'll be fine.'
"Why am I even trusting you?" Konrad yelled, holding up the blade like a spear.
The first mutant stabbed itself right away and collapsed.
The second tried to flank him, but a single slice cut his entire side wide open.
No tough skin or armor on those guys. They were easy prey indeed.
'Told you,' the voice scoffed. 'But if you don't want to drag their corpses all the way back, you'd better lure the last one closer. It's a lot of good meat, but a lot of heavy weight, too.'
"Fair," Konrad agreed, dancing away from the third mutant.
It was sluggish for sure, but those sharp legs were inches away from stabbing him a few times.
Dmitry had already built a fire, but now he was scrambling for his rifle.
"Don't blow this poor guy up now," Konrad waved him off. "Only delivering food to the table."
And seconds later, he could finally get rid of those scary legs, stabbing the monster in the eyes.
"This thing is horrifying," the Captain admitted, eager no longer. "But I could eat a horse."