After seeing the stalker to the door and closing it behind him, I went to check on the Hunter, who by this time had already fallen asleep. I need to pour the tea into a thermos so it doesn't get cold; warm drinks will be good for the old man. I went to the kitchen for a container and thought that I would need to prepare seriously for the trip to the Swamps. There's no choice of whether to go or not; I can't abandon the people who have entrusted themselves to me, even though I've only known them for a short time. In any case, I can't survive here alone, so I need to stick with people, and this is a big chance.
I poured the tea into the thermos and quietly placed it on the nightstand in the room, leaving a note next to it so the stalker wouldn't look for me around the house if he suddenly woke up before my return. I went outside and walked straight to Wolf's house. There were almost no stalkers on the street, only those guarding the approaches to the village. I shivered a little from the cool morning breeze and knocked on the door.
Wolf let me into the house, which was almost no different from the Hunter's house, at least in terms of the building plan. It was clear that the entire village was built by the same people. The furnishings, however, were different. Slightly different furniture, different colored wallpaper. Nothing unusual. I took off my shoes and followed the stalker deeper into the house.
He sat me down in the kitchen at a table where a spread-out paper map lay. It was a bit worn, with a couple of tears, and a lot of markings. I looked closer and realized it was a map of the Swamps, slightly overlapping with the Cordon.
"Interesting thing," I said aloud, looking at it intently.
"I got it from a veteran," the stalker replied. "I heard from him that this map was drawn by the Cartographer himself. He's probably lying, but the map is accurate."
"Cartographer?" I had never heard of such a stalker, not even in the game.
"A legendary stalker, one of the pioneers of the Zone," he began to explain. "There are quite a few pioneers, but only a few broke through to the north, closer to the center, and he is one of them. He got his nickname for drawing maps like this. They say he can bypass any anomalies, so he's been to places where no human foot has yet trod in these parts."
"And what, this map shows the location of anomalies in the Swamps?" I chuckled. "Then this map is worth its weight in gold."
"Alas," he spread his hands. "But the map is long outdated."
"What do you mean, outdated?"
"That's what I mean," Wolf replied. "After every emission, anomalies can change their location, and since this map was drawn, there have been enough emissions. So you won't get far with this map, but it will help you determine where to start your search."
"Then why is it needed? There are satellite images of the entire Zone, aren't there? Can't you plot a course with them?" And unlike this map, these images will always be in the PDA.
"Oh, you," Wolf smiled. "It's clear you're still a rookie. Those images were taken before the Great Emission; after that, they say they tried to take more pictures, but there were too many strong interference. And this map was drawn after the Zone was formed. In general, my friend, trust hand-drawn maps more than what's in your PDA. Those images are just nonsense, and behind every such map are the lives of other stalkers who scouted all this."
"Okay," I nodded, agreeing. If the satellite images were indeed taken before the Zone was formed, and it has existed for several years now, it's not worth trusting them blindly. "Can it be redrawn later?"
"No need, you'll take it with you," the stalker replied. "If you draw something wrong or miss something,
we won't risk it. I don't even know if you can get from here into the Swamps, but it's worth a try."
"By the way, are there any factions there?"
"Why would there be?" the stalker raised an eyebrow, looking me straight in the eye. "There are almost no artifacts there, lots of animals. There's nothing for a normal stalker to do there, although, it seems, renegades have moved there. But no one has seen them for a long time, maybe they've perished, who knows."
"Renegades, who are they?"
"Outcasts from all clans and factions," Wolf explained. "Those who couldn't get along even with their own kind. Traitors, thieves, murderers, even a couple of rapists got mixed in. If you see anyone with a painted scorpion on their clothes, shoot immediately, don't hesitate."
"I'll keep that in mind," I nodded seriously to the stalker. "Where should I start?"
"The closest path to the Swamps from us passes by the military, you know that yourself, you've been there," he traced a finger from the rookie village to that very tunnel. "Then you need to go northwest, and you'll reach this farmstead, there are many remnants of fishing settlements there."
"So, I'll reach the farmstead, and then what?"
"And then comes the hardest part. I don't know exactly where the Shaman lives, but definitely somewhere on the northern edge of the Swamps. Here and here," he pointed to the map. "There are houses, maybe you should look there."
"I hope I can find him."
"As do I," Wolf exhaled quietly. "But don't take unnecessary risks, if you don't find him, come back. He could have died long ago, or moved somewhere else."
"Then I'll go get ready," I folded the map and put it in my pocket, standing up from the chair, but Wolf stopped me.
"Wait," he said and briefly left the room, returning with some kind of gray metal box. "Here, take my anomaly detector."
"Are you sure? It's expensive."
"Sure, sure," he replied with a grin. "You're the first one to be offered something like this, and you're still asking, ha. I don't need it now, as you understand, but it might save your life. But remember, rely on technology, but don't be careless yourself."
I nodded briefly, shook his firm and dry hand, and headed back to my place. I need to check my weapon, gather supplies, and plan a possible route. I need to leave today; I don't think the old man will last long without help. So I need to try to reach the Swamps before dark to set up camp. And then I'll decide where to go. But before I could reach my house, Nick called out to me.
"Executioner!" he said loudly behind me, and I had to turn around. "Hello, I heard the Hunter is sick. How is he?"
"Well, hello, Nick," I greeted him in return. "It's serious, fever, cough, well, you know."
"And medicine? Maybe we should chip in? I have a little money," the stalker replied with a slight hesitation.
"It's not helping," I shook my head at his statement. "I'm going on a raid to the swamps; according to Wolf, there might be a stalker there who can help the old man. Alright, if you don't need me, I'll go; I still need to get ready for the raid."
"I'll go with you," he said.
"With me? To the swamps?" I raised an eyebrow skeptically.
"Yes," Nick nodded resolutely. "You helped me, and you didn't abandon Tishka. This is how I'll thank you. And you yourself said yesterday that it's dangerous to go out of the camp alone. And together we'll fight off a bloodsucker, this time for sure..."
"Then get ready," I replied. "Food, ammo, water. I don't know how long the raid will last, so it's better to take extra of everything."
"Understood," Nick said and turned away.
The Hunter was still asleep when I returned. I didn't wake the stalker, but simply wrote another note that I was leaving on a raid for a few days. Wolf will look after the Hunter, so I'm not worried that the old man will be left alone while I'm gone. I went to my room and checked my gear; everything was in order. I counted the bullets, loaded the bandolier, the pistol magazines were fully loaded. I didn't forget the sleeping bag. A canteen and a few more bottles of water, cans of stewed meat, and crackers. Everything that can be eaten without a campfire.
An hour later, I met Nick on the street. He had taken Tishka's double-barreled shotgun. Judging by how full his backpack was, it was no less than mine. I briefly went to Wolf to say that I was going to the swamps with a partner. He nodded approvingly and assured me that he would look after the Hunter.
We walked silently to the exit of the village, bypassing a dilapidated building and the local cemetery. We found ourselves at the top of a hill, observing a few anomalies from the side; otherwise, everything was quiet. No mutants. We descended the slope carefully, and then had to crouch so the military wouldn't see us, thankfully, the bushes, trees, and tall grass provided good cover. It would have been better to go at night for such a mission, but the chances of running into an anomaly or resting mutants were too high. We crawled the last few meters to the tunnel on our bellies; small, sharp pebbles still dug into our skin even through our jackets.
In the tunnel itself, I put on my gas mask, catching a surprised look from Nick. I took the dosimeter out of my bag and turned it on; a loud crackling sound erupted, and the slightly pale stalker frantically put on his respirator. I didn't want to start draining the battery so quickly; I already knew it was radioactive here, but oh well, I would have had to turn it on anyway.
We passed through the concrete structure without problems, only my partner managed to trip over a rebar and sprawl on the ground. He seemed to be looking at his feet and shining his flashlight, but he still managed to fall. I briefly wondered if he would cause more trouble than benefit on this trip.
Ten minutes later, we were on the other side of the overgrown embankment, and I took off my gas mask. The radiation wasn't as strong here. I took out the map to check where to go. Nick came closer to look at the map more carefully.
"And where are we going now?" he asked.
"Here," I pointed to the farmstead closest to us. "As soon as we get there, we'll set up camp."
"Camp?"
"A place to sleep," I explained. "By the time we get there, it will be too late to go further. It's better to set out in the morning with renewed strength."
"Understood," he said, adjusting his grip on the rifle.
The Swamps themselves looked quite bleak. Withered reeds and cattails along the edges of the land islands, but even there, the ground was very soft and wet. Water immediately began to flow into the boot prints. No grass, no trees, only reeds, cattails, and an endless expanse of water. Sometimes, bushes rustled suspiciously near us, forcing us to raise our weapons and peer into the places where the sound came from for a long time. But there was nothing. Perhaps birds or some small animals.
According to the map, it was a short walk to the farmstead, but when we approached it, the sun was already beginning to set, which meant we needed to prepare a place to sleep as soon as possible. The wooden houses of this fishing settlement were almost no different from those on the Cordon, in the Rookie village, at least from the outside.
We cautiously and silently entered the farmstead, looking for possible enemies, but there was no one on the street. We were alone. A quick inspection of the houses through the windows also revealed no one; we could breathe a sigh of relief for a moment. However, the joy didn't last long until we found a place for a campfire made from a metal barrel dug into the ground with remnants of coals.
"Someone regularly makes a fire here," I said thoughtfully aloud. "And what I heard from Wolf might not please us."
"And what should we do, leave? I saw on the map that there's another building nearby, we can hide there," Nick suggested.
"And who said there won't be anyone there?" I rejected his proposal. "We need to take a strategic position here; if the renegades plan to return here, they're unlikely to expect an ambush."
"Renegades?"
"I'll tell you later," I replied. "And now we need to think about where we can hide. Not outside, definitely; the buildings are too well visible from the outside, they might notice..."
"Maybe in the attic of that house?" Nick pointed to a house on the outskirts, under the roof of which, to the side, a crawl space to the attic was visible. "Only I don't see a ladder."
"That's solvable," I said, heading towards the entrance of the house. "We need to see what's with the boards, I wouldn't want to suddenly fall through."
The condition of the ceiling was good; the house was well maintained when people still lived here, which allowed it to be preserved in decent condition. Some of the other houses, of which there weren't many, couldn't boast the same result. Also, in this house, we found several mattresses, apparently dragged from other houses. It was already starting to get dark.
"Let's go, give me a boost," I said to Nick, rolling up and taking a couple of mattresses with me, at least there would be some comfort, and went outside.
I took off my backpack, leaning it against the wall, and took out a flashlight, placing the mattresses next to it. My rifle remained hanging on my shoulder. I turned to Nick, who clasped his fingers together and helped me climb into the attic. It would have been very inconvenient to do it alone. I pulled out the flashlight and illuminated the attic. It was very dusty, but more or less decent; it would do for the night. I left the light source lying on the floor and looked out the window. Nick first handed me my backpack, then the mattresses, his bag, and then he himself was in the attic, jumping and grabbing my hand.