Under the bright, crimson sky flashes, I hurry to hide under the high, concrete vaults of the abandoned factory. All the other stalkers who lived here also rushed to take shelter from the Emission. And as soon as my foot steps onto the tiled floor, the world trembles, and I almost fall due to loss of balance. The curses of a stalker who couldn't stay on his feet are heard.
"M-mother!" he exclaims loudly, getting up on his elbows and wiping his dirty face with an equally dirty palm covered in dust.
The others chuckle at him slightly, until Bledny steps forward and helps his comrade to his feet. And I turn to take one last look at the beautiful sky, crisscrossed with orange-red lines. Dangerous beauty. I shake my head and go deeper into the room when another jolt occurs, and then another. I close the metal door behind me, which creaked piteously with unsmoothed and slightly rusted hinges. The stalkers fell silent, enduring the "wrath" of the Zone. Some held onto pipe scraps to avoid falling, some sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, and a couple of stalkers, opening their mouths and covering their ears with their palms, swayed back and forth on their bottoms in a silent scream.
The intervals between the jolts become shorter, and they themselves become stronger. Remnants of whitewash begin to crumble from the ceiling, falling down in small flakes onto the wanderers' shoulders. A hum builds up, resonating from the many factory pipes, my ears pop, and I involuntarily wince slightly from the pulsating pain in my temples. And when I start to shake like I'm on a train, the Emission reaches its peak. In an instant, everything stopped, as if nothing had happened.
"Well, that's all, guys!" Bledny says joyfully, and his voice sounds louder than ever in the dead silence of the factory hall. The others begin to talk hesitantly, slowly coming to their senses. "Who's going for artifacts first?"
I no longer hear the subsequent negotiations of the stalkers. Batut approaches me hesitantly, and judging by his gaze, he had many questions. I nod towards the exit, and I'm the first to go outside. The sky was still slightly reddish, but with each moment it became clearer. I shift my gaze to the ground and see the corpse of a large, black crow at my feet. The small courtyard was littered with many dead bird bodies.
I watch as Batut follows me out, and I step aside, carefully stepping over the crow corpses. As soon as we turn the corner, I look for a place to sit, and finding one, I sit on a small curb directly opposite a breach in the concrete fence. The stalker slowly approaches me, standing to my left, and directs his gaze somewhere into the distance.
"Thank you, Executioner," he thanks me again, and I notice him take a flask from his breast pocket and squeeze it tightly, pressing it to his forehead. "It means a lot to me..."
"I understood that, friend," I smile at him affectionately and sigh. "You're welcome."
"Tell me how you got it," he says quietly but firmly. He doesn't ask, he even demands. Well, alright.
"Promise me that no one will ever know about this."
"I swear."
"Hah," I exhale shortly and look around carefully, we're alone for now. "So, listen. Last night I broke into the Duty's base, got into their archives, and found out everything about that squad. If you're interested, they were on an expeditionary mission or something like that, they completely surveyed the surroundings of Zalessye and handed over a whole ten anomalous formations, 'so-called artifacts'."
"What?!" Batut's eyes bulge in surprise, and his cheeks involuntarily redden, making the stalker look extremely comical. "We collected about fifteen artifacts, if not more, back then!"
"So, you sold the most expensive ones on the side, and handed over the cheap ones as confirmation of your work," I shrug. "By the way, Private Grishin didn't return from that trip. He died in a fight with mutants and was buried on a farm you know well..."
"What bastards," the stocky stalker practically growls, clenching his fists until his knuckles turn white. Then he sighs powerlessly and loosens his fingers. "I had a feeling Grishin wasn't involved, poor guy..."
"You and he have been avenged," I continue softly. "Zalupko died in the line of duty, the scoundrel. He went with some honor, at least. Evseev was cut down by someone last night, and Petrenko, trying to escape the base, was caught and drained by a bloodsucker."
"Not without your help?"
"Who knows, Batut, who knows," I say, and then, suddenly, with a ringing bark from behind the fence, on the right side, several blind dogs burst onto the factory grounds, baring their teeth. My partner was about to raise his rifle, but I managed to grab his hand, squeeze it tightly, and hiss loudly at the dogs. "Get out of here! Shoo!"
The three dogs, which were about to jump at Batut, somehow flinched and, whimpering, began to back away ridiculously until they turned and, with offended barking, ran off. I snort, watching them go, and get up from the curb.
"Did I answer all your questions?"
"Yes," the stalker replies hoarsely, looking at me with great surprise, and after a slight pause, adds: "I owe you my life. And I'll never forget what you..."
"We'll settle it somehow," I clap him on the shoulder, squeezing his hand firmly.
"Oh, there you are," Pale exclaims loudly, coming from around the corner, and addresses Batut. "You won't mind if I borrow your commander for a bit? No? Good. Let's go, Executioner. Orest wants to discuss something with you."
I nod to him and, smiling at my subordinate one last time, follow the stalker, and soon find myself in Orest's office, where, in addition to the owner of the office, his right-hand man, Ozhog, was also present. The stalkers were sitting at the table, drinking something that smelled aromatic and chatting casually.
"And remember how we then..." the brother of my escort begins, but upon hearing footsteps behind him, he stops mid-sentence and turns to us, smiling slightly, which made the large scar across his cheek look even more terrifying. "Hello."
"Hello, Executioner, come join
us," Orest stretches his lips and invitingly gestures to a spot next to him. "Shall I pour you some 'sbor'?"
"Sbor? What kind?" I ask him, sitting down on a chair.
"Oh, just," the stalker shrugs, squinting his eyes a little and taking another large sip from his crumpled mug, then exhales with satisfaction. "I gathered some local herbs and dried them myself, before the bandits. It's a long way from proper tea, but not too bad. I drank something similar in Chukotka when... Sorry, you're probably busy already, to listen to my stories."
"No, no, I'm even interested," I lean forward a little and inhale the pleasant, slightly sweet aroma of herbs from his mug. "And I won't refuse the 'sbor'. So, what happened in Chukotka?"
Instead of an answer, Orest smoothly gets up from his seat and walks away to a small teapot and another glass. Placing the mug in front of me, he pours the aromatic boiling water right to the brim.
"Here, enjoy," he smiles weakly and puts the teapot back, and I take the glass by the handle and take a sip of the hot liquid. The taste turned out to be no worse than the aroma. Slightly sweet, tart, and rich. "As for Chukotka... I happened to spend a winter there, and learned from the locals. You can't always get to the store, and you often want something tasty. So we drank dried herbs that they prepared in advance. Delicious and even healthy. I'm not sure, haha, about the health benefits of local herbs, but we're in the Zone anyway, a little more or less harm won't make a difference."
"Thank you, it turned out very tasty."
"Glad you liked it, Executioner," Orest, having told his story, sits down and takes a communicator from his pocket, opening a map of the area. "Valerian wrote to me that the Duty are also in on it. You worked hard."
"Seriously?" Ozhog raises his eyebrows in surprise and, turning to me, asks: "But how? They usually don't interfere in our, stalkers', disputes?"
"I did some work for them," I wave my hand. "Krylov promised to lend us one of his assault squads."
"Ooh," Orest's right-hand man says approvingly. "We're very lucky with allies."
"Are we?" Pale, who was sitting at the end of the table and rocking on his chair, interjects. "I've seen these Duty guys. Yes, their bearing and gear are good, but we're no worse..."
"You're foolish," his brother chuckles. "You'll see for yourself what a Duty assault squad is when the time comes. I'll see your face then!"
"Enough," the stalker leader says softly and lightly taps the tabletop with an open palm, drawing attention to himself. "According to your commander, Executioner, almost everything is ready for our joint operation, but I asked for a delay to resolve one more problem. We won't be moving the entire squad from our established location, especially since we have our workshop and established trade. So, we need to clear out a mutant nest in the northeast so that my guys don't get overwhelmed as soon as we leave. They've been quiet lately, but no quiet lasts forever. We must strike them first."
"Initially," Ozhog begins, glancing at Pale. "We wanted to deal with it ourselves, but someone wanted to invite you too."
"I don't mind shooting. So, what about the mutants? What kind and how many?"
"A good hunter, that's clear, your questions are to the point," Orest says, pursing his lips. "It's something strange here, Executioner, I won't hide it. They've made their lair, as I said, in the northeast, beyond the railway tunnel. I don't know the situation there now, a lot of time has passed since the last reconnaissance. We didn't have time to deal with the mutants – the bandits arrived, so we ended up fighting both of them at once."
"So, why didn't they attack the bandits? They're even closer to you. Not to mention that such behavior is extremely atypical for our fauna. It's much easier for them to catch loners or small squads than to charge a well-defended camp with a bunch of stalkers."
"I don't know, Executioner, I don't know," Orest smiles sadly, looking directly into my eyes. "You're absolutely right, but we have no explanations for such behavior."
"And they're of different species too, Executioner. Blind dogs, pseudo-dogs, snorks, even a couple of flesh-eaters... It's like some kind of crap is directing them at us," the right-hand man of the stalker leader interjects into the dialogue.
"Another controller? But why would he... Ah, no point in guessing," I immediately guess, then cut myself off, realizing that I won't be able to find logic in the behavior of the local creatures.
"What do you mean 'another one'?" Ozhog asks, leaning forward and clenching his fists.
"In the Agroprom underground, where the mercenary and I went, there was one. It took some effort."
"This trend," Orest begins cautiously. "Makes you think. Two controllers in such a small area... Strange. Although, to be honest, none of us know almost anything about these mutants. What about you, Executioner?"
"Nothing, except their abilities and some habits," I shake my head.
"Maybe it was all because of that mutant you killed? After all, there were no more attacks after you and the mercenary left," Pale says, getting up from his seat and starting to pace Orest's office. It was clear that the stalker felt a little uneasy after hearing about the controller.
"We-ell," I drawl, as the stalkers' gazes cross mine, and a slight, almost imperceptible glimmer of hope is visible on their faces. "In that case, the controller would have had to travel a very long way to the underground, climb stairs to one of the lower levels... Or order the snarks to dig purposefully for hundreds of meters, break through concrete walls, and so on. In short, it's difficult to achieve. And if we assume that the mutant had such power that it could control mutants directly from the underground, then you and all the Duty would have been walking on tiptoe for a long time."
"It's clear as mud," Orest sighs deeply, shifting his gaze from me to his empty cup. "But we have to deal with it. As long as my people are in danger, I won't move from this spot."
"And what's our plan?" I ask in turn.
"We can't take too large a squad," the stalker leader says after a moment's thought. "The more people, the greater the risk that someone will be controlled, so we'll go in a small group. I think four of us will be enough. What do you think? Then, since no one is against it, let's move out."
Fifteen minutes later.
A squad of four stalkers leaves the territory of the abandoned factory through the eastern passage and immediately heads northeast. The other wanderers were surprised and even agitated that Orest had gone somewhere surrounded by his close associates and one of the newcomers. But no matter how much they tried to join their leader, he didn't allow anyone to join them.
At first, the squad walks along the railway tracks, but as soon as they reach one of the abandoned wagons, they turn left and begin to ascend a small slope.
"Stop," Orest, who is leading them, whispers quietly, stopping halfway up the ascent. "Beyond this hill is a ravine where the mutant lair is located. We need to act quickly while the mutants are still recovering from the Emission. Everyone ready?"
"Yes," Pale replies readily, to which Executioner and Ozhog simply nod, gripping their weapons tighter.
They continue their ascent, and with each step, some rustling, interspersed with growls and the ringing barks of dogs, becomes louder from ahead. As soon as Orest reaches the edge of the slope, he bends down low and gestures for the other stalkers to do the same.
In the narrow ravine, directly below them, mutants were feasting. Several stalkers, unlucky enough to try to hide from the emission, stumbled directly into the creatures' lair. And now they were gnawing on dead bodies, scattering the remains of gray, blood-stained overalls around them. Snorks greedily bit into human flesh, tearing off chunks of meat, and fended off blind dogs trying to snatch a piece of food with their paws. And at this time, Orest and his men's heads began to ache more and more with each second, as if signaling the approach of a controller.
A little further away lay another corpse, untouched by anyone. One of the dogs timidly moved forward and even sank its teeth into its pant leg, starting to tear the thick fabric, but almost immediately jerked to the side, falling onto its back and beginning to whimper from severe pain. The dog arched its back, choked, and white foam dripped from its mouth onto the grass until it finally fell silent.
After that, from a recess in the ledge where the stalkers were, a controller emerged onto the small feasting clearing with a slow, slightly swaying gait. At first, he walked a few steps until his head appeared in the stalkers' field of vision, and then, to their shock, they discovered that their hands felt as if they were filled with lead. The creature knew about their approach! And as soon as the controller began to turn its ugly face towards them to deliver the final blow, it was killed by a couple of accurate shots to its ugly skull. Executioner!
Awakening from the monster's influence, the stalkers began to rain bullets on the mutants. And if Executioner and Orest shot accurately and carefully, in short bursts, then both stalker brothers, without hesitation, held down the trigger on the creatures. And when the last snork died in its powerful leap, plowing a small furrow in the grass behind the stalkers with its body, they stopped.
"You son of a bitch!" the flushed Ozhog swore menacingly. "How did he sense us? You said, Executioner, that direct eye contact is needed for its influence!"
"It seems that this controller was stronger and more mature than the one in the underground," the stalker shrugs, slinging his rifle over his shoulder.
"And why didn't its power affect you then?" the stalker with the scar on his face
continues, raising an eyebrow.
"Damn if I know," Executioner replies, looking over the clearing, which was a mixture of black and red blood. "We should check that hole it came out of."