Freedom Base, the next morning.
Descending into the inner courtyard with Liza at the appointed time, I met five Freedom guys there, two of whom were Chert and Shnyga, the rest were unknown stalkers. After briefly greeting and introducing myself to the other team members, I begin to inspect a large and heavy-looking red box standing at the feet of the group commander.
"These are artifacts for the chimera," Chert decides to explain, running his gloved hand over his bald head. "Eight pieces, nothing particularly rare..."
"And what is it for?" I ask, tilting the container lid. Inside were eight filled compartments. Okay, okay, I see something resembling Gravy, Kolobok, and Snezhinka. The rest are unknown to me.
"Haha," the Freedom guy laughs briefly, the others join in his laughter. "You speak like a green recruit, Executioner! Although... You're a hunter, right? Well, if you don't know, then listen... These containers appeared not so long ago, maybe a year or so. And they are needed to limit the chemical, biological, and radioactive effects of medium and high-level artifacts."
"No one told me about such containers..."
"Those like this one," he points with his finger at the red box. "Are only used for transporting large batches of artifacts, you can't really run with it, yeah. Experienced seekers use small versions of such containers."
"I haven't seen them on other stalkers," I say, finally pulling away from him.
"Most wanderers don't need them," Chert shrugs. "Few really take risks in the Zone, most walk along beaten paths, often look for the same artifacts, stuff them under their armpits and run to the merchant. Such special gadgets are useless to them - money down the drain. And these containers, I must say, are not cheap."
Understood. So, if you want to look for good artifacts, you need to have not only the appropriate suit and detector, but also don't forget to bring containers. I'll have to ask Sidor about this, maybe I'll buy one or two, just in case. I hope they won't weigh too much…
I turn my head towards Liza, who practically immediately went to her brother. After yesterday's incident, we hardly spoke, there was some awkwardness between us, which, however, was for the best. But Shnyga, unlike his sister, who at least occasionally glanced at me, tried not to pay attention to my person at all. So the threat worked. I don't have to worry about him blabbing to someone from his side about my interrogations.
A few more minutes passed before we left the camp territory. Chert coordinated something via PDA and radio, standing aside, the girl held onto her brother, tightly gripping his elbow with both hands, and the rest of the team looked at her with interest. Meanwhile, I decided to check the scope I received again.
Honestly, I expected to see a standard PSO for the Zone, but no. Chekhov handed me a scope of an unknown model and brand, but with nine-times magnification. And most importantly, there is a reticle illumination. Overall, I was pleased with the gift. Of course, I still had to sight it in properly and see how it would work in general, but I have a good feeling about it.
"That's it, guys!" Chert says loudly, tearing himself away from the communicator. "I talked to our people. It's quiet in the Valley now – we can go."
"And what were you talking about with the others?" Liza's cautious and quiet voice is heard from behind.
"I was asking if anyone had seen any mutants around," Denis answers her just as quietly. "Standard practice before going out – finding out what's happening outside the base."
"Understood…"
Our path lay through the western passage, leading to a small swamp, spread out right below the Freedom camp, just a dozen meters away. Then we headed southwest, towards the high rocky cliffs that bordered the Dark Valley. Chert led our detachment, followed by me, then Liza with her brother, and then the rest of the greenhorns. We moved at a moderate pace until we reached one of the Freedom outposts.
The Dark Valley itself is in a lowland, like the Gut, so to get to the Dump, we'll have to climb uphill for a long time. Therefore, when a small camp appeared on the horizon, among huge boulders and bushes, it was decided to take a breather before the long and difficult road. Of course, I didn't have time to get tired, but those guys who are carrying my container… I feel sorry for them, but I didn't offer my help.
"Where are you guys headed in such a company, huh, Chert?" the outpost commander asks loudly, throwing his arm over the Freedom fighter's neck.
"Chekhov's orders," the latter replies with a smile. "We need to get the guys out. How are you guys doing here?"
"How are we doing?" his interlocutor chuckles. "You know yourself. Bo-o-oring. There's absolutely nothing to do here. No mercenaries, no mutants…"
"And when is your shift change?"
"The day after tomorrow," the stalker exhales sadly.
And then I stopped listening to their chatter, already busy with my own thoughts. The fact that the stalkers would let our detachment into the hangar didn't cause me any doubt, but how long would we be delayed there? Would I be able to find the hideout quickly? And where to look for it at all… Many questions, few answers – as usual. Although, if I ask the guys, maybe someone noticed something suspicious? Alright, I'll think about it on site…
The Dump, a few hours later.
This journey turned out to be difficult even for me, and I was practically unburdened. It was difficult for me not so much physically as morally – I constantly had to take short breaks for the Freedom fighters to smoke, and somewhere towards the end of the path, Liza managed to get huge blisters in her boots, which made us stop much more often. So, when this endless forest, stretching somewhere upwards, ended, I exhaled with relief. The last push – and we'll be at the neutral base, and I'll also see how the guys have settled in there.
We pass by the almost deserted Flea Market, from afar I could only see a few unfamiliar, unshaven, and very unfriendly faces. As I understand it, the diggers have moved to the hangar for good, since new owners are here instead of them. They, although they looked at us unkindly, as if showing off their shotguns and pistols, did not start a fight, preferring to let us pass. And then we moved west, past a huge pile of garbage with two large tanks standing opposite it, until we reached a normal road. And after that, we had very little left to go.
But when we approached the eastern gates of the depot closely, we were met only by closed metal doors and quiet sounds coming from there. There was no one on the hangar roof, nor on the couple of watchtowers towering over the brick fence.
"Damn it," one of the Freedom fighters, one of the pair who carried my container all the way, says loudly. "We have to go around too?"
"Who are you?" a vaguely familiar voice suddenly sounds from the other side of the gate.
"Freedom detachment," Chert answers loudly. "Let us through here, huh? Don't want to drag ourselves around the whole fence…"
"Ha, Freedom!" the stalker replies with a mocking chuckle. "Even if you go around, we won't let you in anyway – we don't need strangers here. Why did you come here at all?"
"I invited him," I interject into this conversation.
There's a clang of metal, and a couple of seconds later, one of the doors opens inward with a loud and unpleasant squeak. And as soon as this sonic torture ends, Dyatel appears before me with a foolish but wide smile on his face, and hugs me. I return the embrace to my old acquaintance.
"I didn't
know you were so strict here," I say first.
"Yeah, too many rats have appeared, Executioner," Dyatel replies, peeling away from me. "An order from the higher-ups. You go in, all our guys will be glad to see you. And you guys go in too, since you came with him."
"We should feed and water them too," I say, entering the territory of the new stalker base. "At my expense."
"Oh-oh, nobody will take money from you here," the stalker pats me on the back with a wide palm, and then leans down and adds more quietly, glancing at the Freedom fighters. "But, Executioner, honestly, you shouldn't have come here now. Very inconvenient timing."
"Why is that?" I ask in confusion, while my detachment looks around, and the gates close behind them.
"Everyone's angry now, like your pseudodog," he replies. "They still can't divide the hangar. Who will sit on trade, who on feeding, who will sleep where…"
"They're actively dividing power, then," I chuckle to myself. "Well, that's fine, I just came here on one business anyway. Will you feed my companions while I'm busy?"
"No problem, my friend," Dyatel smiles.
The hangar, same time.
Liza looked around the place where they found themselves with surprise. When they approached this place, as the stalkers called it, a depot, for some reason she thought they wouldn't be let in at all. And she even got a little scared when the stalker at the gate refused to open it. But a couple of words from the Executioner opened the doors. And then her escort talked about something with this gatekeeper, and then, patting him on the shoulder in return, headed inside the hangar. Liza was about to follow him, but then his interlocutor stepped forward.
"Well, guys, they call me Dyatel, nice to meet you," he says with a brazen grin and turns to the right to head around the corner. "Let's go, the Executioner asked me to feed and water you."
"How much do we owe for lodging?" Chert asks, heading after him at the head of the detachment.
"Nothing," Dyatel replies. "Since he asked for you…"
"What, is the Executioner some big shot here?" one of the Freedom fighters asks.
"Ha, big shot!" the stalker chuckles. "You could say he's a local legend here. Want to hear a few tales? For example, how he chopped off a bloodsucker's head with an axe? Or how he went after a pseudogiant?"
No one even paid attention to Shnyga, who was getting paler and paler with every word Dyatel spoke…
The hangar, same time.
The first thing I do is fly into the hangar and stop in surprise to look around better. No shell casings, no bloodstains, not a single trace of the past battle, except, perhaps, for the riddled barrels and thin metal sheets. On the contrary, everything was clean and orderly. No trash or anything else, and the stalkers, who scurried back and forth around the room, were quietly talking while moving boards and iron.
"Are you guys going to build something here?" I ask a smoking stalker, who was squatting by a red wagon.
"What, you don't know… Oops, you're the Executioner, right?" how quickly his tone changes as soon as he turns to me. "I, uh, Petka Moryak, I walk under the Quiet One. About, uh, your question… Yes, we decided to make a temporary bathhouse, and, you know, fix a few things here and there."
"Nice to meet you, Moryak," I nod to my new acquaintance. "And a bathhouse is a good thing… I'll drop by sometime when you're done building it… Bye, it was nice meeting you."
"Uh-huh, bye."
The hangar, same time, after the Executioner left.
"Hey, Moryak, who was that who came up to you?" Funt asks the stalker, who recently joined their group of newcomers from the Cordon, almost immediately after the war with the bandits.
"Don't you 'hey' me, Fantik," Petka spits out his smoked cigarette under the boots of his interlocutor. "And who came up… It was the Executioner, that's who!"
"The one, right? I don't believe it, he's not as formidable as they make him out to be…"
"I didn't believe it either…" Moryak says quietly, then continues louder: "But when he brought Yogu here with shot knees, I immediately believed it. And when he shot him in the head, I believed it again."
The network of underground tunnels under the depot, five minutes later.
Alas, I don't have as much time as I'd like, which means the search needs to be conducted urgently. And, if you think about it, where else could the entrance to the underground warehouse be, if not in the already dug tunnels? I need to look somewhere here… Fortunately, after Medvedev's help, no one has sealed the passage.
I calmly descend the stairs, turn on my flashlight, and begin searching for any traces that might have been left. So, so, so, a huge furrow in the layer of dirt from Yogu's back, which hadn't fully covered with dust, alas, the rest was erased by me. And tracking where exactly the bandits went down the tunnel is now a difficult task. Although… I have the map I got from the mercenaries, right? Let me take a look at it.
And yes, indeed, the solution to the task before me turned out to be much simpler than I could have imagined. Within a hundred or two meters from me, there were several rooms, but I liked the largest one. All I need to do is go straight through a few forks, turn left at the fourth, and then I'll be there. It's even interesting what loot I can get. After all, a lot could have remained in place – Yogu only took drugs and about a hundred and fifty thousand, which later went to reward the stalkers.
The old warehouse, half an hour later.
The door yielded to my lockpicks very reluctantly – it took a long time, but when it finally opened, a crazy stench of something rotten, sour, and just awful hit my nose. I cover my face with my sleeve, trying to breathe through my mouth intermittently, and enter the room, illuminating it with my flashlight. A large room, long. Mattresses with bottles and… used condoms were scattered everywhere. I also saw a couple of empty kerosene lamps and many traces on the floor from something heavy that was dragged across the concrete surface. Whatever was stored here before, the bandits carefully took it all out to set up a brothel here.
I walk further into the room until I stumble upon a naked and half-decomposed stalker's corpse, which had managed to cover itself with dark corpse spots. And then another, and another… I shamefully avert my gaze, unable to look at it. Those damned creatures! Not only did they force stalkers to work, but also this. Ugh, Yogu, you're lucky I only found out about this now! It made me feel disgusted. And those unfortunate stalkers… May they rest in peace.
But I need to move on, maybe there are some notes or money left… I wanted to think so, but after a few unusually long minutes, I couldn't find anything. It seems that Yogu really took all the stash that was there, and they didn't keep a client base at all. I didn't want to stay here longer than necessary, so I hurried to the exit as soon as I realized there was nothing for me to look for here.
"Wait a little longer, guys," I say to them as a parting remark. "I'll ask them to bury you."
The unnamed bar, forty minutes later.
Liza slowly sipped her tea, listening with all her might to Dyatel's stories about the Executioner, and with every word spoken, her heart froze from all the horror this person had to go through to end up here. And her reactions were hidden from no one among the Freedom fighters, even under the thick fabric of the mask she had put on beforehand. The stalkers could only sigh with envy, continuing to listen to tales about the wanderer who saved them. Only Shnyga, hugging himself by the shoulders and pulling his knees to his chest, swayed slowly from side to side, groaning occasionally, which drew confused glances from the other bar patrons.
"He's sick," Chert says, shrugging his shoulders, and then adds weightily: "The Zone!"
"Ah-ah!" as if understanding what kind of strange ailment had struck this Freedom fighter, the stalkers only replied.
"And then he…" leaning forward, Dyatel, enunciating every word so that no one would miss the slightest detail, narrated. But he was forced to stop due to the appearance of the subject of his stories. "And here he is himself! Well, how, did you see our guys?"
"No," the Executioner replies grimly with a pale face, and then crosses the bar in a couple of wide strides, approaching their wide table, and instantly drains a full, but untouched, shot glass. "Give my regards to all our guys, I'll drop by later, on the way back."
"On the way back? When?" Dyatel latches onto his words.
"Soon," the Executioner only says, and then reaches into his breast pocket, from which he pulls out a couple of thousand Soviet rubles, which are sent in a thick stack under one of the empty plates. "I wrote to Valerian there, you'll have more work soon… Escort us. I want to get to the Cordon before evening."
"Did something happen?" Chert asks, getting up from the crate he was sitting on.
"Yes," he says. "But this is a stalker's business. Let's go."
"Well, if we have to go, then let's go," the Freedom fighter shrugs in confusion, turning to his companions. "Get up, brothers, the road awaits."