Synopsis

Until 14^th of August 2011, Daniel was just another stalker in The Zone, pursuing the dreams of rubles while dodging dangers to get the sufficient cash to pay for his daily necessity in The Zone.

Until he received The Mission.

It was suppose to be a simple task , but he stumbled upon a terrible incident, had to fight for his life via guile and strength, and eventually discovered a dark conspiracy that happened inside the military.

This story will bring you into the life in The Camp, the danger of The Zone, the torture room of a Spetnatz base… up to inside a Blowout. The story will revolved around the eyes of the various players of The Zone and those who inconspicuously dragged into the black hole started by the incident… and finish with a stunning ending, told within 10 days of the stories’ time.

This story is themed differently then the rest, and should be a welcoming entry for those who had enough of the usual Zone stories.

Enjoy!

Prologue

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Waking up from the annoying dripping sound, Daniel Gillian grumbled. The tap was leaking again, as usual. Not that he was not bothered to fix- there was just no material inside the Camp to do it.

He awoke to see the wooden ceiling above him. “Thank God I’m alive.” He muttered. Many stalkers never woke up in their sleep. Radiation, the silent assassin, kills without warning. That is the Universal Truth every stalker must know.

The second thing he did was swore when he saw the bright sunlight shown into the room. “Damn,” he sighed. Even without his watch, he knew it was somewhere around noon now, judging by the intensified rays of light. Well, he consoled himself; at least he could have his brunch – saved some of his precarious resources.

He stared at the table in front of him. Aside from two metallic suitcases and a loaf of bread, the table was bare. One contained the parts for his FN2000, the other the accessories. The loaf of bread was to be his breakfast- no jam, no butter, no tuna. Nothing to flavor it with. Daniel sighed. Just another lousy day in the Zone.

The sturdy young man dragged himself to the bathroom and stared at the mirror. So far, no rash. The radiation had not got him- yet. The face was still perfect- squarish chin, chocolate eyes, sharp noses. Yes, he was still himself, the Daniel Gillian who was as poor as a church mouse.

It was not suppose to so. Until yesterday, he still had 19,300 rubles inside the metallic box under his bed, along with a fully-modified AK-74. Then, he went to buy the FN2000. Pawned his AK-74 and gave the money to the fat devil everyone knew as The Dealer. Now? He only had little money left.. The single 100-ruble note inside the tattered piece of leather he called a wallet would not last him two days inside The Camp. The FN2000 better worth its price.

After he washed himself clean with the typical yellow Ukrainian imitation soap, he began to dress for ‘work’. He donned on his Spectra Shield armor and his NBC Class V suit. He had to use the best equipment- he did not want to be sterile or die young.

His eyes swept across the bare room again. At the side of the bed was his Bible, the one his loving mother gave him before he left Heathrow airport, now covered with dust. In The Zone, the religious ethics was no more than a joke at the drinking table. One had to cheat, kill or steal. The Brit was a Methodist, but it was a long time since he touched it. But he still believed that God is in control- that was the main reason he was still alive, at least from his point of view.

Daniel took his backpack hanging at the corner and put the assembled FN2000 with its accessories in. His ammunition was already in, along with some tin food. After finishing the bread, it was time to move out.

Daniel took a last look at his room and sucked in the warm and humid air. He was going to miss the warmth, the coziness of his bed, and the shelter- he was going into The Zone, a place where none of this exist. Then, ceremonially, he slammed the door shut, locked it, and walked down the stairs slowly.

When Daniel finally stepped onto the solid ground, he looked around and breathed in the cold air of autumn. The Dealer’s attic was crowded with stalker’s trying to get a deal, as usual; the queue was so long that the staircase was overcrowded. The Bar was too blooming, not to mention The Strip Bar not far away.

The Strip Bar. Filthy place it was, where the lust of men came out to play. Daniel went in once- by accident. A fellow stalker played a joke on him when he was still innocent, still naïve and unknowledgeable of the life of a stalker. He went in there, thinking that it was The Dealer’s shop. Instead, it turned out to be a place full of jeering stalkers and a few women dancing half naked on the stage and slowly taking off the top. The rest was self-explanatory- he ran. As for the girls inside, they belonged to the big shots- the clan leaders, the rich stalkers who could afford them. In short, The Strip Bar was the place where the ‘privileged’ stalkers get their entertainment.

But The Camp itself was cold and barren, as if it was a desert. The street of Prytpyat was empty of people. As usual, people would rather stay in their bunk in this cold and windy autumn day, most likely to be sleeping... or our on a mission, Daniel sighed.

Except for that funny looking person approaching the Camp’s entrance fast.
The man was dressed in white shirt and jean, Daniel noted as he studied the character from afar. Perhaps a newbie? No, he did not have a rucksack or a backpack. As the figure came nearer, Daniel could see that his shirt was still white.
No, if he was a newbie, his shirt should have been stained from the bus trip from Kiev. This person also had glasses and a meticulously trimmed haircut. It could all only point to an only logical conclusion- a scientist.

Scanning his surroundings, Daniel noted several stalkers not far away too caught sight of this sandy-haired man of medium heights, this lamb, who was walking right into their mouth, oblivious of their presence. It was like an African Jungle- the lions laid in wait while the impalas naively walked into an ambush. Except that this particular impala was presumably loaded with cash, gear or information.

It was a take-it-or-leave-it situation. Daniel needed cash badly, so naturally he desired for a mission. This was it.

It was then he caught movement from the others. The other lions were moving in for the kill. He had to move. Fast.

At first Daniel walked casually towards the man, so that the man may saw him ‘by chance’. When he heard the soft footsteps behind him, he shifted up into a brisk walk. But when the others’ footsteps were heard clear and loud, Daniel knew he had to do something drastic.

He ran. The others, seeing this, too ran.

The man was amused at the sight of 6 stalkers running towards him, as if he was a leprechaun from Ireland with a pot of gold. He was, after all, looking for a signpost of some sort, but these people were more then just helpful.

The man was still staring when Daniel reached the man breathlessly from the 400-meter dash. He quickly turned around to see the rest were almost nearing now.

“Hi there.”

The man stared suspiciously at him. He was not expecting anyone this helpful.

“Hi. Eh, I am here to see the group of poachers, or mercenary of some sort. . My colleagues called them ‘stalkers’. Can you kindly show me the way?”

Daniel grinned. A new scientist to the job. Whatever he had would be his.

“I am a stalker. An individual one.”

“So you mean…”

“Yes, we stalkers work either alone or in group-clans, we call them. Now, who do we have here?”

“Dr Joel Canterbury, Biophysicist and genetic engineer, Canuck.”

“Glad to meet you. Daniel Gillian, ex-Marine, Brit. Anything I can do for you?” He was not exactly an Ex-marine, he thought. At least marching and shooting SA-80 Enfield rifles were not qualified on his job description.

“Yeah, it is about a fellow scientist…”

But Daniel wasn’t paying attention. His eyes were on the others. They were still lurking around, eavesdropping. Competition.

“It’s getting cold, perhaps we should go to the Bar.”

“What? I am…”

Daniel pushed him slightly at the back. “Look, some of them are psychopaths. Scientist killers. Get the hint?” The Scientist stared to comprehend, then nodded and obeyed quietly as they walked away under the watchful eyes of the others.

“Look, competition here is stiff.” Daniel opened the door of The Bar and led the scientist in, then chose an empty table. “Those pillocks can really cause a nuisance on missions, doing things that could destroy any luck you might have and fail the mission.”

“What’s a pillock?”

“You know, a faffer, a wally, a skiver, a stupid berk.”

The doctor’s eyes widened.

“Don’t you Canucks speak English? Oh, never mind. Anything you like, on me.”

“Thanks but no thanks. I don’t drink alcohol. Bad for the liver.” Typical scientist nerd, Daniel thought.

“Barkeeper, milk for me.” Daniel motioned at the bartender.

Virtually everyone stared at him as the Bar became silent, then some laughter burst out. It was as if it was some kind of joke. They resumed their business after the bartender came with the milk and left. After all, not everybody is normal around here.

“I thought you are those hoodlums who rather die then drink milk.” Dr Joel quipped,

“Hey, watch it. Not everyone here is an ex-convict. And people drink vodka for detox, though I rather take the pills. I want to live till eighty. But let’s get started, should we?”

“Sure. This morning, at 0800, a fellow scientist, Dr. Jacobs Charliston, left with the Expedition Team with escorts into the Military Restricted Area for Contaminated and Irradiated Chernobyl Zone.”

“Please, The Zone.” Daniel corrected him. “ It makes life easier.”

“Okay, The Zone. Anyway, he promised to contact us by 1200.”

Daniel checked his watch. “Its’ only 1320. What’s the rush? Maybe a little setback, you never know.”

“Exactly. We scientists at the Agroprom had a habit, actually an unofficial rule, to contact our own to report our safety. You know, those army escorts are unreliable. They do get drunk even during mission. But what can we do? "

“So, to take care of ourselves, we have an agreement, a pact among ourselves, at least most of us. We have a little fund stocked with part of our salary and equipment you stalkers are interested in. And this fellow is, luckily, part of the agreement.”

“So, cut it short, you want a passive escort on this bloke you’re mentioning?”

The scientist pondered. “More or less, correct. We want him back alive.”

“Now you’re cooking with fire. To the terms of payment…”

“1500 rubles for this mission, 400 upfront.” Dr Joel reached for his wallet.

“Deal.” Daniel said as he put the money into his pocket. 1500 rubles was good money. “Don’t worry, mate. You have come to the right person. I am dependable.” He grinned. “Now, I would need a mug shot and a coordinate.

“You would find everything you need here.” The scientist pushed a manila folder over the table. “The rest of the payment would come to you when the good doctor arrives safely.”

“You never know" Daniel reminded the scientist. "There is no certainty in life. How do I contact you?”

“Tell the guards to speak to Dr Joel Canterbury, Anomalous Life-form and Material R&D, assistant Head.” The scientist rose. “Till next time.”

“Mon Plaisir. I’m glad this worked out. You wouldn’t regret you come to me.” Daniel shook the scientist’s hand gratefully, then escorted him out of the Bar. “

Then, it was time to get into business.

“Barkeeper, any killers or psychos you know went into the Zone?”

“No one I knew, Daniel.” The old and wrinkled man said as he filled a bottle of vodka. “Blowout was two days ago. People would rather hunt for artifacts then kill, you know. Pays better money.”

“Yeah. Thanks.” Daniel drank his fill and paid 50 rubles for the milk. Milk here was expensive, but it was worth it. He could get free Intel from the bartender for the price. Besides, everyone knew that milk is good for your health.

His next stop would be his bunk and The Garage. He had some serious planning to do. Planning was what kept him alive until even now, aside God.

Little did he realize that this was how the adventure that bored unimagined danger and treachery began.

***

Part I: Genesis

1400.

The Zone was a beautiful place. Often hailed by conservationist as ' The Last Frontier on Earth', The Zone was indeed itself a wonder. The greenery was uncontaminated by the Human Industrial Machine. The trees were left virtually untouched after the first Explosion, free to feed on the rich soil of the country once called 'The breadbasket of Mother Russia.'

But never be confused by illusion beauty with the hidden danger behind those crooked trees, or those lush green fields. The Zone was a very dangerous place with Death lurking behind those lands, waiting for the right moment to bring life into its embrace. Everyday, disillusioned stalkers went past the thin red line, hoping to either sooth their curiosity for the cause of The Zone or to satisfy their greed. Some never came back.

But for Daniel Gillian, that had never been any problem to him. He was a very cautious sort of person who made his plan, asked himself what would go wrong, and tackled every alternative. He was always ready for anything.

Daniel was prone in the thick undergrowth directly across the derelict building of the given coordinates for some time now. He checked his map again. Yes, he was on the right place.

Something was wrong, he sensed. It was just too damn quiet. A trap? There were rumors of things like that happened in The Zone. But the scientist did not look like a cheat. This couldn’t be a trap too- he had checked the perimeter. It was clean

The building itself was old-Russian architecture, with its carved marble beams now black with dark moss. In front of the building was an iron-and-sickle sign. The building’s white paint was peeling, as of any other Zone buildings. It could have been a university, a communist headquarter, or even a top-secret research facility. A secondary building was long collapsed into rubble. In front of the building was a thick growth of grass… and two motionless BTR-70 APCs in front of what could have been flagpoles now covered with rust.

Slowly and cautiously, the stalker clad in black approached the vehicles. Attaching the 40mm GL to his FN2000, he adjusted his weapon to shoulder level. His heart was throbbing. It was danger he was approaching. Anytime now, he expected a soldier to walk from the APC. Anytime a shout would cut through the silence, along with the chattering of bullets that would tear him to pieces.

That soldier never came out. The air was nothing but quietness.

The hatch of the first APC he approached was wide open, and as Daniel peered inside, the interior provided him with both relieve and horror. For inside the APC was the ruined body of two soldiers and 3 scientists, dried blood caking the floor they laid upon and the hull of the APC riddled both with bullets and blood stained. The bullet marks suggested machinegun fire, but inside an APC? An APC was designed precisely to protect against situation liked this. The passenger never made it to close the hatch… or there was something else.

Daniel’s gut instinct told him something was obviously very wrong, and that the same happened inside the second APC.

Daniel next approached the level of staircase that marked the entrance to the building. He expected the occupants here to have suffered the same fate as the passenger of the APC. Thinking this, his rifle was put down. There was no threat.

The door to the entrance was blown off, to Daniel’s alarm. Who need to blow of a door to get into a building? And the fact that blood stained the entrance added a clue to what happened here. He walked in.

When he stepped his foot into the building, he could see bloodstain everywhere, not to mention a few bodies. Barbaric.

Then, he heard loud roars from his right. He turned, to see two ghastly mutated boars staring at him, their red eyes burning with hostility while their tusks were black with blood from the tattered bodies of two soldiers at their feet. “Oh shit.” Daniel whispered. Danger. The hands unwittingly grasped the rifle hard. “Come to me, baby. Come to me."

The two black boars charged.

Daniel raised his rifle, the iron sight fitted perfectly onto the nearest boar. With a thrust, the fully automatic rifle came to life with muzzle flash. The recoil jerked the gun upwards, but he kept shooting, for he knew he was hanging to dear life. Boars had mutated skin and muscles, making them exceptionally tough… and among the toughest adversaries a stalker could ever face.

400m, 300m, 200m. The boars were coming in fast. The first boar fell. The much-dreaded clicks came. Crap- gun’s empty.

Daniel aimed the crosshair at the second beast, reaching for the front trigger of the rifle. A burst rang into the air, and the next thing was the boar felling lifelessly onto the ground, head burst open by the explosion. Daniel was safe, at least for now. He let out a brief sigh of relieve.

He scanned the interior again as he snapped in a second magazine. The place looked like a hospital- what used to be benches now lay with overturned or broken in the distant cement ground. The wooden doors that should have been the doors of doctor’s office were gone, probably salvaged by the inhabitants.

Daniel peeked into one of the office. A scientist, with his pinkish suit, lying in a pool of blood inside the bare room, along with another ghastly mutated being, a hermit. Hermits were human once- they refused to leave The Zone before the Incident. After the Incident, the heavy dosage had them ghastly mutated, but not dead. Poor thing. Death had finally caught up with him.

“Where’s the dignity?” Daniel asked himself while surveying the scene. Whoever had caused this was either inhumane or was not human.

Daniel saw a flight of stairs that led upwards, with a thin trail of blood. The gore was sickening, and as much as everybody else, he did not like it. But he had no choice if he really wanted to know what happen. He proceeded upwards.

“Dr. Jacobs! Dr. Jacobs!” He shouted into the oblivion, but only the echoes greeted him. He was all-alone, the only thing alive to be in here.

Second floor was where the survivor did their last stand. Aside from the gore that Daniel pretended not to see, the place was filled with spent bullet casing. Weapons were everywhere, but so were dead bodies and explosion marks. A struggle happened here. Broken barricade of hospital bed frames were strewn at the entrance to the second floor,

A strong gust of wind bellowed into the large hall from the windows. Scientific papers, some stained with blood, flew up into the air, scattering everywhere as they landed. The heavy smell of blood went through his gas mask somehow. The sickening feeling made him readjusted his gas mask. The scene was dramatic, as if it was a horror movie of some sort. But it was not. It was reality- it was The Zone.

“Hello? Anyone?” Daniel took off his gas mask and shouted before putting it on.

No response. Everyone here was dead long ago. Daniel picked up the 2 AK-74 and RPK-74 and put them into his backpack. At least the trip was not a waste- he could sell the weapons.

That was when he heard a soft thud, a slight and weak bang amid the silence.

“Hello? Anyone there?” His finger rested at the trigger guard.

A hand rose weakly among the dead. Daniel approached it. It was a man, a scientist, in a pool of red and dried blood whose time was quickly coming, Daniel thought. Taking out the mug shot given to him, he compared the man’s face. It was not Dr. Jacobs. His heart sank. He would not have the other 1100 ruble after all.

The man’s mouth moved slowly. He was trying to speak, to tell him something. Daniel attentively crouched down and neared his ears to the man.

“Wa…ter.” The man whispered slowly.

Daniel took the green army-style canteen from his belt. Carefully, he screwed the top open and steadied it to the man’s mouth so only a trickle would come out. The stalker took out a bandage roll. Using a knife, he opened the suit open, to find six distinctive and bloody bullet marks in the torso. The man was beyond savable.

“Listen.…were…attacked…by…own…people.” Daniel was trying his best to decipher the gibberish lines that was almost incomprehendable.

“Every…thing …here.” The man revealed a PDA painstakingly from his pocket.

“A Sony Clié?” Daniel look puzzled at the squarish silver machine, its name in front.

“Hear…recording. Every…thing you need…to know.” The man’s head tilted down as his last breathe escaped, his torso no longer moving.

“You still there?” Daniel shook the man, but there was no response. Daniel’s finger detected no pulse at the neck. The scientist was dead.

Daniel studied the PDA given to him. The palm-sized compact Personal Digital Assistant was at least seven years old, a TG-50. The sleek machine came with an earphone. Daniel quickly put it one and fumbled around until he reached the ‘voice memo’ section, the clicked ‘play’. He was curios to see why and what had happened.

“I am Hans Guthrie, Dr., a genetic engineer and biophysicist in the Agroprom Research Facility of the Ukrainian Government. Today is 14^th August 2010. By the time you hear this recording, I am probably dead.” The recording started.

“At 11.55 am, we had arrived at coordinate 16C-X43D in the Chernobyl Fallout Zone, but were ambushed. Extremely well armed and well-trained professionals, in balaclava and NBC suits. Perhaps they are the illegal poachers or stalkers.” In the background, gunfire, screams, orders and panic dominated the air. The sound of war.

“They had isolated us into two groups- we are at the second floor of the Communist’s Nomenklalatura hospital, according to the officer in charge. The other group is around the two APCs. The attackers had EMP grenades that rendered the vehicle useless. The people down there are stuck inside the hull.”

“Something is going on. I am taking a look. Oh my God! Those stalkers even had gas weapons! They are putting in yellow gases into the APC. Mustard. Oh God. Oh God, what are they doing? Oh dear. The men down there don’t stand a chance. The hatches are opened. They are surrendering. No!” Daniel could sense the urgency, the anguish, the anger. “Those animals are killing even those who surrendered. They are not letting us go! They are killing us all!”

“Now they are lobbing grenades from below at us.” A series of explosion and painful screams. Daniel closed his eyes. “The squad lieutenant, the only sensible man around, is taking his last stand. Only 4 soldiers are here. The radio operator is dead, and the others are trying in vain to radio base.”

Then, the swoosh of a RPG flying nearby and an ear-splitting explosion.

“The machine-gunner is dead! They are breaking through the stairs!” Another explosion. “The barricade is gone. The soldiers are trying to hold them off, but… ahhh!” A painful scream. “I can’t see! Blinding grenades!” Then, what was left of the recording were gunfire and screams. Rifle fire eventually conquered the recording, and then, silence.

Daniel felt like he had just witnessed a massacre.

However, what was next shocked him. Rapid lines of Russian were spoken through the recording, lasting for approximately 10 seconds before the recording stopped with a beep.

Daniel was taken aback, perhaps stunned. Yes, they were Russian stalkers and clans in The Camp, but they were never well-equipped because of money.This band was too well organized, even for a stalker clan.

He was about the close the cover of the PDA when he saw the next recording.

“The men… had gone. Everyone is dead. They… they bayoneted every one of us. Made sure we’re dead. They almost got me when their chopper arrived. A Mi-8 helicopter, I know it. But it had a red star! A red star! I can’t believe it!” The voice sounded shocked, and a long silence filled the gap. “The Government did this!” The voice sounded depressed, having a sense of betrayal. :”Why are they doing this to us? Why?”

“I am getting weak. Shot in the chest. Tried pressure, but only stopped bleeding a little.”
“The radio… is destroyed. I cannot fix it. And there is no hope to get my message across. Everyone here is dead, and my time would come eventually.”

“Please, tell my son Franz and Deborah I will miss them. Should not have taken this offer. I should have stayed at the university. What a wrong decision I had made. Anyone who receive this recording, please hand it to the proper authorities.”

Then it stopped, permanently.

As Daniel pulled out the earplug, his mind was rambling. The Government, doing that? No. Their reputation was at stake. They could not afford to bear the bad name if this came out. A group of rebel soldier? A greedy pilot who ferried stalker with the chopper?

He heard a drumming sound. Perhaps his eardrums still painful from using the earphone. But the sound was getting louder turning into a familiar “Thump!” sound. For a moment, it did not register. As he peered out of the window, he saw three flying objects that was getting bigger and clearer. Then it struck him: Helicopters! The army was here!

“Oh crap.” Daniel muttered as he put the PDA into his backpack. It was trouble- big one. Dangerous one.

***

In Hind-D Nikita-eight, Captain Arkady Makarov looked at his Digital Terrain Map. The terrain was relatively flat with a few trees. No targets or vehicles.

His Hind was a 1970+ invention, yet the armored behemoth was still respected and feared by ground troops. Feared by the enemy, adored by the soldiers. His Hind was recently upgraded to the 20th century with hi-tech equipment, including the map system. It was part of a deal between the Ukrainians and the Israelis, for what he did not know. A pilot just knows what a pilot had to know, the pilot thought.

“Nikita-eight, I don’t see any bogey. Looks clear to me.”

“Nikita-Nine, copy. Don’t assume-find out. You never know if they had an Igla.”

“This is HQ, engineers had checked all frequencies. No radio transmission tracked. They’re probably dead.” A pleasant female voice interrupted them.

“Too bad. A wasted trip. I was horny for action.” The captain said aloud.

“I’m sure you do, I’m sure you do. Sir, on FLIR?” It was the co-pilot, Alex.

“Go ahead, but I am sure…”

He stopped at his words when he saw a red thermal image running in the building.

“This Flight Leader Makarov, on FLIR. Target.” He changed his frequency. “Base, this is Flight Leader Makarov, we have a Bogey, permission to engage.”

“This is HQ, you are clear to engage, status fire at will.”

“People, lets roll.” Captain Makarov yelled. “Break formation. Alex, rockets.”

“Rockets armed.” His co-pilot flicked a switch on and a red light appeared.

The attack had begun.

***

Daniel was panting long and hard at the sudden rush of adrenaline as he ran for the stairs. 50m away. Just another 50m away. He just had to go that far, and then he would be all right.

At that moment, he heard the compressed air of ‘whoosh.’

Rockets!

Without thinking, he leaped and dived down before an ear-splitting explosion struck, shaking the dilapidated building and sending dust all over the place. When the smoke finally cleared, a big hole was at the wall. And a menacing helicopter coming right at him.

He saw another ‘something’ dropped down from the weapon’s bay of the helicopter’s wings, Daniel got to his feet and jumped to his left. The rocket whooped passed him; just to hit the stairs’ concrete ceiling. A subsequent explosion followed. Next, Daniel watched in disbelief as the ceiling collapsed down, the concrete blocks filling in the space of the stairs. His escape was cut.

He had to find another method to escape, fast. He quickly looked around, but the only available route was via jumping through the hole of the building, which was an illogical course of action.

There, about 500m away, he saw his exit, an escape route that he did not see before. At the other side of the building, was a door. Freedom.

Hurriedly, Daniel dashed towards the door while poking into his rucksack to take his XM-303 non-lethal module and a paintball pellet. He would need it.

***

“Flight Leader, Nikita eight. I dropped my Spetnatz on the roof. A mistake- no way in. Remember that, sir.”

“Never mind. They can assume rooftop sniper.” The Captain said comfortingly.

“This is Nikita nine, I’m going in.” Captain Makarov quickly steered his chopper, and saw a Hind nearing the cavity that he created just now.

“The hole is too small, you can’t make the drop!”

“Sir, I saw the Bogey. What? He is… Shit! My screen is tainted! Paintballed!”

The Captain thought. Tainted. The pilot’s screen was blocked. He could not see. And as in other aircraft, he could no longer fly his chopper well. Vision was everything of a pilot, the heart and soul of flying.

“Get out! Get out now!” The Captain was furious. The chopper would be cake if it stalled there. “Reverse and raise! You’re clear! What are you waiting for?”

“Wait… ok, I got the chopper moving.”

The Captain sighed in relieve as the chopper slowly moved backwards.

Out of a sudden, an explosion occurred near the rotors of the Hind. “Sir, I am hit! Going down! Losing engines! Damnit, what happened? Rotors are damaged! Engine down, repeat, engine down!” The captain watched unbelievingly as the chopper went down, spinning, while the emergency alarm of Nikita-ten and the panic of the pilot filled his radio. He was astounded, perhaps shocked, to see the behemoth taken down because of its Achilles’ Heel- the unprotected rotors engine. It must have been the work of a grenade or explosives, but those things seldom got near a helicopter.

The chopper, after several spins, crashed onto the ground.

“Nikita-ten, you ok?” Only silent greeted him. The pilot was dead.

Whoever in there was an experienced bogey, and a damn clever one, he thought.

***

Daniel reloaded a new 40mm Grenade into his newly attached grenade launcher. One chopper down, but two more to go. And they wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes twice. He would not get as lucky now, he thought as he ran towards the door.

It was at that precise moment another explosion occurred to his back.

“What now?” Daniel mumbled as he turned to his back to see. Seconds later, a helicopter appeared right at the hole

“Oh shit.” The stalker exclaimed. He was in a colossal mess now. His only hope to survive depended on that door.

***

In the Hind’s passenger bay, the group of Spetnatz was fidgety and tensed as a compressed spring, ready to act on notice.

The Spetnatz was from the Special Operation Division of the Zone Emergency Response team. A division of the Ukrainian Special Forces, they were too trained under the same sun with the other Spetnatz. But Spetnatz Detachment-3 ‘Chekist’ C group was designed to train to deal with Zone Emergencies, unlike their other two counterparts: Alfa (Group A- domestic crime and terrorism) and Berkut (All purpose foreign operation). As part of the CIS country, they had the chance to train with the Russian OMON. And via the Partnership for Peace program, they had US training. In the last 3 years, they were getting better equipped, thanks to the Fallout Zone that brought international interest.

The chopper quickly steadied onto the firm concrete ground.

A Spetnatz quickly pulled the chopper left slider door open. As his other teammates started to rain cover fire at the illegal poacher from afar, the Spetnatz took a C4 from his backpack and ran towards the concrete wall. Setting the fuse quickly to 10 seconds, he ran back to the chopper’s hull and closed the door.

Timeout. The C4 exploded, throwing the chunks of concrete everywhere. The chopper rose, turned to its left and descended. It was now a bunker for deployment.

“Spetnatz, you are good to go! Move! Move! Move!” Captain Makarov yelled to his passengers as they quickly ran out, using the chopper’s tough hull as cover.

The skill of maneuvering the chopper to the position as a bunker was a feat, requiring hours of rigid training to synchronize the perfectly timed movement. The chopper’s horizontal position faced the opposition at the right. The tough titanium alloy hull would protect the Spetnatz, Captain Makarov thought. He considered himself one of the best chopper pilots around.

Unexpectedly, his mirror cracked twice. He instinctively ducked for cover. Safe for the Spetnatz, but dangerous for the pilot, especially if that was a high caliber weapon.

“Sir, you have to cut the engine! We can’t see!” The Spetnatz team leader shouted to him. “The wind is throwing paper everywhere!” Quickly, he threw on the ‘off’ switch.

***

First Lieutenant Andrei Gustav woke up, to find himself in the middle of chaos. Two of his teammates were moaning in pain, perhaps a broken bone or a twisted arm. Three more were attending to the other personnel, while the rest was unconscious, perhaps even dead.

He moved his arm and legs. Luckily, they were not pinned.

“L-tee, you ok?” Sergeant Yuri, the team medic checked him.

“What’s going on here?”

“We’ve been hit sir.” Suddenly, that triggered back a lot of lost memories- the panic, the chaos, the crash.

“The pilot?”

“Dead sir, Neck snapped.”

Spotting his helmet beside him, he quickly wore it and reattached the mouthpiece.

“This is Spetnatz Detachment-3 Bravo, Team Leader Gustav. My team is now on the ground. The pilot is dead. I am ready to mobilize. Need TAC info, please advice.”

“Nikita-eight here, my Cossacks are on the ground, second floor. Tango still in sight, but approaching the back for no apparent reason.”

“Nikita-ten, my men are on the roof, sniping. I thought my rockets got him?”

“Negative. He’s still alive and kicking.”

“Bravo Team Leader, the main stairs is unusable. You need to find another way.”

“Thanks, that’ll be enough.”

Quickly picking the AK-74 MOD on the ground, he shouted to his medic, “Yuri, you’re in charge here. I’m hunting!”

“Yes sir!”

Dragging the slider door open, the lieutenant quickly stepped out of the wreck and stepped onto firm ground and surveyed the scene. He needed to find an entrance. Slowly, he walked around the building. Before long, he spotted the back entrance.

“So that’s why the tango was heading back.” The lieutenant said to himself. The enemy is going to have a very nasty surprise, he thought as he kicked the door open.

***

Daniel was firing loose burst with his FN2000 while running. Because of the range, he could not see the target clearly. The scientific papers were flying everywhere. The default 1.6X scope was not much of a help either as he aimed while firing backwards. Bullet whizzed passed the stalker- some missing him, others came close.

A round hit his torso without warning.

In pain, Daniel fell down, hitting the floor hard. His breathing became erratic because of the sudden pressure, but he knew the Spectra Shield armor and ceramics plates would protect him from an injury, leaving an angry red mark behind.

The dried clicks came again.

“For cryin’ out loud, why the gun had such a perfect timing?” Daniel swore as he stood up. The door was 50m away. It was not worth reloading.

Taking out his FN HP-SA pistol, he fired at the chopper to buy his time. The attacker would take cover, although the bullet had no way of hitting them. The sporadic fire now decreased. It had to. His survival was depending on it.

Then, he reached the door. Salvation.

Daniel quickly worked on the handle, to find it was locked. Quickly, he jammed the pistol at the handle and fired two rounds, then kicked the door. As the door flung open, Daniel jumped inside, just in time for a bullet to fly pass him.

As he pressed another clip into the chamber, Daniel quickly looked around the dimly lighted stairs. He needed to find a secure place to hide his backpack- perhaps a wrecked table or a collapsed chair. The heavy backpack was becoming a burden.

His hand felt something cold next to him. Daniel felt around, to touch a metallic item, a handle. He pulled it, and a slider door opened, revealing what must have been a medical waste disposal chute.

He was lucky. Swiftly, he untangled the backpack and threw it in. The sound of the backpack rolling down the chute was heard, then a solid thud. The backpack was now at a secure spot. He would come to retrieve it later… if he survived.

The stalker leaned tight against the wall. Doing a swift turning, he appeared quickly in front of the Special Forces who were proceeding cautiously towards the door. He fired at them rapidly as they instinctively dodged. After all, Special Forces had family- they would think twice before attack. Then, he leaned against the wall again.

As he was about to turn to fire for the last time, suddenly, Daniel heard the sound of a Fort 12 being cocked at the back. His heart skipped a bit as he freeze. Game over.

For a moment, Daniel stood there while the voice at the back shouted at him in rapid but undecipherable Russian. But he knew what it meant- put the gun down, hands up in the air, no sudden movement. The noise of the army Rubber boots smashing against the wooden ground slowly came from the back. A gun jabbed at his back.

Daniel had an urge to escape. He wanted so much to get away unscathed. He knew the consequences of being caught. The Ukrainian Army seldom wanted to get into political tight waters of a foreigner in the Zone.

Maybe he would be fast enough. Maybe he would knock the oppressor hard enough to make him unconscious for the time being while he escaped.

Or maybe the shadow would kill him first before he even moved.

After much consideration, Daniel reached a final decision. Maybe if he did not threaten the soldiers, he would be set free, maybe some jail time. Any way, he would find another way out. This is not his fight.

Slowly, he threw his pistol on the ground, then kicked it away. “I surren…”

Before he could even finish, a hard blow from the pistol hit the back of his head. The stalker collapsed onto the wooden floor hard as he became unconscious. He was oblivious of what happening around him anymore.

Daniel Gillian, the stalker, was caught.

***

Lieutenant Gustav was still pointing his Fort 12 at the limb body in front of him, the illegal Zone Trespasser, when the rest joined him at the door.

“Good job, Lieutenant.” The other team leader congratulated him with a pat at the shoulder. “Nice and Clean. Got him in the back.”

“Hey, what can I say? It was personal. He took out my eggbeater, killed my pilot and injured my men. I have a score to settle with the son of a b.” The fair skinned Ukrainian took off his helmet as the symbol of triumph and rubbed his hand against the army cut hair. It felt so good, the sweet sensation of victory.

Mission successful. He had caught the suspect, the killer of The Expedition Team. This should look good in his books when he requested for promotion. It was just too bad for the stalker. But he would not last against the interrogation to come, Lieutenant Andrei Gustav thought. Well, that was none of his business anymore- he had done his duty well.

To be continued