“Death twitches my ear. ‘Live,’ he says, ‘I am coming.’” - Virgil

April 4th, 2010

Yephikodov was dead. It was clear, it was. How could I tell? Need I explain? Five 5.56mm rounds had perforated the poor man’s legs and torso in a most gruesome fashion, two of the wounds like hollowed out grapefruit: a bitter, sour creation. Why would such a food exist? So vile, so unappetizing. So much like now. What acrid weather it was, those black fortresses slowly gathering, waiting for us to drop guard. Then! Then all their hosts would charge out, so quickly, too quickly. Ah…but I digress.

Yephikodov was dead, without a doubt. The dead stink. The dead do not move. The dead are ugly. Yephikodov stunk. Yephikodov sat still beside me, not bothering to bat away the bug that made home in his half-open mouth. Yephikodov was hideous. The urge to cover the floor with milk white substance almost overcame me. But I could not pry my eyes away from Yephikodov. Yes, the poor man was dead. And I did not know his first name, not even Asher knew.

No, nothing could pry my eyes away from Yephikodov, save the guttural snarls off in the distance, in that far-off silo that Asher deemed possessed by the dybbuk. Asher Bilak was insane. All of us were. All of us except Yephikodov and the Boy. That was exactly why Yephikodov and the Boy were dead. Oh, Yephikodov was insane for a while. Then he became sane again. I think it was because of Luciana. Asher said no, no it could not be Luciana, for they had already known each other for some time, and Yephikodov was crazy then. I think it was because of Luciana. It did not matter. Yephikodov was dead.

The Boy was dead too. He had to be dead. He fell behind. He had to be dead. The idiotic child. I saw his hand explode in a flash of red and red-white as he stood his ground, emptying out that AR-15. Did he expect us to stay and fight head-on with the Hellion Knives? The Hellion Knives? Stalkers to be feared? I saw their insignia. That grinning, fleshless head, it looked at me, yes it did. It wanted my flesh, my blood. It would receive none. Two shots of mine tore apart the bleached skull and knives. Such a foul insignia. Ours was so much better. Nothing.

Yes, they were dead, Yephikodov and the Boy. It was just Asher, Engelbert Kneib, Brother Kavanagh, and myself left. And Yephikodov. He was dead. He was beside me. He and his accusing eyes. Glazed, lifeless, accusing eyes. I wanted to shoot him dead once more. But I could not; I had need of the ammo. Why Yephikodov? I had tried to help you, though the others said no. Was it fault of mine that I could not stop the Hellion Knives from firing? No, too many there were. I could only carry you. I may have died as well if I did not take that course of action. After all, you did take several rounds in the back for me. I thank you.

Yes, we ran and ran far. In fact, we reached our hidden UAZ and immediately drove off. A shame the Knives placed a well-shot bullet in the back left wheel. Asher immediately placed his own well-shot bullet in that Stalker’s head. Asher was always a good shot. Then another Knife opened fire. Then another. I felt blood splatter on my skin. Asher, could you be dead? So I thought. But he was not the slightest wounded, no, he shrieked joyously as bullets flew about. Could it be I who had been shot? No, the blood was not my blood. It was Brother’s. He was not dead, luckily, for he was our driver. Just a wound in the shoulder, that was all. I did not know his first name as well. Actually I did. But it was by far the most complicated name to pronounce. Only Asher could say it, but he never did.

Brother Kavanagh was Catholic, all up to the point where his mother and sister were raped and shot in their house. When Brother found out, he declared there was no God. He also hunted down the perpetrators and castrated them both. And hung them on a tree next to the elementary school. That was all I knew of his story. How and why he became a Stalker I did not know. I believe Engelbert did, but he said little.

Of all us six gathered for the ‘milk run’, I liked Engelbert Kneib the most. He was quiet. He was submissive. He was adept in combat. He could hold his own. What I did not like was the fact that he was an utter mystery to me. I had only worked with him once before, unlike Asher, whom I had to the pleasure to work with so many times, I had lost count. Yephikodov as well, dead Yephikodov. Brother, I had dealt with only thrice, but it was enough. The Boy? The first time, and I already knew it would be his last.

Brother continued driving to the best of his abilities, swerving side to side. And then the back right wheel gave out as a bullet ended its life. It sounded like a M-76. After all, over half the Hellion Knives were Yugoslavian, would it not be normal to use Yugoslavian weapons? No matter, Brother could no longer drive with both rear wheels gone and snipers at our back. He did what any of us would have done. Drive off the path and down, down off the edge, straight into the ruined farm. Brother was such a good driver. None of us were wounded, merely shaken.

And that was how us remaining four came to this little piece of limbo. We all knew the Hellion Knives were coming. It would be but a matter of time. Eight of them? Seven maybe? They would surround and flush us out. Matter of time. That was all it was.

“Royal fuck up.”

“Hm?” Asher took his eyes away from the window for a brief moment. “What’s a royal fuck up?”
Brother spat. “All of this shit. Milk run was what that damn guy called it. Doctor…Lev…Lebi…”

“Lebedev.” I said. No one heard. Of course they did not. I said it to myself.

“Nikolai. Nikolai Lebedev.” All heard this said by Asher.

“Yeah, that was the bastard. That was the bastard. That was the bastard.” Brother continued to mutter Dr. Lebedev’s title over and over and over.

Asher sighed. “Yes, he is a bastard.” Both Engelbert and I nodded in solemn agreement.

“Lebedev the bastard!” Brother laughed, not a happy laugh, mind you. A bitter, sour laugh. Like grapefruit. “Yes, milk run indeed! We go in, we grab the weird shit from the dead guys and we leave!”

The rest of us did not laugh, because we knew what he knew: the ‘milk run’ was warped into pandemonium the second the Hellion Knives came in. “We did go in, grab the weird shit, and leave.” Asher said monotonously. Only the rush of combat and tales of the supernatural brought him to life. “Truly a vexation that the good Doctor forgot to mention the Hellion Knives were sent in by another.”

“I’m not supposed to die here!” moaned Brother. “I got too much to do!”

Asher smiled. “I’m supposed to die here. They told me so.”

“Ah, the Larva?” I raised my head.

“Yes, the Larva.”

“You two are insane.” smirked Brother. “Talking about all your damn spirits and shit.”

“If you do not believe, why not pay a visit to the silo?” Asher tilted his head. “I’m sure the dybbuk would be glad to have a guest.”

Brother growled and left the room at that. Us remaining three stood silent. Asher returned to his watch. Engelbert checked his equipment. I sat back down with Yephikodov.

“Ah.” Asher narrowed his eyes, extremely interested with something on the mountainside. “Three…four come. I assume the others have taken the eastern path.”

“So…” Engelbert finally spoke. “We do what we can to survive?”

“Yes. We do what we can to survive. There is the barn. I would take stand there.”

“Understood. Goodbye Asher. Uzziel.” Engelbert rose and headed for the door.

“Engelbert.”

“Yes, Uzziel?”

“What about Yephikodov?”

“He is dead.”

“Yes he is. Will you not wish him farewell?”

“Farwell Yephikodov.” And then he was gone. I went to my feet as well. Asher’s normally emotionless face now was covered with ecstasy. Yes, we both knew the fight was approaching. I however, unlike Asher, was not wishing for it. I wanted nothing to do with death. Nevertheless, it seemed death wanted to waltz with me. Fine. Fine, we would dance.

Asher and I ascended to the second floor. There we saw Brother Kavanagh through the window, outside, inside a door-less automobile. He had his Bullpup ready to rake down the first Hellion Knife he saw.

“Mr. Ludwig, please take position at in east wing.” Asher strode over to the north wing of the house. “I will take the north wing.”

“And the west or south?”

“If we are lucky, they would not have taken those paths.”

“If we are lucky.”

“I have attached a flashbang to the front and back door. Should you hear the flashbang go off, give a shout to myself and depart out the south window. You will escape, because you have the artefact. You are a survivor.”

“I have the artefact? I am a survivor?”

Asher placed the sphere-shaped object in my hand. “You have the artefact. You are a survivor.”

“I have the artefact. I will survive.” And I took up position.

I held my G36C assault rifle with relaxed hands. All I had to do was wait. How many were there? Eight, seven? About those numbers. There were four coming from the north. That would mean the others would be coming from my end…would they have gone completely around, to attack the south end? No…it would have taken more time. If that were true, then they could not have went to the west end either.

There. Shots rang out. Not close, not close. It must have been from the Hellion Knives. It was bullets against metal. I assumed that they were targeting Brother. I saw no flashes. It came from the north end. Return fire. Brother’s Bullpup barked and spittle flew. I heard Asher’s AK-74M rain hell. His laughter was also audible. A XM-134 roared from the northwest end of the farm. Where? In the barn. Yes, Engelbert must have picked his targets as well. But what of mine? Through the hole in the wall, I saw nothing. No movement, no gunfire. Where could they be? And then the wall exploded.

No, not my wall, but the wall on the west end. I thought I heard Asher’s voice over the chaos, but it did not matter. I knew what transpired. The Knives had fired on us to cover the others, who slipped to the west end. Now they began their purgation. Or so I assumed. Another explosion. And then the explosions stopped. It made sense. They did not want to destroy the artefact. I crouched near the ruined west wing. My G36C kicked back once, twice, and thrice as I saw three of the masked devils dash for the house. One Hellion down. Wait. There, at that bush. A loud, familiar single shot rang out from there as I fired. I then felt something knock me to the ground. As I recovered myself, I realized I was now bleeding from a round in the shoulder. Sniper. I also realized no more gunfire could be heard from the barn, no XM-134. An explosive noise from downstairs. They had gotten in. I saw Asher step out and lob a grenade down the stairs, just as I saw his head spray fine red mist. I popped out of my corner and fired two shots into the bush. The Hellion’s blood soaked the plant. That was all the confirmation I needed. I sprinted to the stairs, just in time to see a Stalker raise a LR-300 to my face. Bang, bang, bang. And the Stalker collapsed. Brother limped up the stairs, bloodied but still as frustrated and angry as ever.

“ Asher’s dead?” Brother grimaced at the bloody scene as I assisted him to the south wing and bolted the door.

“Asher is dead. And Engelbert?”

“Dead.”

“How many are left?”

Brother reloaded the Bullpup. “I didn’t get any of ‘em, ‘cept that one you just saw. Bilak got one. I’m pretty sure Kneib took out one before they shot him. We got another dead downstairs. What about you?”

“Two.”

“Okay, we’re down to two then.”

I heard a muffled explosion. The last two must have set off the other flashbang. “Shouldn’t we take position outside?” Brother stood up, preparing to leave the room. A much louder explosion, one that slammed against the door with mighty force. Brother stumbled back to the ground. “Fuck, they just had to throw a ‘nade up here!”

Thump, thump, thump, the noises came up stairs. And they arrived. “Stay down.” commanded I. The mouth of my beast opened, tearing apart the rotting, wooden door. Brother added to that as well, emptying out his new clip. The barrel of a Benelli was suddenly thrust through the shattered opening. One blast and Brother’s blood wetted the room. But Brother was still alive, yes he was. The owner of the shotgun also painted the house as well, as Brother fired his last rounds. ‘Seize the initiative’ was one of Asher’s father’s sayings, one that Asher used often. So I did. The dead Hellion fell through the door, and I dove under him. Splinters flew as I shredded the remaining bottom half of the door to pieces, striking at the last Stalker’s legs. I heard him scream. No more in the clip. I grabbed the dead Hellion on top and brought him with me. The FN Five-seveN at my side was now in my hand. I heard the shots and felt the human shield shudder as it absorbed the rounds. One shot. That was all it took. One shot in the throat. And the last Hellion fell.

They were all dead. The Boy, Yephikodov, Engelbert, Asher, and Brother. All of them were dead. The Hellion Knives as well. Nine of them, six of us. Now none of them, one of us.

I took what I could and piled it all in the UAZ. It was good that they did not destroy it. It was no longer as black from before. The dark fortresses had moved on. Looking to the bleeding sky, I noticed that it was bleeding. Blood, blood, blood. It was bleeding. I was bleeding. They had bled. I was swiftly overcome with a fit of laughter. Yes, they all bled. I survived. I, Uzziel Müller Ludwig, survived what they all could not! And what was all this for? A trinket to be prodded and studied by the great and almighty power named Science? Bah, I loathe all great and almighty powers. They all prance about in their high palaces, not giving a damn about us pathetic creatures, only when it amuses them. Quite sad, really, being a pathetic creature. But it does not matter. Nothing matters. All I know is that I have desire. Desire to live. I do not wish to die. I need to exist. I will not be like the Boy, Yephikodov, Engelbert, Asher, Brother, and the Hellion Knives. I will live. When I face Death, I will wring my hands around the neck of the Reaper and kill him. I cannot die. I must live. I will live.

Uzziel Ludwig