Dangerous Rumour Part 1

By – Justin Kauffman @ CaptBob8789

 

Deep inside the zone, I looked around slowly, wondering why the hell I was there. Vladimir, my comrade and fellow stalker, was sitting by the fire, lifting his gas mask every so often to take a sip of vodka.

"Hey Vlad," I said, "Try to keep your ass sober. What if one of them mutant fucks burst out here to ruin our day and you're drunk? I'd have to take its ass out myself!" I motioned towards my M4 assault rifle.

"Najebanye," he responded, "I shoot better when drunk!"

"My ass..."

"You want make bet?" He grabbed his old battered AK-47 and pointed at a caution sign about thirty-five feet away. "I bet you twenty roubles I hit that every time!"

I laughed, "You aren't drunk enough yet, comrade."

"Bullshit!" He said, one of his favorite English words. "You know I hit it! You know I hit it every time! You scared to make bet!"

"Heh, take a couple of more sips of that vodka Vlad, then we'll see."

Unbelievably, unless you knew him as I did, he downed the rest of the vodka, throwing the bottle behind him. "Ok, I shoot now." He lifted his AK, took aim, and fired 10 times. "Now we see, get roubles ready cowboy."

"I'm not going out there to check and leaving the safety of the fire. YOU go!"
"You think I crazy?"

"Yes, but that's aside the point. Look, we'll check in the morning."

"What, so you can say it some crazy drunken dream I had? Bullshit! I go check now!" He started walking off, weaving from side to side a little.

"Fuck..." I murmured under my breath as I gathered up my M4 and followed him.

When he reached the sign, he switched on a flashlight saying, "See? I hit every time!" As soon as he said that, a horrible roaring sound erupted from the dark beside him. Quickly I lifted my M4, firing 5 quick shots into whatever it was. Vlad jumped screaming something in Russian, probably an assortment of curse words. I went over to see what it was, shining my light on its corpse.

"I hit every time too, comrade." I said, looking up from the mutated boar to Vlad. "Your face seems whiter than usual. Now, lets get back to the fire, shall we?" He nodded. We hurried back to the fire, where Vlad sat with his back against the 4x4, looking out into the darkness. "You in any condition to stand guard?" He slowly nodded. "Good, I'm going to get some sleep."

As I was crawling into the back seat of the 4x4, he called out "Comrade... thank you..."

"don't mention it."

I closed the door behind me, lying down in the seat and began to contemplate what was on my mind earlier. Why the hell was I here? Originally, I had to leave my beautiful and loving wife behind to fly to the Ukraine, where I was supposed to help with the Chernobyl cleanup in 2006. Then these fucking mutant things started popping out all over the zone. I had wanted to get the hell out of there ASAP, but when Raina, my wife, informed me in a letter that we were deeply in debt, I decided to stay and try to make some money. I remembered some tails of people called stalkers who made money by searching the ruins of the zone for artifacts and scientific discoveries. I asked around and finally got some clear answers. Hearing that you could make up to $5,000 American per haul, I decided to try my luck. Then I met Vladimir, a down on his luck stalker who could use some help. His parents had died of radiation poisoning from the Chernobyl explosion. I offered my assistance for half of the profit, and he gratefully accepted. He loaned me a Makarov and some protective gear, and a nickname. He called me "Cowboy" because of the old western films, plus I was handy with a pistol. We started our little business and, after the second haul, I was able to afford some good armor and my trusty M4 rifle. For every haul we got, I sent whatever I didn't spend on supplies back to my wife. The way I figured it, I only had about two months left before I could afford to fly back to the states and pay off all our debts. According to Vlad, this time we were searching for something very odd. Something extremely powerful and probably dangerous. So dangerous that some believed it to have caused the whole damn Chernobyl accident. Me? Personally I thought it was bullshit, but someone was bound to pay a whole bunch of cash for it. Maybe enough so I could retire early. I really hoped so. I would sell my right leg to get out of this radioactive hell-hole. The last thing I did before falling asleep was to look at a picture of my wife I kept in my shirt pocket.

The next morning, I woke up to the sounds of Vlad cooking some breakfast. As I got up, Vlad said "Rise and shine sleepy pretty."

"Sleeping Beauty, not sleepy pretty." Vlad seemed to be back to his normal self. "What the hell you making today, eggs from ten foot tall chickens? Meat from a mutated man-dog?"

"Ha ha, you real funny cowboy. Today I make special breakfast. Bacon made from Spam, slightly mutated eggs, and freshly squeezed tang. Wholesome American style breakfast, no?"

"Uhg... I'll take the 'bacon' and tang, you can have the eggs to yourself..." I said, remembering the last time I had his eggs and the little prizes that came along with them.

"Suit yourself cowboy." Vlad shrugged, "More for me then!"

We ate the food he made. I watched Vlad bite into one of his eggs, then slowly pull a baby chick's foot out of his mouth, tossing it behind him.

"That's why I don't like your eggs."

"What you talking about cowboy? It adds flavor!"

When we finished our breakfast, we got into our 4x4 went on our way towards Chernobyl.

"Hey Vlad."

"What cowboy?"

"Tell me, what the hell is this thing we're searching for?"
"Hell if I know."

"What the hell do you mean 'hell if I know'? You mean we're risking our lives for what could turn out to be nothing?"

"What wrong cowboy, that is what our whole job about!"

"Do you even know for sure that there's something there?"

"No, but I hear rumors"

"RUMORS?! You're risking our lives on fucking rumors?!"

"Da, that how I got all other tips. Besides, danger IS our job!"

"Ya, but this time we're going INTO Chernobyl, and that's a bit more fucking dangerous than shifting through ashes outside a convenience store."

"Da. So? A little more danger, that all. Vodka cure ALL fear."

"Well you don't have a wife waiting at home for you to return."

All the sudden, our 4x4 started to shake and make grinding sounds.
"What the hell Vlad, are we outta gas?"

"Nyet! We can't be, the gauge say it full."

"You jackass, it hasn't changed at all!" I said, looking at the gauge, "It must be fucking broken."

"It not out of gas, I just fill it up! We get out and check, then you see."

Vlad stepped out and looked at the car for a minute.

"Well, what's wrong?"

"...No gas..."

"Told ya," I said, stepping out of the car.

"Well, let us go find gas station," Vlad said.

We walked past the twisted wreckage ancient buildings, the humans inside replaced by the horrible mutations of what used to be animals. I felt like a million eyes were watching my every move. I clenched my M4 tighter, finger twitching over the trigger, ready to shoot anything that moved. All of the sudden, Vlad motioned for me to stop. He looked like he was listening for something. Then I heard it. The rustle of thousands of tiny, swiftly moving creatures. I raised my M4 slightly, waiting for whatever it was to show itself. Then tens of thousands of rats ran across the street we were walking on.

"Shit!" I yelped.

"They are migrating," Vlad said.

"Or maybe they're running from something..."

After about a minute, the last rat ran across the road, and we continued on. After a couple of minutes of walking through once lively streets, we came upon a dilapidated gas station.

"You check inside, I check outside. When you find gas, yell," Vlad said.

"Roger that," I said. I went over to the dilapidated door and kicked it, my foot breaking though the rusted metal.

"Try using the door knob cowboy."

I tried it, and it opened. I stepped in, switching my flashlight on. It was a dark, dreary little building. Shelves knocked over, laying aginsed the walls. Food and containers with Russian words on them littered the floor. I picked up what looked to be a can of pork. My Russian wasn't good enough to read the label on it; I only knew words that Vlad said a lot. Like 'fuck you' and 'no'. I dropped the can and kept walking through. Seeing a door, I opened it. Inside was a place for repairing cars. Tools and barrels were stored in here too. I walked over to a barrel, shaking the feeling that I was being watched. I pried open the top. Bingo, it was gas on the first try. I was about to yell for Vlad when I heard something behind me. I turned, and as soon as I did, was knocked on my back, something tearing at me, thirsty for blood. I put my hands in front of my head and neck, trying to repel it off of me. "VLAD!!!" I yelled through gasps of breath, "VLAD! HELP!!!" It seemed like an eternity. The monstrosity began to overpower me with its sheer strength, getting closer and closer to my neck. Just as I thought it was all over for me, I heard the report of Vlad's AK and felt the demonic creature fly off of me. I lay there for a second catching my breath.

"You ok cowboy?" Vlad asked.
"...Just peachy..." I said, getting up.

I picked up my flashlight pointing it at what had attacked me. It was a large dog-like creature with a huge jaw and razor tusks. Its eyes were small and beady. It looked like something straight from hell.

"Fuck..." I said, "You saved my life..."

"Think nothing of it. We are even now, no?"

"Ya, we're even Vlad. Well, I found some gas and was about to call for you when I was tackled by that fuck," I motioned towards the dead mutant. "Now, lets get the gas and get the hell outta here..."

We found some old gas cans and filled them up, then began the trek back to the 4x4. Quickly, Vlad refilled the gas tank while I loaded the gas cans into the back. Then I heard a far off rumble.

"Hey, you hear that Vlad?"

"Hear what cowboy?"

Then rain started pouring down, like a water valve snapping. "Thunder."

We got into the car and started on our way yet again. The rain kept coming down harder and harder, running down the windshield like a waterfall. It was hard to see ten feet ahead of us, even with the one windshield wiper on. Suddenly there was a terrible screeching and a rapid deceleration. It sounded and felt like the undercarriage was being ripped out from beneath us.

"What the fuck?!" I yelled.

"Shit shit shit! I can't control it!" Vlad then let loose a string of Russian, most of which sounded familiar. The 4x4 did a 180 degree turn, the rear end smashing into a pile of cracked stone and disfigured metal; the corpse of a long dead building. I looked around, everything was blurry. I shook my head, causing it to hurt like hell. I looked over at Vlad, who appeared ok. I looked to the right, noticing the passenger side window was broken. I touched the side of my head, feeling a wet spot. Then I looked at my hand, it was dripping with red. What the hell? Then I snapped out of it, I guess it was the feel of the rain through the torn spot in my hood that woke me up.

"Shit, you ok Vlad?"

"Da, what about you cowboy? Shit, you have a tear in your suit."

"Ya, I fucking noticed. There's one on my head too."

"This is no good..."

"Hey, how 'bout you put it on a memo and entitle it SHIT I ALREADY KNOW."

He reached into the back, bringing back with a notebook and a pencil. He scrawled something on it, showing it to me. It said, "shit I already know" at the top, and "we are fucked" in the middle.

"Thanks for the info," I said, "we better try to fix this fucking thing..."

"Let me guess, 'we' means 'me'."

"Exactly. Your driving got us into this buddy. To bad you don't drive like you shoot..."

"I tell you, when I drunk, I drive better!"

"Hell, you do everything better when your drink don't you."

He got out and started looking under the 4x4 to see what was wrong. Meanwhile, I used the notepad and pencil to write my wife a note, hoping if we were killed someone would stumble upon it and give it to her. "Hey honey, I miss you. How is everything? I hope the money I've been sending has been helping with the debts. Well, the reason I'm writing you isn't a happy occasion. I think the car me and Vlad have been driving is officially fucked. We're out here practically in the middle of the zone, and I don't think we have much of a chance to make it out of here alive. As long as you're ok sweety, I regret nothing. I love you baby. Love, Justin" I still had the feeling someone or something was watching us.

"AH! Here is problem!" Vlad exclaimed, making me jump.

"What is it?"
"Well, the good news is I know why we crash. The bad news is that axels are, how you say... fucked. I think we are... no lucky shit, right?"

"Shit outta luck."

"Yes yes, that."

"Is there any possible way you can repair it?" I still had the letter in my hand.

"Not with limited equipment that we have."

"Well fuck... Maybe we can get the parts from a nearby car?" I said, the letter still in my hand.

"Yes, we probably could with a few adjustments-"

Just then a horrifying sound came from over a hill of rubble. I dropped the letter and grabbed Vlad's AK, tossing it to him, then snatching up my M4 and releasing the safety catch. Vlad was the first to see them.

"BLAT!" he yelled as he cocked his gun.

I jumped out of the 4x4 and kept my sights on the top of the ruble pile. A gruesome creature climbed over it, then two. They looked like dogs, but much larger, and something was terribly wrong with them. We opened fire.

"Wa-hoo!" Vlad exclaimed, "we got em both!"

Then I heard something, it sounded like a small stampede. "Oh shit... VLAD!! I THINK THERE'S MORE!!!"

"Oh hell... Well cowboy, just like the old west, eh?" he said as he aimed and launched a grenade over the top. A second later, about nine "canine" bodies flew over the hill along with a mist of blood.

"NICE!"

"Spasibo cowboy."

"Shit, here comes a third wave." I aimed my M4, firing short bursts at the creatures while Vlad fired with his AK. "Hey Vlad"

"Da?"

"What the hell's 'blad' and 'spacey-bow' mean?"

"What, you mean blat and spasibo?" He said, launched another grenade.
"Ya, those words." I said as I reloaded.

"Well," he fired a long burst, "blat means shit and spasibo mean thank you."

"Oh, well spasibo for the info. He he..."

"Very funny cowboy, but I think now is not the time for jokes. Now, toss me another clip!" He said as he dropped his current one.

I tossed him a banana clip for his AK, then went back to shooting those monster-like dogs. One went down. Then two. Then five were down. I had to reload again. I glanced at Vlad, thinking he had fired quite a few shots. I was right, he was about to ask me for a new clip when I tossed him one. The dogs kept getting closer. More and more of them were closing in. A mountain of mutated bodies had piled up in a heap under the hill of ruble, but they just kept coming. They were starting to get a little to close for comfort, and we were starting to run low on ammo. One jumped towards me, I smashed it with the butt of my M4, shooting it as it was flying backwards. I saw Vlad go down out of the corner of my eye, but couldn't even try to help him. It wasn't anything spectacular. He didn't stay standing until fifty mutants were clinging onto him, then go down fighting like a badass in a movie. No, he went down quickly, one dog biting his leg, him screaming in horrible disturbing agony. I had to keep fighting. I don't know what drove me on, maybe the primal instinct to survive, maybe the fact that if I died, I would never see my wife again. When they got to close for my M4 to be of any use except as a club, I tossed it towards them and pulled out my Browning HP. I fired, one went down. Fired again and another dropped. One latched onto my arm, fangs digging deep. I gasped in pain, redirecting my aim at the hellhounds forehead, blowing it into particles of brain and bits of bloody fur. Most of the, I guess you could call it a herd, was attacking me. The rest were feasting on poor Vlad, who was still screaming in inexplicable pain. I continued to fire at the dogs. Ten more shots, ten more bodies. I didn't have time to reload, so I started pistol-whipping them while I drew my combat knife. Dropping my gun, I started slicing at everything that that came near. The sharpened blade going through flesh and fur like a hot knife through butter. Finally, the herd had thinned. One more jumped at me, I thrust my knife into its chest cavity and threw it behind me, the blood spraying me as I pulled the knife out. I looked at Vlad, two dogs were still eating his flesh. I kicked two bodies away, picked up my browning, reloaded it, and shot them both. I went over to Vlad, looking at his ravaged and half eaten body, an overwhelming feeling of sickness, sorrow and despair overcoming me. Vlad had been my partner, my friend. I could still hear his agonized screams in my head as the dogs tore him apart. I noticed a half empty bottle of vodka sticking out of his torn parka. I picked it up.

"Here's to you old friend," I said as I took a drink, giving him a send-off into the great beyond. I placed the bottle into his bleeding hands. "Have a drink for me where ever you are..." Giving him a salute, I turned and started walking off over the dead bodies, shells, and empty clips, in what I hoped was west. It was the quickest way out of this hell-hole. Even though I was probably walking into certian death, anything was better than staying here. Walking now towards the sunset, I thought about how hell I got into this. I took the picture of my wife out of my pocket, now torn and battered. I kissed it and put it away again. For a second I wished she was here with me, but changed my mind. I wouldn't wish this hell on anyone, especially the woman I love. I checked my ammo. I had my Browning, two full clips, and my trusty combat knife. If anything big came along, I was fucked. I asked myself what the hell got me into this, costing me my good friend and probably my life? I then realized the answer. It was so blatantly obvious, it just hadn't registered until now. Here's some advice for you new stalkers: no matter how tempting the prize, don't listen to dangerous rumors...



~Will my journey continue? Will I be attacked and killed by an evil mutant? Or shall I be attacked by the most feindish of feinds, *GASP!* writers block?! Stay tuned to find out!~