THE HOPE

I don’t recall when and who I’ve been admitted into the camp. Who cares, the details aren’t essentials; the thing is that I was admitted. To long I’ve been alone; fighting for every second of the daylight and in the night I hiding and hoping that no one will see me. I’ve been in other camps but I couldn’t resist for much to long there. The absence of rules frightens me. Here it was better it felt a little bit like home. Actually since my departure this was the first place I could call home. It had rules; many of them but only one I’ve liked the most “Do not stay out of the camp after sunset”. Is not like I’m afraid of the dark, just of the things that hides in it, especially in The Zone. In fact I’ve tried often to schedule my time so that I’ll never be caught outside the Home after the nightfall.

Home, such a simple word and full of warmth but so unknown to me now. NOW… now I don’t have a place to called home; I guess the Zone is my home, until I manage to get the $@#% out of it. You know the more I live the more I realize that all ends suddenly like it starts. It begins in a day like any other; you wake up and eat an old piece bred then you put your Life-Suite and prepare your self for the every day scout mission. You finally start the engine after dozens of trays, promising that tomorrow you’ll take care of it. After some scouting, your car brakes down just when you get far from the camp. You get down of the car “regulating” every thing in your way. You can’t let the car in the middle of nowhere so you try to fix it but after a while you realize that you’ll be late. You take short a look at the sky and notice the red clouds. Then a superstition comes into your head “Blood has been spilled today” and you start to smile thinking “whose blood”. The thought that you’ll be the red cloud in the morning makes you want to get home earlier so you take your backpack and start walking faster and faster while the night starts to fall. After a while you remember why you don’t like the dark; you don’t see the branch that hits your head, needier the rocks that make you fall and the sound… that sound which makes your blood freeze in your vines, you know that sound of quiet, of absolutely nothingness. You run faster and faster without looking left or right hoping that you won’t see the Death coming. And then you reach home and you realize that it isn’t there; not because IT WASN’T THERE but because no one was there, no one alive. They were all dead; the blood was everywhere, on the floor ,on the walls… The smell of blood mixed with urine was everywhere. Bodies without thongs or ears, probably taken for trophies, even then I could imagine the screams and the agony. I couldn’t resist anymore so I ran away. I don’t remember where or for how much I’ve ran, the only thing I remember was me waking up in my one . It took me a while to come to my senses but after that I turned back to find my backpack and my weapon. With no food and no ammunition I stood for days praying that a Stalker will fall in one of my traps so I could get his supplies. There were times when I wanted to be dead, I even thought of killing my self. The only thing that kept me alive was hope; I hoped that someday I’d find my hope to live, the hope of finding the reason to live. I lived so I wouldn’t be dead. It doesn’t make sense but it does.

But one night all changed. I was awaked by shoot, then something fell on me, an ugly creature. The blood of this beast covered me it even entered in my moth; the taste and the smell almost made me vomit. I got up and in front of me it was a Stalker or at least I think it was one. He gave me my weapon back and then turnaround and disappeared into the darkness. The next days I sensed his presence somewhere out there, watching me, following me everywhere I went. One night I’ve put another bowl with some soup just next to the fire. After a few minutes he appeared and took the bowl. He started eating the soup moving his head left and right trying to arrange the food in his mouth. Later I’ve noticed that he didn’t have a thong. For days we walk together without any kind of communication, we both knew what to do, when to stop and where to go. But on night I’ve given him a piece of red brick and a piece of glass from a broken window. He took them and awaited my questions. At first I wanted to ask him his name but something kept me from doing that so I asked him how did he lost his thong. At the same time I realized what a stupid I was. He didn’t get mad he just started writing on the glass. I took the glass and read the word “Uduma”. I begined to tremble, it was the name of my camp, my lost home; I couldn’t believe that there could be any survivors of that massacre so I cleaned the glass and push it near him and asked him if he was there when all happened. He answered me by moving his head up and down. Then I asked him how did he manage to get away. After some time his trembling hand started to write some words on the glass. I took the glass and read “I let them in”. I’ve read the text three times and I couldn’t believe. How could he betray us, HOW… how could be so inhuman; those children, women and mans war dead and all because of him. I took my weapon and pointed at him. I wanted so badly to pull the trigger but I couldn’t, he saved my life once and now it was time for me to save his. I told him to get lost but he didn’t. He just stood there trying to talk but he just made some strange sounds. I got up and tried to force him to leave but he struggled to write something on the concrete floor. I grabbed his arm and throw him away into the darkness. When I got back I read what he wrote on the floor “U don’t underst”.

It’s been a while since this happened and I still feel his presence. I know his there some where and I think he knows that I’m aware of his presence. Sometimes when I don’t have food I wake up in the morning with some dead rats or mice near me. Many times I’ve left some rat soup in my bowl and in the morning the bowl was empty. There were times when I regret banishing him, especially now when I need someone to guard my back. Not just once I wanted to tell him to come back to tell me what I didn’t understood but I couldn’t. I could not afford to be week especially here in the Zone. I think he got what he disserved, he paid with his thong and with his exile. Now if I think of it I guess I could’ve made him a favor shooting him back there.

Anyway he helped me find my reason to live; he made me believe that I can survive here.

Now I want to… No I NEED to get out of the Zone and maybe with some luck I will forget every thing. I hope so…

Now it ends.