The wind blew fast, and the air was as cold as dry ice. Arkadiy Zahkarov shivered as he treaded across the rubble covered ground. Before him was a destroyed building, surrounded by bits of wall, broken glass, and dead trees. Arkadiy, almost 14, had often been intrigued by the area surrounding Chernobyl. And now, here he was, taking in the radioactive air, seeing it firsthand. He’d always wanted to be a stalker, and this was about as close as he could get.
Arkadiy heard his detector beeping. There was some sort of anomaly nearby. Arkadiy continued forward, and the beeping got louder. He turned towards the destroyed building, and saw a faint green glow. He ran towards it to get a good look. It was some translucent rock-like object, with bumps and crystalline spikes sticking out every which way, and there were small, green, glowing bumps covering it. Arkadiy pulled out his camera, and photographed it. He didn’t dare pick it up without gloves, but he knew where it was. All he had to do now was go home, get what he needed, and pick it up. He was a fool to go without protective gear. He didn’t want to take the risk that his father would see him getting radiation gear, but now he knew that he should have done it. He turned around, and headed home.
All of a sudden, Arkadiy heard a car behind him. He turned around, and saw an old, gray, beat up car swerving left and right. The car hit a building, and stopped. The car door opened, and out came a stalker, wearing a large helmet, limping and stumbling as if he were drunk. He looked up, and saw Arkadiy. The stalker stumbled at a fast speed towards the boy. Arkadiy knew what it was. A zombie! He ran from the zombified stalker, his blood pumping, beads of sweat running down his face. He turned a corner, and ran as fast as he could, but the stalker was catching up. He ducked behind a metal box, hoping the stalker wouldn’t see him. It did. The stalker pushed the crate away, and pulled out a knife. Arkadiy screamed. He was pinned down. No hope. He was dead. The stalker kneeled down, raised the knife...and pulled off his mask.
“Psyche!”
Arkadiy gazed at the face of his older brother, Serge. He had traces of a smile on his face, but Arkadiy could see a look of anger.
“Father told you not to go into the zone,” said Serge. He lowered the knife, and pulled Arkadiy to his feet.
“But I can handle myself!” retorted Arkadiy.
“Really?” taunted Serge, rolling his eyes. “Well, suppose I had been a real zombie? Well, you would have handled yourself fine, I’m sure! You’d only be stabbed in the heart probably, he wouldn’t even slit your throat!”
Arkadiy sighed. He was going to be in big trouble when he got home. “Please don’t let Father kill me.”
“Oh, he won’t,” said Serge. “He’ll just beat you to a pulp. Maybe gouge out your eyes.”
Serge started walking, and Arkadiy followed. Serge entered the car, and Arkadiy got in the passenger seat. Serge turned the key, and backed away from the building. They began to drive home. Not a word was exchanged between the two of them during the trip.
***
Serge stopped the car at their apartment building. He and Arkadiy got out, and climbed the stairs to their third floor apartment. They entered, and the apartment was empty.
“Where are Mother and Father?” said Arkadiy.
“I don’t know,” said Serge.
Serge looked in the kitchen to see if they had left a message on the refrigerator saying where they were. Nothing.
“That’s strange,” said Serge. He picked up the phone, and called the front desk. Arkadiy could hear the conversation from the living room.
“Hi, it’s Serge Zahkarov. From room 312. Did you see my mother or father leave the building while I was out? Really? Who? WHAT?! Ah...um...thank you.”
Arkadiy looked at Serge. There was a look of sheer terror in his brother’s eyes.
“Arkadiy,” said Serge, “whatever you do, stay put, stay down, don’t move.”
Serge opened a cabinet, and took a PMM pistol from it. He put his back to the wall near a corner, ready to turn towards the front door at any moment. He signaled to Arkadiy to get down. Arkadiy went behind a long curtain, that he could just see through.
“Can you see me through this?” whispered Arkadiy. Serge shook his head no.
The door burst open, and in came two stalkers armed with two Browning Hi-power Pistols each. Arkadiy turned around the corner and fired two shots. One stalker fell, but the other fired two rounds into Serge’s chest.
Serge fell to the floor. Blood came from his wounds, and he coughed up more. The living stalker quickly left the apartment, slamming the door so hard that two paintings fell off the wall.
Arkadiy came out from behind the curtain and went to his dying brother.
“Arkadiy,” wheezed Serge, “you need to go...into the zone...and kill that man...”
“Who is he?” said Arkadiy.
“He’s...Dmitri Ivanov...find him...kill him...avenge my death...and Father’s...”
“Serge? Father’s dead? What? Serge...answer me! SERGE!”
Serge was dead. He could tell Arkadiy no more. But Arkadiy knew who Dmitri Ivanov was. He was a stalker from the Czech Republic who was constantly making Arkadiy’s father crazy. Though his father wasn’t a stalker, he was a scientist, he occasionally scavenged for artifacts in the zone to analyze at his lab. Ivanov was constantly stealing his finds from his lab.
Arkadiy’s father was friends with Yuri Smirnov, Ivanov’s biggest competitor. Yuri would know what was going on. Arkadiy wasted no time grieving. He took the pistol from his brother’s body, donned a mask and gloves, took a small sack, and headed for the zone. He was now, quite possibly, the world’s youngest stalker.
***
It was raining like Arkadiy had never seen it rain before. The streets were almost flooded. Arkadiy fought back the rain and the wind and trudged on. Lightning lit up the horizon, and a few seconds later, thunder sounded. Arkadiy reached the door to the laboratory, and entered.
A few scientists were talking to each other as Arkadiy walked in. They turned to him.
“Can we help you, young man?” said one of them.
“I am Arkadiy Zahkarov,” said Arkadiy.
“Oh, you’re Miroslav’s boy?”
“My father is dead. And my brother.”
The scientists were shocked. “What happened?” said an old, gray haired one.
“They were murdered. By Dmitri Ivanov. I need to find Yuri Smirnov. Do you know where he is?”
“Wait, slow down!” said a young scientist. “Your father and brother were killed by Dmitri Ivanov? And you need to find Yuri Smirnov?”
“Yes!” Arkadiy was getting impatient.
“He’s out looking for artifacts right now,” said the old scientist. “You could wait here until he returns.”
After about an hour, Yuri stepped into the lab. He was a tall man, and with his mask off, you could see he had short black hair. Yuri pulled a small plant out of his sack. It seemed like a regular plant, but it had strange branches, which looked almost like animal limbs. Yuri placed the plant on a table.
“Found it,” he said.
“This is an excellent specimen, Yuri,” said the old scientist, as he counted out 1500 roubles and handed them to the stalker.
“Mr. Smirnov,” said the young scientist. “Miroslav’s son is here to see you.”
Yuri looked at Arkadiy, and smiled. “Hi there.”
“I need to kill Dmitri Ivanov,” said Arkadiy. “Do you know where he is?”
Yuri’s expression changed from a smile to a strange, dumbfounded look. “What?”
“I must avenge the deaths of my father and brother. He has murdered them. Where is he?”
“Child, you must understand...”
“My name is Arkadiy.”
“Er, Arkadiy,” said Yuri, “Dmitri Ivanov is a dangerous man. I have fought with him on many occasions and barely escaped with my life. I don’t think that you’d fare any better than me.”
“My brother told me I must kill him,” said Arkadiy, “I must avenge him if he requests it.”
Yuri sighed. “This is starting to sound like a cheesy fantasy novel. All right. I will help you. I will teach you how to become a stalker, and together we will eventually kill Dmitri Ivanov.” Yuri didn’t sound too willing, but he was the best friend of the boy’s father. Miroslav had never told Arkadiy, but Yuri was actually the boy’s godfather. “I’m going to get another artifact tonight. It won’t be too dangerous. You can come with me, and I’ll show you the ropes.”
***
“A PMM pistol will not cut it.” Yuri handed the boy a Browning Hi-power Pistol, the same gun that had been used to kill Serge. “Instead of that crap, you need to use this.” He also gave the boy an FN 2000 submachine gun. “This should be your primary weapon. Do not lose it. It is very expensive and rare.”
Yuri opened the door to his yellow Zaporzhec car. Arkadiy got in.
“This is a nice car,” said Arkadiy.
“Thanks,” said Yuri.
Yuri turned the key. The headlights came on, and he began driving. After a while, something in the car beeped. Yuri stopped the car. They were at that same destroyed building which Arkadiy had found the glowing object.
“I’ve been here before,” said Arkadiy. “I saw something here earlier today.”
“Really?” said Yuri. “What?”
“I’ll show you.” Arkadiy got out of the car and ran to where he found the artifact. There it was, glowing.
Yuri stared at it. “What is that?”
“I don’t know,” said Arkadiy, “but it looks interesting.”
Yuri pulled a capsule out of his bag and stuffed the object into it. “This isn’t what I came for, but it’s something worth analyzing.”
All of a sudden, blood came from Yuri’s shoulder. “Ow!” he yelled as he clutched it, and ducked down. He turned on a flashlight attached to his gun, and saw another stalker standing behind some rubble. The stalker ducked down. “Ivanov!”
Arkadiy flinched at the sudden realization. Ivanov had been following him. He wanted his whole family dead. But why?
It wasn’t time to ask questions. Arkadiy aimed his gun, waiting for Ivanov to come back up. When he did, Arkadiy squeezed the trigger. The gun fired round after round, and they sunk into Ivanov’s body. Ivanov fell down, cold, and lifeless.
Arkadiy ran over to Ivanov’s body. Yes, he was dead. Yuri came up behind him.
“Kid, I think I like you.”
Arkadiy stared at the body. He had avenged his family. But he felt nothing. He was numb to emotion.
Arkadiy reloaded his gun. “All right. That’s done with. Let’s find an artifact.”