I do not own the rights to the game Stalker.
Synopsis:
On the morning of April 26th, 1986, a nuclear reactor in Chernobyl detonated following a massive thermal explosion. The resulting radioactive dust was carried on the wind for over several thousand miles, blanketing the western half of Russia and Europe in a nuclear fallout. The disaster was so serious that the government of the soviet union was forced to urgently evacuate citizens of many small towns and cities. The contaminated areas within a 30 kilometer radius are a heavily quarantined area called the Zone. On June 10th, 2006, the Zone erupted in yet another blinding flash of light that was followed by complete silence, and the clouds themselves burning in the skies. Most of the soldiers guarding the cordon were killed instantly. Scientists are still unable to explain what happened even a year later. Rare expeditions into the zone usually end in tragedy, with rare survivors telling stories of mutated animals with extraordinary abilities. By 2009, the Zone is home to around seven hundred unidentified individuals. These people call themselves Stalkers and make a living off of collecting anomalous formations known as artifacts, which can be sold for considerable sums of money. In 2010, Despite military blockades around the perimeter, the Stalker phenomena is increasing in numbers. However, only areas around the Zones edges have been explored, and any attempts to push deeper into the Zone have all ended in failure. By 2012, a man known as Strelok leads a large number of Stalkers into the center of the zone, and they form a safe passageway for men to pass over in droves. Some come for artifacts, others to escape the governments watchful gaze. The military launches an immediate operation to drive all trespassers from the zone. Dozens of military helicopters carrying troops were sent to known encampments. Despite meticulous preparation, the operation is a complete failure and none of the gunships return from the Zone. Ian Degtaryev, a man seeking a new life disappears into the zone. Around the same time, the military deploys several strike teams to investigate the crashed helicopters. Armed with only a rifle and two days worth of food, he begins his journey towards the center of the Zone.
CHAPTER 1:
Ian's pack rattled, and his various belongings clanked together as he pulled them out for one of his daily maintenance check. In fact, he knew even the slightest details about everything his pack contained. In the zone however, it never hurt to have an excuse to get up early. Ian was near the end of a long journey, and he was eager to be on his way. Ian was only a couple miles away from warm beds and food. He pushed the thought away and finished his inventory check. His rations, water, anomaly detector, and extra ammo went back into his bag. His pistol went into its holster at his hip, and his rifle was slung over his shoulder, always ready for instant use. Aside from a grenade at his belt, a hunting knife strapped to his leg, and the gas mask hanging from his neck, he had nothing else to prolong his life in this hostile environment. He scanned the horizon, and rubbed the last traces of sleep from his eyes. The abandoned refinery waited solemnly for him atop a hill, just at the edge of his vision. He noted its crumbling smokestacks and walls. Soon, it would be just another pile of bleached rubble decorating the dreary landscape.
The distance to it was not very far, or what made a single corner of his mouth dip down into a frown. The entire area in between was occupied by vicious swampland. Tall grass and murky water rose up higher than his chest, creating a natural hunting ground for the terrifying mutants the nuclear fallout around Chernobyl had created. In spite of the odds of an average person crossing the fens alive, Ian didn't allow fear to distract him from his goal. He was no average person. In fact, of all the beasts prowling through the fens, he was by far the most dangerous. He broke camp and descended into the bog. In seconds, he was lost in its midst. Although he could see none of them, he heard the haunting shrieks of mutants raise up all around him. Some, he could identify, and some he could not. He relied on his sense of direction to guide him towards the refinery, his chosen landmark. For over an hour, he made decent progress through the swamp, dodging quicksand and death by an inch with every step. "Slash! Slash!" went his knife as he used it to hack down weeds too thick to push through with muscle alone. Gradually, the land began to change until the weeds began to thin out and his passage became easier.
With every step a tiring, but rewarding inch closer to more stable ground, Ian eventually won free of the swamp. With sweat clinging to his body, he left the treacherous bog behind and ascended the hill. He trudged on to an old paved road and surveyed the fenced off structure in front of him. His goal was a high tower next to the main complex of the refinery. He intended to use it to spot the settlement of Svadosk. It was a supposed "refuge" for all men traveling through this area of the zone. He would be welcome there, particularly after he traded with the local men for their worn and aging goods. He caught his breath, and seeing no signs of danger, he pushed through a rusted iron gate, and entered the compound. The old concrete seemed to crumble with every step he took, making loud scraping and cracking noises. He stopped moving to examine the road in front of him, and it took him a moment to realize that the sound of footsteps had continued.
He gave no inclination that he had sensed them, and pretended to continue checking the area in front of him. He expected to hear whoever was following him pause to match his movements to avoid detection. But the footsteps doubled, then tripled, and were joined by ferocious snarls and growls. He swiveled around as fast as he possibly could, bringing his AK-47 up to fire. Several feral dogs dashed out of the shadows of the refinery, tearing up the distance between them. Without wasting a second, Ian turned and sprinted for the nearest pile of debris, and climbed to the top. Crouching low, he fired burst after burst into the rapidly approaching pack. Several were hit by his barrage of bullets, but those who survived simply ran faster. The remnants of the pack reached the base of his improvised "Fort" and raised hell to try and get to him. He fought for his life, slamming his foot into those who got to close, and sent a hailstorm of bullets crashing into the dogs as they ferociously clawed to the top. Gunshots relentlessly rang out into the air for several minutes before Ian stood alone in the courtyard.
Ian stepped deftly around there bodies as he descended the mound. The concrete was pitted with bullet holes, covered with spent casings, and slick with blood. He shook his head in disbelief at his escape from the ambush. To calm his nerves, he rechecked his ammo. Two entire clips of 7.62 rounds had been fired off in the frenzy. If ammo was currency, then soon Ian would be dirt poor. He only had a single clip left for the rifle, and two magazines for his pistol. He needed to reach Svadosk soon, and without further incident. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and drew his pistol instead. The early morning sun made the smoke stacks cast eerie shadows across the path to the tower. He hustled to it, daring not to linger. The gunshots would undoubtedly bring scavengers. He grasped the ladder with a single hand, checking its stability. He could feel the cold and rusted metal through his torn gloves, but it didn't move an inch when he tried to shake it free of its fittings, so he began his ascent up to the top of the tower.
His climb ended short, but so did the tower. It had collapsed at some point and the ladder kept going higher than the rest of the ruins. After securing himself to the ladder, he drew out his binoculars and searched for Svadosk, the legendary beached ship where Stalkers had made a bridge to the center of the zone. It was difficult to pierce the thick veil of the swamp, but with careful searching, he eventually picked it out from its surroundings. At first, it had seemed to rise from the fog like a mirage, hidden and derelict in the depths of the fens. But then, he detected movement. On the top floors of the re-purposed observation decks, he could clearly see sentries patrolling, scanning for danger in the surrounding areas. Ian's trek through the outskirts was about to come to an end. He climbed back down the ladder, making mental preparations to venture back into the swamp. The walk would be nearly double the one he had just finished, but the land ahead was very level, and had scarce vegetation.
Half an hours walk put him within shooting distance of the settlements guards. Hearing the familiar sound of safeties being clicked off, Ian stopped and rose a hand in a gesture of peace. A voice called out towards him in Russian,
"Стоп! Кто ты?" (Stop! Who are you?)
"Bесплатно сталкер, здесь торговать в баре!" (A free stalker, here to trade at the bar!) Ian quickly replied.
"Бросай оружие и готовиться для поиска!" (Drop your weapon and prepare to be searched!) the guard ordered.
A door on the inside of the cargo bay opened, and two men walked towards him, communicating with the tower through radio's. As they approached, Ian carefully layed his rifle down on a dry patch of earth. The men slowed to a stop in front of him, and Ian casually examined their equipment. They were well armed, but he sensed it was a show to discourage raiders. Ian could see no extra ammo clipped to their belts, and they had no attachments to the rifles they carried, which almost any experienced Stalker would make sure to have. Instead of disarming him, they went straight for his bag and checked for his identification. As he knew they would, they found the worn and outdated PDA he had concealed in his rations, and took note of his ID. Most settlements in the Zone took great pains to remain neutral to the ceaseless faction wars. If he had been a member of DUTY or FREEDOM, he would have been kicked out of the perimeter on his ass before he had time to say "Черт!"
"Вы свободны вступать Svadosk." (You are free to enter Svadosk.) the older man wearily exclaimed.
The younger man nodded and signaled to the watch tower. Ian was helped to his feet, and they allowed him to stow his rifle in his pack. As the men went re-entered the cargo ship, Ian followed them, his footsteps resounding loudly on the plate metal floor. The main entrance was a barricade in the storage section of the cargo barge,and all of the large crates had been scrapped to reinforce the damaged hull of the ship. It wasn't pretty, but at least it would be safe from the terrors of the Zone. They reached a doorway two floors directly beneath the control towers, and the older man stopped walking for a moment and said in a stream of Russian,
"The third floor is off limits. You can trade on the second floor, and visit the bar on the first floor. If you are caught stealing, you will be shot."
Without waiting for Ian's reply, they opened the door to and stepped through. A wave of noise washed out into the hallway. The main room was a bar, and it was full of many different types of people. Some men sat around tables and drank, some sat in corners and had quiet conversations, and some were gathered around a man who was playing Russian folk songs on a guitar. The smell of cheap alcohol and sweat overpowered all else. Only a few even bothered to take notice of Ian, and those who did quickly looked away after giving him a gaze of contempt. Newcomers were not widely welcomed in the Zone.
His attention was drawn to a large counter in the back left corner of the room. It was separated from the rest of the room by a wire cage and steel beams. Presumably, all of the stockpiles would be stored in the back room he could just barely make out in the dim lighting behind the bar. To the right of the counter, a simple metal staircase led up to the second floor. He had no business with the drunk and shady looking men in the bar, so he walked straight through the middle of the room and climbed the stairs. The cacophony of noises rose with him and echoed off the walls, bouncing into the rooms that lay on either side of the long hallway.
Unsure of where to find a place to trade in his gear, he wandered into several different rooms. Very few of them were occupied, any many of the people on the second floor were sleeping or chatting with old friends. The atmosphere was much lighter, friendly even. It took several minutes, but he was eventually directed to a merchant named Vasily. Ian found himself standing in a well lit room in front of a counter very similar to the one in the bar. Behind the counter, stood a very unfriendly looking man with a hooked nose and bushy eyebrows.
"Hello, you must be Vasily" Ian said in a pleasant voice. "I am looki-"
"Are you here to buy something, or did you just come to waste my time with small talk?" the shopkeeper said, interrupting him.
Ian stifled his anger and leaned forward, drawing his bag off his shoulders and setting it on the counter. Vasily pretended to be uninterested in the goods Ian drew from his bag, most likely in preparation to haggle for all he was worth. Ian pulled out his anomaly detector, (a newer model) and held it up to show the man.
"I am willing to sell you this detector for 600 rupees. It has barely been used, and is in excellent condition."
The shopkeeper immediately snatched it from Ian and held it in his large, chubby hands. He turned it over beneath a desk lamp, and squinted at it with his beady little eyes. It was scuffed in some places, and one of the knobs stuck a bit when you tried to turn it, but otherwise it was in great shape.
"600 rupees? For this piece of junk? I will give you no more than 200."
Ian's eyes narrowed and he clenched his fists. It took quite a considerable amount of willpower to keep himself from dragging the fat imbecile over the counter by his collar. In spite of the mans stupidity, he was almost certainly holding a pistol just beneath the counter, ready to defend himself if Ian tried anything. Coward. It took half an hour, but Ian eventually raised the price up to 400 rupees, and used the money to buy three days worth of food, and 120 rounds of 7.62 ammunition for his AK-47. Ian made his way towards the door, ignoring the mans raucous chuckling as he counted his money, and let it slam shut behind him.
Secretly, he was pleased. His pack weighed more comfortably heavy on his shoulders, and he was ready to find a job. He descended the staircase and let his stride carry him past the bars grizzled occupants. He took a seat at the empty bar, and turned his gaze towards a piece of plywood hanging from the wall right next to him. The bar offered more than food or drinks. It also offered contracts. The plywood had over a dozen pieces of paper tacked onto it, all from different men asking for help in completing one task or another. The most recent one had a sobering title.
"Skilled tracker looking for experienced hunters to clear out a bloodsucker lair."
Willing to split 8000 rupees with every man who joins the hunt.
To any man who is interested, meet me at the barricade tomorrow at 4:00PM. We will leave immediately.
Grouse~Tracker.
The contract was dated for today. It was only half past two, so he still had time to kill. He spent the next hour getting to know many of the different residents of Svadosk. Many of them had interesting stories to tell. The barkeeper eventually returned from the back room and several men gathered around the counter to order drinks or have friendly conversation. He was a large man. He had no hair left on the top of his head, but he had quite a beard covering the lower half of his face. He was quite a likable man, and Ian quietly listened to him for a moment, then he made his way to the front of the group and sat down on an unoccupied stool. Chatter died a bit, then the man reached his hand out and clasped Ian on the shoulder,
"You new here?" the burly bartender asked.
"Fairly. I just passed trough the cordon the day before yesterday. I have already been warmly welcomed by the natives." Ian said with an easy smile.
"That's alright, you'll settle in soon enough. The Zone can be a hard teacher. I'm Beard, the local bartender. If you need anything, just come to me, y' hear?" Beard said.
"Thanks Beard. So what is life like here for you?" Ian asked.
"That's a pretty broad subject, anything specific in mind?"
"Well, what do Stalkers do here?"
"Ask yourself that pal. They step off of Svadosk and scour the wilderness looking for artifacts and explore the terrain, shooting back at everything ans anything that takes a shot at them. Then they stumble back into Svadosk to get drunk and talk trash." He playfully shoved a man on the arm raising a chorus of laughter from the bar. "Everybody just stops here to get some R&R before the next raid. But when an emission hits, it is a completely different scene. That's when we sit tight and remember all those who never made it to shelter in time."
Ian nodded respectfully, and used the opportunity to find out more about his contract.
"I heard about the bloodsucker attacks. Do you lose a lot of men to them?" Ian asked in a low voice.
Beard was silent for a moment, then said "Too many. There den must be somewhere near Svadosk, because many of our hunters leave on short trips and never come back. I'm glad Grouse is finally pulling some men together to do something about them."
"Actually, I intended to join Grouse to raid the den, but I don't know much about bloodsuckers. What can you tell me?"
Several men shook their heads in dismay. A fresh rookie going after mutants he knew nothing about?
"Not much my friend. All I know is that they have very good camouflage that makes them nearly impossible to see in time. Your best bet is always to sneak up on them. I have never seen one up close, but they resemble large men, completely covered in hard, dark skin."
An older patron in the bar spoke up, "I was attacked by one once. They try to get behind you and wrap these.. tentacles around your neck. Try to startle them if you absolutely have to take one out. They are easier to see when they are moving faster."
Several more minutes were spent discussing bloodsucker attacks. Ian didn't believe a word he heard. The details had been greatly exaggerated. They had to be. Right? Ian wasn't sure if he was ready to face an entire den of the beasts, but whether he was ready or not, it was time to go. It was 4:00PM. Ian excused himself from the conversation and stood to leave. Somewhere in the room a man started to play guitar again, and the large group of people dispersed to go back to their drinks. He walked to the heavy metal door and shoved it open. He was finally in "fresh" air again.
There was only a single man waiting outside. He was tall and lean with features were as sharp as his gaze. He was wrapped in a heavy hunting cloak, and had a gas mask hanging around his neck. It was obvious that he had plenty of experience in surviving in hostile environments. If his looks hadn't shown it, his equipment definitely did. He was armed to the teeth. Feeling under dressed for this particular party, Ian approached him and said,
"Are you Grouse?"
"Mhmm." he said, pushing away from the wall he had been leaning against. Grouse stood up straight and asked, "I'm guessing you are the only one coming?"
"So it seems. My name is Ian, what kind of contract are you offering?"
"Here's the deal, recently several stalker have gone missing. Nobody has heard anything about them, but just the other day they found a single body. No signs of violence, but it was bled completely dry. Tremor searched the body, he could give you more details.. But anyway, its got to be bloodsuckers! I talked to Danilla and he went off to search for their lair, but he never came back. I haven't seen or heard from him since."
"I see." Ian said. "I am ready to leave when you are."
Grouse shrugged and unslung his rifle. "Lets get going then." he said, turning to walk through the barricade without saying a word to the outlying sentries. They let Grouse and Ian pass, and Svadosk soon dissipated into the mist again behind them. Mosquito's and flies were out in force, and they never stopped trying to swarm the two men, but they were nearly completely covered in body armor. Ian had many questions, but the swamp was a bad place to talk in. Not only was it nearly impossible to hear over the drone of insects and mutants, he needed to stay alert. The crossing through the swamp was fairly short. Instead of heading back southeast, where Ian had come from that morning, they went straight north. Just as before, soon the undergrowth and noise faded behind them and Ian felt the sun on his back again. The ground rose into a steep hill, and he had no view of the horizon from the bottom of the flood plain. The hill was hard to climb. It was wet, and the dirt was unstable. Ian almost slipped several times, but he managed to keep his balance by grabbing on to the heavy pieces of rubble that littered most of the area. After quite a bit of caution and effort, they made it back to level ground. Now that they were out of the basin, it seemed the wind was blowing much harder then it had been earlier.
Barely a hundred yards away from where they stood was a small town. Grouse motioned for Ian to follow his lead and they rejoined with the road. They dropped down into a deep ditch on the side of the path. It offered quite a bit of protection from gunfire if bandits were waiting in the building ahead to ambush them. They had to constantly watch their steps to avoid tripping over sharp pieces of metal or drainage pipes. Instead of complaining, Ian shrugged. After all, muddy leggings were much better then bullet wounds. It didn't take too long for them to reach the edge of the town. Grouse relaxed visibly when they were back in the cover of the closely space buildings. They sought refuge from the wind next to an overturned bus. Ian rested his head on his knees and asked,
"Whats the plan Grouse?"
"Well, I think the bloodsuckers main den is inside of a school that has mainly stayed intact. The building has a pretty simple layout. We will enter through the kitchen and make a circular sweep around the inside. Do you have any questions?"
"How many do you think are in there?" Ian asked.
"I watched them for several days in my safe house across the street, and I never saw more than two leave in a single day."
"What can you tell me about fighting bloodsuckers?"
"Generally, the best advice is to avoid fighting them. They are pretty hard to predict, and they can be a real pain if you don't finish them off pretty quick. Just try to keep your back in a corner and aim for the legs first if you see them running at you. They are pretty hard to bring down, and they can sprint much faster then you would believe. You can always tell when a bloodsucker is hunting in an area because the bodies of its victims will always be complete drained of blood. They usually try to sneak up behind you and kill you without a fight, but if you force them to, they are perfectly capable of ripping you in half with their claws."
Ian filed away the information, then looked back over his gear in preparation for the raid. One clip. Two clips. Three clips. Four cli-
"Nervous habit?" Grouse asked.
"It never hurts to be prepared." Ian said, and then they both pulled on gas masks.
They stood, and Grouse led him towards the school. It was hard to find. The roof was no higher then the space most single story houses enjoyed, so when Ian turned a corner and saw it sitting in the middle of a large swath of open ground, he was surprised. The walls were a faded brown brick type construction that was chipping away and falling to pieces in parts. Aside from the main building itself, there was a parking lot and a refuel station for the buses where the administration building must be. More of the windows were broken then not, and the wind made an eerie howling noise when it passed through the cracked and broken glass. They crossed the parking lot just as the sun began to sink beneath the trees to the west. One moment, the school was bathed in reddish gold light, the next it had a cold and dead tone to it.
"Quietly now..." Grouse warned Ian, and they crouched low to avoid drawing attention through the windows. They followed a sidewalk all the way around to the back of the school and stopped in front of the utility entrance to the kitchen. The door was already open. It glided back and forth on its hinges, caught in the wind. SLAM! SLAM! SLAM! The door couldn't stop from smashing into the side of the brick wall. Ian caught it and held it tightly against the wall to allow Grouse to step through, then he too stepped through and let it go. The inside of the school was very dark, but not quite pitch black. The light could barely reflect off of any surface because of the amount of dust that coated every surface. The sound of his boots stepping across the dust covered floor was barely audible, so long as he avoided stepping on stray pieces of trash or paper. They passed through the cafeteria and followed a long hallway to the second wing of the building.
They silently passed from room to room like ghosts, revealing nothing that even remotely resembled a blood sucking tentacle monster. Although they had not seen it yet, several sets of inhuman footprints led to all areas of the school. Something big definitely lived here. After turning a corner to another long hallway and row of classrooms, they see the remains of the bloodsuckers recent kills. Several ghastly corpses lay piled against a wall. With a grim expression, Grouse gets on his knees to search them. Ian frowns at the mans intent observation of there faces. It is obvious that the man is searching for a friend, and Ian hoped that he would not find him here. Fearing a sudden attack from behind, Ian turned the other way and held his rifle close to his chest.
Grouse managed to step next to Ian's side without making a single noise, and Ian shivered reflexively. The man was uncanny. "Take this..." Grouse said, and pushed a Spaz-12 combat shotgun towards Ian. His eyes widened. That weapon was most likely worth more then most of his kit combined. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and eagerly equipped the shotgun, pocketing the extra shells for it. After Ian was ready, they continued down the hallway. Where were the bloodsuckers? Ian's unease rose, and a cold feeling of dread settled on his shoulders like an angel of death, come to warn him of danger. No sooner then Grouse had noticed Ian raise his weapon in unease, a blood curdling scream came ripping down the hallway and tore at Ian's eardrums. He nearly dropped his weapon ans clasped his hands over his ears, but instead he kept his eye trained on the corner, waiting for the bloodsucker to come sprinting at him out of the darkness. Ian didn't have time to stop and think. The sound of thunderous footsteps drew even closer until it sounded like they were pounding away at his skull. Where was it? Where? Where? Where? Then he noticed the dust kicking up the floor.
His vision snapped into focus. The vague outline of a terrifying creature was sprinting right for him. Grouse cautiously took a step back and but his back firmly against a window. They both frantically tried to line up a shot on the bloodsucker, but it was practically invisible in the dark hallway. Ian stepped forward and fired his shotgun at the creature, yelling loudly as it took the hit and stumbled back. He already had another shot lined up when the sound of breaking glass shattered Ian's focus, and he swiveled around to see Grouse being drug out the window by an invisible threat. In terror, Grouse clenched down on the trigger and his AK-47 coughed out a torrent of bullets that slammed into the low ceiling by Ian's head. Ian threw himself onto his side and made a split second decision to save Grouse. He lowered his iron sight down to the space far to the right of Grouses head, accounted for the spread, and pulled the trigger. Buckshot flew through the air and embedded itself in the flesh of the second bloodsucker. He saw it spin around and fall to the ground, Grouse still caught in its grasp. By this time, Ian had no chance to stop the first creature. A huge taloned fist crashed into the side of his face and he was knocked off his feet in an explosion of pain. Before he even hit the ground, he was spinning away from his attacker.
He had held on to his shotgun, and he aimed it in the bloodsuckers general direction. He never remembered hearing the sound of the gun firing, but he definitely remembered the kick of the shotgun as it roared in defiance and sent shrapnel slamming into the knee of the bloodsucker. It launched itself at Ian and knocked his weapon from his grasp. It drug itself onto his chest and started to rip at his body armor with its claws. With his shotgun out of his reach, he was defenseless. Or so the bloodsucker thought. Ian defended his face with his left arm, and used his right hand to drag his commando knife from its sheath. He swung his arm in a low arc to bury the knife into the creatures neck, but it flung itself back. Ian was off balance and the bloodsucker had plenty of time to recover. In a frenzy of hot blooded hatred, the creature wrapped its hands around the padding on Ian's neck and began to dig its claws into the thick material.
"Иди к черту кровосос." said a firm voice to the right of him. The bloodsuckers head snapped to the right just in time to see Grouse's hunting knife complete its final arc and bury itself in the creatures jugular. It screamed and jerked, then rolled off of Ian and never moved again. Breathing heavily, Grouse walked over to Ian and helped him up.
"Well that was fun." Ian joked as he struggled to stand, the wounds on his legs aching ferociously. He closed his eyes and concentrated until the pain faded to a dull ache, and he retrieved his shotgun. First thing after leaving, he was going to bandage these wounds before he bled too much and ended up spilling a pint of blood.
"I hope so. We aren't done here. We still need to check the last rooms on this floor, and then we still have the basement to look into." Grouse said with a determined expression on his face. Ian scratched the stubble on his chin, and inclined his head.
"Noise doesn't matter anymore. If anything in here didn't know we were here, they do now." Ian told his partner.
The rest of the search didn't take long, a few minutes later they stood in front of a descending staircase. They exchanged a look and Ian stifled his unease. The rest of the path was completely pitch back. Nothing would need to be invisible to sneak up on them in the confined space.
"Pass me the shotgun, Ian. If I hear anything at all, I will shoot right in front of me. As soon as I do, I will drop to the ground and you hose this entire passage with bullets. As long as we are careful, we'll be okay." Grouse turned on his flashlight (mounted on his gas mask.) and they prepared to enter the tunnel.
Ian did as he asked, and aimed the rifle just over Grouse's shoulder. They descended quietly into the passageway, moving steadily down through layers of old and faded concrete. In spite of the draft of cold air that followed them down the stairs, the small space soon seemed unbearably hot. Something up ahead was giving off a LOT of heat. The beams of the flashlight fell upon a crack in the wall, and Grouse illuminated the entire section until a hole big enough for a very tall man (Or a blood sucker) to just barely fit through. He clicked the flashlight off. And crouched low.
"Not. A. Single. Noise. Ian." the tracker said, and then he crawled through the hole excruciatingly slow, trying not to get his pack caught on the sharp pieces of broken concrete. Once he was through, Ian followed after him. Before he could even get his shoulders through, he realized his pack was too big to fit. He backed out and took it off, then slid through with efficiency a snake would envy, in spite of his injury. What he saw on the other side would be the focus of his nightmares for the next several weeks.
The room was too dark to see much, but a rusted and dusty generator barely gave off enough light for Ian to make out at least a dozen human-like forms hunched over. Bloodsuckers. They were sleeping. The cold grip of terror squeezed his heart until it felt like his lungs would burst, and his breath caught in his throat. If he so much as sneezed, stepped on a piece of trash, or made a single wrong move, this place would be his tomb. Grouse recovered from his shock first, and he made a frantic signal for Ian to go back. Many of the mutants in the zone could smell prey from several hundred feet away, even while sleeping. It was only a matter of time before Ian was forced to the ground for the last time, and he died with his blood drained out onto the floor.
No, he wasn't going to let that happen. Ian turned and edged back towards the wall, feeling the way behind him with his outstretched arm. As much as he needed to, he couldn't take his eyes off of the horde of mutants. His fingers grasped cold concrete, and he pulled himself back through the hole as carefully as he could in his panic. He had barely put his pack back on when Grouse edged back out after him. They glided back out of the tunnel on silent feet, and didn't stop running until they burst back out into the parking lot. Ian leaned over and panted, then turned to Grouse and hungrily said,
"How are we supposed to deal with that many of those freaks? Just two of them alone nearly killed us!"
Grouse shook his head in dismay. "We need more Stalkers." The tall man started to lean against a window, then flinched and walked to the center of the parking lot. "Make a trip back to Svadosk, tell Beard what we found here, and have him send out two of the patrols to help us finish clearing out this lair."
"What will you do while I am gone?" Ian asked and sat down on the curb.
Grouse tossed him a first aid kit. "I will be watching the den from my safe house across the street." He pointed to a multistory apartment complex that was surrounded by a tall wooden fence. "If I plan on leaving, I will leave a mark on the door. A large red X."
Ian dressed and bandaged his wounds, then downed some painkillers and stood up. The pills would make him drowsy, but he wouldn't be making it back to Svadosk any other way.
"If you are too injured to make the trip back, it's okay. You will still receive your pay. No worries." Grouse told him as he returned the shotgun to Ian.
"You should expect me back by sunrise. Be careful Grouse, I would hate to see one of those bloodsuckers get the best of you."
"Ha!" Grouse exclaimed. "By nightfall, those bloodsuckers will be the least of our worries."