Sleeping In Ashes
"People are mistaken in their belief that they understand the essence of what the Zone truly is. Some consider it a universal evil, others - a wonder sent down to humanity, and others still consider it no more than a source of riches..."
Chapter One: Springboard
"The Zone is a dangerous place, my friends. I don't think you truly know what you're getting yourself into by coming here – now more than ever. Everyday I see more just like you coming into The Zone, seeking wealth, fame, thrills, escape – and everyday The Zone adds another body to the pile of dead. This place will take you. Take your soul, your humanity, every last drop of it; shred it, spit it out, and if you are not dead by the time it does that, then some monster or another lost soul will. You won't find solace from this place – no matter where you go. Even in this camp, around this fire, the screams and threat of death will always lick at your mind. The crossing wasn't bad today, and it usually isn't, but this is illegal, stalking, and even the government is out to kill you. The Ukrainian military doesn't give a damn about us STALKERs, and you have to accept that. You'll have to except little food, little ammo, little companionship and little hope if you expect to get any riches out of The Zone. Kids – boys with barely any hair on their face – come through this camp hoping to find riches and artifacts to take back and sell for a fortune. Most of the time the person making the fortune is whoever finds their body and picks whatever gear they had on them. I give every rookie this talk, and you're no exception, but just know this: The Zone doesn't care about you, and almost everyone else in this place doesn't care either. Find someone or something to get you through, or you'll be a prize worth picking to someone else soon enough."
The grizzled STALKER paused in the firelight and took a deep drag from his cigarette. Crickets and echoes of some anomaly bursting in the distance filled the camp.
"I still don't know why you new guys keep coming. A stream of you pour in every day. More lambs to the slaughter I suppose. I stopped caring all that much about all the new faces; you should too. Makes it a lot easier. You'll be freaked out the first time you see someone ripped apart by a Springboard, but by the time you have seen your fair share of mangled corpses and friends die on you, nothing'll phase you. Assuming you make it that far."
The cold air rushed over the STALKERs as they huddled around the fire. The veteran STALKER took another pull from his cigarette. A long silence followed.
"Why are you still here then?"
The half visible face of the veteran STALKER turned to the rookie and stared for a few seconds. He clutched his AK-74 and leaned closer to the fire.
"Because once you've made it for a while in The Zone, there isn't much of a life anywhere else for you. You can't get back the things that made you human, you just become a perfect fit for The Zone. What other life is there for you once you leave?"
The words sank into the naive STALKERs as the fire popped. One man twanged his guitar. Another lit a cigarette.
"We head for Cordon in the morning."
They awoke just as the sun began illuminating the sky. Bleary-eyed rookies shuffled about, rolling up their sleeping bags and making instant coffee. A few made small talk, cracking jokes about their past, and some said but few words to the others, communicating in nods and grunts of acknowledgment. Few got much sleep. One kid had not slept at all. The others bet on him to perish first.
The began the trek towards Cordon at around 6:30. The marched off in a loose formation, with the veteran out in front, guiding them along the path that he only seemed to know. The rookies looked all around as they walked, soaking in the beautiful yet haunting sights of The Zone.
"There are birds above!" One rookie exclaimed and pointed up above into the blue. Sure enough, many birds flocked and circled about high above the group of STALKERs.
"Crows. Vultures. I do not count those as birds." The veteran mumbled as he walked.
They walked for quite a long time, chatting and discussing plans. Not many of the rookies knew each other. Most were loners who came to The Zone in seek of fortune. A few just sought adventure. They constantly talked of what may lie in wait for them – prying an answer from the veteran, albeit passive-aggressively.
Almost all of them were native to the surrounding few countries: Primarily Ukrainians, but also Russians, Belarusians, Poles and one American.
"You're from America? What are you doing all the way out here?" One rookie asked.
"Research."
"Ah. Western scientist then, yeah?"
"Not exactly."
"Independent then. Here to make cash?"
The American smirked.
"Yeah. Sure."
"Your Ukrainian is pretty good for an American. I'd be damned to even tell the difference. Never thought it until the topic of homeland came up!" The rookie chuckled.
"Yeah. My father was from Ukraine. Left in the 80's. Right before the first Chernobyl incident."
"Ah. Was it your first language then?"
"Learned them at about the same time – English and Ukrainian I meant."
A few of the others were keeping tabs on the conversation with the American and the Ukrainian rookie, making small quips between the rest of the group. Most were piqued by the fact that he was here on "research" claims, something that no-one else here had admitted to.
The group continued walking until the veteran abruptly signaled for them to stop. All of the men halted at once and huddled down into a ready position. A few gripped at their handguns. Those who did not have those reached for knives. The veteran crouched down and un-slung his AK-74. He held it at the ready, staring out into the brush ahead of them.
"What was t-"
The veteran sharply hushed him and stared down the sights of his AK.
A slight rustle came from the brush ahead of them. The trees and brush surrounded them, making it harder to be seen, but also harder to see threats as well. The veteran listened closely. A searing sound. The sound of tearing. Flesh. He looked closely at the surrounding brush and saw sprays of blood.
The veteran reached into his pack and pulled out a rusty bolt. The rookie immediately behind cocked his head in confusion. He signaled for the rest to watch him. He turned back and tossed the bolt into the brush. Instantly a violent rush of air shot back towards them, pushing the confused rookie down and pushing the rest around. Another spray of blood had appeared as the air and brush calmed.
"What the hell was that?" The confused rookie asked, brushing himself off.
"Anomaly." The veteran replied.
"Some STALKER found his way into the anomaly and got himself killed." He stood up and side-stepped around the brush. The rest followed.
A huge spray of blood sat right behind the thicket of tall grass, with a huge pulsating ripple of air in the middle. Off to the side lay a mangled corpse. It was missing a large chunk of it's torso. The majority of it's head remain intact, but barely held to the remainder of the body by but a few strips of meat. Flies buzzed around the partially eaten corpse. A few STALKERs stifled from vomiting. The previously confused (and intrigued) rookie threw up on the spot. The bets now currently favor him departing first.
"What happened?" The American asked.
"The Zone has tears. These tears in reality – pockets of alternate reality by The Zone's properties – we call them Anomalies. Strange instances not of the normal world, but quite common in The Zone. This," he pointed, "is a Springboard. The most common of all of the anomalies. A rush of air centering from the middle of the anomaly. It can range from merely a few bruises to well, as you can see, tearing you in a half. This one is quite strong. Surprisingly."
He pointed towards the middle of the anomaly.
"See the flicker of air? Like a haze? Or a pulsation? That's the tell-tale sign of a Springboard. Sometimes you can be fine from these, but this one was quite the bruiser."
"The noises then?" One STALKER asked. "Are those from the anomaly?"
The veteran chuckled.
"No. Those were just 'birds'."
"What is this place?"
"This is the rookie village, a safe haven for all you pups. We have Sidorovich to trade with, we have houses, a few cellars, a nice fire – everything you need for getting your feet wet before heading deep into The Zone." The veteran lit up another cigarette.
"Assuming you make it that far."
The village appeared to have been abandoned since the original Chernobyl incident in 1986. The houses were wooden and falling apart. A few junk cars lay in the street, parts torn from them, windows broken. Tall trees surrounded the camp which rustled in the stiff breeze of the Ukrainian autumn. A few STALKERs constantly patrolled the perimeter.
"The military outpost is only a few clicks away."
The rookies nervously shifted around.
"Let's try and not squeeze off too many shots over here, okay?" Said the veteran.
Everyone gathered around the veteran and listened as he introduced the regulars of the Rookie Village.
"On the west side of the village is Sid's bunker. You can use spare cash to pick up some gear, or trade in any junk guns for more rubles. He might try and rip you off or try and get you to do something stupid for little reward, so be careful on accepting any jobs that he'll claim," and he made finger-quotes " 'can give you a quick, easy buck.' "
"To the east is the road leading north. Bandits aren't normally this far south, but occasionally they hangout at the factory that's a bit up the road."
The veteran puffed at his cigarette.
"So. What do we do now?" A rookie asked. Others mumbled in agreement at the importance of the question.
"Feel free to go about your business. You all paid for me to guide you here, but other than that," he exhaled smoke, "Do as you wish."
The words sank into the fresh-faced treasure-hunters and eager thrill-seekers. Some trembled in fear at the thought of what lies ahead, while others grinned mischievously. A true no-man's land with riches for the taking, or a god-forsaken mistake of an adventure that can only get worse. STALKERs began talking at once about exploring The Zone.
"I'm going to be rich. Trust me."
"I got your back man."
"Anyone have a spare ruble or two?"
"Where are we again?"
"What time is it?"
"Wonder if Freedom is hiring."
The constant chatter of the group typified how fresh they were, while the veteran sat against a rickety building saying nothing. The American stood away from the pack as well, jotting down notes into his journal. He was of average height, above average build, average complexion; quite average looking overall. No distinctive markings on the outside, but everyone already knew he was different from the rest of the rookies.
"An American? Quite strange." The veteran said to his more experienced comrades.
"Haven't seen an American in The Zone in quite a while. He speaks Ukrainian?"
"Quite well. Says his father was from here."
"Know his name?"
The veteran shook his head.
"Didn't ask him." He replied.
"Do you know why he's here?"
"Said he's here for 'research'. Or something. I doubt that's the truth. Scientists here for research have more gear than him. Armed escorts. SSP-99 suits."
"Curious."
"Indeed."
The American felt uneasy with this much attention already. He put away his journal and walked up to some other STALKERs and sat down. One STALKER was plunking his guitar.
"Ah, American. How goes it?"
The American shrugged.
"Quite well I guess."
A fellow rookie offered him a bottle of vodka.
"Want a touch?" He motioned to the bottle.
"A touch? Awfully early." He grabbed the vodka and took a swig.
"Never too early I say!" The rookie said with a grin.
"Wasn't your father an alcoholic?" Another STALKER gagged.
The rookie hurled colorful language at the offending joker.
The American grimaced and coughed out, "Jesus. That is terrible vodka."
"Thought you were Ukrainian at heart! Can't ever go wrong with vodka – no matter the taste nor time." The rookie retorted.
"He must be right," the American pointed at the aforementioned joking interloper, "Like father, like son."
"If that's so, then your father must've been quite the prick." The rookie quipped back before taking a rip of vodka.
"Never got your name by the way." The rookie said while bagging up the vodka.
"Who's asking?" The American said defensively, yet with a joking manner.
"Sevastian Shwetz." He extended his hand. The American grabbed his hand and gave a firm shake.
"David Cross."
"David," Sev rolled the name around in his mouth, "Nice to meet you. Care for a smoke?"
"Sure." He took a cigarette and lit it up.
"So David Cross," Sev exhaled smoke through his nose, "What brings you to The Zone – don't say research, because most of us guys think that's a load."
Dave grinned and took a drag from his cigarette. "That's pretty much what it is. The money that may come from it would be nice, but I just want to experience this after hearing so many rumors of it in America. People say they, the uh, STALKERs, went in with nothing but the clothes on their back and came out richer than they had ever been. Stories and rumors of amazing sights, things not of this world. Crazy things, scary things – but above all, interesting things. It just racked my brain hearing all of this." He paused to puff at his cigarette.
"I knew a guy who went in The Zone a while back. Brought back wild stories. Said he found an artifact. Big floating, uh, rock-thing that got him a sack of cash when he sold it. But as much as I like money, the thrills he spoke of. Beautiful sights, long walks, strange people to meet and places to explore."
"He ever talk about people getting torn apart by anomalies?" Asked Sev.
Dave put on the brakes.
"No. I," He stuttered a bit, "I can't say he did. Never talked about anyone he met dying. Or getting shot."
The veteran sat down next to them and interjected, "That's because he either didn't stay long or he was bullshitting how bad it was. The Zone is changing, Cross." Dave felt a tinge of anxiety knowing that the veteran had listened in on his name.
"The Zone is changing and it's getting worse. Things weren't this bad even a few months ago. Now everyday it seems like I see a corpse or hear of Bandits slaughtering people for just a few rubles. It's not sunshine and adventures out here. And if you think that you'll get anywhere or anything without burning some bridges, then you're not going to last long in The Zone."
"You've killed someone then?" David asked.
"It's all apart of The Zone." The veteran replied.
"People die all the time." Sev coldly replied.
The veteran stood up and replied, his voice getting more bitter, "Just wait. You've already made a big mistake by learning a few of these guys' names. It'll break you down when you see them torn apart by the hazards of The Zone."
"Quit your preaching already." David said snidely.
The veteran picked David up by the shirt collar and slung him against the wall of a house, suddenly violent and yelling: "Fuck you! You don't know a goddamn thing about The Zone yet! All you rookies come in like you're fucking Superman and you don't know a goddamn thing at all! The Zone is not just a place to have fun or to get rich. It's a life that once you try – for what ever reason that may be – you can't get out off. You're fucked for life once you do this! I don't know who the fuck you are David Cross, but I don't like you; people who piss other people off tend to get shot," he said while pulling his handgun out of his torso-holster, "because that's how The Zone works." He jammed the handgun in David's face while others looked on, horrified by the escalation. David tried to compose himself as best he could, but he was still breathing heavily.
"The Zone works like this: Anything goes. Some people try to say that there are rules, that Duty or Freedom or The Military control The Zone, but in actuality, anything goes. People do whatever they want because that's who they are. We do what we want." The veteran said.
The veteran pistol whipped David in the face violently and threw him to the ground. Cries and gasps of shock came from the on-lookers, but no one did a thing to stop it.
The veteran rolled David face up and grabbed him by the jacket-collar, sticking the gun back in his face.
"But you know what? That's the beauty of The Zone. Anything goes – and if I didn't have an agreement with Sidorovich to not kill any potential customers in the rookie camp, then I would have blown your brains out right now – and you know what's best about that? I wouldn't give a shit about it either. I've seen and done things that you can't imagine. You don't even know how much I've done to make it to where I am. You'll fucking learn though." He kneed David in the face.
"See how no one has stopped me despite how I hold your precious life in my hands? Because of respect. No one has stopped me because they're too scared, or that they respect me too much; the guys who protect this place, my buddies, they don't bother lifting a finger because that's how The Zone is and they know it. They know I'm doing you a favor. And the thing about respect David? The thing about respect is that rubles and artifacts can't buy it."
He kicked David in the ribs violently and dropped him down to the dirt.
"Man. He messed you up." Sev said.
David's head was bloodied and bruised. He coughed and rolled about as he regained consciousness. His head throbbed from the inside and blood was matting his hair together.
"What time is it..?" David groaned.
"You've been out mostly all day. In and out of being unconscious and sleeping. Sun went down about an hour ago."
David sat up slowly, taking in the sights around him; it was completely dark. He had been wrapped up in a bundle of blankets and placed next to a crackling fire. He looked back down where he had been resting and saw a patch of dried blood. David grabbed his head and found bandages wrapped around it.
"He messed you up pretty good." Sev added.
"D'you bandage my head?" David asked.
"Yeah."
"Thanks."
"No problem. That guy is an asshole." Sev replied.
"I suppose he does have a point though. We should listen to him after all." Dave concluded.
"Yeah, no kidding we should," Sev chuckled, "Considering how easy it is to see he knows what he's talking about. Saw that thing in the forest-path on the way over, the uh, whatsit," he stumbled for words.
"Anomaly."
"Anomaly! Right. Yeah. The anomaly. Guy knew it was there just by almost instinct. He's definitely a guy I wouldn't mess with."
"I seemed to have pushed his buttons alright."
"Yeah. You sure did."
"Wonder what happened to the guy that made him fly off the tracks like that."
Sev lit a cigarette and offered Dave one. Dave refused.
"Well. Turns out he's been in The Zone for quite a while."
"Go figure." Dave quipped.
"Yeah. He came here about a year ago or so. Spent the first couple of months laying low, gaining experience, connections, meeting a few people; getting his feet wet basically. Anyways: Few months back, he had finally gotten situated into some series operations with a crew. Bunch of guys he had slowly met and done jobs with. They did jobs for Sidorovich – the trader – and jobs for other factions. Artifact collectors, intel gatherers, body-guards, hired guns."
"He's a mercenary then?" Dave asked.
"Not really. He just did jobs that came up. That's how it works apparently."
David grunted then told Sev to continue.
"Anyway. One job came along that told them to fetch a certain artifact from The Dark Valley."
"Where is that?"
"North-east of here. Let me explain: The Dark Valley is really messed up. Radioactive, filled with creeps and lots of anomalies. The job was to get this said artifact and take it back to the guys at Duty. But let me preface that with this bit of knowledge: That veteran – Houndeye – and his crew had previously worked with Freedom to snoop around on Duty. Surveillance work. Their work got quite a few Duty members killed in a skirmish between Freedom and Duty. Duty found out who leaked intel to Freedom through a snitch. That snitch told Duty that Freedom had outsourced some work through independent STALKERs, to reduce heat between Freedom and Duty, and that Houndeye just so happened to be that outsourced group. So Duty sent Houndeye a job proposal to go to The Dark Valley and they accepted; taking a risk of playing both sides. So on the job, Houndeye and his crew got pinned down from rifle fire while in the open of a previously thought clear path into The Dark Valley. They got slaughtered. Cut down from a pack of eight guys to just Houndeye. He was the only survivor. Took a bullet and just went down. He rolled into a ditch a waited it out. Worse part isn't that he just got shot, it's that he heard all of his buddies killed and he couldn't do anything to stop it. They executed every last guy who was breathing. His friends cried for mercy and they just shot them again on the ground. Cut their throats. Looted their bodies. They found him in the ditch but he hadn't said anything and they figured he was done for. Once they left, he picked himself out of that ditch and ran all they way back to Cordon with a hole in his chest. Fought infection that nearly killed him once he got back too." Sev paused and took a rip of his cigarette. He dragged it deep into his lungs and let it out slowly.
"Jesus. No wonder he's on edge." Dave sighed.
"Ever since then he's been like this. The guys around the camp that knew him before that job say he was a lot different. Just like us even. Happy to explore. Cheery even."
"It was Duty that killed his friends?" Cross asked.
"Can't say for sure. Some of the guys say it might've been outsourced as well. Duty doesn't like to get it's hands that dirty, unless it's with Freedom. Houndeye insists it was Duty though. Hates their guts to this day."
Dave paused and thought.
"Who's Freedom and Duty exactly?"
Sevastian laughed and said, "You don't know that much yet?"
"How much did you learn since I've been out?" Dave asked.
"Quite a bit," Sev replied, "but I'll fill you in later. Are you going to try and sleep more?"
Dave thought for a moment then got up.
"I suppose I should stretch a little bit, maybe eat some of the food I packed."
They walked for a little bit around the rookie village. The autumn chill made their bodies shake. The moon was full and it illuminated a slight amount through the overcast clouds that choked out the majority of the light.
Dave smoked one last cigarette and mused about what lies ahead. If he had made a good choice in befriending this man Sev.
Sev thought the same thing.
"The prospect of making it in The Zone seems to be getting slimmer and slimmer the longer I'm here."
"You've only been here one day." Sev replied.
"Yeah, but it just seems all alien already. People dying like animals. Hardships. Greed. I don't even know what I'm going to do." Dave said blankly.
"Such is life in The Zone, I suppose." Sev said.