The zone calls
Anatoli looked through the brand new pair of binoculars from the edge of the forest, hills sparsely populated with trees, and a small abandoned shack of a power station, overgrown to high hell, the zone lay before him, he was finally here. He sighed, crouching by a small tree, adjusting the shotgun slung around his shoulder, "hunting equipment". . . that was the part that took him the longest to get, a few months for the paperwork. He laughed silently, thinking of all the bills collecting back home, the only people that still cared about his existence were the tax collectors, it seemed.
He got up, loading two buckshot shells into the over-under shotgun, he cursed himself out quietly for thinking the shopkeeper might suspect something if he asked for slugs, from what he heard from the tales of the beasts roaming the zone, buckshot might not be enough, well, at least he'd help fertilize the ground, if he ended up in the shit of some wild boar, would be of better use than he is now, that's for sure.
But he was finally in the zone, past all the damn military checkpoints, still not in the anomalous zone itself, but it was good enough for him. He didn't really know why he came here, abandoning his life, and using all of his money to buy what he had on him and in his backpack, well if you could even call what he had before a "life", as Anatoli wouldn't consider working a wage job and sitting in front of his computer one.
He lit up a cigarette, taking the view in for a few more minutes, with a cynical view, before swiping away any doubts for the last time, and beginning the descent down the lazy hill. The grass was up to his waist, he thought of what to expect deeper in the zone, he heard that there were some settlements more civilised than a few tents and a fire, hell- there were even some blurry videos on the internet, however much that was. But he was hoping to find something there, his grave, at the very least, very least, and most likely.
Suddenly, a loud rustling came from his right, Anatoli snapped his head, freezing in place. Then some sort of growling, but- not exactly he slowly unslung his shotgun, aiming it in the general direction of the noise. He stayed like that for a few moments, until a boar, larger than he'd seen- or imagined rushed from behind some bushes, going straight for him, Anatoli shakily aimed, squeezing the trigger twice, the second shot missing completely from the recoil to which Anatoli was unused to, though the first one seemed to graze the beast, it only managed to anger it further. Anatoli then took off, unable to outrun a boar, that's for sure, but- maybe he could make it to the shed? He darted through the tall grass, hopping whenever he could, as to prevent falling over in the uncertain terrain, suddenly a sharp pain in his leg as he tumbled over, the boar was practically right on top of him, and it gored his leg with its tusks. Anatoli backed away on his ass as fast as he could, dragging the weapon by its sling, the shed only a few meters away, but it wasn't fast enough, as the boar bit his boot, not letting go. Anatoli thought quickly, as he pulled out a knife from his belt slashing the beast in its snout, kicking it off, as it squealed and ran away.
Anatoli crawled backwards into the shed, breathing rapidly as he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Suddenly, the sound of the boar returned, and started coming closer again, Anatoli opened his eyes, only to see the boar charging towards the shed, he sprung up, pain shooting through his bad leg as he slammed the door shut, closing the latch on it, falling backward reflexively as the boar slammed into the door, which luckily held. The boar didn't give up, as he could still hear it outside, but Anatoli was safe, for now.
Dust particles swirled through the few rays of sun coming in through the tiny windows at the top of the shed. Anatoli turned on his flashlight, putting it in his teeth, inspecting his wound, it was bleeding, that was sure. He gently lifted up his pant leg, the wound wasn't too deep, but it wouldn't look pretty in not too long. Anatoli took out his small medkit, quickly disinfecting the wound, the wound stinging harshly from the disinfectant, he then bandaged it with a clean gauze and elastic bandage, he wasn't a doctor, but he was hoping he'd find one soon, not that he knew how common those were in the zone.
Anatoli reached into his pocket for the cigarettes- he forgot the fucking cigarettes. . . well, shit, he wasn't going back for a pack of smokes. He checked his watch, it was going to be sundown soon, he may as well sleep here, and maybe then the damn boar will be gone by then. He stood up, wanting to roll out the bedroll, he swung the flashlight across the shed- he froze, as his heart jumped to his throat. It took him a moment to realise that the man in the corner was dead, he was fresh too, or not too badly decayed at least, with pale white skin, clutching a Kalashnikov like a baby. Next to the stiff, was a hatch that lead. . . somewhere, open, with a foul odour coming from it, which Anatoli only now noticed.
He unslung his shotgun, aiming at the corpse as he limped over the short distance to it. He looked down into the hatch, almost vomiting as the stench overwhelmed him. Then, Anatoli froze, he felt like something was staring right at him, something was telling him to run, but he knew he couldn't. He dreaded to look back down the hatch, then. . . was that a growl, from the hatch? Anatoli slammed the hatch closed, shit- no padlock, thinking quickly, Anatoli grabbed the Kalash from the cadaver, slotting it under the hatch handle and the lock bar next to it. He waited in anticipation, for the terrible monstrosity to burst out, yet nothing came. Anatoli collapsed onto the ground, grabbing his leg in pain, fucking idiot, he thought to himself. He sat like that for a good few minutes before collecting himself.
He inspected the AK, the bolt carrier handle was broken off, and the gun itself was jammed, making it a piece of junk. Anatoli backed away from the hatch as quickly as he could, sitting down on his bedroll in the corner, his shotgun trained on the other side of the hatch. He looked at the stiff again, he could see a pack of cigarettes poking out of one of his breast pockets, taunting him, but he was scared shitless, and he definitely wasn't going to risk his life for a pack of ciggies. . . besides, he didn't think he could get close to the corpse again without a rush of adrenaline. He'd lose the staring contest with the corpse many times that night, as even though he barely shut his eyes, he still needed to blink, however much he didn't like it.
Day one, injured by a boar, hid in a shed, there's a corpse here. I cannot sleep.