CHAPTER 1

A CRY FOR HELP

Artyom sniffed at the cup of famous prospekt mir whiskey and then looked to the man sitting beside him. Artyom was beginning to feel as if Bourbons invitation to drink was more of a test then a freindly gesture. But, then again, he also knew that he might not get another chance to drink for a long time, maybe forever if things don't go to plan.

Making up his mind, he raised the cup to his lips and took a large swig from it. Artyom immediatly started to choke, feeling the sting of the whiskey down his throat and causing him to cough.

Artyom still gripping his burning throat turned to Bourbon who was chuckling, "You told me it wasn't that strong."

Bourbons chuckle turned into laughter, "I said it was weak for me, but apparantly its still too much for you. What, you never had whiskey at Polezhaevskaya station?"

"Of course we did" Artyom's voice still sounding as if he were choking.

"Well," Bourbon smirked at him," it must be some pretty weak shit."

He isn't wrong, Artyom thought, Polezhaevskaya hardly had the resources necessary to make alcahol as strong as the stuff before the war and so the station had to be happy with the weaker variety made in the metro's fermentation labs. Besides, prospekt mira was a far more resourceful station, being one of the ring stations, the tavern they were sitting in was bound to have better liquor.

"Anyway, are you ready?" Bourbon asked, downing the last of his own whiskey.

Artyom realized he still had half a cup left. He grabbed the cup and drank down the rest in one quick gulp. Suprisingly, it didn't burn as much as before and it went down smoothly.

"Yes, now i'm ready," Artyom said, a triumphant smirk on his face.

Bourbon gave a quiet chuckle and reached in to his backpack for something. He pulled out a folded piece of paper and splayed it on the table. It was a hand drawn map of the tunnels to the station; detailing several abandound metro lines as well as a few hidden passages unknown to Artyom.

"Remember, we need to get up to the upper levels of the tunnels and cut through to Rizhskaya. I have a few freinds there who can help us out."

"Got it," Artyom nodded and started to stand up.

"Good," Bourbon put the map back into his backpack and started to get up when the smell of roast meat filled the tavern air. Artyom spottted the plate of raost pork before Bourbon did, and started to feel his mouth water.

"Shiit, maybe we can stay for some food. I have'nt had a pig like that for years, not since I was up in polezhayevskaya" Bourbon sighed dreamily

"Well, we better leave this place before I steal a piece, You have everything Artyom?" Bourbon stepped to him and asked.

"Wait, are you really going into the tunnel to Rizhskaya," a voice interruped him.

Artyom turned and spotted an old women grasping a wooden walking stick, standing not too far from them; An old headcscarf concealed her mostly grey hair and a thick pair of black glasses were placed before her wide brown eyes and the wrinkles surounding them.

"Are you really going there, please tell me," the women made a few steps forward with her walking cane, and stopped just a few steps in front of Artyom before her eyes began to water.

Bourbon just walked past her without saying a word. He only looked back to tell Artyom to hurry up. He seemed unperterbed by the pleading women, as if she wasn't even there. Artyom, however felt a little sympathetic towards her decided to ignore Bourbon's order and hear her out.

"What's the matter?" Artyom asked her.

"Please, my son he's in the tunnels but the guards won't go out and search, they say he's dead but he can't be, my zhenya can't be gone," she broke into even more tears and dropped on Artyom, almost pulling him to the ground.

"Get off him, you bitch!" Bourbon pulled the women off Artyom and shouted.

Artyom knew Bourbon could be cold, but even he was surprised at how cruel he was towards her.

"Do you know where in the tunnels?" Artyom placed a hand on her shoulder and asked.

"You Idiot! I told you to hurry up"

"Thank you thank you!" she held Artyom's hand and squeezed it, "I tried to find him yesterday, he's at a tunnel, at the end of the stairs from the train bridge, on the upper level tunnels."

"We'll find him," Artyom tried to give her a reassuring smile, but he was unsure if she belived him. After a silent pause, she smiled, so it must have been convincing enough.

"You cretin!" Bourbon dragged Artyom by the collar.

"Just when I was starting to like you. Remember when I handed you my gun and said you wouldn't shoot a guy in the back, well guess what you just tried to do Artyom, even though I told you!" Bourbon dragged Artyom out the bar and shouted.

"Lets just get to that fucking entrance."

CHAPTER 2

A DARK TRAIN TUNNEL

After leaving the bar, they took a seat on the stone bench before entering the tunnel entrance. It was dark and murky, and Bourbon had picked this spot so that there eyes would adjust to the weaker light.

"You have your gas mask and filters?" Bourbon pulled out his own mask from the ruck sack, "I don't wan't to have to carry your unconscious body because you breath some toxic crap in. In fact, here," he threw a spare filter to Artyom," don't lose it."

"Why? We're not going to the surface" Artyom asked, feeling nervous.

"Surface, fuck no. But you never know when there might be a gas leak in one of the tunnels so keep that filter ready just in case some…" Bourbon didn't finish his sentence but rose up from the bench and stepped to the tunnel.

"Ok, let's go. The sooner we reach Rizhskaya, the sooner we can rest."

Artyom reluctantly rose and shifted his machine gun from his back to his chest, switched on the attached torch and followed bourbon. He moved his torch to the walls and floor of the tunnel, illuminating stone surface around them and rusty rails at their boots. Artyom knew that anything could happen when travelling the metro. There were tunnels that people travelled through back and forth everyday, cleared of any and all mutants, unfortunantly for the twoo of them the station ahead was inhabited.

The tunnel was pitch black, holding a terrifying, unusual darkness were it appeared sovereign – it was so thick it you could almost touch it. As porous as a sponge, it greedily swallowed the rays of their flashlights, which hardly succeeded at illuminating a the path ahead.

Artyom swore he could hear a faint voice in the darkness but it seemed to disappear as soon as he had heard it. Sounds probably had a hard time getting through the darkness, just like the light. Even the heavy thuds and splashes made by Bourbons boots, sounded mute in this tunnel.

On the right wall suddenly there was a gap – the flashlight beam sank into a black pot , and Artyom didn't immediately comprehend that it was simply a side passage which exited from the main tunnel. He looked at Bourbon questiongly.

"Don't be scared. There was a tranfer passage here," he explained, "so that trains could get directly onto the Ring without transferring at other stations. But the Hans filled it in – they're not fools. They wouldn't leave an open tunnel leading directly to them.

After that they walked in silence for a long time, but the silence was becoming more and more tyrannical and finally Artyom couldn't take it.

"Listen Bourbon," he said, trying to sound persuasive, "if we find that women's child, or hear him shouldn't we try to help?"

Bourbon didn't answer at once and Artyom thought that perhaps he was simply choosing to ignore him out of irritation and was about to repeat it when Bourbon responded, "You're naïve Artyom, it isn't your fault and your not wrong for wanting to help. I doubt the child has survived and if by some miracle he is alive I would say our journey is more than dangerous enough for the two of us, why add another poor soul who can't defend themselves. Hopefully one day you'll understand what I mean, and not be so eager to play the hero, trust me you'll live longer."

His words made dull sounds and Artyom barely caught them, but he understood what Bourbon was trying to say, he didn't agree but he understood. Several minutes went by before Bourbon made a sound.

"Stop, there's the bridge," Bourbon pointed to a rusty train bridge extending to a stone platform supported by a pilar and a flight of stairs that led to the upper tunnels.

"Alright lets get there, but be careful. I don't want you falling."

Artyom pointed his flashlight at the train wreckage on the bridge, it poked through the carriage windows, and illuminated the rusted surface of the old transport. He wondered what it must have looked like before the world became a ruin, it tugged at the back of his mind and drew a series of grand images of a metro filled with hopeful people. The contrasting images of the old pristine transportation and the decaying ruin it was now, made Artyom feel uneasy and made him want to put some distance between them and this place.

They walked carefully past the train and ignored the squeeching sound of the old rusty bridge, however it continued to grow until it became almost impossible not to hear and echoed throughout the underground tunnels. Artyom who had not so long ago wished to escape the silence, found himself desperately missing its absence and wished to cross the bridge as quickly as possible.

Suddenly Bourbon stopped and looked over his shoulder to Artyom. "Do you hear that?"

Artyom, feeling foolish, replied. "The squeaking sound?"

Bourbon didn't say a word and looked around the bridge as if some danger approached, that only he could sense. He stopped and turned his head to the left so sharply that Artyom could swear he heard his vertebrae crack. He looked at Artyom straight in the eye.

"Run!" Bourbon yelled. Then a terrible sound rushed to Artyom's ears and burst suddenly at full volume, deafening him. It was the sound of the rusted structures that held the Bridge up beginning to collapse. Artyom felt the hair on his head stand on end.

"I said run, idiot!" Bourbon grabbed him and forced him to run.

The two ran, stumbling, and unable to see anything in front of them. Several times Artyom fell down, scraping his palms on the concrete floor and skinning his knees. But there was no stopping. The bridge was short, even shorter than the tunnels leading here, but Artyom felt as if it streched on for miles but the end of the bridge came into view ahead of him.

Artyom was overtaken by the feeling that if he stopped at any point, he would not escape the collapsing bridge and would join those unfortunate enough to have fallen into the darkness below.

The two, finally across the bridge and reaching the flight of stairs, climbed and clambered up until they stood at the upper levels. Artyom fell to his knees, exhausted from the tiresome sprint across the bridge and started panting uncontrollably.

"Shit, that was too close!" Bourbon said while gasping for air.

CHAPTER 3

A CRY FROM THE DARKNESS

Artyom noticed that the upper tunnels were far darker than those below and that felt his eyes having a hard time adjusting to what was in front of them.

"You break anything back there?" Bourbon asked, turning his guns flashlight on to Artyom.

Despite his faults, Artyom thought, Bourbon seemed to care for him. Whether this was out of self interested surivival or genuine concern, Artyom had no idea and he didn't really care, not now.

"No, i'm fine," Artyom said.

"Good," Bourbon turned back and started to walk towards a giant metalic door in the distance.

"I don't want to have to carry your ass out of here," he joked and started to laugh.

"A nosalis might jump me if i do."

Artyom was about to speak when he heard a faint cry in the distance behind him and stopped in his tracks. It had come from the opposite direction of the tunnel.

Zenya, Artyom thought they would come across him sooner or later, despite Bourbon not wanting to. He didn't want to give up hope of helping the women from the tavern and it appeared the oppurtunity to do so had arrived.

"Bourbon," he said.

"What?" Bourbon turned to face him, a displeased look on his face.

"I think its th-"

"Let me stop you there, Artyom," Bourbon said, giving the him a stern and concerned look.

Artyom had rarely seen Bourbon make such an expression, not since their discussion about trust and watching each others backs in the metro. But something was different this time, Artyom thought, he seemed, more empathetic.

"Artyom, you might think that i'm cruel for not wanting to help that child," his voice was low. "But trust me when i say that the child is either dead, or it never existed at all. The metro is cruel to us lowly humans, sometimes she takes the things we love away and sometimes she drive us to believe in things that were never even real to begin with. The only thing we'll find if we go searching, is death and more cruelty."

Artyom, picturing the crying child, simply couldn't leave without trying and stepped towards Bourbon to say, "I have to try Bourbon, especially if there is a chance he might be able to live."

Bourbon let out a long sigh and turned away from Artyom. A few moments passed in silence as Bourbon scratched at his head. When he spoke he did so still facing the metalic door and looking back over his shoulder at Artyom.

"I'll give you twenty minutes to search and to return, but if i don't see you by then. I'm leaving to Rizhskaya on my own."

He turned and faced Artyom as if he were a general sending a soilder off to his death.

Artyom shuddered, despite having been through the metro alone before, he was in no rush to do it again. He started to feel his heartbeat race and the hair on his neck stand on end. But he knew this should not deter him.

"Okay, Bourbon." Artyom said, his voice low and filled with trrepidation.

"I''ll scout it out and try to make it back in time. But if i don-"

"Artyom," Bourbon interrupted him, "Just make it back."

Artyom nodded in agreement, turning to the pitch black tunnel behind him and starting to make his way down, each step amplifying the rising feeling of anxiety inside him.

CHAPTER 4

A CRY FROM THE DARKNESS

The call for help was becoming louder and more audible to Artyom as he passed the tunnels threshold. Artyom lifted his weapon, an old bastard gun, modified with a taped on flashlight at the end of its barrel. He pointed it in the void of darkness and continued to step forward, breathing more heavily.

Shit, the words almost parted Artyoms lip. His flash light had caught sight of something in the darkness, he focused the light in its direction and found a mauled body on the ground. He stepped closer to it, his finger hovering on the rifles trigger and ready to fire. Shining the light on to the mysterious corpse, Artyom discovered it was simply a dead nosalis, the side of its body riddled with bullets and infested with festering white maggots.

Artyom felt the whiskey start to rise up from his stomach but helled it back, not wanting to add to the foul stench of the tunnel.

"Help!" the voice had come again, this time it was clear and loud. Artyom's head spun to the direction of the sound and spotted a passageway built into the left side of the wall.

He must be in there, Artyom thought, either that or the tunnels have driven me mad. He flinched at the thought, the idea that prolonged travel through the metros tunnels had caused him to go mad, like it did to many others.

He shook his head, attempting to keep such thoughts at bay, his attention focused on finding the young boy and re-uniting him with his father.

As he walked, he spotted the bodies of other nosalis splayed across the ground. Each had been killled in a similar fashion, with the bullets of an AK-47 or a kaashnikov rifle.

Perhaps these tunnels had been scouted before, Artyom thought, maybe armed travellers cleared out the nosalis but continued on without hearing the boy.

"Help!"

Artyom turned the corner and stepped into the dimly lit passageway where a few ceiling light bulbs flickered. He kept his gun raised and walked foreward, now approaching another corner.

"Hello," Artyom called, "Zenya!"

"Please help, did mommy send you," the youthful voice yelled back.

"Yes," said Artyom, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.

"Please come, i'm around the corner."

Artyom broke into a run and turned the corner. In the distance he saw the small outline of a child from the shadowy tunnel ahead and called out to him, "Zenya!"

The child did not respond and Artyom began to panic. He turned around, realizing that he had been lured into a trap but met the butt of a rifle to his skull, smaking him down to the ground with a heavy thud and casting him into a deep unconcious slumber.

CHAPTER 5

BOURBONS WISDOM

"That women deserves a raise," said an excited voice, "how many fools has she sent our way now, five, six."

Artyom felt his head ring as he came back to conciousness and tried to make out the figures around him.

"look, our little hero is waking up," a voice mocked.

"Who are you?" Artyom asked, his eyes and ears still adjusting as he awoke

A series of mocking laughter answered him, "We are the nice genetlement who will be asking you some questions and relieving you of your belongings."

Artyom's eyes made out the five men around and his heart sank. Bandits, Artyom thought, i should have known. Damn it.

The men around him were wearing military garments and carrying standard hansa rifles. They stood, circling around the dazed young man and watched him carefully.

Artyom tried to get up but one of the men kicked him, leaving his ribs throbbing with pain.

"Who said you could get up, you prick," said a tall man from the group.

Another bent down to punch Artyom in the face, causing his head to hit the floor and his cheeck to bleed.

"We certainly didn't."

Artyom felt another foot strike his back, then another, and then another until all five men were violently kicking and stomping at him.

"That's it, lets ask this bastard some questions and be done with this," yelled one of the men. He knelt down to staring at Artyoms bloody face directly. Artyom had to wipe the blood from his eye just to make out the mans features; he held bright blue eyes which appeared more sinister in the dim light of the tunnel and he held a wide ugly grin over his beardless face.

"Who are you?" he asked, calmly.

"Artyom, from Timiryazevskaya station" Artyom replied, his mouth tasting of blood.

"And is anyone else with you," he gestured to the entrance where they jumped him.

Artyom knew he couldn't give away Bourbons position, better he die by his own choices then drag him into this.

"No," he said, "it was only me who agreed to help the old woman."

"I bet you regret that decision now, don't you," the man started to chuckle.

"Help, help zenya find mommy," the shortest man of the group imitated the voice of a child and started to laugh at Artyom.

"Don't worry your not the first and you won't be the last," the blue eyed man rose up and started to reach to his revolver holster.

Artyom's mind whirled and his thougths raced. He did not think of his step father, or hunter, or his home station. He only thought of Bourbon and how much of a fool he was for doubting him. Not wanting to see the gun, he closed his eyes

"What the fuck!"

The sound of a suppressed revolver shot killed the silence.

"Where'd the lights go," yelled the men.

What, Artyom thought, openning his eyes to see the tunnel covered in total blackness.

Thank god, Artyom scarmbled away until he felt the wall of the tunnel.

"Shit!" the blue eyed bandit yelled, "Somebody get a light out and find that little pric-."

Before the man could finish his sentance, the sound of five successive shots filled the air followed by the sound of five heavy bodies hitting the ground.

Artyom, still leaning on the wall, felt his heart race and started pull out his knife. But stopped when a warm hand grabbed his arm in the darkness, and the faint outline of a man crouched near him.

"I told you, Artyom" Bourbon's voice spoke.

"Yes, you did. Thank you," Artyom replied, his his ribs and back hurting like hell.

"You should take this as a lesson," he joked.

"What's the lesson," Artyom chuckled.

"Don't trust crying women at a tavern, and always trust Bourbons wisdom."

THE END