Amaury Dreher - Opalescence - The Secret of Pripyat

I swore loud and clear: “Kurva!”

The poison of doubt was spreading in me. The screams of the counter did not help concentration. I remembered Andrei’s warnings. “No one will pick you up there.” My unease was growing and I had no desire to spend the night in this forest. I didn’t want to do it because the prospect of a wild nightmare terrified me so much. I shouted for help, begging with all my strength. The echo back of my voice slapped my face. I shouted more loudly, burning my lungs in a monstrous effort. My pleas remained unheard. With my hands in visor to protect myself, I tried at all costs to move forward, to survive a little longer. Stumbling and out of breath, I was forced to slow down. My sight was blurred, my senses were diminished. Exhaustion was watching me. Slowly, the darkness enveloped me.

A powerful heaviness inhabited my body. My limbs seemed inert and uncontrollable. I wasn’t dead. My conscience suggested thoughts to me. I still had a survival instinct. I felt that strong hands were grabbing me and I was leaving the ground. I could feel the change in gravity that was happening and the caresses of the wind on my face. I was trying to understand, to interpret these feelings. Oleksandr carried me on his back in a rather primary way, a bit like carrying a bag of rice up a hill.

Was he my saviour? How did he find me? I was unable to say anything.

“You look very pale.” He said, looking amused.

Oleksandr seemed much less dull than usual. Was he bipolar? I had never seen a smile before. It took me almost to die to see him sketch a positive emotion. He was incomprehensible, but almost endearing. The bugger seemed almost satisfied to find me in this state. He took me to his vehicle and placed me in the back while dressing me in a survival blanket. Oleksandr stood at the front and started the 4x4 whistling. I struggled to keep my eyelids open and keep a visual record of what was happening. The heating and fatigue got the better of me. I fell asleep in a few seconds.

When I woke up, I instantly understood that I was no longer in the Zone. Something had changed. Something perceptible and striking enough for me to notice immediately. A glance through the window was sufficient to convince me definitively. The sky was different, devoid of the hues of the Zone. I was watching the room around me. It was Oleksandr’s place. He brought me back with him to the suburbs of Kiev. It seemed unreal to me to find myself in his house, so inspired was he to me an enigmatic character whose secrets were inviolable.

I had slept for about 11 hours. He gave me some vitamin pills and served me a wonderfully strong coffee.

—Sorry, I don’t have anything else. You have to be satisfied with it. It’ll get you back on your feet. I don’t know how much radiation you exposed yourself to but it must have been pretty gigantic. What the hell did you go there for?

—Actually, I have no idea. I felt extremely attracted to this forest. It was as if a singular force was whispering to me to go there. I lost all reasoning, all coherence of mind and I entered it. I went head first and ventured deeper and deeper. I didn’t understand what was going on. I don’t think I’m the first one to go there.

—Oh, no, don’t worry about it! Others made that mistake before you. Some have even camped there already. Simply walking alone in winter and not telling anyone is foolish.

—Andrei was aware of my intention, I replied.

—That doesn’t mean he would have gone to get you, he replied. You know, I’ve heard some pretty sordid stories about this forest. Young people would have died there a few years ago. They would have practiced some kind of ritual for one of them’ birthday. We don’t know what really happened, but only one of them came back. He refused to speak and was placed in a psychiatric hospital. All this to tell you that visiting this place is not insignificant.

I thought that the Zone was indeed a victim of its success. I was thinking about the two teenage skinheads. Like them, there must have been hundreds of people coming to ransack the place and have fun. Their behaviour was becoming more and more aggressive. Their immature escapades were dangerous. I asked Oleksandr about them. Faithful to himself, he shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

—They are stupider than they are fearsome. I’ve already met a few of them. The most harmful are those who venture out alone. Almost all of them are armed. In fact, even some ordinary visitors are. Once I carried a group of tourists and things got out of hand. At the time, the circuits were much freer. I took them wherever I wanted. The government had no control over anything, I had carte blanche. So I had guided them to a fairly isolated and well-preserved area. They were quite excited, they felt like pioneers and thought of themselves as such. Some just had many beers and others were under the influence of marijuana. In the afternoon, two fools had provoked a Dutch tourist by pretending to push him into the Pripyat river. He didn’t like it at all. A brawl broke out and one of them drew a knife. The guy ended up in the ER with five stitches, but the case was hushed up.

—Is that why you stopped the visits? Did you get fired?

—No. I left of my own free will a few months later. I told you before, I’m no longer interested in the Zone as such.

I tried to get it back on track.

—When were the first visits made?

—With guides?

—Yes, I replied.

—All this merry mess started in the late’90s. At the time, nothing was regulated and the Zone was infinitely more dangerous than it is today. Visitors and Stalkers behaved in any way they could: they drank river water and lit campfires. As I told you, some of them spent the night in gangs and took ill-considered risks. Thank God, the situation has changed a little. Subsequently, the government has more or less secured things by institutionalising visits with agencies approved by the state services. Things accelerated in the early 2000s and especially after the Orange Revolution. Now with the new sarcophagus, it’s much less dangerous, so it’s even easier. The popularity of the exclusion zone is exponential. Tourism is going to explode. In a few years, the Zone will compete with Disneyland, you’ll see.

He seemed disillusioned and took up the serious look to which he had accustomed me:

—You can’t stay here very long. Where do you want me to take you?

—I’ll walk back, I’ll be fine. I will use public transport.

Not surprisingly, Oleksandr nodded. Without saying a word, he put a few coins in my pocket and pushed me out. Not without some difficulty, I found the bus stop stuck between two blocks of buildings quite hideous.

I arrived at my hotel after an itinerary that seemed endless to me. Some snot-nosed kids had passed by, stuck on their phones to trigger animal noises to distract the driver.

Evolving in an urban environment was confusing after living in the Zone. The car horns, the music in the shops, the discussions of passers-by in the street… All these noises annoyed me. All these people in motion were polluting my field of vision. Bright fast-food chains were aggressive to the eye. Maidan square still had the scars of the 2014 uprisings. References to free Ukraine and the European Union were scattered throughout the city.

In Kiev, the average income was 250 euros while corruption was at its highest. Once equivalent, Ukraine’s GDP was now five times lower than its Polish neighbour. I was thinking about that damn report I was supposed to do. What exactly did I promise my supervisor? I was no longer totally sure. I finally arrived at my destination. My hotel room seemed dull, soulless to me. The radiator was broken, the insulation: almost non-existent. I wanted to escape as soon as possible. One more night and I’ll leave this place.