Amaury Dreher - Opalescence - The Secret of Pripyat

I remained silent in front of his monologue. She continued:

—You know, I traveled a lot before I moved to Cologne. I have walked the deserts of Kazakstan and the steppes of Siberia. My family had a house on the banks of the Karelia River. It was in Russia that I met Andrei, he was camping on the heights, near my native village. We lost sight of each other for a few years, but our common interest in the Zone brought us together. Where are you staying in Kiev?

—In a seedy hotel whose name I forgot.

She smiled, my memory problems amused her.

—How long have you had this?

—This?

—This amnesia.

I was irritated when I heard about this deficiency.

—I don’t have amnesia. The cold and lack of sleep affect my faculties. This environment is of such sensory intensity, how can we not be affected?

—Um, I’m doing pretty well. Andrei suffers from some side effects, mainly nausea or vomiting. He spends too much time here. I advised him to go to a specialist, but he doesn’t see the point. He says he’s careful, he knows the Zone well now, but I guess the radiation still affected him. We had to warn you, no one leaves here unscathed. That’s why the Babushkas chose to stay. She paused for a moment before questioning me:

—Still… I’m curious. What kinds of memories do you have from here? Do you have any images coming back to you?

—It’s quite confusing. I remember the look of the trees that bordered the entrance to the city, but also the wallpaper in my room. On the other hand, I have difficulty visualising what our daily life was like and how it affected me. It is said that the environment of our childhood conditions our entire existence. I was shaped by this place, somehow I belong to it.

—Will you bring your children here?

—Probably not. I do not wish them to be haunted by any past, whatever it may be.

She suddenly changed the subject.

—So you’re a journalist?

—Yes, I work in a small publication. We do reports, miscellaneous facts without much pretension, sometimes a little politics.

—I see… Can I read your article when it’s finished?

—Actually, I still don’t know what to write about. I was thinking of doing a subject on the tourist development of the Zone, but this type of reporting already exists by the dozens.

—And why don’t you tell your own story? A former resident of Pripyat who became Stalker, it would promise exciting developments.

—It would rather be a novel, but I have no literary ambition.

She took a long breath.

—Who first mentioned the treasure of Pripyat to you? What did they tell you?

I had a moment’s pause. A slow frenzy was taking hold of me. It was more than just a common headache, more of dizziness, with a feeling of déjà vu that made me uncomfortable. Was I aware of anything? Of course I did, but I was unable to burst that memory. I only perceived shivers that suggested clues that I couldn’t decipher. It was an opaque, elusive feeling. Doubt was germinating in me, spreading its horrors throughout my whole body.

2 days later.

I was back with Amanda.

—What’s up? Have you been able to move forward?

—Not really. I went to see Duga. I climbed it to the top. It was beautiful, but I didn’t find anything.

—Didn’t you meet anyone there?

—No! Not a clue, nothing.

—Are you sure about that?

—Absolutely.

She seemed skeptical.

—So too bad for Duga. You should try to get close to the man who lives in the northern part of the Zone. We call him The Howler. I saw him once, it was a few months ago. They say he goes out a lot more in winter. Maybe you’ll have a chance with him.

—Isn’t he dangerous?

—No, not at all. He’s a good man, but he can be unpredictable. Don’t insist if he’s on a bad day.

—How can I reach it?

She laughed.

—I think he’ll find you first. All you have to do is get lost across the river to the northeast. Go off the trails and follow the horizon. Maybe he’ll tell you something. He can be very talkative, depending on the situation. By the way, you didn’t tell me how you got into the Zone for the first time.

—I’m here because of Oleksandr. I couldn’t have gotten in without him. Besides, you and Andrei seem to know him well, don’t you? What do you think of him?

Amanda was silent. She seemed hesitant, almost intimidated. She was uncomfortable with Oleksandr’s evocation. She bit her lip.

—I shouldn’t say this, but he scares me. I don’t trust him too much. He’s the kind of enigmatic person, you know. Andrei is the one who frequents him, but he fears it. He even forbade me to be alone with him. Not that he’s dangerous… It’s just… well… he’s like that. We owe him a lot.

—Why?

She bit her lip again, this time until she bled.

—Oh nothing, some old stories… Oleksandr is a good person. He had a difficult life, that’s all. That must explain his mood swings.

She didn’t seem to want to say anything more.

—Tell me again about Duga, did Andrei go back?

—I think he goes from time to time. He has doubts about the solidity of the structure. Didn’t he explain it to you? It is still more than 30 years old and has not been maintained for ages. But the sunsets are beautiful, they say. What is your next goal?

—You know, sometimes I think about giving up and leaving.

—Don’t do that. Don’t do that.

The tone of his voice had suddenly changed. Amanda seemed almost threatening to me.

—I mean, that would be a shame. We make a good team. I’m sure we’ll get what we want. We’re making progress every day.

I remained silent. In front of my apparent scepticism, she stopped and pressed my arm. She stared at me and said only one word.

—Stay.

The magnetism of his gaze had enough to be persuasive. It pierced the defences, charmed me as much as it frightened me.

We arrived near a glade where some houses seemed to have remained away from the villages. It was an old farmhouse with a barn and a few silos. We went around the small courtyard at the front of the house. Gardening tools were still present. I had the feeling that the departure of the occupants had been very recent. The interior was clean and seemed to be well maintained. Bread was standing in the kitchen as if someone would arrive any minute to cut it up. Barely dusty newspapers were stacked on the ground. Amanda broke the silence: “I think I knew her. This Babushka died a short time ago. She didn’t seem particularly touched. The tone of his voice betrayed a certain detachment. Perhaps she was expecting this discovery?

We were entering the second room. The bedroom was tiny and had no furniture, except for a single bed in very poor condition. The mattress was pretty thick, but pretty rustic. The patterns were discoloured and almost imperceptible. I realised that I had missed a detail. A Post-it was stuck to the door. He mentioned Kopatchi. It was a small village located west of the Pripyat River. After the evacuations, the decision was made to bury the houses in order to avoid returns and deter looters. They were now buried under clay mounds and radioactive hazard warning signs. Very few buildings had escaped this fate. Kindergarten was one of them. It had therefore not been spared from looting. Evil beings would come here and steal things or ransack the place.

I examined the Post-it. It must have been hung recently. The writing was blurry and hasty. It could have been mine. I tore off the piece of paper and buried it in my pocket. I didn’t know what to do with it, but my instinct was to keep it safe.

Amanda put her head in the embrace: ‘I’m tired, let’s go back to Pripyat.’