Amaury Dreher - Opalescence - The Secret of Pripyat

The night was troubled. I must say that my subconscious was fertile. Fantastic spectra and visions had followed one another without any coherence. My tormented sleep was abruptly broken by a crashing noise. Worried, I woke up with a start, my senses alert and my forehead soaked in sweat. The nocturnal calm contrasted with my agitation.

Did I hear that shot?

I had the greatest difficulty distinguishing dream from reality. My imagination had been so stimulated recently that my mind had turned into a double-edged sword. He was playing tricks on me, hurting me and shattering my perception of reality.

Had I really heard that scream?

I remembered Andrei’s story and his attack outside the Jupiter factory. My skin was oozing fear. My camp was exposed, visible to anyone who approached it without even looking for it. I was trapped. Instinctively, I grabbed my knife, a meagre defence for the terror that animated me. Outside, the wind was roaring, making the branches and fasteners of my tent squeak.

Was I alone in this forest?

It was not the wolves that frightened me, but human beings. Despite the cold, I was sweating heavily, trying to make a decision as best I could. Tired of my passive tension, I silently stepped out of the tent, looking for explanations.

The night was clear. The moon was shining brightly enough to distinguish through the trees.

I slipped between the bushes, always on the alert and as discreetly as possible. The air was humid and full of odours.

A branch cracked. On the lookout, I suddenly stopped all movement. I was trying to imagine an explanation. It could have been the wind or an animal. Maybe it was a soldier? Maybe it was Stalkers? There had only been one shot, with no apparent retaliation. My watch indicated two o’clock in the morning. How long had it been since the shooting? Had it really been followed by a scream or was it the result of a crazy imagination? I remembered Andrei and the gun grip sticking out of his pants. The mobile network was inaccessible: impossible to contact him. I had to rely on only myself.

The freezing night disturbed my thoughts. I didn’t know what to do, taking a look around. Worried and refrigerated, I finally returned to the tent. I came back with more questions than answers. As natural sleep was now impossible to access, I swallowed a small magic tablet that I had stocked up on. This time, no dreams, but the guaranteed promise of a peaceful night. Not even the reactor blowout would wake me up.

The forest was dense and deep. The wind swirled the last dead leaves. I was lost in complex thoughts where elusive ideas swirled in the air like eagles flying over their prey. I felt taunted by my own unconscious. It was a frustrating feeling of which I was the victim. A trap set by my mind for myself. I needed to put an end to this state of floating, to understand what was braving me so finely. I could have remained absorbed in my dreams for thousands of years.

I stopped suddenly. My gaze had been captured by a curious element. Something was lying in the distance. An emerald cloth contrasted with the lightness of the snow. A little haggard, I slowly approached between hesitation and interest. No doubt about it, it was a corpse. Far from having medical examiner knowledge, I was nevertheless wondering about the temporality of the death. My common sense suggested that the last breath came only a few hours ago. The body was spread symmetrically as if the individual had fallen asleep peacefully. It looked like a mysterious totem pole with its frozen look and its arms carefully unrolled, almost as a welcome sign.

It took me a few minutes to realise the grace of her features, the softness of her cheekbones. I had been misled by his short hair and manly shoes, to say the least. The evidence of her femininity froze my blood. Strangely enough, the fact that it was a woman made me much more anxious than before. Had she killed herself? Had she been murdered? What motive could justify such an act in such a place?

There was no evidence of any apparent injury, his physical integrity was intact. It could not have been the work of an animal that would have attacked him. The crime, if there was one, seemed perfectly executed. I was wondering if she had suffered. Not that I had any empathy. I felt more intrigued than compassionate.

I rolled the body on its side, as gently as possible. I had never buried anyone with my own hands before. The body was heavy and difficult to handle. Maybe it was due to my fingers shaking nervously.

I started digging snow, frantically shaking my arms to chase away the different pine cones that were complicating my work. When the cavity was satisfactory, I carefully placed the corpse, replacing the wick of the deceased who was twirling because of the wind. I had previously taken off his shoes and gloves. It would be more useful to me than it would to her. Slowly, almost religiously, I covered her body with snow powder. I held back my actions as if they were likely to create pain, to rush the deceased. When my dark task was finished, I knelt down in front of the small mound of snow. I hadn’t found any identity papers, any clues about this woman’s life. No tattoos, no inscriptions. Not even a phone.

I walked away fast, not without cogitation. The buried body had never ceased to be an enigma, an image that would haunt me forever. I hesitated to contact Andrei to tell him about my find. Maybe he was involved? I started to doubt it. As a precaution, I decided to keep the secret of my discovery. I finally choose to turn back, with a tormented mind and uncertain motivations. Uncomfortable, I tried to purge my thoughts, to turn my attention back to other things as if I was trying to minimise what I had witnessed. However, as I walked, I couldn’t help but remember what I had seen, trying to solve the mystery of the victim. Was the body arranged for me to find it?

My paranoia was getting worse. I imagined myself observed and stalked. It was impossible for me to move forward without taking a quick look behind me. I felt so tiny in that snow-covered forest.

The fog was slowly rising in the sky. It dissipated as if to expose my position to some aerial spectator. The trees seemed taller and more numerous than ever. I was on the lookout, anticipating a possible attack. With one firm hand, I squeezed the grip of the knife in my jacket. I was ready to face anything. At least, I was trying to convince myself of that.

Thinking, I looked up at the treetops, trying to find a solution. My eyes were drawn to a particular element: something was levitating up there. A shiver of fear crossed my mind. How long had the device been watching me?

The drone was about 20 meters above the ground and was taunting me. It probably had a range of several kilometres. His pilot could be located anywhere, perhaps even outside the exclusion zone.

The aircraft had stabilised a few meters from me, decreasing its altitude. He seemed to be watching me. No doubt about it, I was now sure: the drone had followed me into the Red Forest. I now recognised this metallic sound that had seemed so occult to me. The aircraft emitted a discreet but finely perceptible sound. Its light-grey colour made it invisible, it blended perfectly into this snowy environment. Rather compact, the device could operate stealthily and sneak through trees. He knew how to avoid obstacles and mastered low-flying. The pilot was obviously experienced. He had to accumulate dozens of hours of practice and had the necessary experience to operate in a forest environment. The cameras were staring at me while his small rotors were running at full speed. I grabbed a pine cone and tried to aim at the camera. With a very skilful lateral movement, the drone avoided my projectile and then calmly returned to its initial position, ready to resume its observation.