Amaury Dreher - Opalescence - The Secret of Pripyat

I picked up a stone, a branch, snow, everything I could get my hands on to throw it on the machine. Nothing to do. The drone was dodging peacefully and waiting for my next agitation.

The aircraft was sensitive to movement. I tried to run and then hide behind a tree trunk. The device circled concentrically in the sky, gradually lowering its altitude. It seemed furious that he had lost track of me and was trying in every way to find me. I felt that its pilot was angry. Relieved, I tried not to move, keeping my position, like a soldier ambushed behind enemy lines. I closed my eyes to calm myself. My comfort was short-lived. The slight buzzing of the aircraft was approaching me again. The drone could be sophisticated enough to detect thermal variations and therefore the heat emitted by my body in this icy environment. To avoid this risk, I decided to roll in the snow, covering my skin with powder to my ears in order to build a makeshift camouflage. These efforts were useless. The drone found me in a few minutes and stood over me again. He seemed to be measuring me, his little rotors were twirling around in an evil choreography. I run away from it all the more, throwing all my strength into this new escape. I was slaloming through the woods. My only chance to free myself from its pursuit was to take refuge in the deep forest, where the trees are too close together and the foliage dense enough.

The aircraft could not keep track of me unless it flew at a very low altitude, which made flying extremely difficult because of the increasingly thick bushes and possible snowfall that could damage the drone.

I was at the top of a small hill that gave me a pretty good view of the surroundings. With a breath of fresh air, I descended a little further down the slope. A half-frozen stream flowed down below. The river was crossed by a slight current that prevented it from freezing completely. I jumped off the small stone bridge over it and found myself in the cold, sticky water. I was now less exposed.

The stream was somewhat masked by threatening ferns that I considered my allies. I ignored the antlers that whipped my face and kept moving forward. My legs were submerged and I had to fight against the mud and all kinds of plants that slowed my progress. The temperatures were polar, but the adrenaline made me immune to the bitter cold. I finally stopped a few metres further on, where the river was narrowing.

Squatting down as much as possible, I waited for long minutes while holding my breath. I listened carefully to distinguish the so discreet noise from my pursuer. Nothing, nothingness.

The silence was insolent. Only the creek’s friselis was perceptible. I had won. The drone had lost track of me and probably turned back.

I’d stay there for a few minutes shivering. I wasn’t even thinking about measuring the radiation level anymore. Perhaps these waters were dangerous? Perhaps these furs were full of rare diseases and bacteria little understood by science? I didn’t care about that. I had reached that sensitive point where my fears had been prioritised in such a way that the Zone and its dangers were not more than a trivial concern, a distraction at most. The real danger was the people living in this territory, those who were chasing me, but whose nature I didn’t know.

I remembered that corpse, that woman they had tried to obliterate. Maybe she had children. Instinctively, I was thinking of my own mother. Was she missing me?

I realised I had never discussed the disaster with her before. Our common life had been punctuated by unspoken words and a false painless detachment. After my father’s death, the subject was no longer discussed. She would never know that I had been to Pripyat. She had always wanted to forget that life. Will I see her again? She didn’t seem to be willing to do so. After all, it wasn’t important. She had almost deserted my memory. I had removed her from my existence. Recent events had followed one another and now represented a disorganised whole. My memories were imperfect, they crackled and intertwined in a devious dance. I struggled to achieve coherence. I was missing something, an imminent fear was poisoning me.

My phone rang suddenly. Andrei had sent me a message:

“I have terrible news: Amanda is dead! Run out of the Zone, escape from here!”

I was taped to my screen. I reread the short text over and over again. I wanted to keep it in my memory for a long time, and certainly not to forget it. The headaches were coming back, I closed my eyes.

11th day in the Zone.

The place looked familiar to me. It was obvious, I had been around these places as a child. It was a theatre. I could have sworn it. My memory amazed me. I could easily visualise the appearance of the room and the shape of the seats; however, I had no idea what I had done the day before. Where had I slept? Who had I met? I was unable to remember my last meal. My memories seemed to drown in a misty ocean. My brain refused to make this effort. It was not laziness, but rather a kind of natural veto as if I was biologically programmed not to remember certain events. It doesn’t matter. The present moment was otherwise precious. The pungent smell of abandonment that filled my nostrils. The stale, dusty air rushing into my lungs. The precarious ground, whose wobbly parquet floor threatened to tear and rush me to the lower floor. These very real sensations occupied my mind and guided me in my quest for exploration. I wanted to deepen my research, to reach beyond.

I left the building. An illegible sign pointed northeast, where many clouds were fighting over the sky. It was appealing. I had to cross a river to get there. The built bridge had never been renovated and most of it had collapsed. So I would have to cross the ice.

The frost was significant, I had no doubt about the solidity of the passage. I made a commitment without hesitation. Nevertheless, the accumulated fatigue deprived me of my usual precautions. I had a heavy and not very agile step. My mind was numb, apathetic. The slight cracks on the floor should have caught my attention. The abnormal sounds of the ice cracking should have frightened me. I didn’t pay attention to these omens and set out to move forward. My eyes were fixed on the other side, my only objective.

When I reached two thirds, I took a short break, just to catch my breath. Calm my breathing, relax my muscles. I needed a handful of seconds at most. The resumption of my effort was imminent. Suddenly, the ice gave way. Without a summons, I was precipitated in water at -3 °C. The river was moderately deep, but the temperature was paralysing me. I was unable to swim and was slowly sinking. My numb limbs were immutable while the ice water burned my face. In a flash of lucidity, I disengaged my arms from the straps of my backpack. I also managed to get rid of my jacket that restricted my movements. So I had no choice but to let my things flow into the dark depths. Released, I tried to wiggle my body, to move my legs and arms in order to get back up. I resurfaced with shortness of breath and imploring lungs.

My underwater agitation had caused the ice blocks around me to sway. It was easier for me to swim to shore now. In a final effort, I reached the shore, clinging to branches to pull myself out of the water.

I was shaking from the cold, hungry and lost. My Geiger counter was condemned, I no longer had any landmarks and could no longer ensure my safety. I now had to progress blindly, without any information about the amounts of radiation to which I was exposed. The trembling of the cold slowly turned into a shiver of terror. The situation was slipping through my fingers once again. By squinting my eyes, I managed to see something in the sky. A chimney spat out a black cloud: human life was there. Exhausted, I fell to my knees in the snow. The blizzard kept me from screaming, from asking for help. My senses were getting weaker. I finally lost consciousness. I felt myself floating in a nebulous dream, where the flakes fell as I slashed my skin and clothes. The trees swung as they crossed, they seemed to be plotting against me. Enigmatic sounds came to me, but I was unable to interpret them. Was I crazy? Was I dead? Was the Great Journey beginning? How could I be able to think?