Amaury Dreher - Opalescence - The Secret of Pripyat

As I was retiring, I was thinking, trying to come up with a coherent reasoning. Amanda was also on the treasure trail. She had studied the issue for years and learned a lot. Originally from Cologne, she regularly planned trips to the Zone. The lure of adventure attracted her much more than profit. She knew exactly what she was doing and didn’t take any ill-considered risks. She had studied physics at university and had the right equipment to play in the exclusion zone. Oleksandr had grown up in Poland. He was fluent in German and had been able to get in touch with her easily. His quality as a former guide must have given Amanda confidence because he knew the Zone so well. Their collaboration could facilitate their research, their common ambition. Andrei had always seemed elusive to me. Yet he had introduced me to all the facets of his personality. Sometimes jovial, sometimes sinister, he was often friendly, sometimes sincere. He seemed very confident but also completely lost. I couldn’t figure it out. I was thinking about the nature of his relationship with Amanda. It was troubled, as was the one he had with Oleksandr. I had never really had confirmation of the link between these three…

I immediately noticed Oleksandr’s worried look from the moment we met in that damn bar. I was suddenly surrounded by a certain paranoia. The person who introduced me to the Zone, the one who guided my first steps, may have manipulated me. A shiver ran down my spine. What was my role in that? What piece of the puzzle was I occupying? I was trying to gather my memories. Nothing obvious was clear to me. Reminiscences, when you hunt them down, are always able to escape. They were drowning in this ever more fleeing whirlwind, this inexorable mass of pain with which I was trying to fight. The suffering was both physical and psychological. Concentrated in the only space of my skull, it didn’t give me a chance. Every day more and more, I was moving away from the redemption to which I aspired.

I was thinking about the corpse I buried. Was Oleksandr responsible? Was I able to do that? Could I have forgotten something about it? The sweat was soaking my face. I felt that I held the key to the enigma. Part of me knew the solution. The ultimate obstacle was me.

It is easy to manipulate others, but cheating your own mind is a different matter. The undertaking is difficult and highly schizophrenic. We must measure our weaknesses, tame our darkness and dominate our reason. My subconscious housed the answer. I had to force him by any means necessary.

Who else held the secret of my situation? Was my amnesiac condition perceptible? I was convinced that Andrei knew. Amanda must have told him. She had detected it so quickly…

I walked along the path like a condemned man, my arms dangling, and my head down. Ruminations turned into deep despair. I hated myself for forgetting, I despised myself for existing. My suicidal thoughts were interrupted by the vibrations of my phone. Someone wanted to call me. The number was hidden. I answered. A calm and hoarse voice uttered these three words:

“Jäta või sureke”.

The conversation was immediately cut off. I could not identify the language used, but the tone was threatening and unequivocal. Each syllable seemed to be shooting at me. Once again, the spectre of fear was spreading. Around me, the snowfall was intensifying. I turned off my phone for good and started running towards Pripyat.

I arrived a few hours later, soaked in terror. The city was darker than usual. The wind was strong and visibility poor. I saw a silver minibus with its characteristic sky blue logo. A group of tourists were present at the site. They were probably exploring the surrounding buildings, no one was inside the vehicle except the driver. I was trying to keep a low profile. After three weeks in the Zone, my appearance had become appalling. I had a shaggy beard and a nauseous smell. Even worse, I was starving. I had to steal food to survive.

I was waiting a few seconds, lurking in a bush. The driver of the minibus had not locked the doors. After all, no one was supposed to be there except the group of visitors. Why would you block a door in a completely abandoned city?

The driver pulled himself out of the machine and took a few steps into the forest to urinate. I took advantage of this moment to discreetly enter the vehicle and search the tourists’ bags until I found a sandwich and a pack of cigarettes. I grabbed my loot and ran away in a hurry.

Once again, I tried to clear my head, to think calmly about this framework that was beyond me. Finally, I had been wrong from the beginning. I thought I was the instigator of our common treasure hunt. I was rather the cog, the abused pawn whose senses and weaknesses had been exploited by others.

Rightly so, my psychosis was now exacerbated. I was mentally visualising all the events since I entered the Zone, the meetings I had had, the places I had visited. I tried to organise my memories, to seek a meaning, some coherence to these events. Was there a more comprehensive plan? Perhaps we should go further back? Had I really come to the Zone on my own initiative, or was it the result of subtle incentives, of cleverly arranged manipulations?

From the beginning, Oleksandr had behaved strangely, with his apparent detachment constantly imbued with nervousness. He seemed to me tormented and cold towards me, as if I were the cause of his concerns.

I myself had a certain uneasiness that remained unexplained. It is true that since childhood I had been suffering from anxiety, nightmares, dizziness and other more or less disabling disorders. Temporary depressions too. Who hasn’t had one before? Nevertheless, I had not always suffered in this way. I recalled that distant ataraxy that was my childhood in Pripyat.

The possibility of post-traumatic stress disorder hit me hard. The evacuations had triggered this syndrome in thousands of people, who were still suffering from various ailments. However, their condition was poorly recognised and rarely claimed. On the other hand, some liquidators had brought actions against the European Court of Human Rights in order to obtain compensation. On the other hand, evacuees from Pripyat and the villages in the Zone had not received anything.

I tried to explore the origin of my failures, to realise a self-criticism of my psyche. Andrei and Amanda were aware of my condition. Oleksandr also knew. He had measured my propensity to forget, but also my intuition skills. After all, I was the only one of us who grew up in the Zone. The solution to the riddle was me. I had to locate and unlock Pripyat’s treasure so they could appropriate it. Once the objective is reached, I will be eliminated. My corpse would be easy to hide and no one would claim my body for an autopsy. My life didn’t matter, my existence was ridiculous. Only what was buried in the depths of my memory mattered.

Oleksandr was clever, he had a head start at all times. Probably he knew my position right now or worse, maybe he was currently observing me.

Again, strong paranoia and headaches appeared. The sky was devilishly bright, which made me uncomfortable. I was out in the open, in the middle of a road serving Pripyat.

I was trying to reach the forest to gain discretion. Wrapped in trees, I tried to think. Amanda was dead, Andrei had run away. All that was left was Oleksandr and me. Was he acting alone now? Maybe he had an accomplice? I was thinking of Babushka, Egor, the Howler…

I was torn by hesitation. The choice was perfidious. Leave the Zone and end this nightmare or complete this scavenger hunt that only I had the solution to? What did I have left? I could dive into the icy water of the river and never come out. Hanging was also possible. The trees were legion and their long branches were spread like evil arms, diabolical temptations. These invitations to die were taunting me. No, I was better than that.