Balázs Pataki - S.T.A.L.K.E.R. - Northern Passage

“He was about killing us, little brother,” Nooria says.

“Yeah… One moment he was still yelling his bullshit, trying to kill us, then I pulled the trigger and he was dead.”

“It wasn’t the first kill in your life, son,” the Top says. “Remember that ambush?”

“The first where I was close enough to see his face.”

“Keep up the good job, Marine.”

“Don’t think too much of it,” Tarasov says and gives the kid a comforting pat on the back. “Monolithian fanatics are not even remotely good guys.”

“That’s not what I mean, Mikhailo.” Pete stares at the dead Preacher with the look of someone who just woke up from a long slumber. “I killed a man and I liked it.”

“Slowly, you’re becoming fit for the Tribe,” the Top says with a satisfied smile.

“What did you like about that?” Tarasov asks.

“Myself. I liked myself over not feeling anything.”

Tarasov nods and gives him a smile. “That’s good to know. The Top would disagree but if you have a hang for killing, death will also have a hang for you.”

“Oh, come on with that,” the Top says rolling his eyes. “Let’s get down to earth. We made it through and they didn’t. That’s that! On we go.”

“Yes, we better go. It’s almost dark. Nooria, you okay?”

“I am. But look, that man is still alive!”

They all look at the Monolith fighter lying a few steps away. It was the fighter whom Tarasov hit after reloading his rifle. Rolled on his side and wriggling in an embryonic position, the Monolithian moans from pain.

“Ya ranen! … ”

The Top moves to shoot him but Tarasov holds him back. Undecided about what to do with the wounded enemy, he kneels down to him. However, it is not him but Hartman the Monolithian is talking to.

“Bratan ,” he says raising an arm and pointing to the Top, “you are a brother! You are one of us! I feel it!”

“What’s he saying, Major?”

“Just bullshit,” Tarasov replies and looks elsewhere. Strange thoughts come to his mind.

A Monolithian recognizing a Tribe warrior as a spiritual brother? Could it be that the Wish Granter and the evil altar beneath the City of Screams are related?

“Seems like he is talking to me, Major. Hey, you’re looking pale!”

Of course they are. The Colonel’s men wished for ruling the world. They got it, in the Wish Granter’s twisted way. Oh God — it’s all the same!

“He’s… just talking in delirium.”

“Wow, wow, wow,” a cheerful voice says. “You’ve got really bad karma, that’s for sure!”

The Freedom commander raises a hand in greeting. Two of his men accompany him, holding their assault rifles cradled. Judging by their heavy gear, Tarasov believes them to be one of Freedom’s more elite assault teams and not the reckless guerillas this faction is infamous for.

“Peace,” he greets them. “We’re just Loners on our way to Yanov.”

“Whoever you are, you really helped us out. Thanks!” the Freedom commander replies. “We’ll chat later but first, let’s see to this fellow here. I’m gonna patch him up first and then interrogate.”

“How?”

“By a great display of teamwork,” the Freedomer says as he takes a first-aid kit from his rucksack and tends to the Monolithian’s wound. “Tolik and Kolya will grab him, I’ll count till three and then they throw him into the nearest anomaly.”

“Are you joking?”

“Yes. Kolya, help him up and bring him to that log hut. We’ll stay there for the night.”

“Always me,” the Freedomer called Kolya grumbles but drags the Monolithian on his feet.

“My name is Che,” the Freedom leader says. “We lost two good men to these fanatics but it would’ve been more without you showing up. Before you ask—we have nothing in a way of reward, if that’s why you’re looking at me like kids at Santa Claus.”

“I’d be pleased enough if you let me keep the Preacher’s VAL rifle,” Tarasov says.

“Oh, that’s why you’ve that look on your face,” Che replies, smiling. “It’s yours, along with anything else you find, except intel. Maps, PDAs and all stuff like that belong to Freedom. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“Perfect. Unless you insist on marching through the Red Forest at night, join us in the log hut.”

“Who are these guys actually?” asks the Top when Che has left.

“Daredevils and anarchists,” Tarasov replies. “I like their company but loathe their ideas.”

“What are their ideas?”

“Officially, to share the Zone’s secrets with the whole world. In reality, to let Western powers steal those secrets from us Ukrainians. Why, where do you think they got all that NATO gear from?”

“I’m not much into local politics, Mikhailo, but we’d better accept their offer. If something nasty comes out of this forest at night it’s better to have more guns around.”

Tarasov looks up into the sky where bright stars shine on the deep blue sky. In a few minutes it will be dark.

“I’m with the Top,” Pete says.

“Right then,” Tarasov concludes seeing that Nooria also nods. “Just don’t tell these guys that we’re going to join the Bandits.”

He takes the silenced, 9mm caliber assault rifle from the Preacher and pats down the corpse for anything valuable.

“I’ve been wanting this rifle ever since I left for the New Zone,” Tarasov says, eyeing his new possession with satisfaction. “But a Gauss rifle would have been even better… Anyway, if not even their Preachers are equipped with coil guns anymore it means we really gave them a beating after Operation Fairway.”

“Coil guns? Jesus!”

“Their god is called Wish Granter, Top.”

The Freedomers have already lit up a small campfire inside the log hut. Two bodies lie outside with a blanket pulled over their faces. With darkness falling, the first mutants begin to howl in the forest outside.

“I think we made the right decision,” Hartman observes.

Tarasov bows his head for a greeting as they enter the log hut. It smells like earth and damp wood inside. One of the five Freedomers is about to make a campfire, cussing under his breath at the soggy branches not catching fire. Three of his comrades are wearing bandages, apparently to treat the wounds suffered during the ambush. The fighters called Tolik and Kolya flank the captured Monolithian while Che is rolling an improbably big joint.

“I kinda like these fellows,” Pete says with his eyes shining.

“If you even reach for that stuff I gonna break your damn hand,” Hartman grumbles.

“Hey hello, our nameless saviors!” one of the wounded fighters says for a greeting. “Are you looking for a safe place?”

“Yeah,” Tarasov answers.

“Well, buddy,” the Freedomer drawls, “then you’re at the best place. Freedom will watch over you tonight!”

“That’s very reassuring,” Tarasov says.

Meanwhile, Che has lit up the joint. He removes the prisoner’s helmet and the hazmat mask. A young and handsome face appears, though the look in his eyes is empty.

“Oh Monolith, why did you abandon us,” he whispers.

“I haven’t the foggiest idea buddy, but this will help your imagination.” Che draws on the joint and then forces it between the prisoner’s lips. “Attaboy. Now take a deep breath or I shoot you.”

No one is surprised when the prisoner prefers to inhale.

“So, how many of you are there in Limansk? I’ve shared this first-class weed with you, you must have very base reasons for not telling us about your base.”

The prisoner’s eyes are still empty as he looks at Che, who chuckles about his own pun.

“Limansk? Base?”