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

Tarasov immediately wishes he hadn’t done so. Che’s open chest reveals a deep wound obviously beyond healing — not in these conditions and the meager first aid kits they have. With hands bloody to the wrists, Nooria applies a large, streptocide-coated gauze pad nonetheless.

“Use a double amount of antiseptics,” Tarasov suggests. “That monster could have poisoned his blood stream.”

“It poisoned him?” Pete asks. “Jesus!”

“I don’t want to imagine all the rot it could’ve collected under its claws. Nika! Davay, give me the antiseptics from your medikit!”

“Oh, fuck that,” Nika shouts. He takes a hip flask and pours a colorless liquid into the wound.

“What are you doing?” Nooria shouts back at him and pushes the Freedomer’s hand away.

“Nu shto? Eto vodka!” Nika says. “Hey, tell her this will disinfect the wound!”

“Are you nuts? Top, keep him away from the wounded!” Tarasov angrily shouts and continues in Russian. “Durak! Only pure alcohol is disinfecting! Pure, hundred percent alcohol! Vodka has forty!”

“Not mine!”

“Even if it had been pure, there’s now more saliva from your dirty mouth in it than alcohol!”

“Give me one more bandage,” Nooria demands. Tarasov hands her another gauze pad and she applies it over the first bandage that it already soaking with blood.

“Don’t waste any more bandages,” Hartman whispers, holding the worried Freedomer in his grasp. “He’s done for.”

As if he wanted to protest, Che emits a gasp. His grey eyes scan the faces of those around him and finally rest on Nooria.

“Dyvchina…”

“He’s talking to you, Nooria,” Tarasov says and tries to smile at Che. “That’s it, bratan! Keep talking!”

Che grasps Tarasov’s hands but keeps looking at Nooria.

“Divchina… ty na kaleni moyi yaytsa.”

A grin appears on Tarasov’s face while he translates. “Uhm… you are kneeling on his balls, Nooria.”

“Oh… sorry,” Nooria replies embarrassed and pulls her knee from the fighter’s groin.

“Tough SOB. He’ll make it after all,” the Top says with relief. “Don’t die on us, soldier! That’s a damned order! Tell him, Mikhailo!”

It appears Che is slowly regaining his strength, though the fresh bandage is already becoming red from the fresh blood still gushing from the wound.

“Kak ty… krasivaya,” Che whispers and a faint smile appears on his pale, sweaty face. “I said… you are very beautiful.”

“Thank you,” Nooria replies, wiping blood from her hands. “You are—”

But the fighter doesn’t seem listening to her.

“You are so beautiful,” comes another English sigh from Che’s lips, “like… like my…mama.”

Che mutters the last word with a long sigh and the grasp of his fingers on Tarasov’s hand suddenly loosens.

Nooria buries her face in her still bloody hands.

For a moment, the companions stand speechless.

“Net! This cannot be!” Nika struggles himself free and kneels at the body. “Hey Che, you can’t do this! Don’t fucking die!”

“He died a fine death, a good warrior’s death,” Hartman says. “He will be remembered. What was his name again?”

“Che,” Tarasov softly says. “Like in Che Guevara.”

“Outstanding. Pete, come with me. Don’t know what other shit this place gonna throw at us but I don’t want it to catch us with our pants down!”

“Don’t be wandering too far.”

“We’ll be standing watch right at the door, don’t worry.”

Cold and unfeeling as the Top’s level-headedness appears, it helps his companions to get over the Freedomer’s death. Nooria gently closes his eyelids. Nika takes a big swig from his flask while Tarasov checks on the Monolithian prisoner.

“What should we do with this guy?” he asks.

Nika shrugs. “I don’t care. If you ask me, we better shoot him on the spot. No way for me to take him back with me alone.” He wipes sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “Don’t even know how I will get back to Yanov. My shoulder is busted. Hurts like hell. I need to hold my rifle with my left hand. But then I was never much of a marksman, anyway.”

Tarasov studies Nika’s round, fair-skinned face. Obviously, the Freedomer is no genius but appears to be a trustable man. The battle with the chimera proved that he is a hardened fighter, too, who can be relied upon.

“To Yanov, you say?” Tarasov asks. “That’s bad news. There’s a Duty outpost at the old electricity substation on the way there. If they see you in Freedom kit, wandering alone—tough luck, Nika.”

“I could also go to the Army Warehouses. That’s closer, but then I’d have to go through that damned village with all the Bloodsuckers! Looks like I’m fucked either way.”

“You are,” Tarasov says. “Better listen to my proposal. We go together to Zaton. Where we go exactly is none of your business, but we can bring you close enough to Yanov Station — if you do something for me.”

Nika looks at him with eager interest. “I’m all ears, buddy.”

“You will not deliver the prisoner to your commander.“

“What? Commander Loki would promote me for bringing him in!”

“No, because you will look for a free Stalker called Strider or Crow or whatever call sign he uses now.”

“I heard about Strider. Folks say he’s a hell of a sniper. Rumor has it he also used to be with them,” Nika nods and jerks his hand towards the incapacitated prisoner. “But didn’t he join those Duty assholes?”

“He is working alone now. So—find him, hand the Monolithian over to him and we’re quits.”

“What if I just shoot him once you’re out of sight?”

“Rumors are correct. Strider was a Monolith squad leader once. He and his comrades are still looking for other Monolithians to knock some sense into them. They value any opportunity to save one of their brain-washed ‘brothers’. You don’t want to make a bunch of former Monolithians angry at you, do you?”

“You think I’m mad?” Nika says with a shudder. “Of course I don’t!”

“Smart choice. Now give me your PDA for a moment.”

Reluctantly, Nika hands him over the device. Tarasov switches to text message mode. The transmission will reach almost every PDAs in the Zone, although many Stalkers have turned off this facility—no one would share anything important with the whole Zone. Tarasov hopes his former ally from the New Zone belongs to the few who didn’t.

Crow. Where are you striding? Reply to this PDA only. He hesitates for an instant before completing his message; after all, it would be unwise to sign it as Condor, his old call sign. Then he just adds: No choppers to down this time.

“All right,” he says, “message sent. Let’s see if he replies.”

“You keeping my PDA is no part of the deal, buddy!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give it back soon enough.”

Tarasov proves lucky. He has just moved Che’s body into a more dignified position when the PDA beeps, signaling an incoming text message.

Thought condors are extinct in the Zone. Glad to know at least one still prevails. Hope you found cigarettes for me.

Tarasov smiles while he types the reply, this time directed only to one particular PDA. Strider has the positioning facility turned off, not giving Tarasov any clue about his whereabouts but he finds this secrecy very much suiting the renegade’s character.

Bad habits die hard. So does the whisper of the Monolith. I’m sending your way a pair of ears needing you to make it unheard. Be at Yanov Station tomorrow. Freedomer called Nika will be looking for you.