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

“Jack. Misha Chekh here.”

“At last! What the hell took you so long?”

“Resistance was heavier than expected but the mission is accomplished. The helipad is secure and the wrecked chopper has been removed.”

“Casualties?”

“Only the two pindos , the Freedomer and the Dutyer made it through.”

“Abdul?”

“Abdul’s gone. Stepped on a damned land mine after he finished the job.”

“There are still mines?”

Another detonation blasts the edge of the minefield.

“Don’t worry, we’re about to clean it.”

“Yeah, I hear it. Too bad about Abdul. Such a waste of talent.”

“Damn tragic indeed.”

“Never mind, at least I don’t have to pay him. Good job, fellows. Sultan will be pleased.”

“That’s why we’re here, Jack. To please Sultan.” Tarasov is glad Jack can’t see his grin. “What’s next?”

“Stay where you are. Keep any mutants off the helipad until more men arrive.”

“Is, uhm, Margarita safe?”

“You bet she is. Stop whining about her, patsan! You in love with her or what?”

Jack clears the channel.

“As a matter of fact I am,” Tarasov murmurs reattaching the radio set to his belt.

He walks over to Hartman who is giving a Pete a crash course on handling the grenade launcher. “Love at first sight, huh?”

The Top gives him a beaming smile. “You bet.”

“The two deserters are on our side.”

“Wise choice.”

“What about Nooria?” Pete asks. “I’m worried about leaving her alone in the Bandit camp.”

“Jack told me she’s fine.”

“What was that talk about her being an assassin, anyway?”

“No idea. Probably the big boss was impressed by her escape from the SBU.”

“Yup,” the Top nods. “Can’t blame him for falling for her charm.”

“Three hours till daylight,” Tarasov says illuminating the dial on his watch. ”I wonder what they’re up to now.”

“Guess they need the place to land a chopper with supplies.”

“Or a chopper to fly us out.”

“Wishful thinking, Pete. They’d need a whole fleet of choppers to get out all the Bandits.”

“We’ll find out soon enough,” Tarasov says. “Now look at that! Our new friends eventually managed to make a campfire without killing each other. Let’s warm ourselves up and wait.”

“You know the New Zone well, Margarita?”

Nooria stares at the huge map Jack has rolled out over his table. Her answer would be yes. However, she never used maps to navigate through the wilderness where she grew up. Even if she could read maps, there’s still the concern that Jack might ask her about directions and places she has no intention to share.

“I know about Bagram,” she cautiously says.

“It’s the northern areas I’m interested in.”

“I don’t know northern passages very good,” she replies, relieved over Jack not asking her about the Tribe’s valley.

“We might have a problem.” Jack sounds genuinely concerned. “Recently, we tried to establish a base for our operations west of Bagram but an idiot called Bruiser screwed it up. Looks like we’ll need to be more cautious this time.”

“What happened?”

“He and his men cleared out a Loners’ lair at a position that would’ve been more than perfect. Right in the middle of the New Zone, between the artifact fields here and Bagram, here.” Jack points his finger to two points on the map. “They barely had time to catch their breath when a bunch of heavily armed whackos appeared out of the blue. Our brothers didn’t stand a chance — it was not a fight but a massacre!”

“Who did it? Stalkers?”

“You heard of them whackos calling themselves the Tribe?”

Nooria is barely able to suppress a smile. “Yes. Very dangerous people. You better don’t get close to them.”

“That’s my second question. See, a short while ago there was a huge emission that devastated Termez. Sultan has spent a fortune to get things arranged there — landing, switching to choppers, getting over the border into the New Zone and all. Now the place is a mess and our arrangements no longer stand. The good news is, our flight will less likely be suspicious among all the disaster relief traffic. Bad news is, we have to land directly in the New Zone. Bruiser and his remaining men are holed up at a village called Charikhar, here, north of Bagram. My question is: do you think the Tribe can attack us there?”

“It is far from Bagram.”

“I know, but the road running close to it is the only place where our airplanes can land. Kunduz and Mazari Sheriff are too far north.”

“It is Mazari Sharif ,” Nooria corrects him.

“Mazari — Whatever!” Jack snorts. “I give a rat’s ass about what locals call it.”

Nooria finds Jack’s arrogance very much to her satisfaction, and hopes that it will translate as carelessness once they are there. It wouldn’t be the first time the New Zone would punish arrogant newcomers. It appears to her that the place marked on the map is out of the Tribe’s regular patrol grids; however, close enough for the Colonel to send in a strike force and eliminate the Bandit’s foothold once he learns the location.

“Let me think,” she says patting her lips with her finger, ignoring the stare Jack is giving her mouth. “No, I don’t think Tribe will go there. It looks safe to me.”

“You better be right about that.” Jack unpockets a cellular phone and dials a number. “Sultan, it’s me. Margarita says the Tribe will probably not bother us there. Yes, yes, I know Bruiser said the landing strip is safe but he was an asshole. No disrespect meant. All right… okay, boss. I’ll ask her… Yes, everything is prepared. We move in one hour. Understood.”

He puts the phone away and gives Nooria an inquisitive look.

“The boss wants to know who your bodyguards are and if they’re also from the New Zone.”

“Misha… well, he is a Chechen, and two Americans… tall one is from Tennessee and kid from Los Angeles—”

“It’s not their damned curriculum I want to know but if they’re from the New Zone like you.”

Unsure about what reply would be best, Nooria decides to tell the truth. “Yes.”

Jack appears satisfied with her reply. “Excellent,” he says. “You will land first and secure the area before the rest of us moves in. Maybe this would be a good time for you to get a real weapon, no?”

“My blade is enough.”

“Bozhevilna,” Jack grumbles something disapproving in Ukrainian. “Whatever. Visit Limpid in the warehouse if you change your mind, but you better hurry. The first detachment is already moving out.”

“Where?”

“What do you think, Margarita?” Jack cheerily asks. “We’re flying to the New Zone today!”

The wind grows colder as the night slowly fades away and the eastern horizon begins to glow with soft pink. Beyond the far hills of Zaton, the silhouette of the CNPP looms in the pale sunrise. White frost covers the sparse grass growing on the cleared minefield where Tarasov and Buryat are dragging Abdul’s corpse. In a minute, his stiffening body lies among the grim yield of last night’s battle—dead Stalkers and Bandits laid out next to the command post. Their faces are covered with their bullet-torn jackets and trench coats to give them at least a modicum of dignity.

“Looks like it’s going to snow today,” Tarasov says warming his hands at the campfire. “Time for us to leave, really. The Zone is hell in winter. Mutants are starving and become more aggressive. Some anomalies are buried under the snow and you can’t see them—and when the snow recedes in spring, one often finds the body of Stalkers frozen to death months before.”