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

“Then what do you suggest, sir?”

“We’ll have to wait until they begin disembarking. The airplane will be a sitting duck while the men and cargo inside are being unloaded. First, you’ll take out their command element with the long rifle. Then we strike from behind the ruins.”

“What about the second airplane?”

“We’ll have to deal with that another day.”

“How will the sniper identify the Charlie Echo?” Walker asks. “These Bandits or whatever look all the same to me.”

“Bandits are like Neanderthals,” Ahuizotl says with a smile. “Look for the biggest, meanest son of bitch and you’ll find the boss. I’m sure he will make for a nice big target.”

Collins nods. “Then we mow down the rest. Go back to your position on the hilltop and send the girl down. I need her to listen to what that bastard says in Russian when the airplanes report in.”

“Will do,” Ahuizotl replies and hastily makes his way back to the hill.

The Antonov An-12, Russia’s reply to the C130 Hercules and bearing the NATO call sign Cub, has a cruising speed of 415 miles per hour. With a normal payload of 44,000 pounds, it would take about five and a half hours to cover the distance between Minsk and the New Zone. However, each of the two Antonovs arranged by Sultan have about a hundred and fifty men cramped inside, much more than the ninety passengers the aircrafts would normally carry. The conveyor belt with crates holding ammunition, weapons and other supplies make the cargo bay even more congested. To make fuel consumption cope with the heavy load, the airplanes fly below cruising speed; this adds two more, painfully long hours to the haul.

Cramped in the cargo bay without any comfort, the Bandits who were in such high spirits when leaving the Zone soon started to grumble. After a while, the first fights broke out over places that appeared just a little more comfortable than the cargo bay’s bare metal floor. A veteran Bandit knocked a former Stalker out when the latter retched next to him, prompting other Loners to take his side. The ensuing brawl resulted in a few bruised noses and blue eyes on either side, making Tarasov wonder if these self-proclaimed conquerors of the New Zone would begin killing each other as soon as they reached it.

The boring and uncomfortable flight took a heavy toll on Nooria. She became sick twice, using the empty wrappers of the last US-made rations they had as a vomit bag. A Stalker who was about to scold her quickly changed his mind upon seeing the scorn in Tarasov’s eyes.

At least they had their own corner close to the cockpit, separated from the Bandits by Ferret, Buryat and the few Stalkers on their side. As time passed, Nooria and Hartman looked out of the bullseye window more and more often, hoping to at last see the ochre, undulating terrain of the New Zone’s northern reaches appear.

Together with the airplane’s sudden descent, Tarasov’s watch tells him that they must be really close when the head of the Belarusian radio operator appears in the hatch leading to the cockpit.

“Hey, you guys from the New Zone! You better come and see this!”

Thinking that the crew member only wants to show them the New Zone, Tarasov and the Top follow him indifferently.

“Termez,” the navigator says, pointing forward in the glass cupola on the airplane’s nose.

What they see causes the two men look at each other with deep concern. The town appears to have been swept over by a tsunami of destruction; giant waves of sand have buried a long stretch of the Amu-Darya river and the refugee camps next to the town. Smoke rises from the airfield where the runways appear broken, as if torn to pieces by a massive tremor. A long column of vehicles is blocking the road to the north, probably cars trying to escape the disaster-stricken town. Mi-24 gunships are circling above. They appear to fire at targets on the ground.

“Holy mother of Jesus Christ,” the Top murmurs.

“What the hell happened here?” the Belarusian pilot asks in English. His accent is so heavy though that Tarasov seriously doubts if any ground control could understand him. Judging by his white hair and equally white moustache, he is not a regular aviator anymore but rather someone hired by Sultan’s cronies; probably eking out his meager pension by flying dangerous and usually illegal missions.

“That was a dust storm,” Hartman tells him. “My guess is those Hinds were shooting at mutants who crossed the river in the storm’s wake.”

“Good God!” the pilot exclaims. “Is that like a… vybros in the Exclusion Zone?”

“Yes,” Tarasov says. ”The local version of emissions.”

The veteran pilot slowly waves his head. “Last time I saw destruction like this was over Chernobyl, back in ‘86!”

“You better climb higher and keep clear of here,” Tarasov suggests. “There might be airborne anomalies!”

“Are you kidding?”

“Trust me, I’m not!”

“Blyad!”

Cursing, the pilot pulls on the yoke.

“It was not just a dust storm.”

Tarasov and Hartman turn away from the sight below to see Nooria standing behind them white faced.

“What’s going on?” Tarasov asks.

“Come… I have to tell you something.”

Once back to their place, Nooria grabs at Tarasov’s hand. She sounds concerned, if not terrified. “It wants me.”

“Are you okay?” Tarasov asks.

“No. I am not okay. I am scared. And this sickness—oh, how I hate it!”

“We’ll land soon, Nooria,” Tarasov softly says. ”If that’s why you’re feeling bad—”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“Our child.”

“Uh-oh,” Hartman says. “You better be prepared for worse than a little sickness.”

“You don’t understand! The New Zone wants me because—my child. It wants my child.”

All fell silent. Pete whispers something to himself, but his voice is suppressed by the deep drone of the four turboprop engines.

“Mikhailo—our child will be stronger than you and more powerful than me. It is our child is who can destroy evil ravaging this land.”

Fear, disbelief and joy are all mixed on Tarasov’s face as he looks at Nooria.

“My son! He can end—all this?”

“No, Mikhailo. She will.”

“But how? How you know?”

“I just know. And she also wants to get to the New Zone. She didn’t let me kill Sultan.”

“Pete,” the Top says under his breath, “give me a thermometer from your first-aid kit, will you?”

Nooria’s eyes are flashing with anger. “I am not ill!”

“Okay… okay,” Tarasov reassuringly says and caresses her pale face. “Don’t worry, Nooria. As long as I can lift a weapon, I will protect you.”

“Not to mention me,” Pete adds.

“You don’t want to leave me out of this,” Hartman says.

“See? With the three of us around you’ll be safer than anyone.”

“I am scared,” Nooria says, but her fear makes way for sadness. “New Zone is in rage—it was reaching out for me. Its evil will try to defeat us.”

“Business as usual,” Hartman says and gives her a reassuring smile.

“What do you want us to do?” Tarasov asks.

“I must talk to my mother. Please, please take me back to our valley. Quickly!”

“I have an idea,” Pete says. “We’ve hijacked a train and stolen a car. What about hijacking this plane too?”

Tarasov gives him a smile. “Not a bad thought at all. The Alamo does have a landing strip after all.”