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

Seeing that Nooria has donned the protective suit under her long coat, the man nods and opens the door. Sultan’s Hummer is standing outside with already idling engine. He signals her to climb into the back seat.

“Who are you?” Nooria asks as the Hummer leaves the compound.

“I am the transporter,” the man replies. ”The rest is not important.”

To Nooria’s relief, she recognizes some buildings and direction signs from her first drive to the Zone. Assured that she is indeed being driven to the promised destination, she leans back in the seat and tries to feel comfortable in the brand new leather anorak that is still stiff.

The car drives along Minsky Avenue that becomes highway Number PO2 after it leaves the northern outskirts of Kiev. Before it bends westwards, PO2 runs by the Dnepr reservoir. Visible on a short stretch of road between the factory buildings of Stari Petrivtsi and the apartment blocks of Lyutizh, the lake appears like a grey sea beyond dark brown fields and sparse forests. Thin fog sits over the flat land.

Nooria soon starts feeling warm under her anorak and coat. When the driver sees her removing the coat, he immediately lowers the heating. It appears a polite gesture but also means that he keeps his eyes closely on her from the rear view mirror. But Nooria knows that she’s on the way to the Zone now and this thought prevails over any dark ideas she might have about the ride and the tongue-tied driver.

“Can we drive faster?” she asks.

Without reply, the driver accelerates the car and honks lengthily when a dilapidated bus doesn’t move aside quickly enough. She soon regrets he impatience when a sudden dizziness comes over her.

“Please, stop,” Nooria says with one of her hands held over her mouth. “I feel sick.”

“I’m not driving that fast,” the driver replies and gives Nooria a frown in the mirror. Then, probably thinking that he would rather risk her escaping than clean tarnished leather seats, he pulls over and unlocks her door.

When Nooria is finished vomiting, the driver courteously offers her a paper tissue.

“Are you all right?” he asks with an inquisitive stare.

Nooria nods and blows her nose.

The Humvee keeps its speed even when the road gradually deteriorates after the first hour of driving. It only slows down after Ivankiv village, where Nooria knows they are close to the village from where Tarasov led them into the Zone.

The driver takes a left turn before they reach Ivankiv and the Hummer leaves the decaying tarmac in favor of a bumpy dirt road.

“Where are we driving?” Nooria asks with suspicion.

“To the north of the Zone.”

“Is this a shortcut?”

“It’s the easiest.”

Obviously, Sultan doesn’t own a Hummer only for showing it off. The road has partially deteriorated to deep mud but the car navigates through without any difficulty. She wonders why Tarasov had chosen a way apparently much more perilous.

After ten minutes she understands that her man had made the right decision. Two eight-wheeled BTR-80 personnel carriers block the road. Heavily armed, tough-looking soldiers stand around them. One of them, wearing a black beret and apparently an officer, waves the car down. The driver halts, though Nooria sees no sign of concern in his face.

His window goes down. To her surprise, the officer and the driver greet each other like old friends. The driver takes a thick envelope from his suit pocket and hands it over. The officer looks inside, nods with satisfaction and waves the car through.

As the time passes, a weak sun illuminates the landscape that appears now like an ordinary forest. The morning fog raises among the pines and slowly fades away as the sun climbs higher. It looks peaceful but Nooria senses the closeness of the Zone — or at least hopes for it. She can’t make out any familiar landmark because low hills cover the sight to the north east where the Zone should lie, and without anything better to do, she puts her trust into the driver.

When the mouth of a valley appears between two hills, the driver finally halts the car.

“Get out,” he says.

Nooria deeply inhales the refreshing air outside and closes the zipper on her coat. It is chilly after the warmth inside the car. Pulling the hood over her head, she looks around.

“This way,” the driver says. “Come! What are you here, a statue?”

“What is that?” Nooria asks pointing at something sinister on the horizon.

“The power plant,” the driver replies with a shrug. “Thought you knew that.”

Narrowing her eyes, Nooria looks into the distance. Far but discernible enough, a huge building looms on the horizon. Only the upper part is standing out from the fog — a rectangular structure and a tall chimney topping it. A flock of black birds passes through her sight and she hears the echoing croaks of ravens.

“It appears close,” Nooria says.

“Too close, actually,” the driver says. “Come quickly. I will show you the way.”

Holding a small bag and carefully avoiding the mud puddles, he leads Nooria about a hundred meters away from the car and towards the valley between the hills. There he halts and shows Nooria a PDA.

“Do you know how to use this?”

“No.”

“Strange Stalker you are. Anyway, this is the button to power it on. Now, wait a second and then press on the map tab on the touchscreen.”

Nooria does as instructed.

“This blue symbol marks your position. Beyond those hills is the north-eastern edge of Zaton. You should make your way to the Skadovsk first. That’s a derelict cargo ship. Sultan has friends there. Once you are ready to move on, go to the Container Warehouse in the Jupiter area.”

“Is it easy to find?”

“I’ve put a marker on the map.”

“And how will I get to New Zone?”

“Ask for Jack. He’s Sultan’s local agent and will tell you everything you need to know. When his men ask you what you want from him, you will reply: Say hello to my little friend!”

“Say hello to my little friend,” Nooria repeats.

“Do not forget this password.”

“I will not.”

“Take this too.” The driver gives Nooria a silenced Sig Sauer P229 with two spare clips. A few scratches on the black ergonomic grip show that the weapon is not new. It looks well-maintained, though, and even has a tactical laser attached under the barrel. “I heard you are quick with a blade, but this might come useful if you can’t get close enough to your target.”

Nooria shakes her head.

“I do not want this.”

“But you will take it.” He grabs Nooria’s hand, forces her fist open and puts the pistol into her hand. “That’s not all. Sultan wants you to have this too.”

He throws a small bundle at her feet.

“Good hunting, Stalker!”

Laughing, the driver walks back to the idling car and drives away.

Nooria picks up the bundle and opens it. First she finds a note in neat handwriting.

Margarita,

my sweet, innocent little thing. This little present should help you blend in with people in places like the Shooters. I hope to meet you there again, so that we can finish our dinner that was interrupted so abruptly. Apologies for any inconvenience, little one.

There is something else for you. It is a little thank-you for the extra entertainment you provided me, involving one of my assets. You proved as funny as I had thought. My gift should help you to better understand our world. Like it or not, it is as it is. Tit for tat — you’ve already learned what that means, I trust.

As you see, I keep my word. You better do likewise.

Inside a soft leather pouch which has YSL printed on it with gold-colored letters, Nooria finds a stunning silk scarf, its emerald color perfectly matching that of her eyes. As she unfolds it, a much smaller pouch falls to her feet. Nooria unfolds the waterproof paper. What she sees inside makes her scream.