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

Nooria studies the Stalker’s face. Sensing no bad intention about him, she sheathes the blade and swiftly takes the pistol. “Why did you want to rob me?”

“Thought you’re a lonely Bandit with something to eat in his rucksack,” the Stalker says. “I haven’t eaten for two days!”

“I have some food,” she says reaching for her rucksack.

“Really? That’s great, brother! Where are you from, anyway? England? America?”

“America,” sighs Nooria to save her the explanation. She takes a can of processed meat from her rucksack, removes the lid by pulling on the metal flap attached to it and offers the open can to the Stalker. “What happened to you? You look hurt.”

“Just a sprained ankle,” he says sitting down at the campfire. Then his eyes open wide as Nooria pulls the balaclava off and swishes her hair.

“I should have called you sister,” the Stalker says staring at her. He doesn’t appear averted by her scar.

“Eat,” she replies. “After food I will see to your ankle. What happened? You fell from a tree?”

“A bit higher, actually. Anyway, I was trying to reach Noah’s Ark but didn’t make it far from the bridge in this condition. All I had on me was a few bandages and you don’t make it far in the Zone like that. So, I stayed put in a cave close to here and it probably saved my life because if that last emission had taken me in the open…”

The Stalker moves his hand along his throat, mimicking a cut. He devours his portion with such an appetite that doesn’t leave any doubts about his food deprivation.

“So… where are you heading, Stalker?” he asks munching on the last bit of meat.

“I am no Stalker,” Nooria replies.

“Then what are you?”

“Lost.”

“Uh-hum. And what are you up to, then?”

“I must find and kill somebody.”

“Sounds familiar…” The Stalker scratches his unshaven cheek. “Where do you want to go?”

“I wanted to find way to Swamps but lost my way. It was very dark and I was scared.”

“You mean the emission last night?”

“Emission? Yes. I had to find shelter.”

“I guess you made it to Noah’s place?”

“No. This is my shelter.”

“You’re lying. Nobody can survive an emission in the open… or did you take anabiotics?”

“No, and I cannot lie,” Nooria says, sadly. “Sometimes I wish I could.”

The Stalker looks her up and down.

“You are either the biggest liar the Zone has ever seen, or you are—special.” He thinks for a moment. “Since a guy called Magpie already claimed that title for himself, you must be special. We’ll soon find out.”

“I must go to Swamps.”

“That’s quite a long trek from here.”

“But I must. Swamps, nowhere else.”

“That makes you the first Stalker who doesn’t want to get to the Wish Granter … Why the Swamps of all places in the Zone?”

“I must get back to Doctor’s house.”

“What?!” The Stalker looks utterly baffled. “You know where the Doc lives?”

Nooria nods.

The Stalker gives her an inquisitive look. “Very, very few people know about his whereabouts. How did you find him?”

“I don’t trust you good enough to tell,” Nooria replies shunning the Stalker’s gaze.

“Fair enough,” he says with a shrug. “How’s the old man doing?”

“Good. Now let me see your ankle,” Nooria says.

“Does he still keep that smelly pseudodog?” The Stalker removes his boot and reveals a badly swollen ankle. Nooria softly touches the bandage but it’s enough to make the Stalker grimace with pain. “Outch! Yes, right there…”

“It doesn’t look so bad,” Nooria says removing the bandages and having a closer look at the injury. “Your… I don’t know how to say but you know, things which keep your muscles on bones…”

“Suchozhilye? ”

“No—oh yes, it is called sinew. Or is it tendon? It appears to be okay.”

“At least that’s comforting,” the Stalker says. “You might want to keep your nose away from my foot, though. You know, spare socks are a luxury in the Zone and— ai, blyad! ” He screams with pain when Nooria gives a sudden, quick thrust to his foot and twists it. “Uzhasno bolit!”

“It is good now,” Nooria says satisfied with her work. She takes the Doctor’s bandage from her rucksack and neatly applies it over the Stalker’s bruised ankle. “This bandage will make it heal quickly but you better stay put for a day or two.”

“Staying put? Me? No way!”

“If you have to move, try not to step on it too hard.”

The Stalker sets his teeth but his tension apparently begins to wane. Cautiously, he stays.

“It feels a bit better now. Let’s see if—”

“Wait. You need to rest now.”

“We can’t stay here,” the Stalker says. “We must get to Noah’s Ark. That’s the closest safe place.”

“I go to Swamps,” Nooria says impatiently. “Can you tell me direction?”

Suddenly, the Stalker puts his finger to his lips.

“Shh!”

Something shakes the reeds nearby.

“You sense danger?”

Instead of replying to Nooria’s concerned whisper, the Stalker signals her to duck.

They hear a moan, halfway between a boar’s grunt and a dog’s growl.

“Snorks!” the Stalker screams. “Use your knife if they get close! Give me your gun, now!”

It sounds like a desperate plea, not a demand. Nooria quickly hands the Sig Sauer over to him. In a second, the Stalker has the safety worked off and starts shooting at the three humanoids emerging from the reed-covered riverbed.

Even though they crawl on all fours, the hillside is steep enough to slow the mutants’ progress. The Stalker uses the moment gained to his advantage and scores a hit on the closest mutant, shooting it directly in the eye through the eyehole of the half-rotten gas mask covering its skull, but the remaining two are about to reach the distance they need to leap close to their human prey where they clawed hands and legs would give them the advantage over any weapon.

One snork jumps, is hit by the bullets and is dead by the time it smashes against the crate behind which Nooria is ducking.

Then the magazine is emptied. The last snork leaps over the crates and hurls himself over Nooria.

With lightning-quick reflexes, she rolls to the side. The mutant lands in the mud but leaps again at its apparently weaker prey. Nooria jumps to her feet, tries to step aside to avoid the mutant hurling itself at her but human speed doesn’t match that of a snork’s at close quarters.

In terror, the Stalker watches the growling Snork land on Nooria, bare the row of sharp teeth in its mouth and thrust them into her face.

Then it doesn’t move anymore, save for its convulsing limbs that also cease after a minute.

“Fuck,” Nooria says with disgust as she pushes the dead mutant off her and pulls the blade off its chest where she has thrust it with all force.

“Fuuuck,” the Stalker slowly repeats and whistles. ”I’m really happy we could settle our differences without you using that knife!”

“This beast jumped right into my blade,” she says, looking for something to wipe the mutant’s blood off her hands. “I was lucky.”

“You bet,” the Stalker says giving her back the Sig Sauer. “You got any spare mags for that?”

Nooria nods and holsters the weapon. The Stalker looks at the dead mutants and shakes his head.

“Damn me… They must have heard me crying out when you treated my ankle. At least they keep Bloodsuckers out of range, because those beasts fear Snorks more than shotguns.”

“So, where is way to Swamps?” Nooria asks, wiping her blood-splattered face with her sleeve.