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

“Never say such a thing!” Nooria replies with sudden anger. Tarasov bites his lips.

Then he takes Nooria’s hand and leads her towards the south-west, where low hills separate Cordon from the fringes of the Swamps.

“I still can’t believe he sold you out for two weeks leave and two thousand hrivnyi, Misha!”

Surprise and contempt mix in the Doctor’s look, while he puts a kettle with fresh water onto the samovar.

They were relieved to arrive at the Swamp cottage, of course, but not as relieved as the Top who would have faced the Colonel’s fury if anything would had happened to Nooria. Tarasov himself got away with the old Marine calling him names for being dumb enough to let himself be captured. He saw it better not to argue.

It also turned out that they didn’t arrive a moment too soon. After the Doctor was thoughtless enough to tell them about the Mercenaries being a faction in the Zone, Hartman and Pete decided to set out and hire them for a raid on Cordon Base. However, this was only the first step in Top’s desperate plan. After taking the Base, he wanted to use the military’s radio to contact the Tribe, let a ‘squad’ of warriors be secretly sent to Kiev and then overrun the SBU headquarters itself. No matter how crazy the plan was, Hartman appeared a little disappointed over not having a chance to execute it.

Shaking his head, the Doctor puts more wood into the fireplace.

“Two thousand local money? How much is that?”

“About two hundred and fifty dollars, Top.”

“Pathetic pocket money. There’s no honor left in this world, I’m tellin’ you.”

Tarasov shrugs.

“I can’t blame him. It’s more than one month’s of Shumenko’s normal pay. Besides, in the eyes of my former comrades I’m a traitor and deserter.”

“I say, let’s get out of this cursed place as soon as we can!”

“I’d rather stay,” Finn Sawyer says, filling his cup with tea from the samovar. “I like it here. Boars are plenty and this cottage is cozy… I count myself lucky for running into you at Heathrow.”

“You told me yesterday you miss women,” Pete says with a smirk.

“Err, yeah, I mean that’s true,” the Australian says scratching his nape. “And a good cab-sav too. Be that as it is, the Doc told me in a few days he’ll go to… what was it, Roswell?”

“Rostok, my friend.”

“Yeah, to Rostok for supplies and there’s supposed to be a bar which might have a bottle or two. I mean no offense, but living on neat vodka makes my guts rot. This place is great, so lonely and all, and it has so many things I can’t find anywhere else. Yeah, I think I could take a break from tits and pussies. A little break, I mean.”

“You don’t want to come with us to the New Zone?”

“Why would I? I’ve seen enough desert down under.”

“It’s more than just deserts.”

“Nah, I’ve made up my mind. As far as I know, no one has written a survivalist’s guide book about this place anyway. The idea came to me yesterday when I was cutting firewood, you know, and please don’t jinx it by telling me that there’s anything written already. Okay?”

The Doctor nods.

“It’s a good idea. I’ll add my chapters too, and if our advice will save just one rookie’s life we didn’t live for nothing.”

“Oh yeah! Exclusion Zone — a travel survival kit , written by Finn H. Sawyer,” says the Australian enthusiastically. “Or even better— Mud, Swags and Fears. Like the book by Bear Grylls!”

“Why don’t you start with the New Zone where you could grill Bears?” Hartman laughs loud over his reference to fearsome mutant living in the other Zone.

“Oh God, make my ears unhear his Dr Evil laugh,” Pete breathes mimicking a prayer.

“I’m not sure if Stalkers are much into reading, Finn,” Tarasov amusedly says.

“Smart ones do.”

“I got a book idea, Doc,” Pete bursts out. “Listen, what about a perfectly normal guy waking up one day to find himself transformed into a giant insect-like creature?”

Sawyer waves the idea off. “Gotta come up with something better, kiddo.”

“Why would Stalkers care about stories written about life in the Big Land?” the Doctor asks. “The Zone is their world now. So, let’s write about the Zone—or even both Zones. Yes.”

Tarasov nods. “Good point.”

“Yes, let’s get to the point at last,” Hartman says still chuckling. “So, how do we get back to our Zone?”

Tarasov takes sips his tea. The Doctor has added a pine cone to the charcoal that keeps the samovar warm and the delicious aroma of autumnal forests lingers in the steam rising from his cup. He inhales it deeply. “Nooria has an idea.”

“Sultan gave me this,” Nooria says and puts her PDA on the table. “We have to go to a place marked on map. Bandits know how to get to our Zone.”

“This is the Container Warehouse in Jupiter area,” Tarasov says looking at the display. “Three days’ hike from here. If we set out at dawn, we should reach Rostok by nightfall. Then we follow this road east of the Military Warehouses, continue northward on the edge of the Red Forest and assuming that we don’t run into anything nasty, we should reach Jupiter the next day.”

“How on earth is anyone supposed to travel from that place to the sandbox?” the Top asks. “Is there an airfield or something?”

“There’s not as much as a landing strip in the Zone. All I know of is a derelict helipad close to the Jupiter factory, but that’s not for airplanes.”

“Nooria, why was that guy so eager to help you gett back to the New Zone?” Pete asks.

“He, uhm—he asked me to do something there for him.”

Nooria pretends to study the PDA display closely, shunning the eyes of her companions.

“The end justifies the means,” Tarasov shrugs. “The only thing that counts now is to get back to the New Zone. If it’s a gangster giving us a helping hand, we’ll have to accept it.”

“Yup,” Pete nods. “Can’t think of any other way. We can forget about our fake passports.”

Hartman frowns.

“Wait a minute. You want us to become… criminals?”

“Just to join them for a ride,” Tarasov says.

“And then what?”

“Once we’re back to the New Zone, we’ll find a way to slip away.”

“I don’t like this idea.” The Top drums his fingers on the table and shakes his head. “No way. Hiding and sneaking was bad enough. All right, I see a few things about the scavengers differently now but to join a bunch of lowlifes… no, I don’t like this at all!”

“Any better idea?”

“There must be a high-capacity radio somewhere in the Zone. We get to it and contact my Tribe to get us out!”

“You sound desperate,” Sawyer calmly says. “Even if your mates were able to help us, it would take ages for ’em to get here.”

“Maybe that is so, but I will not spoil my honor by joining a bunch of lowlifes!”

“But you already are, Top,” Pete boldly says, avoiding the former Marine’s angry eyes. ”Look at us. Technically we’re all criminals. First, all of us are wanted for trespassing the Exclusion Zone. Then, you’re probably wanted in the States for mutiny and war crimes. Don’t look at me like that! You know it’s true! As for me, apart from going AWOL I’m also wanted for petty crime. You know the charges. Then, Mikhailo is a deserter and traitor, not to mention grand theft auto…”

“We left that peasant seven hundred dollars for that piece of junk!” Tarasov protests. “That was no car theft but charity!”

“Still leaves you with the charges of desertion and treason. Then, Nooria is wanted for murder. Geez, imagine how much the FBI would want to bag one who killed three spooks! The KGB or whatever it’s called here must be even worse.”