S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Southern Comfort (39 page)

“I need a new sidearm,” Tarasov replies with a shrug, and turns away from his companions.

Tough Love

Stalker camp at Hellgate, 22:38:04 AFT

The fire slowly burns itself out. Mac rakes the fire with the Captain’s staff while Billy sleeps in her lap, digesting a huge portion of ‘tourist breakfast’.

“So, that was the story of our raid,” Squirrel says, watching as the last sparks fly high from the fire into the starry sky. He takes a long draw at his joint and slowly exhales the smoke. “I can’t complain. I didn’t find a Heartstone, but the Captain’s glowing artifact is a nice one. Probably I won’t sell it. Nah, I’ll keep it for sure.”

“What is it called?” Mishka Beekeeper asks.

“No idea. That’s what I love about this place. New Zone – new artifacts and all.”

“Then you should give it a name.”

“What about… I don’t know. Hey, Ilch, give me that bottle!”

“Lich would be a good choice,” Mac says gazing into the fire. Her helmet is placed at her side, and through the balaclava’s holes that leaves her eyes and mouth visible, the trace of a sad smile appears.

“Cool, man. Lich it will be then. But what’s a lich, anyway?”

“All kids know that. A lich is a magician who stays alive through many centuries. Usually, they are evil. Do you agree, Major?”

Tarasov, who lies there resting his aching feet and watching the stars, just shrugs the question off.

“I don’t know… maybe not all of them.”

“Anyway, maybe one day I’ll come back to find a Heartstone,” Squirrel dreamily says. “I could sell that for a million dollars, rubles, euros – whatever. Or maybe if the Stalker legend is true, I’ll just hold on to that artifact and it will keep me healthy for the rest of my life.”

“Then I beg you not to find it.”

“Oh come on, Sashka! Don’t spoil a poor man’s dreams, man!”

“A million dollars, you said?” Tarasov says.

“Yes, Major. Okay, maybe just a half million, but still… Why?”

“Just asking.” Tarasov hides his smile and puts his hand over the artifact container on his armored suit, where he has put the artifact he found in the Captain’s bag.

Forfeiture of assets… If he hadn’t mentioned that, I would have completely forgotten about his bag.

“That was a very nice story, fellows, but we still don’t have the answer to Question Number One,” Mishka Beekeeper says and finishes the sentence in a chorus with Sashka SWAT Officer: “
Where are the women?
”

Tarasov sits up and looks at Mac from the corner of his eye, trying to suppress a smile. She sits quietly, not looking at any of the Stalkers.

“And what about you, kid?” he asks. “Where do you want to go now?”

“Panjir. Anywhere but Bagram.”

“Yar will be disappointed.”

“That’s not my problem.”

A shout comes from the darkness. “Stalkers coming through! Try not to shoot us, will you?”

Snorkbait and Ilchenko appear from the darkness.

“All clear, sir. Everything is quiet around the perimeter.”

“That’s a camp, not a perimeter,” Mishka Beekeeper says, feigning embarrassment. “Relax, soldier! You’re among Stalkers now!”

“Welcome back,
patsanni
,” Squirrel greets them. “I was just in the middle of telling a joke to these bores here. So: what does a whore give her best client for Christmas? AIDS.”

“Not bad, but I know a better one, “ Ilchenko says. “How do you make a little girl cry twice? Wipe your bloody dick on her teddy bear!”

“Cool!” Sashka SWAT Officer hands Ilchenko a vodka bottle. “I’ll need to remember that, haha!”

The Stalkers laugh, only Mac scowls. “Screw that. I heard it a thousand times.”

“What’s wrong with you?” Ilchenko asks, still laughing at his own joke.

“You better ask what’s wrong with your jokes. They are disgusting. And even worse, they’re boring too.”

“Apologies, Prince Myshkin,” Ilchenko says, faking a polite bow. “I didn’t mean to offend your sensitivity!”

“If there’s an idiot amongst the two of us, Ilch, it’s certainly not me.”

“I guess you have met your match,” Tarasov says smirking at the machine gunner.

“You’re all pricks. I can’t wait to leave with Snorkbait for the
Panjir
Valley
in the morning.”

“Two notorious tree-huggers teaming up… a match made in heaven!”

“Beekeeper, stop teasing the kid or I’ll kick your teeth in,” Snorkbait grumbles while taking notes on a writing block.

“At last something that could distract you from your scribbling.”

“I need to remind myself that I still can write, Sashka, not just push buttons on a PDA. I’m writing a book, you see –
‘Zone and the Art of Weapon Maintenance’
.”

“Sounds strangely familiar, somehow,” Ilchenko says scratching his chin.

“God damn it,” Mishka Beekeeper shouts. “I need a woman, now!” He gets to his feet, takes his rifle and imitates copulation.

“Keep the bees in your fucking pants, you daft bugger!” Snorkbait says, waving the Stalker’s rifle away from him.

“Mac,” Tarasov quietly says, “let’s take a hike. We need to talk.”

Tarasov offers his hand to help Mac up but the Stalker jerks it away.

“Don’t even think about talking me into going back to Bagram.”

“How’s that bandage doing? You might need me to apply a new one. ”

“No… no… okay, maybe having a little walk is a good idea.”

“It is. Eases the heart, refreshes the soul. Right? Let’s go.”

Tarasov waves for her to follow him to the ruined hut where they will be out of hearing range, then takes a deep breath before questioning her.

“So… I guess you owe me an explanation, Mac.”

“I don’t owe you anything.”

“Yes, you do,” Tarasov says, taking Mac’s diary from his side bag. “I guess every honest finder deserves a reward. All I ask you in exchange for your notebook is to tell me the truth about yourself.”

Mac grabs the notebook from Tarasov’s hands. She eagerly looks inside, and hides it safely in the map compartment of her armored suit.

“Where did you find this?”

“The Captain found it after you’d left a campsite, obviously in a hurry.”

“It was when a dushman patrol came too close during the night… Thank you very much - there’s no more to say.”

“Listen,
devushka
, I am not in the mood to play along any further.”

“I didn’t take you for such a pushy dickhead.”

“Agreed, sometimes I can be a pain in the ass. It’s part of my job as an officer. And now listen up. I must take you back to Yar.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t exactly do this mission to gain favor upstairs, as Sidorovich would say. Yar will only fix my squads’ kit and weapons if I bring you back. Besides, his heart is broken. Ignore that if you can.”

“Emotional blackmailing is pathetic,” she replies, biting her lip.

“But I see it works. Let’s start from the beginning. Where are you from?”

“
Argentina
.”

“A woman from
Argentina
…” Tarasov makes a low whistle. “This place never ceases to surprise.”

 
“So what? Are you still under the effect of what you’ve seen under my armor?” Mac asks with a taunting smile.

“No reason to deny that. Actually, I do find you beautiful… even by Argentinean standards.”

Mac laughs. “You should see my niece… but come on, have you ever met a woman from
Argentina
?”

“Uhm… no.”

“See? Don’t try to be a flirt, it doesn’t work for you. Just be who you are. You’re a cool enough guy.”

“Those Stalkers have a point about women… Here in the new Zone, and back in the old one, we can be who we are. And you too have a point saying that one is cool when he is what he is. But outside… I feel like a fish out of water. No woman out there would ever understand what the Zone is about and what she means to me. That’s why it’s bad that we have no female Stalkers.”

“I’m not a Wish Granter, but I hope that sooner or later you’ll run into a woman who appreciates your radioactive charm. I guess her heart will beat faster than a Geiger counter. Anyway, I know you didn’t just want to sob on my shoulders about how lonely you are.”

“Well said. And I have no intention of blowing your cover, missy, whatever you have to tell me.”

“Is that a promise?”

“Depends. But by now you should know that I keep my promises… just think about what I promised to the Captain.”

“Look… Yar didn’t tell you everything. Where should I begin?... It appears to be on another planet now, but anyway, back home I was just tired of everyone, stupid married friends always showing off about their so called wonderful lives, stupid society putting the pressure on me to be a wonder woman…”

“You are.”

“I don’t need your compliments. I mean it in another way… I hated the expectations of being a woman based only on appearance and pretension… Damn it, many of my friends would have sooner died than let themselves be seen without make-up and stuff. Do you have any idea how tiring it is to live up to all those stereotypes? But one has to, because if one just says ‘no’ to all that beauty-industry bullshit she gets treated like a weirdo. So, when I heard about the Zone I took a flight to Kiev and sneaked in, disguised as a Stalker guy, and I realized that, in there, I needed no more makeup, no short skirts, no eyelashes, nothing that is required from me before others accept me. In my disguise, I could be who I wanted – no expectations, no clichés, no pressure to do something just because fucking social rules pressure me into it… I could just be who I really was. In a Stalker’s disguise I didn’t even have to bother about guys offering their ‘help’ and ‘assistance’ at every step. I didn’t want to be taken as someone who needs ‘help’ because I happen to be a woman. It’s not even flattering, because what the fuck did I do to be treated with all this
circumstantiality
? Nothing! For once, I wanted to be judged by what I do and not my looks. No flirting, no more stupid games. It’s not as if I’m a man-hater or a lesbian, mind you… I do love men. Occasionally, I met some nice Stalker guy and when I was sure he would keep his mouth shut, I gave him the fuck of his young life. There’s more things one can do during the night than sitting around a campfire and telling dumb jokes, you know? And if I met a tough guy who bitched at me because he took me for just another Stalker, I bitched back at him.
Vsyo zaebalo, pizdyets, na huy, blyad, idi na huy, huyesos!
How’s that?”

“Not bad. Start smoking and soon you can pronounce the most important word like we Ukrainians do.
Khui
. From your throat. By the way, how do you say it in Spanish?”