S.T.A.L.K.E.R.: Southern Comfort (66 page)

“There’d better be some loot in the storage room. I don’t want to leave empty-handed, you know?”

“You should be happy if you get out of here alive, and for that, luck is all you need hoping for.”

“Major, are you soldiers not interested in loot at all? If the army pays so well, I’ll sign up myself.”

“We don’t need money, Skinner. We grunts live on vodka and stale bread… at least that’s what some generals seem to think.”

The corridor is narrow and the sickly smell of decaying bodies lingers in the damp air. The smell drives saliva into Tarasov’s mouth. He swallows it. Skinner behind him spits.

“It stinks here!”

“Stop.” Ilchenko signals a halt. “Can you hear that?”

A faint noise grows from the darkness, like someone rubbing their hard-skinned palms together. Beyond the light circle of Ilchenko’s lamp, the darkness seems to move on the ground. Tiny, dim green spots evolve and move towards them.

“Back! Fall back!” Tarasov screams. He sees two amber-colored lights appear high above him. “Holy shit! A snake!”

This time the major is not alone. The bullets riddle the mutant’s erect body as it is about to strike. Obliterated by shotgun shells and rifle rounds, it collapses with a long, vanishing hiss. Tarasov gasps for breath.

Damn this place… and this is only the first level.

Beyond the steel door of the storage room they locate the origin of the smell. A pile of bodies lie on the ground, some of them missing limbs. Half digested chunks of flesh coat the concrete. Tarasov quickly puts on his gas mask, but the sickening smell is still in his nose. He quickly looks around the small room with uneven shelves on the wall.

“At least this was not for nothing,” he grumbles. Fighting back his nausea, he picks up four heavy bundles from a crushed crate.

“What’s in there?” Skinner asks curiously as they walk back into the large room, weapons ready to fire.

“Explosives.”

“Uh-oh. We’re getting angry?”

“Not yet.”

Back in the lobby’s relative security, Tarasov orders a short rest. “Check weapons. Have something to eat. In ten minutes, we move into the laboratories. Ilchenko, you keep an eye on those corridors. Sergeant… come over here for a minute.” He sits down on the ground and pulls out the notebook from his pocket. “Let’s see what we have here.”

His headlamp illuminates neat, old-fashioned handwriting. A name is written on the cover’s inner page but the ink is smeared, leaving only
Sakharov
legible.

“Hello, hello, Professor,” the major mumbles, thumbing the pages. He reads the writing from the first legible page aloud so that Zlenko also knows what they are about to discover.

“According to researchers, the two statues were built by an ancient tribe called the Lokottaravadan. Ancient Sogdian manuscripts, discovered by Sir Aurel Stein’s expedition and obtained by us from the British Library, tell that the female priests of this tribe possessed almost magical healing powers. However, this is dismissed by most historians as merely the stuff of legend. Anthropologists also agree that the Lokottaravadan are long extinct but Stein insisted that a few of them might still be found, scattered among the local Hazara tribes. We also learned from the manuscripts that the famous statues at Bamyan, called Samal and Shamama, did not only serve spirituality. The Lokottaravadan sculpted them to watch over a site where, according to their faith, a demon or object of destructive power was buried. In later centuries, long after this mysterious people were annihilated, the same site became known as the City of
Screams
, after Genghis Khan massacred every inhabitant of the city standing there in
1222
.”

“Don’t tell me this was all about some stupid anthropologists getting a hard-on from superstition and legends… what is the meaning of all this?”

Tarasov struggles to find the right words. “Well… What concerns us now is that there’s something very bad and evil down below… that is what the scientists were after… I should have guessed. Anyhow, it goes on:
From samples taken from the debris of the statues, we could establish a striking similarity between the molecular structure of local stone fragments and certain artifacts, found and known in the Exclusion Zone for their health-restoring effects, like the Soul or Mica variety. However, the local samples don’t emit any radiation, except at very low values which might be due to the nuclear fallout after the recent events. Another intriguing feature is that occasionally the fragments start to glow but without emitting heat of their own. Understanding the nature of these fragments would be a major scientific breakthrough.
”

Tarasov looks at the Stalkers.
Zef
and Skinner are sharing a can of energy drink, while Ilchenko keeps his eyes fixed on the dark corridor and murmurs to himself as if in a delirium. Zlenko is pale and sweating. All look tired and winded.

“We’ll get back to this later… now let’s have a look at that laptop.”

To his dismay, the drive is encrypted. He puts it into his rucksack and takes the pen drive recovered from the first body they encountered, hoping to have better luck with that one. Tarasov is relieved when after plugging it in his PDA, a directory appears with files arranged in chronological order.

29 July, 2014

Kiev
is not satisfied with our process. We offered extra payment to motivate the excavators. I hope they will dig faster. This place is a damn warren. To make things worse, someone before us destroyed the access to the lower levels. We have to make our way down by digging and explosives… I can ignore the Academy but my buyers are getting impatient too. They reduce my money each day until I find that artifact, or whatever it is.

 
15 August

We had a setback today. An excavator started a fight. He screamed something about ruling the world and killed two others before the guards shot him. Again I had to double the excavators’ money. They are becoming anxious.

28 August

Now it’s really about time to enter the lowest level… I already lost tens of thousands of dollars due to the delay. Anyway, even if this goes wrong, they paid me enough for the Gauss gun blueprints before. I don’t have to worry about my old age… I only wish this mission would be over either way, because this place is becoming eerier with every meter we dig deeper.

10 September

Shame on me. Couldn’t bear the pressure. I wanted to bide time and told the buyers everything… two days later they were here. They shot the guards and took over command. Sakharov is so much lost in his research that he didn’t even notice that our output now goes to
Beijing
instead of
Kiev
. But what I’m concerned about is that they made a pact with the dushmans… that wasn’t part of the deal. That’s a fucking betrayal. What the hell could I do? I’m powerless. How I wish it could be possible to get away from this cursed place and enjoy my earnings… I would give everything I got for this if I could just get away from here!

11 October

Holy shit. The test subjects broke free. The guards are panicking. What should I do, what should I do… We are holed up in the mess room. Those fucking howls from the depths! They drive me insane. I want to get out. They can’t leave me here! I am their friend! They can’t betray me like this!

Zlenko sighs. “Permission to…”

“Cut the crap, son… we’re way beyond that, you and I. Speak your mind, for God’s sake.”

“Does it still make any sense to go deeper? There are no scientists to save here anymore.”

“That’s no excuse for us to leave this place… we need to search the laboratories and secure any research results we find. Those are our orders. As a matter of fact, the scientists are less important to
Kiev
than what they found out.”

Zlenko doesn’t look happy.

“Are you still with me, Viktor?”

“I am,
komandir
. But I’m worried about the Stalkers… I overheard Skinner talking to the black guy about leaving us and going to look for artifacts. We better watch our backs.”

“Agreed.”

“I’m even more worried about Ilchenko… he’s on the edge. He was always a cocky
sonofabitch
but… not like this.”

“Keep a close eye on him and don’t let him get into a fight with
Zef
. With all the mutants around, the last thing I need is them shooting each other.” Tarasov stands up and claps his hands. “All right, Stalkers… let’s go down into the labs. Ilchenko, you’re a good point man. Keep it up! Come on guys, look alive!”

“Can I take point for a change?” Skinner asks, taking his shotgun from his shoulder. “I don’t want that machine gun guy grabbing all the artifacts.”

“Suit yourself, Stalker. Ilchenko, stay with me.”

Laboratory, 12 October 2014, 14:29:02 AFT

The corridor leading to the laboratories is short, with doors opening into small rooms. Looking inside as they move by, their headlights fall on destroyed field furniture and scattered documents. Tarasov takes a few sheets from the ground. Unsure if the long rows of numbers hold any valuable information, he lets them fall back to the ground.

A metal staircase winding down lies at the end of the corridor. A faint, bluish light glimmers beneath. If Tarasov had to choose between the darkness of the bunker level or the disconcerting light below, he would rather stay in darkness.

“Steady, Skinner… move quietly!”

The Stalker is halfway down the stairway when he suddenly stops. “Vaska,” he shouts, “is that you?”

Tarasov cannot figure the reason for the Stalker’s agitation, but leaps down the stairs to stop him from rushing forward into the large room where the stairs emerge. Wherever he looks, he sees devastated furniture and smashed cabinets, with broken computers and their blown out screens scattered around the floor. It is emergency lamps that spill the cold blue light over the devastated room, lending the room all the ambience of an operating theatre in Hell.

He hears the others descending the metal staircase, but the clunk of boots on metal cannot nullify the faint but discernible voice of a man crying in agony.

“Vaska!” Skinner shouts, his voice echoing in the room. “Where are you? Is that you over there?”

“Stalker! Stay here!”

Ignoring Tarasov’s words, Skinner runs to the other end of the room, where a steel door swings open. Skinner cries out in despair and horror.

“Oh no! Vaska! What did they do to you?”

Cursing, Tarasov moves to pull him back. He has almost reached Skinner when he becomes aware of something that freezes the blood in his veins. As if the sound of a woman’s desperate cry wouldn’t be enough, his eyes widen in horror at what he sees.

“Nooria!” he utters upon the sight of her lying on the floor with blood covering her belly and limbs.