© Volnov S., 2017
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2017
* * *
Dedicated to my friend and reader, the wonderful photographer Yura Pershin, and to everyone who knows for sure: everything that the human mind is capable of imagining necessarily exists - somewhere, somehow, someday...
Your dreams will begin to come true when they are stronger than your fears. Not before...
Advice on how not to reverse causes and consequences
Instead of a prologue (Stalker)
...Sneak invisibly, silently, moving through the changing reality of the Zone. Step by step, step by step. Anticipating, anticipating and thanks to this, avoiding and bypassing her “whims” in time. But the rain muffles the senses, and the difficulty of passing the route increases... If the walker is not strong enough, in such conditions it is better for him to keep his head down. Wait in one of the numerous stalker caches and camps, dispersed along the horizontal lines of the three outer circles.
More precisely, two, because in the third circle, “not” is added to the word “numerous” in front, reflecting the true realities. In the fourth, they are reflected in the word “rare”. In the fifth circle, the complete lack of opportunity to make a halt is characterized by a very short word. "No". The reality of the epicenter categorically does not imply stops along the way.
The Stalker sneaks around the Zone carefully, like a saboteur approaching a sentry whom he must silently “take down.” I could sneak a little faster, but an obsessive feeling interferes, trying to slow down and tempting me to stop. He clearly imagines that he is being closely watched. It’s as if someone’s close attention is relentlessly following behind your back, like a shadow...
He had had this feeling before, but now it was especially inappropriate. It is urgent to get rid of this phantom observer, to dislodge this annoying obstacle to perception! The sneaker deliberately lowered his eyelids so as not to look, trying to cut off his vision, which now only distracts him from moving. Under the merciless pouring rain, in this muddy veil, you still can’t see anything even half a meter away. To navigate an abnormal space, a real stalker does not need eyes primarily, except perhaps as an additional channel for obtaining information about the environment.
Smell, touch, hearing, all “ordinary” senses are maximally concentrated on searching for threats. But most importantly, the zone sense, that very special, sixth or sixty-sixth sense, began to work “full speed ahead.” Only a person for whom it wakes up in the Zone and begins to suggest the safest option for the path, at least weakly and occasionally, has a chance to become a stalker. For those who don’t have a sense of smell, it’s better not to venture further than the outer sectors of the second circle alone...
Whatever is now lurking there, ahead, in the unknown, the stalker’s chances of survival depend solely on how quickly he manages to recognize the approaching danger.
Have time to smell it before it finds itself at a distance, when it is already too late to do anything to save it.
Water floods the trusty machine gun, but it’s a Kalashnikov, he’s not afraid. A man moves half-bent, making his way through a solid wall of water. At these moments, he doesn’t really think about how and where to go, he obeys prompts from within, from the subconscious; the main driving force is the desire to get to shelter.
Extra thoughts, and even more so words, can interfere with the completion of a task. Any animal or plant in the Zone, every stone or object encountered, ruin or remnant of a mechanism, and even more so an intelligent mutant, can suddenly “hear” what a person is thinking and saying. One has only to rejoice ahead of time, and the stalker, according to the law of zone meanness, will face collapse at the very last moment. One has to carelessly speak out loud, and the abnormal, distorted space surrounding him will react in full... Or not. He will “keep silent” in response and let you through to the goal, but it depends on your luck.
He is alive and knows this very well. He firmly grasped the laws. Not right away, having paid a high price, but still, he managed. Happened. Mainly because immediately after coming from the big world, having appeared here, he began to purposefully change, getting rid of normal habits and ideas about “how you should” and “how you want.” And he continued to continuously absorb and learn, not allowing his brain, body, or soul to be lazy... Gradually he learned, gained precious experience, then his senses opened and started working, thanks to the Zone, and he adapted and managed to become a stalker.
Individuals who are unable to assimilate, who are not amenable to learning and change, have no place in the Zone. Anywhere you can remain stubborn, inflexible, inert “yourself”, but here you definitely can’t. Literally deadly.
One of the first rules of a stalker is that it is impossible and pointless to make any predictions about your own future. Every next second can be not just threatening or harmful, but a turning point in fate...
A figure, even darker than rainwater, rushed out of the gray-brown curtain right at him! The man pulled back, left the line of attack and fired a long burst at the creature. Fiery flashes momentarily created an oasis of light in the darkness of the stormy Zone. The bullets did not whistle past the target, they slowed down the mutant, and Zhiv managed to make out a humanoid silhouette. The meeting was far from the most pleasant, it was a schmoznik, as they call various degenerates resulting from a mixture of the human genome with an alien reality.
The stalker jumped to the side, behind the very opportunely turned up “changer” who stood out from the veil with a dull flicker. The wounded, frenzied mutant, turning sharply, attacked again and broke straight into this local area... A “flower” of fire, detonation, blazed with heat, Zhiva was thrown back, and he found himself pressed to the ground at a distance, a few meters from the local area of altered physical space. Everything happened so quickly that the stalker didn’t even have time to really understand how it happened...
His face was burned by a blazing fire, his vision barely had time to focus... And the monster, which had somehow miraculously survived, was inevitably approaching. And the mutant turned out to be the Imitator (exactly so, with a capital letter, like all subspecies of intelligent mutants). The man tore the grenade from its mount and threw it, rolled it right under the creature’s feet, and covered himself with his hands, fused with the ground, pressed down, “slammed”, desperately hoping that it would carry through and not hit... A grenade is the only option, despite the short distance, because for There is no time at all for effective shooting to kill from the “primary” weapon; and only a completely crazy person would dare to attack such a monster with a knife. There are probably others like that too – there’s a lot of them in the Zone! - but Alive and Alive for that reason, so as not to be one of them...
The armored kit saved him. A stray fragment touched his left leg tangentially, but the stalker had long been accustomed to scratches in the meat. Everything else was stopped by armor elements. Only I still had a chance to feel the blow of air. Still, it’s no joke when a grenade goes off very close to you...
End of the schmuck. You can no longer remember about him.
Having won the next round of the ongoing duel, the stalker took a round flat box from his pouch, uncorked it and rubbed his cheeks and forehead with a medicinal mixture based on antiseptic ointment... The squeak of a gadget was heard in his breast pocket. Zhiv took out a portable scanning device and examined the sensor readings. It seems that there are acidic impurities in the rainwater.
Just in case, the man checked how tightly the hood fit to his head and pulled its edge more firmly over his face. It was reinsurance, but in the Zone it’s better to be safe than sorry. Everything else is already closed: hands in gloves, feet in boots, and so on. Elements of equipment such as a backpack are specially designed to remain low-vulnerability. This is a Zone, not an amusement park.
At that moment all that remained was to regret that today I did not have a helmet and visor-mask with me. Why they are not there is a different story. And a stalker is not supposed to regret anything. It is necessary to proceed from the parameters of the current situation that has developed here and now. And get out by any means, in accordance with what is available.
Weather conditions did not allow concessions and no discounts were promised. However, another twenty minutes of intense movement through the terrain, here and there dotted with local “changes,” and Zhiv crawled into his shelter. This time it’s an old, Soviet-era basement of a residential building, usually more or less safe. He became convinced that this was still the case by first shining a flashlight on the walls, floor and ceiling and feeling it; then he climbed in, blocked the entrance from the inside, lit a fire, took off his gloves and carefully treated his burned face. Only after this it was possible to go to bed. His exhausted body needs sleep even more than food or water.
This basement was, of course, relatively safe, like everything in the Zone, where you can’t be sure of anything or anyone. Zhiv installed an additional “alarm clock” and a tripwire at the only exit littered with sheets of iron and broken bricks; There are still three grenades left in stock. Without wasting another minute, he made himself as comfortable as he could on a flat section of the floor in the blind corner farthest from the exit, reliably covering the rear. He put his backpack under his head, hugged the Kalash and fell asleep. A healing dream... an enveloping, long-awaited dream.
* * *
...When the stalker woke up and opened his eyes, he immediately saw a thin but bright ray. A sunny greeting made its way through the gap between the edge of the iron sheet and the entrance opening.
Again a small victory, I lived until the morning. Nothing happened overnight. The clock showed nine minutes when Zhiv turned on his portable terminal and went online to the stalker network. He looked to see which of his friends were online. Having looked through the general chat, I took note of some messages from colleagues that contained information about new, quite significant metamorphoses that had occurred in different sectors of the Zone. Some parts of the territory were open for passage, others, on the contrary, became more difficult to access.
He already had a vacuum earphone in his right ear; the stalker often listened to music during rest stops. At the same time, the left one always remained open, so as not to “block off” the hearing completely and to react in case of danger sounds. Today started with the composition “On the Road” by the group “Alice” 1
Note #1 – See the end of the book for “List of Tips and Reminders.”
The chorus ended with the words: “... What we are cannot be understood by a newcomer...” Symbolically.
Alive quickly had breakfast with an energy bar, washed it down with water, removed the stretcher, cleared the entrance, got out of the basement and went about his business. The equipment and clothes did not dry out overnight, but now, in the sun, the stalker felt quite comfortable. Of course – compared to yesterday’s breakthrough!
The area ahead Zhiv scanned and “probed” for areas of IFP. He no longer lowered his eyelids; now the rain did not interfere with his vision. The eyes served as visual sensors, helping to recognize the approach of people or any other potential threats. The standard procedure for making a path looked like throwing pebbles or some small objects, such as nuts or bolts, in front of you. Whoever liked what he liked, he preferred to operate on it, stocking up in advance. Although we often had to throw fragments of branches or whatever else came to hand.
Because of these IFP sections, which the stalkers called ifepeshki, “changes”, “changes” or locals for short, one could forget about moving in a straight line. Zigzag, crawl if necessary, or not at all, but not in a straight line. And most importantly, never go back the same route. Strict walking rule. Where he had just passed, at any second a fatal change could occur, a distortion of physical space, and a place that just a minute ago was quite suitable for placing the sole of a shoe, has already turned into a death trap...
Before stepping on any fragment of soil, Zhiv needed to throw a “test” shell there and see what would happen to it. If what was thrown landed normally, it means that most likely this nearest area is not dangerous for a person, but if the projectile suddenly flattens, incinerates, throws up, abruptly slams to the ground or somehow “hits” - it is absolutely forbidden to step there! It was in this testing way that the Zone’s tramps usually probed their way. Most of them.
The stronger stalkers, who dared to descend into the third circle, and even deeper, further, were gradually trained, learned in advance to sense the presence of something alien in the general energy of the environment, so to speak, on the fly, and in many cases acquired abilities without any stones and nuts to understand where not to go.
However, you should not neglect basic tests. If you value your life not in words.
A few minutes later Zhiva met two young stalkers; judging by the equipment, members of the “Zone Orderlies” clan. As in any society, certain groups also formed among people in the Zone. The local “interest associations”, as a rule, adhered to certain views on what was happening.
The “orderlies,” for example, were hostile to the results of zone mutations, and this attitude towards monsters united them, prompting them to collectively exterminate mutants. People who joined the “uninhibited” cultivated permissiveness, freedom of thoughts and actions, while they were much more tolerant of mutants. “Maskers” generally collaborated with those schmucks who retained a sufficient degree of intelligence for interpersonal contacts.
And so on, each of the clans of the Zone has its own philosophy... The apotheosis was the adherents of “Inferno”, a real religious sect. Now the Inferno soldiers surrounded the border between the fourth and fifth levels with an impenetrable cordon. This happened quite a long time ago. And now the sectarians tried to mercilessly destroy everyone who tried to penetrate the mysterious epicentral pit of the Russian Zone, covered in myths. The deepest and smallest diameter “cylinder”. The Infernos believed that the very gates to the underworld had opened in the center of the Zone, and brazenly usurped the opportunity to come into contact with otherworldly forces...
The pair of "orderlies" continued on their way. Zhiv let them pass, retreating into the shadows under the mutael. The free tramp did not seek to communicate with stalkers who “joined the herd,” as he perceived those who gathered in permanent groups, and not in temporary hunting groups and search partnerships. But he did not specifically quarrel with any of the clan members.
Unless he dealt with bandits if the right opportunity arose; a criminal contingent also settled in the Zone and caused a lot of problems to “normal” stalkers. For example, an honest earner finds a rare, expensive zonnik, and they take him to the gop-stop. They will rob you, shoot you, or, even worse, strip you of your clothes and leave you to die without clothes or weapons.
About an hour later, while resting at a short rest, Zhiv noticed in the distance a large group going on a raid. Scientists and their guards, fighters from the zone patrol. Several people in gray overalls were taking some measurements under the watchful eye of patrol officers. The military controlled the space around the expedition, menacingly waving their machine guns. Although now is such a period that inside the Zone they usually do not shoot when stalkers approach. Rather, a display of weapons is used to protect and maintain authority. But a passing stalker will definitely be asked for a license. This is their direct duty since licensing was introduced, and you can get into the alienation completely legally.
However, Zhiva does not have a license, never had one, and is unlikely to have one. A seasoned old-timer will not take “permission” to be a stalker from the state out of principle. That’s why the free tramp walked around the group. However, it was not only for this reason that he was not eager to intersect with the military.
Further along the way, Zhiv picked up a “pie,” a healthy type of swag. It can be used as a mine or a grenade, and when in contact with a naked body, the zonnik has some healing properties. Not too expensive, but it was right on the trail. In the first and second outer circles, on the widest and shallowest ring-shaped terraces, it is least dangerous for a person to be. Of the five levels, they occupy the largest area, in fact two-thirds of the total area of the alienated territory with a hundred-kilometer diameter. It is not surprising that the overwhelming majority of people who live inside the Perimeter permanently, and most of the temporary “guests” of various kinds, are concentrated here.
Because of this crowding, swag is discovered and sorted out very quickly, and in order to have a chance to get something truly worthwhile, it is necessary to penetrate further into the depths of the Zone. But only those who are mature enough for a real trek go down there. After all, first you will have to overcome the difference between the second and third levels, and this is not tens, but hundreds of meters of sheer rock walls. The horizontals of the outer circles are just flowers compared to the berries of the verticals and horizontals of the inner ones...
Alive, grinning from the purely stalkerish pleasure of adding to his collection, he placed the loot in a special “safe room” for zone artifacts. Not all of them were harmless in the sense of having an effect on the body, and traditionally the swag was hidden in special containers to “extinguish” for the period when the artifact was not activated and not in use. And if you don’t know what a zonnik is and how to handle it, then it’s better not to touch or take it at all.
Although such ignorance is rare, as in relation to mutants and abnormal locales, given the presence of a global user electronic file cabinet, a network database, where all available and fresh information about new and old phenomena and formations is added.
Any stalker can get the necessary information during a break between hunting raids or right on the go. Up to a certain limit, of course. Sooner or later, network traffic disappears, and you never know when and where exactly. Voice and digital communication channels can be interrupted for a hundred reasons, and not all of them are known to those traveling...
Now Zhivo was just about to take a break for rest. Rise from the second and visit the bar, one of the hot spots scattered throughout the vast territory of the first circle. This particular establishment was called “Star” by the zone people and was located almost on the very edge of the first circle - just a stone’s throw from the descent into the second.
Taverns, bars and taverns almost always also served as roadside inns. For a certain fee, anyone could spend the night in one or another, but, most importantly, in relatively safe conditions, under guard. In most establishments, it was also possible to find a partner for an hour or for the night. Females were present as staff - waitresses, strippers, cooks - or simply worked as representatives of the oldest profession. Even the most severe and unsociable tramps sometimes needed to physically relax and relieve tension. And for this we need women. Those for whom men were suitable for this were the exception rather than the rule in the Zone.
Hot spots were guarded; stalkers gathered in them. But they were kept not by stalkers, but by people specializing in such business in the Zone. As a rule, the owners of the establishments sat continuously at their workplaces inside, taking breaks only to sleep. Where a lot of people gathered, it was possible to make money not only by selling love, food and drink. Exchange and sale of weapons, supplies, equipment and, most importantly, swag - obtained by zone stalkers. Resellers and suppliers flocked here with whom deals could be concluded. From each person who came to the establishment, the owners received a percentage...
Alive was heading towards the first circle, straight to the south... I spotted movement on the left - a mutadog! He fired two single shots from a machine gun, broke his leg, and the second bullet hit him in the abdomen. The third, control, hit him in the head, bloody bits scattered in all directions... B-bitch, how did this ugly thing manage to sneak up close?! I relaxed, my vigilance dropped, my senses became dull... But even at the border of the second and first circles, this is a Zone, not a park for walking. The stalker crouched down, rolled over, and looked back and forth. So far, no one else seems to have encroached on his life. The man remembered yesterday’s encounter with the Imitator, a monster capable of changing the shape of its body and pretending to be anyone. Well, yes, and as soon as he remained alive... He literally slipped along the edge separating life from death. That's why he's alive.
But now everything around seems to have improved. According to predictions, there were at least twelve hours left before the Capture; in half a day he seemed to have time to get to “Zvezda” and take refuge there. During the Capture, real chaos will happen in the Zone, deadly and terrible - an invisible “magnetic” force dragged towards the epicenter all living things that turned up in open spaces and did not have time to hide or securely gain a foothold. The frenzied atmosphere turned into a giant whirlpool... After merciless hurricanes, the configuration of the location of the “changers” changed, new varieties of monsters could appear, and the depths of the levels were updated. All the steps of the terraced basin were pressed in, going further into the planet, sometimes by meters, and sometimes by tens of meters.
Some stalkers who fell under the Capture on the surface, but somehow miraculously clung to something, were later found to have gone completely mad. But these were isolated cases, more like legends; Usually a person who did not manage to hide in time disappeared without a trace. Together with the mutants, he was carried away there, to the center of the Zone, about which no one knew anything for certain.
Sergey Volnov
Visiting Zone. Living legend
Dedicated to my friend and reader, the wonderful photographer Yura Pershin, and to everyone who knows for sure: everything that the human mind can imagine must exist - somewhere, somehow, someday...
Your dreams will begin to come true when they are stronger than your fears. Not before...
Advice on how not to reverse causes and consequences
Instead of a prologue (Stalker)
...Sneak invisibly, silently, moving through the changing reality of the Zone. Step by step, step by step. Anticipating, anticipating and thanks to this, avoiding and bypassing her “whims” in time. But the rain muffles the senses, and the difficulty of passing the route increases... If the walker is not strong enough, in such conditions it is better for him to keep his head down. Wait in one of the numerous stalker caches and camps, dispersed along the horizontal lines of the three outer circles.
More precisely, two, because in the third circle, “not” is added to the word “numerous” in front, reflecting the true realities. In the fourth, they are reflected in the word “rare”. In the fifth circle, the complete lack of opportunity to make a halt is characterized by a very short word. "No". The reality of the epicenter categorically does not imply stops along the way.
The Stalker sneaks around the Zone carefully, like a saboteur approaching a sentry whom he must silently “take down.” I could sneak a little faster, but an obsessive feeling interferes, trying to slow down and tempting me to stop. He clearly imagines that he is being closely watched. It’s as if someone’s close attention is relentlessly following behind your back, like a shadow...
He had had this feeling before, but now it was especially inappropriate. It is urgent to get rid of this phantom observer, to dislodge this annoying obstacle to perception! The sneaker deliberately lowered his eyelids so as not to look, trying to cut off his vision, which now only distracts him from moving. Under the merciless pouring rain, in this muddy veil, you still can’t see anything even half a meter away. To navigate an abnormal space, a real stalker does not need eyes primarily, except perhaps as an additional channel for obtaining information about the environment.
Smell, touch, hearing, all “ordinary” senses are maximally concentrated on searching for threats. But most importantly, the zone sense, that very special, sixth or sixty-sixth sense, began to work “full speed ahead.” Only a person for whom it wakes up in the Zone and begins to suggest the safest option for the path, at least weakly and occasionally, has a chance to become a stalker. For those who don’t have a sense of smell, it’s better not to venture further than the outer sectors of the second circle alone...
Whatever is now lurking there, ahead, in the unknown, the stalker’s chances of survival depend solely on how quickly he manages to recognize the approaching danger. Have time to smell it before it finds itself at a distance, when it is already too late to do anything to save it.
Water floods the trusty machine gun, but it’s a Kalashnikov, he’s not afraid. A man moves half-bent, making his way through a solid wall of water. At these moments, he doesn’t really think about how and where to go, he obeys prompts from within, from the subconscious; the main driving force is the desire to get to shelter.
Extra thoughts, and even more so words, can interfere with the completion of a task. Any animal or plant in the Zone, every stone or object encountered, ruin or remnant of a mechanism, and even more so an intelligent mutant, can suddenly “hear” what a person is thinking and saying. One has only to rejoice ahead of time, and the stalker, according to the law of zone meanness, will face collapse at the very last moment. One has to carelessly speak out loud, and the abnormal, distorted space surrounding him will react in full... Or not. He will “keep silent” in response and let you through to the goal, but it depends on your luck.
He is alive and knows this very well. He firmly grasped the laws. Not right away, having paid a high price, but still, he managed. Happened. Mainly because immediately after coming from the big world, having appeared here, he began to purposefully change, getting rid of normal habits and ideas about “how you should” and “how you want.” And he continued to continuously absorb and learn, not allowing his brain, body, or soul to be lazy... Gradually he learned, gained precious experience, then his senses opened and started working, thanks to the Zone, and he adapted and managed to become a stalker.
Individuals who are unable to assimilate, who are not amenable to learning and change, have no place in the Zone. Anywhere you can remain stubborn, inflexible, inert “yourself”, but here you definitely can’t. Literally deadly.
One of the first rules of a stalker is that it is impossible and pointless to make any predictions about your own future. Every next second can be not just threatening or harmful, but a turning point in fate...
A figure, even darker than rainwater, rushed out of the gray-brown curtain right at him! The man pulled back, left the line of attack and fired a long burst at the creature. Fiery flashes momentarily created an oasis of light in the darkness of the stormy Zone. The bullets did not whistle past the target, they slowed down the mutant, and Zhiv managed to make out a humanoid silhouette. The meeting was far from the most pleasant, it was a schmoznik, as they call various degenerates resulting from a mixture of the human genome with an alien reality.
The stalker jumped to the side, behind the very opportunely turned up “changer” who stood out from the veil with a dull flicker. The wounded, frenzied mutant, turning sharply, attacked again and broke straight into this local area... A “flower” of fire, detonation, blazed with heat, Zhiva was thrown back, and he found himself pressed to the ground at a distance, a few meters from the local area of altered physical space. Everything happened so quickly that the stalker didn’t even have time to really understand how it happened...
His face was burned by a blazing fire, his vision barely had time to focus... And the monster, which had somehow miraculously survived, was inevitably approaching. And the mutant turned out to be the Imitator (exactly so, with a capital letter, like all subspecies of intelligent mutants). The man tore the grenade from its mount and threw it, rolled it right under the creature’s feet, and covered himself with his hands, fused with the ground, pressed down, “slammed into it,” desperately hoping that it would carry through and not hit... A grenade is the only option, despite the short distance, because for There is no time at all for effective shooting to kill from the “primary” weapon; and only a completely crazy person would dare to attack such a monster with a knife. There are probably such people too - there are so many of them in the Zone! - but Alive and Alive for that reason, so as not to be one of them...
The armored kit saved him. A stray fragment touched his left leg tangentially, but the stalker had long been accustomed to scratches in the meat. Everything else was stopped by armor elements. Only I still had a chance to feel the blow of air. Still, it’s no joke when a grenade goes off very close to you...
End of the schmuck. You can no longer remember about him.
Having won the next round of the ongoing duel, the stalker took a round flat box from his pouch, uncorked it and rubbed his cheeks and forehead with a medicinal mixture based on antiseptic ointment... The squeak of a gadget was heard in his breast pocket. Zhiv took out a portable scanning device and examined the sensor readings. It seems that there are acidic impurities in the rainwater.
Just in case, the man checked how tightly the hood fit to his head and pulled its edge more firmly over his face. It was reinsurance, but in the Zone it’s better to be safe than sorry. Everything else is already closed: hands in gloves, feet in boots, and so on. Elements of equipment such as a backpack are specially designed to remain low-vulnerability. This is a Zone, not an amusement park.
At that moment all that remained was to regret that today I did not have a helmet and visor-mask with me. Why they are not there is a different story. And a stalker is not supposed to regret anything. It is necessary to proceed from the parameters of the current situation that has developed here and now. And get out by any means, in accordance with what is available.
Weather conditions did not allow concessions and no discounts were promised. However, another twenty minutes of intense movement through the area, here and there dotted with local “changes”, - and Zhiv crawled into his shelter. This time it’s an old, Soviet-era basement of a residential building, usually more or less safe. He became convinced that this was still the case by first shining a flashlight on the walls, floor and ceiling and feeling it; then he climbed in, blocked the entrance from the inside, lit a fire, took off his gloves and carefully treated his burned face. Only after this it was possible to go to bed. His exhausted body needs sleep even more than food or water.
This basement was, of course, relatively safe, like everything in the Zone, where you can’t be sure of anything or anyone. Zhiv installed an additional “alarm clock” and a tripwire at the only exit littered with sheets of iron and broken bricks; There are still three grenades left in stock. Without wasting another minute, he made himself as comfortable as he could on a flat section of the floor in the blind corner farthest from the exit, reliably covering the rear. He put his backpack under his head, hugged the Kalash and fell asleep. A healing dream... an enveloping, long-awaited dream.
© Volnov S., 2017
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2017
* * *
Dedicated to my friend and reader, the wonderful photographer Yura Pershin, and to everyone who knows for sure: everything that the human mind is capable of imagining necessarily exists - somewhere, somehow, someday...
Your dreams will begin to come true when they are stronger than your fears. Not before...
Advice on how not to reverse causes and consequences
Instead of a prologue (Stalker)
...Sneak invisibly, silently, moving through the changing reality of the Zone. Step by step, step by step. Anticipating, anticipating and thanks to this, avoiding and bypassing her “whims” in time. But the rain muffles the senses, and the difficulty of passing the route increases... If the walker is not strong enough, in such conditions it is better for him to keep his head down. Wait in one of the numerous stalker caches and camps, dispersed along the horizontal lines of the three outer circles.
More precisely, two, because in the third circle, “not” is added to the word “numerous” in front, reflecting the true realities. In the fourth, they are reflected in the word “rare”. In the fifth circle, the complete lack of opportunity to make a halt is characterized by a very short word. "No". The reality of the epicenter categorically does not imply stops along the way.
The Stalker sneaks around the Zone carefully, like a saboteur approaching a sentry whom he must silently “take down.” I could sneak a little faster, but an obsessive feeling interferes, trying to slow down and tempting me to stop. He clearly imagines that he is being closely watched. It’s as if someone’s close attention is relentlessly following behind your back, like a shadow...
He had had this feeling before, but now it was especially inappropriate. It is urgent to get rid of this phantom observer, to dislodge this annoying obstacle to perception! The sneaker deliberately lowered his eyelids so as not to look, trying to cut off his vision, which now only distracts him from moving. Under the merciless pouring rain, in this muddy veil, you still can’t see anything even half a meter away. To navigate an abnormal space, a real stalker does not need eyes primarily, except perhaps as an additional channel for obtaining information about the environment.
Smell, touch, hearing, all “ordinary” senses are maximally concentrated on searching for threats. But most importantly, the zone sense, that very special, sixth or sixty-sixth sense, began to work “full speed ahead.” Only a person for whom it wakes up in the Zone and begins to suggest the safest option for the path, at least weakly and occasionally, has a chance to become a stalker. For those who don’t have a sense of smell, it’s better not to venture further than the outer sectors of the second circle alone...
Whatever is now lurking there, ahead, in the unknown, the stalker’s chances of survival depend solely on how quickly he manages to recognize the approaching danger. Have time to smell it before it finds itself at a distance, when it is already too late to do anything to save it.
Water floods the trusty machine gun, but it’s a Kalashnikov, he’s not afraid. A man moves half-bent, making his way through a solid wall of water. At these moments, he doesn’t really think about how and where to go, he obeys prompts from within, from the subconscious; the main driving force is the desire to get to shelter.
Extra thoughts, and even more so words, can interfere with the completion of a task. Any animal or plant in the Zone, every stone or object encountered, ruin or remnant of a mechanism, and even more so an intelligent mutant, can suddenly “hear” what a person is thinking and saying. One has only to rejoice ahead of time, and the stalker, according to the law of zone meanness, will face collapse at the very last moment. One has to carelessly speak out loud, and the abnormal, distorted space surrounding him will react in full... Or not. He will “keep silent” in response and let you through to the goal, but it depends on your luck.
He is alive and knows this very well. He firmly grasped the laws. Not right away, having paid a high price, but still, he managed. Happened. Mainly because immediately after coming from the big world, having appeared here, he began to purposefully change, getting rid of normal habits and ideas about “how you should” and “how you want.” And he continued to continuously absorb and learn, not allowing his brain, body, or soul to be lazy... Gradually he learned, gained precious experience, then his senses opened and started working, thanks to the Zone, and he adapted and managed to become a stalker.
Individuals who are unable to assimilate, who are not amenable to learning and change, have no place in the Zone. Anywhere you can remain stubborn, inflexible, inert “yourself”, but here you definitely can’t. Literally deadly.
One of the first rules of a stalker is that it is impossible and pointless to make any predictions about your own future. Every next second can be not just threatening or harmful, but a turning point in fate...
A figure, even darker than rainwater, rushed out of the gray-brown curtain right at him! The man pulled back, left the line of attack and fired a long burst at the creature. Fiery flashes momentarily created an oasis of light in the darkness of the stormy Zone. The bullets did not whistle past the target, they slowed down the mutant, and Zhiv managed to make out a humanoid silhouette. The meeting was far from the most pleasant, it was a schmoznik, as they call various degenerates resulting from a mixture of the human genome with an alien reality.
The stalker jumped to the side, behind the very opportunely turned up “changer” who stood out from the veil with a dull flicker. The wounded, frenzied mutant, turning sharply, attacked again and broke straight into this local area... A “flower” of fire, detonation, blazed with heat, Zhiva was thrown back, and he found himself pressed to the ground at a distance, a few meters from the local area of altered physical space. Everything happened so quickly that the stalker didn’t even have time to really understand how it happened...
His face was burned by a blazing fire, his vision barely had time to focus... And the monster, which had somehow miraculously survived, was inevitably approaching. And the mutant turned out to be the Imitator (exactly so, with a capital letter, like all subspecies of intelligent mutants). The man tore the grenade from its mount and threw it, rolled it right under the creature’s feet, and covered himself with his hands, fused with the ground, pressed down, “slammed”, desperately hoping that it would carry through and not hit... A grenade is the only option, despite the short distance, because for There is no time at all for effective shooting to kill from the “primary” weapon; and only a completely crazy person would dare to attack such a monster with a knife. There are probably others like that too – there’s a lot of them in the Zone! - but Alive and Alive for that reason, so as not to be one of them...
The armored kit saved him. A stray fragment touched his left leg tangentially, but the stalker had long been accustomed to scratches in the meat. Everything else was stopped by armor elements. Only I still had a chance to feel the blow of air. Still, it’s no joke when a grenade goes off very close to you...
End of the schmuck. You can no longer remember about him.
Having won the next round of the ongoing duel, the stalker took a round flat box from his pouch, uncorked it and rubbed his cheeks and forehead with a medicinal mixture based on antiseptic ointment... The squeak of a gadget was heard in his breast pocket. Zhiv took out a portable scanning device and examined the sensor readings. It seems that there are acidic impurities in the rainwater.
Just in case, the man checked how tightly the hood fit to his head and pulled its edge more firmly over his face. It was reinsurance, but in the Zone it’s better to be safe than sorry. Everything else is already closed: hands in gloves, feet in boots, and so on. Elements of equipment such as a backpack are specially designed to remain low-vulnerability. This is a Zone, not an amusement park.
At that moment all that remained was to regret that today I did not have a helmet and visor-mask with me. Why they are not there is a different story. And a stalker is not supposed to regret anything. It is necessary to proceed from the parameters of the current situation that has developed here and now. And get out by any means, in accordance with what is available.
Weather conditions did not allow concessions and no discounts were promised. However, another twenty minutes of intense movement through the terrain, here and there dotted with local “changes,” and Zhiv crawled into his shelter. This time it’s an old, Soviet-era basement of a residential building, usually more or less safe. He became convinced that this was still the case by first shining a flashlight on the walls, floor and ceiling and feeling it; then he climbed in, blocked the entrance from the inside, lit a fire, took off his gloves and carefully treated his burned face. Only after this it was possible to go to bed. His exhausted body needs sleep even more than food or water.
This basement was, of course, relatively safe, like everything in the Zone, where you can’t be sure of anything or anyone. Zhiv installed an additional “alarm clock” and a tripwire at the only exit littered with sheets of iron and broken bricks; There are still three grenades left in stock. Without wasting another minute, he made himself as comfortable as he could on a flat section of the floor in the blind corner farthest from the exit, reliably covering the rear. He put his backpack under his head, hugged the Kalash and fell asleep. A healing dream... an enveloping, long-awaited dream.
* * *
...When the stalker woke up and opened his eyes, he immediately saw a thin but bright ray. A sunny greeting made its way through the gap between the edge of the iron sheet and the entrance opening.
Again a small victory, I lived until the morning. Nothing happened overnight. The clock showed nine minutes when Zhiv turned on his portable terminal and went online to the stalker network. He looked to see which of his friends were online. Having looked through the general chat, I took note of some messages from colleagues that contained information about new, quite significant metamorphoses that had occurred in different sectors of the Zone. Some parts of the territory were open for passage, others, on the contrary, became more difficult to access.
He already had a vacuum earphone in his right ear; the stalker often listened to music during rest stops. At the same time, the left one always remained open, so as not to “block off” the hearing completely and to react in case of danger sounds. Today began with the composition “On the Road” by the group “Alice”.
The chorus ended with the words: “... What we are cannot be understood by a newcomer...” Symbolically.
Alive quickly had breakfast with an energy bar, washed it down with water, removed the stretcher, cleared the entrance, got out of the basement and went about his business. The equipment and clothes did not dry out overnight, but now, in the sun, the stalker felt quite comfortable. Of course – compared to yesterday’s breakthrough!
The area ahead Zhiv scanned and “probed” for areas of IFP. He no longer lowered his eyelids; now the rain did not interfere with his vision. The eyes served as visual sensors, helping to recognize the approach of people or any other potential threats. The standard procedure for making a path looked like throwing pebbles or some small objects, such as nuts or bolts, in front of you. Whoever liked what he liked, he preferred to operate on it, stocking up in advance. Although we often had to throw fragments of branches or whatever else came to hand.
Because of these IFP sections, which the stalkers called ifepeshki, “changes”, “changes” or locals for short, one could forget about moving in a straight line. Zigzag, crawl if necessary, or not at all, but not in a straight line. And most importantly, never go back the same route. Strict walking rule. Where he had just passed, at any second a fatal change could occur, a distortion of physical space, and a place that just a minute ago was quite suitable for placing the sole of a shoe, has already turned into a death trap...
Before stepping on any fragment of soil, Zhiv needed to throw a “test” shell there and see what would happen to it. If what was thrown landed normally, it means that most likely this nearest area is not dangerous for a person, but if the projectile suddenly flattens, incinerates, throws up, abruptly slams to the ground or somehow “hits” - it is absolutely forbidden to step there! It was in this testing way that the Zone’s tramps usually probed their way. Most of them.
The stronger stalkers, who dared to descend into the third circle, and even deeper, further, were gradually trained, learned in advance to sense the presence of something alien in the general energy of the environment, so to speak, on the fly, and in many cases acquired abilities without any stones and nuts to understand where not to go.
However, you should not neglect basic tests. If you value your life not in words.
A few minutes later Zhiva met two young stalkers; judging by the equipment, members of the “Zone Orderlies” clan. As in any society, certain groups also formed among people in the Zone. The local “interest associations”, as a rule, adhered to certain views on what was happening.
The “orderlies,” for example, were hostile to the results of zone mutations, and this attitude towards monsters united them, prompting them to collectively exterminate mutants. People who joined the “uninhibited” cultivated permissiveness, freedom of thoughts and actions, while they were much more tolerant of mutants. “Maskers” generally collaborated with those schmucks who retained a sufficient degree of intelligence for interpersonal contacts.
And so on, each of the clans of the Zone has its own philosophy... The apotheosis was the adherents of “Inferno”, a real religious sect. Now the Inferno soldiers surrounded the border between the fourth and fifth levels with an impenetrable cordon. This happened quite a long time ago. And now the sectarians tried to mercilessly destroy everyone who tried to penetrate the mysterious epicentral pit of the Russian Zone, covered in myths. The deepest and smallest diameter “cylinder”. The Infernos believed that the very gates to the underworld had opened in the center of the Zone, and brazenly usurped the opportunity to come into contact with otherworldly forces...
The pair of "orderlies" continued on their way. Zhiv let them pass, retreating into the shadows under the mutael. The free tramp did not seek to communicate with stalkers who “joined the herd,” as he perceived those who gathered in permanent groups, and not in temporary hunting groups and search partnerships. But he did not specifically quarrel with any of the clan members.
Unless he dealt with bandits if the right opportunity arose; a criminal contingent also settled in the Zone and caused a lot of problems to “normal” stalkers. For example, an honest earner finds a rare, expensive zonnik, and they take him to the gop-stop. They will rob you, shoot you, or, even worse, strip you of your clothes and leave you to die without clothes or weapons.
About an hour later, while resting at a short rest, Zhiv noticed in the distance a large group going on a raid. Scientists and their guards, fighters from the zone patrol. Several people in gray overalls were taking some measurements under the watchful eye of patrol officers. The military controlled the space around the expedition, menacingly waving their machine guns. Although now is such a period that inside the Zone they usually do not shoot when stalkers approach. Rather, a display of weapons is used to protect and maintain authority. But a passing stalker will definitely be asked for a license. This is their direct duty since licensing was introduced, and you can get into the alienation completely legally.
However, Zhiva does not have a license, never had one, and is unlikely to have one. A seasoned old-timer will not take “permission” to be a stalker from the state out of principle. That’s why the free tramp walked around the group. However, it was not only for this reason that he was not eager to intersect with the military.
Further along the way, Zhiv picked up a “pie,” a healthy type of swag. It can be used as a mine or a grenade, and when in contact with a naked body, the zonnik has some healing properties. Not too expensive, but it was right on the trail. In the first and second outer circles, on the widest and shallowest ring-shaped terraces, it is least dangerous for a person to be. Of the five levels, they occupy the largest area, in fact two-thirds of the total area of the alienated territory with a hundred-kilometer diameter. It is not surprising that the overwhelming majority of people who live inside the Perimeter permanently, and most of the temporary “guests” of various kinds, are concentrated here.
Because of this crowding, swag is discovered and sorted out very quickly, and in order to have a chance to get something truly worthwhile, it is necessary to penetrate further into the depths of the Zone. But only those who are mature enough for a real trek go down there. After all, first you will have to overcome the difference between the second and third levels, and this is not tens, but hundreds of meters of sheer rock walls. The horizontals of the outer circles are just flowers compared to the berries of the verticals and horizontals of the inner ones...
Alive, grinning from the purely stalkerish pleasure of adding to his collection, he placed the loot in a special “safe room” for zone artifacts. Not all of them were harmless in the sense of having an effect on the body, and traditionally the swag was hidden in special containers to “extinguish” for the period when the artifact was not activated and not in use. And if you don’t know what a zonnik is and how to handle it, then it’s better not to touch or take it at all.
Although such ignorance is rare, as in relation to mutants and abnormal locales, given the presence of a global user electronic file cabinet, a network database, where all available and fresh information about new and old phenomena and formations is added.
Any stalker can get the necessary information during a break between hunting raids or right on the go. Up to a certain limit, of course. Sooner or later, network traffic disappears, and you never know when and where exactly. Voice and digital communication channels can be interrupted for a hundred reasons, and not all of them are known to those traveling...
Now Zhivo was just about to take a break for rest. Rise from the second and visit the bar, one of the hot spots scattered throughout the vast territory of the first circle. This particular establishment was called “Star” by the zone people and was located almost on the very edge of the first circle - just a stone’s throw from the descent into the second.
Taverns, bars and taverns almost always also served as roadside inns. For a certain fee, anyone could spend the night in one or another, but, most importantly, in relatively safe conditions, under guard. In most establishments, it was also possible to find a partner for an hour or for the night. Females were present as staff - waitresses, strippers, cooks - or simply worked as representatives of the oldest profession. Even the most severe and unsociable tramps sometimes needed to physically relax and relieve tension. And for this we need women. Those for whom men were suitable for this were the exception rather than the rule in the Zone.
Hot spots were guarded; stalkers gathered in them. But they were kept not by stalkers, but by people specializing in such business in the Zone. As a rule, the owners of the establishments sat continuously at their workplaces inside, taking breaks only to sleep. Where a lot of people gathered, it was possible to make money not only by selling love, food and drink. Exchange and sale of weapons, supplies, equipment and, most importantly, swag - obtained by zone stalkers. Resellers and suppliers flocked here with whom deals could be concluded. From each person who came to the establishment, the owners received a percentage...
Sergey Volnov
Visiting Zone. Living legend
© Volnov S., 2017
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2017
* * *Dedicated to my friend and reader, the wonderful photographer Yura Pershin, and to everyone who knows for sure: everything that the human mind is capable of imagining necessarily exists - somewhere, somehow, someday...
Your dreams will begin to come true when they are stronger than your fears. Not before...
Advice on how not to reverse causes and consequences
Instead of a prologue (Stalker)
...Sneak invisibly, silently, moving through the changing reality of the Zone. Step by step, step by step. Anticipating, anticipating and thanks to this, avoiding and bypassing her “whims” in time. But the rain muffles the senses, and the difficulty of passing the route increases... If the walker is not strong enough, in such conditions it is better for him to keep his head down. Wait in one of the numerous stalker caches and camps, dispersed along the horizontal lines of the three outer circles.
More precisely, two, because in the third circle, “not” is added to the word “numerous” in front, reflecting the true realities. In the fourth, they are reflected in the word “rare”. In the fifth circle, the complete lack of opportunity to make a halt is characterized by a very short word. "No". The reality of the epicenter categorically does not imply stops along the way.
The Stalker sneaks around the Zone carefully, like a saboteur approaching a sentry whom he must silently “take down.” I could sneak a little faster, but an obsessive feeling interferes, trying to slow down and tempting me to stop. He clearly imagines that he is being closely watched. It’s as if someone’s close attention is relentlessly following behind your back, like a shadow...
He had had this feeling before, but now it was especially inappropriate. It is urgent to get rid of this phantom observer, to dislodge this annoying obstacle to perception! The sneaker deliberately lowered his eyelids so as not to look, trying to cut off his vision, which now only distracts him from moving. Under the merciless pouring rain, in this muddy veil, you still can’t see anything even half a meter away. To navigate an abnormal space, a real stalker does not need eyes primarily, except perhaps as an additional channel for obtaining information about the environment.
Smell, touch, hearing, all “ordinary” senses are maximally concentrated on searching for threats. But most importantly, the zone sense, that very special, sixth or sixty-sixth sense, began to work “full speed ahead.” Only a person for whom it wakes up in the Zone and begins to suggest the safest option for the path, at least weakly and occasionally, has a chance to become a stalker. For those who don’t have a sense of smell, it’s better not to venture further than the outer sectors of the second circle alone...
Whatever is now lurking there, ahead, in the unknown, the stalker’s chances of survival depend solely on how quickly he manages to recognize the approaching danger. Have time to smell it before it finds itself at a distance, when it is already too late to do anything to save it.
Water floods the trusty machine gun, but it’s a Kalashnikov, he’s not afraid. A man moves half-bent, making his way through a solid wall of water. At these moments, he doesn’t really think about how and where to go, he obeys prompts from within, from the subconscious; the main driving force is the desire to get to shelter.
Extra thoughts, and even more so words, can interfere with the completion of a task. Any animal or plant in the Zone, every stone or object encountered, ruin or remnant of a mechanism, and even more so an intelligent mutant, can suddenly “hear” what a person is thinking and saying. One has only to rejoice ahead of time, and the stalker, according to the law of zone meanness, will face collapse at the very last moment. One has to carelessly speak out loud, and the abnormal, distorted space surrounding him will react in full... Or not. He will “keep silent” in response and let you through to the goal, but it depends on your luck.
He is alive and knows this very well. He firmly grasped the laws. Not right away, having paid a high price, but still, he managed. Happened. Mainly because immediately after coming from the big world, having appeared here, he began to purposefully change, getting rid of normal habits and ideas about “how you should” and “how you want.” And he continued to continuously absorb and learn, not allowing his brain, body, or soul to be lazy... Gradually he learned, gained precious experience, then his senses opened and started working, thanks to the Zone, and he adapted and managed to become a stalker.
Individuals who are unable to assimilate, who are not amenable to learning and change, have no place in the Zone. Anywhere you can remain stubborn, inflexible, inert “yourself”, but here you definitely can’t. Literally deadly.
One of the first rules of a stalker is that it is impossible and pointless to make any predictions about your own future. Every next second can be not just threatening or harmful, but a turning point in fate...
A figure, even darker than rainwater, rushed out of the gray-brown curtain right at him! The man pulled back, left the line of attack and fired a long burst at the creature. Fiery flashes momentarily created an oasis of light in the darkness of the stormy Zone. The bullets did not whistle past the target, they slowed down the mutant, and Zhiv managed to make out a humanoid silhouette. The meeting was far from the most pleasant, it was a schmoznik, as they call various degenerates resulting from a mixture of the human genome with an alien reality.
The stalker jumped to the side, behind the very opportunely turned up “changer” who stood out from the veil with a dull flicker. The wounded, frenzied mutant, turning sharply, attacked again and broke straight into this local area... A “flower” of fire, detonation, blazed with heat, Zhiva was thrown back, and he found himself pressed to the ground at a distance, a few meters from the local area of altered physical space. Everything happened so quickly that the stalker didn’t even have time to really understand how it happened...
His face was burned by a blazing fire, his vision barely had time to focus... And the monster, which had somehow miraculously survived, was inevitably approaching. And the mutant turned out to be the Imitator (exactly so, with a capital letter, like all subspecies of intelligent mutants). The man tore the grenade from its mount and threw it, rolled it right under the creature’s feet, and covered himself with his hands, fused with the ground, pressed down, “slammed”, desperately hoping that it would carry through and not hit... A grenade is the only option, despite the short distance, because for There is no time at all for effective shooting to kill from the “primary” weapon; and only a completely crazy person would dare to attack such a monster with a knife. There are probably others like that too – there’s a lot of them in the Zone! - but Alive and Alive for that reason, so as not to be one of them...
The armored kit saved him. A stray fragment touched his left leg tangentially, but the stalker had long been accustomed to scratches in the meat. Everything else was stopped by armor elements. Only I still had a chance to feel the blow of air. Still, it’s no joke when a grenade goes off very close to you...
End of the schmuck. You can no longer remember about him.
Having won the next round of the ongoing duel, the stalker took a round flat box from his pouch, uncorked it and rubbed his cheeks and forehead with a medicinal mixture based on antiseptic ointment... The squeak of a gadget was heard in his breast pocket. Zhiv took out a portable scanning device and examined the sensor readings. It seems that there are acidic impurities in the rainwater.
Just in case, the man checked how tightly the hood fit to his head and pulled its edge more firmly over his face. It was reinsurance, but in the Zone it’s better to be safe than sorry. Everything else is already closed: hands in gloves, feet in boots, and so on. Elements of equipment such as a backpack are specially designed to remain low-vulnerability. This is a Zone, not an amusement park.
At that moment all that remained was to regret that today I did not have a helmet and visor-mask with me. Why they are not there is a different story. And a stalker is not supposed to regret anything. It is necessary to proceed from the parameters of the current situation that has developed here and now. And get out by any means, in accordance with what is available.
Weather conditions did not allow concessions and no discounts were promised. However, another twenty minutes of intense movement through the terrain, here and there dotted with local “changes,” and Zhiv crawled into his shelter. This time it’s an old, Soviet-era basement of a residential building, usually more or less safe. He became convinced that this was still the case by first shining a flashlight on the walls, floor and ceiling and feeling it; then he climbed in, blocked the entrance from the inside, lit a fire, took off his gloves and carefully treated his burned face. Only after this it was possible to go to bed. His exhausted body needs sleep even more than food or water.
© Volnov S., 2017
© AST Publishing House LLC, 2017
* * *
Dedicated to my friend and reader, the wonderful photographer Yura Pershin, and to everyone who knows for sure: everything that the human mind is capable of imagining necessarily exists - somewhere, somehow, someday...
Your dreams will begin to come true when they are stronger than your fears. Not before...
Advice on how not to reverse causes and consequences
Instead of a prologue (Stalker)
...Sneak invisibly, silently, moving through the changing reality of the Zone. Step by step, step by step. Anticipating, anticipating and thanks to this, avoiding and bypassing her “whims” in time. But the rain muffles the senses, and the difficulty of passing the route increases... If the walker is not strong enough, in such conditions it is better for him to keep his head down. Wait in one of the numerous stalker caches and camps, dispersed along the horizontal lines of the three outer circles.
More precisely, two, because in the third circle, “not” is added to the word “numerous” in front, reflecting the true realities. In the fourth, they are reflected in the word “rare”. In the fifth circle, the complete lack of opportunity to make a halt is characterized by a very short word. "No". The reality of the epicenter categorically does not imply stops along the way.
The Stalker sneaks around the Zone carefully, like a saboteur approaching a sentry whom he must silently “take down.” I could sneak a little faster, but an obsessive feeling interferes, trying to slow down and tempting me to stop. He clearly imagines that he is being closely watched. It’s as if someone’s close attention is relentlessly following behind your back, like a shadow...
He had had this feeling before, but now it was especially inappropriate. It is urgent to get rid of this phantom observer, to dislodge this annoying obstacle to perception! The sneaker deliberately lowered his eyelids so as not to look, trying to cut off his vision, which now only distracts him from moving. Under the merciless pouring rain, in this muddy veil, you still can’t see anything even half a meter away. To navigate an abnormal space, a real stalker does not need eyes primarily, except perhaps as an additional channel for obtaining information about the environment.
Smell, touch, hearing, all “ordinary” senses are maximally concentrated on searching for threats. But most importantly, the zone sense, that very special, sixth or sixty-sixth sense, began to work “full speed ahead.” Only a person for whom it wakes up in the Zone and begins to suggest the safest option for the path, at least weakly and occasionally, has a chance to become a stalker. For those who don’t have a sense of smell, it’s better not to venture further than the outer sectors of the second circle alone...
Whatever is now lurking there, ahead, in the unknown, the stalker’s chances of survival depend solely on how quickly he manages to recognize the approaching danger. Have time to smell it before it finds itself at a distance, when it is already too late to do anything to save it.
Water floods the trusty machine gun, but it’s a Kalashnikov, he’s not afraid. A man moves half-bent, making his way through a solid wall of water. At these moments, he doesn’t really think about how and where to go, he obeys prompts from within, from the subconscious; the main driving force is the desire to get to shelter.
Extra thoughts, and even more so words, can interfere with the completion of a task. Any animal or plant in the Zone, every stone or object encountered, ruin or remnant of a mechanism, and even more so an intelligent mutant, can suddenly “hear” what a person is thinking and saying. One has only to rejoice ahead of time, and the stalker, according to the law of zone meanness, will face collapse at the very last moment. One has to carelessly speak out loud, and the abnormal, distorted space surrounding him will react in full... Or not. He will “keep silent” in response and let you through to the goal, but it depends on your luck.
He is alive and knows this very well. He firmly grasped the laws. Not right away, having paid a high price, but still, he managed. Happened. Mainly because immediately after coming from the big world, having appeared here, he began to purposefully change, getting rid of normal habits and ideas about “how you should” and “how you want.” And he continued to continuously absorb and learn, not allowing his brain, body, or soul to be lazy... Gradually he learned, gained precious experience, then his senses opened and started working, thanks to the Zone, and he adapted and managed to become a stalker.
Individuals who are unable to assimilate, who are not amenable to learning and change, have no place in the Zone. Anywhere you can remain stubborn, inflexible, inert “yourself”, but here you definitely can’t. Literally deadly.
One of the first rules of a stalker is that it is impossible and pointless to make any predictions about your own future. Every next second can be not just threatening or harmful, but a turning point in fate...
A figure, even darker than rainwater, rushed out of the gray-brown curtain right at him! The man pulled back, left the line of attack and fired a long burst at the creature. Fiery flashes momentarily created an oasis of light in the darkness of the stormy Zone. The bullets did not whistle past the target, they slowed down the mutant, and Zhiv managed to make out a humanoid silhouette. The meeting was far from the most pleasant, it was a schmoznik, as they call various degenerates resulting from a mixture of the human genome with an alien reality.
The stalker jumped to the side, behind the very opportunely turned up “changer” who stood out from the veil with a dull flicker. The wounded, frenzied mutant, turning sharply, attacked again and broke straight into this local area... A “flower” of fire, detonation, blazed with heat, Zhiva was thrown back, and he found himself pressed to the ground at a distance, a few meters from the local area of altered physical space. Everything happened so quickly that the stalker didn’t even have time to really understand how it happened...
His face was burned by a blazing fire, his vision barely had time to focus... And the monster, which had somehow miraculously survived, was inevitably approaching. And the mutant turned out to be the Imitator (exactly so, with a capital letter, like all subspecies of intelligent mutants). The man tore the grenade from its mount and threw it, rolled it right under the creature’s feet, and covered himself with his hands, fused with the ground, pressed down, “slammed”, desperately hoping that it would carry through and not hit... A grenade is the only option, despite the short distance, because for There is no time at all for effective shooting to kill from the “primary” weapon; and only a completely crazy person would dare to attack such a monster with a knife. There are probably others like that too – there’s a lot of them in the Zone! - but Alive and Alive for that reason, so as not to be one of them...
The armored kit saved him. A stray fragment touched his left leg tangentially, but the stalker had long been accustomed to scratches in the meat. Everything else was stopped by armor elements. Only I still had a chance to feel the blow of air. Still, it’s no joke when a grenade goes off very close to you...
End of the schmuck. You can no longer remember about him.
Having won the next round of the ongoing duel, the stalker took a round flat box from his pouch, uncorked it and rubbed his cheeks and forehead with a medicinal mixture based on antiseptic ointment... The squeak of a gadget was heard in his breast pocket. Zhiv took out a portable scanning device and examined the sensor readings. It seems that there are acidic impurities in the rainwater.
Just in case, the man checked how tightly the hood fit to his head and pulled its edge more firmly over his face. It was reinsurance, but in the Zone it’s better to be safe than sorry. Everything else is already closed: hands in gloves, feet in boots, and so on. Elements of equipment such as a backpack are specially designed to remain low-vulnerability. This is a Zone, not an amusement park.
At that moment all that remained was to regret that today I did not have a helmet and visor-mask with me. Why they are not there is a different story. And a stalker is not supposed to regret anything. It is necessary to proceed from the parameters of the current situation that has developed here and now. And get out by any means, in accordance with what is available.
Weather conditions did not allow concessions and no discounts were promised. However, another twenty minutes of intense movement through the terrain, here and there dotted with local “changes,” and Zhiv crawled into his shelter. This time it’s an old, Soviet-era basement of a residential building, usually more or less safe. He became convinced that this was still the case by first shining a flashlight on the walls, floor and ceiling and feeling it; then he climbed in, blocked the entrance from the inside, lit a fire, took off his gloves and carefully treated his burned face. Only after this it was possible to go to bed. His exhausted body needs sleep even more than food or water.
This basement was, of course, relatively safe, like everything in the Zone, where you can’t be sure of anything or anyone. Zhiv installed an additional “alarm clock” and a tripwire at the only exit littered with sheets of iron and broken bricks; There are still three grenades left in stock. Without wasting another minute, he made himself as comfortable as he could on a flat section of the floor in the blind corner farthest from the exit, reliably covering the rear. He put his backpack under his head, hugged the Kalash and fell asleep. A healing dream... an enveloping, long-awaited dream.
* * *
...When the stalker woke up and opened his eyes, he immediately saw a thin but bright ray. A sunny greeting made its way through the gap between the edge of the iron sheet and the entrance opening.
Again a small victory, I lived until the morning. Nothing happened overnight. The clock showed nine minutes when Zhiv turned on his portable terminal and went online to the stalker network. He looked to see which of his friends were online. Having looked through the general chat, I took note of some messages from colleagues that contained information about new, quite significant metamorphoses that had occurred in different sectors of the Zone. Some parts of the territory were open for passage, others, on the contrary, became more difficult to access.
He already had a vacuum earphone in his right ear; the stalker often listened to music during rest stops. At the same time, the left one always remained open, so as not to “block off” the hearing completely and to react in case of danger sounds. Today began with the composition “On the Road” by the group “Alice”.
The chorus ended with the words: “... What we are cannot be understood by a newcomer...” Symbolically.
Alive quickly had breakfast with an energy bar, washed it down with water, removed the stretcher, cleared the entrance, got out of the basement and went about his business. The equipment and clothes did not dry out overnight, but now, in the sun, the stalker felt quite comfortable. Of course – compared to yesterday’s breakthrough!
The area ahead Zhiv scanned and “probed” for areas of IFP. He no longer lowered his eyelids; now the rain did not interfere with his vision. The eyes served as visual sensors, helping to recognize the approach of people or any other potential threats. The standard procedure for making a path looked like throwing pebbles or some small objects, such as nuts or bolts, in front of you. Whoever liked what he liked, he preferred to operate on it, stocking up in advance. Although we often had to throw fragments of branches or whatever else came to hand.
Because of these IFP sections, which the stalkers called ifepeshki, “changes”, “changes” or locals for short, one could forget about moving in a straight line. Zigzag, crawl if necessary, or not at all, but not in a straight line. And most importantly, never go back the same route. Strict walking rule. Where he had just passed, at any second a fatal change could occur, a distortion of physical space, and a place that just a minute ago was quite suitable for placing the sole of a shoe, has already turned into a death trap...
Before stepping on any fragment of soil, Zhiv needed to throw a “test” shell there and see what would happen to it. If what was thrown landed normally, it means that most likely this nearest area is not dangerous for a person, but if the projectile suddenly flattens, incinerates, throws up, abruptly slams to the ground or somehow “hits” - it is absolutely forbidden to step there! It was in this testing way that the Zone’s tramps usually probed their way. Most of them.
The stronger stalkers, who dared to descend into the third circle, and even deeper, further, were gradually trained, learned in advance to sense the presence of something alien in the general energy of the environment, so to speak, on the fly, and in many cases acquired abilities without any stones and nuts to understand where not to go.
However, you should not neglect basic tests. If you value your life not in words.
A few minutes later Zhiva met two young stalkers; judging by the equipment, members of the “Zone Orderlies” clan. As in any society, certain groups also formed among people in the Zone. The local “interest associations”, as a rule, adhered to certain views on what was happening.
The “orderlies,” for example, were hostile to the results of zone mutations, and this attitude towards monsters united them, prompting them to collectively exterminate mutants. People who joined the “uninhibited” cultivated permissiveness, freedom of thoughts and actions, while they were much more tolerant of mutants. “Maskers” generally collaborated with those schmucks who retained a sufficient degree of intelligence for interpersonal contacts.
And so on, each of the clans of the Zone has its own philosophy... The apotheosis was the adherents of “Inferno”, a real religious sect. Now the Inferno soldiers surrounded the border between the fourth and fifth levels with an impenetrable cordon. This happened quite a long time ago. And now the sectarians tried to mercilessly destroy everyone who tried to penetrate the mysterious epicentral pit of the Russian Zone, covered in myths. The deepest and smallest diameter “cylinder”. The Infernos believed that the very gates to the underworld had opened in the center of the Zone, and brazenly usurped the opportunity to come into contact with otherworldly forces...
The pair of "orderlies" continued on their way. Zhiv let them pass, retreating into the shadows under the mutael. The free tramp did not seek to communicate with stalkers who “joined the herd,” as he perceived those who gathered in permanent groups, and not in temporary hunting groups and search partnerships. But he did not specifically quarrel with any of the clan members.
Unless he dealt with bandits if the right opportunity arose; a criminal contingent also settled in the Zone and caused a lot of problems to “normal” stalkers. For example, an honest earner finds a rare, expensive zonnik, and they take him to the gop-stop. They will rob you, shoot you, or, even worse, strip you of your clothes and leave you to die without clothes or weapons.
About an hour later, while resting at a short rest, Zhiv noticed in the distance a large group going on a raid. Scientists and their guards, fighters from the zone patrol. Several people in gray overalls were taking some measurements under the watchful eye of patrol officers. The military controlled the space around the expedition, menacingly waving their machine guns. Although now is such a period that inside the Zone they usually do not shoot when stalkers approach. Rather, a display of weapons is used to protect and maintain authority. But a passing stalker will definitely be asked for a license. This is their direct duty since licensing was introduced, and you can get into the alienation completely legally.
However, Zhiva does not have a license, never had one, and is unlikely to have one. A seasoned old-timer will not take “permission” to be a stalker from the state out of principle. That’s why the free tramp walked around the group. However, it was not only for this reason that he was not eager to intersect with the military.
Further along the way, Zhiv picked up a “pie,” a healthy type of swag. It can be used as a mine or a grenade, and when in contact with a naked body, the zonnik has some healing properties. Not too expensive, but it was right on the trail. In the first and second outer circles, on the widest and shallowest ring-shaped terraces, it is least dangerous for a person to be. Of the five levels, they occupy the largest area, in fact two-thirds of the total area of the alienated territory with a hundred-kilometer diameter. It is not surprising that the overwhelming majority of people who live inside the Perimeter permanently, and most of the temporary “guests” of various kinds, are concentrated here.
Because of this crowding, swag is discovered and sorted out very quickly, and in order to have a chance to get something truly worthwhile, it is necessary to penetrate further into the depths of the Zone. But only those who are mature enough for a real trek go down there. After all, first you will have to overcome the difference between the second and third levels, and this is not tens, but hundreds of meters of sheer rock walls. The horizontals of the outer circles are just flowers compared to the berries of the verticals and horizontals of the inner ones...
Alive, grinning from the purely stalkerish pleasure of adding to his collection, he placed the loot in a special “safe room” for zone artifacts. Not all of them were harmless in the sense of having an effect on the body, and traditionally the swag was hidden in special containers to “extinguish” for the period when the artifact was not activated and not in use. And if you don’t know what a zonnik is and how to handle it, then it’s better not to touch or take it at all.
Although such ignorance is rare, as in relation to mutants and abnormal locales, given the presence of a global user electronic file cabinet, a network database, where all available and fresh information about new and old phenomena and formations is added.
Any stalker can get the necessary information during a break between hunting raids or right on the go. Up to a certain limit, of course. Sooner or later, network traffic disappears, and you never know when and where exactly. Voice and digital communication channels can be interrupted for a hundred reasons, and not all of them are known to those traveling...
Now Zhivo was just about to take a break for rest. Rise from the second and visit the bar, one of the hot spots scattered throughout the vast territory of the first circle. This particular establishment was called “Star” by the zone people and was located almost on the very edge of the first circle - just a stone’s throw from the descent into the second.
Taverns, bars and taverns almost always also served as roadside inns. For a certain fee, anyone could spend the night in one or another, but, most importantly, in relatively safe conditions, under guard. In most establishments, it was also possible to find a partner for an hour or for the night. Females were present as staff - waitresses, strippers, cooks - or simply worked as representatives of the oldest profession. Even the most severe and unsociable tramps sometimes needed to physically relax and relieve tension. And for this we need women. Those for whom men were suitable for this were the exception rather than the rule in the Zone.
Hot spots were guarded; stalkers gathered in them. But they were kept not by stalkers, but by people specializing in such business in the Zone. As a rule, the owners of the establishments sat continuously at their workplaces inside, taking breaks only to sleep. Where a lot of people gathered, it was possible to make money not only by selling love, food and drink. Exchange and sale of weapons, supplies, equipment and, most importantly, swag - obtained by zone stalkers. Resellers and suppliers flocked here with whom deals could be concluded. From each person who came to the establishment, the owners received a percentage...
Alive was heading towards the first circle, straight to the south... I spotted movement on the left - a mutadog! He fired two single shots from a machine gun, broke his leg, and the second bullet hit him in the abdomen. The third, control, hit him in the head, bloody bits scattered in all directions... B-bitch, how did this ugly thing manage to sneak up close?! I relaxed, my vigilance dropped, my senses became dull... But even at the border of the second and first circles, this is a Zone, not a park for walking. The stalker crouched down, rolled over, and looked back and forth. So far, no one else seems to have encroached on his life. The man remembered yesterday’s encounter with the Imitator, a monster capable of changing the shape of its body and pretending to be anyone. Well, yes, and as soon as he remained alive... He literally slipped along the edge separating life from death. That's why he's alive.
But now everything around seems to have improved. According to predictions, there were at least twelve hours left before the Capture; in half a day he seemed to have time to get to “Zvezda” and take refuge there. During the Capture, real chaos will happen in the Zone, deadly and terrible - an invisible “magnetic” force dragged towards the epicenter all living things that turned up in open spaces and did not have time to hide or securely gain a foothold. The frenzied atmosphere turned into a giant whirlpool... After merciless hurricanes, the configuration of the location of the “changers” changed, new varieties of monsters could appear, and the depths of the levels were updated. All the steps of the terraced basin were pressed in, going further into the planet, sometimes by meters, and sometimes by tens of meters.
Some stalkers who fell under the Capture on the surface, but somehow miraculously clung to something, were later found to have gone completely mad. But these were isolated cases, more like legends; Usually a person who did not manage to hide in time disappeared without a trace. Together with the mutants, he was carried away there, to the center of the Zone, about which no one knew anything for certain.
There were rumors that there was an ominous Well there, literally bottomless, piercing the thickness of the planet and leading into the mystical beyond... And above it, a narrow arch spanned something like a humpbacked bridge. All around are the ruins of the former city of Mezhrechensk, the only large settlement that fell into this Visitation Zone and was destroyed by an alien invasion. The number of small towns, villages and hamlets numbered in tens, if not hundreds, but many of them are now ruins at best, or nothing at all, only names on old maps from the times of the USSR. That country no longer exists; more than a dozen years have passed since the fateful date of the Visit.
But in general, the epicentral Well, like the crumpled houses of the ghostly Mezhrechensk, is just one of the versions. And so they talk so much, over the entire period of its existence the abnormal reality of the Zone has become overgrown with many myths and legends... As soon as something new, hitherto unseen, appears, there are immediately talkers who will produce “entities beyond what is necessary” in vain - a pattern that has long been verified.
The capture could be at least somehow predicted if the generation of gradually intensifying “attracting” biowaves was recorded in advance. Based on their power and rate of increase, roughly calculate how much time is left before Instant X. The forecast appeared in the local intrazone network; and many experienced stalkers with a developed sense of sensitivity could feel the approach in their own skins.
The worst thing is the fact that the Seizures did not occur at regular intervals, but varied and with different intensities. And despite all the forecasts, sometimes the amba crept up unexpectedly, it seemed there was no forecast, no bad premonitions arose, and suddenly it began! If you were lucky you might have time to take cover. Hide on the surface, in a surviving structure, or bury yourself in a known shelter underground and wait there. At worst, find a boulder and urgently dig a hole under it. The main thing is that there is something between the person and the epicenter that can hold him back and prevent him from flying away...
Finally got there. The sheer drop between the second and first circles rose up like a hundred-meter wall above Zhiva’s head. There, at the very foot of the rock, sat the Tiger. He squatted down, with his back to his approaching colleague, but Zhivo was sure that his every movement and mood was sensed by the legendary tramp.
- Did you bring it? – Without greeting, the sitting stalker asked laconically.
Zhiv lowered the Kalash with one hand and reached into his bosom with the other. He pulled out the package that had warmed his heart; holding it wrapped in a sheet of black flexible plastic in front of him at arm's length, he carefully approached the Tiger.
“What he asked me to convey,” he also did not say hello and commented just as laconically.
The Tiger, almost with his face buried in the rock, without turning around, raised his left hand over his shoulder, and Zhiv put what he had brought into his fingers. The package disappeared into the Tiger's bosom. Only after this did the colleague get up, turn to Zhiv and, looking somewhere through him with an absent-minded, unfocused gaze, briefly approve:
- You're not late.
Living slowly, he lowered and raised his chin, nodding in agreement. Now he seemed to have fallen into a trance, and this was not the first time. Communication with the Tiger always plunged him into such a state. He felt an inexplicable trepidation, some kind of uncertain timidity next to this legendary zone veteran, about whom the stalkers said with admiration that he never sleeps. Not in a figurative sense (all stalkers really slept only occasionally), but literally. Although Zhivo is far from being a newbie, having just entered the Zone yesterday, he has long been seasoned and seems to be able to feel on par with the Tiger...
Just COULD! A wild squeal, something blurry appears from the rear... A clawed cat, mutated, with burning eyes... Zhivo felt it with the back of his head or some kind of sixth “rear” vision, managed to understand that she was somewhere nearby... but with what fright she decided to attack , because the stalkers did not show any aggression towards her... One short aimed burst cut off the squeal and put the beast to rest. Zhivo looked at the Tiger, lowering the machine gun from which he shot the creature. He turned around, saw a prostrate body with a head riddled with bullets a few meters away from him, turned around again... and did not see the Tiger. He disappeared.
That's it, that's it. Well, Zhivo is used to this. The tiger is also a loner, he always leaves and comes whenever he wants... Another tramp of those who “walk on his own.” And he, Alive, still alive, is now awaiting the rise and painful effect of the transition to the first circle. From here you can still climb to the outermost level without special climbing equipment, simply clinging to ledges and recesses...
Another, another “ordinary” day in Trota.
Alive continues to walk. Because - alive.
* * *
...This location of the alienated territory, within which the stalker was now located, was located in one of the segments of the round Russian Visitation Zone.
Traces of a phenomenon called the Visitation appeared on Earth more than half a century ago, somewhere in the sixties of the twentieth century. Abnormal processes, alien to earthly nature, now collectively called the Visitation, actually led to the emergence of these very traces, marks, foci or Zones, as alienated areas were most often called.
This is the only fact that we were able to establish definitively about them. For so many years. Everything else was interpreted differently and caused the most contradictory comments.
According to the most popular theory, territories affected by alien changes in the normal nature, varying in area, details and specific internal structure, are something like bridgeheads occupied by alien forces on Earth. These are scars caused by direct contact with other entities. As if some “guests” from the Deneb system in the constellation Cygnus or from somewhere there looked at the third planet of the solar system and supposedly stopped here for a short time. We made a sort of stop along the way to “take a break.” And then we moved on.
But after their “picnic” on the side of the road, the affected areas were irrevocably changed; in several areas there was “garbage” thrown out, forgotten (or deliberately left behind?) by passers-by. The space “aliens” themselves have already gone their way (at least it’s better to adhere to the belief that they are not in the Zones, then it’s not so scary), but the consequences of their stay and the detrimental impact on several regions have not gone away. On the contrary, they only get worse over time...
That is why these alienated Zones are so attractive. After all, with the proper desire and knowledge of how to achieve this, one can find abnormal artifacts in them. Objects that were initially completely “earthly” in origin, irreversibly changed under the influence of abnormal forces of influence, or, which is much less common, real IOs, alien objects, formations completely alien to the earthly nature, come from “somewhere from there”... People hunting for such objects of power, in this Zone, when it was still Soviet, they were called delirious. It turned out to be a cross between the words “wandering” and “delirium,” which equally referred to their adventurous trips into the Zone and those impossible, mind-boggling things that came out of it.
Over time, gradually, in this Zone, prey hunters also began to be called stalkers. Just like in all other countries. From the English verb “to stalk”, which in the first meaning is translated into Russian as “to pursue stealthily”. And in another meaning, the word “stalker” is translated from English as “stalker.” It was only later that it was entered into dictionaries as “a person who has knowledge of territories or structures that for some reason are little-known or forbidden”...
Of course, not everything in the marks of the Visit was so simple and unambiguous. If the Zones were like exhibitions of artificial intelligence, everyone could get into them and get something that they probably shouldn’t have. But it didn’t work out that way and it won’t work out that way. Because, being in the Zone, a person himself becomes a stranger to abnormal nature. An intruder, uninvited and unwanted. With all the ensuing consequences. For this reason, anyone who dares to go there is almost always in mortal danger.
Someone who comes from outside ends up in a completely foreign “monastery” with different rules. People are no longer welcome in these territories. It has its own inhabitants and its own laws of existence.
First of all, of course, mutants of animal origin of all types, stripes and calibers. From relatively harmless to almost invincible. Moreover, the further into the depths of the Zones, the more powerful, sophisticated and numerous they are. A separate article is about mutated descendants of people who have retained their intelligence, but in appearance and structure often bear little resemblance to their ancestors. There is no one more dangerous than these creatures... In the Russian Zone they were called chmoshniks, the name came from the abbreviation ChMO, “a morally degraded person,” and the meaning could not have been more accurate.