STALKER Southern Comfort
Tough Love
Stalker camp at Hellgate, 22:38:04 AFT
The fire slowly burns itself out. Mac rakes the fire with the Captain’s staff while Billy sleeps in her lap, digesting a huge portion of ‘tourist breakfast’.
“So, that was the story of our raid,” Squirrel says, watching as the last sparks fly high from the fire into the starry sky. He takes a long draw at his joint and slowly exhales the smoke. “I can’t complain. I didn’t find a Heartstone, but the Captain’s glowing artifact is a nice one. Probably I won’t sell it. Nah, I’ll keep it for sure.”
“What is it called?” Mishka Beekeeper asks.
“No idea. That’s what I love about this place. New Zone – new artifacts and all.”
“Then you should give it a name.”
“What about… I don’t know. Hey, Ilch, give me that bottle!”
“Lich would be a good choice,” Mac says gazing into the fire. Her helmet is placed at her side, and through the balaclava’s holes that leaves her eyes and mouth visible, the trace of a sad smile appears.
“Cool, man. Lich it will be then. But what’s a lich, anyway?”
“All kids know that. A lich is a magician who stays alive through many centuries. Usually, they are evil. Do you agree, Major?”
Tarasov, who lies there resting his aching feet and watching the stars, just shrugs the question off.
“I don’t know… maybe not all of them.”
“Anyway, maybe one day I’ll come back to find a Heartstone,” Squirrel dreamily says. “I could sell that for a million dollars, rubles, euros – whatever. Or maybe if the Stalker legend is true, I’ll just hold on to that artifact and it will keep me healthy for the rest of my life.”
“Then I beg you not to find it.”
“Oh come on, Sashka! Don’t spoil a poor man’s dreams, man!”
“A million dollars, you said?” Tarasov says.
“Yes, Major. Okay, maybe just a half million, but still… Why?”
“Just asking.” Tarasov hides his smile and puts his hand over the artifact container on his armored suit, where he has put the artifact he found in the Captain’s bag.
Forfeiture of assets… If he hadn’t mentioned that, I would have completely forgotten about his bag.
“That was a very nice story, fellows, but we still don’t have the answer to Question Number One,” Mishka Beekeeper says and finishes the sentence in a chorus with Sashka SWAT Officer: “Where are the women?”
Tarasov sits up and looks at Mac from the corner of his eye, trying to suppress a smile. She sits quietly, not looking at any of the Stalkers.
“And what about you, kid?” he asks. “Where do you want to go now?”
“Panjir. Anywhere but Bagram.”
“Yar will be disappointed.”
“That’s not my problem.”
A shout comes from the darkness. “Stalkers coming through! Try not to shoot us, will you?”
Snorkbait and Ilchenko appear from the darkness.
“All clear, sir. Everything is quiet around the perimeter.”
“That’s a camp, not a perimeter,” Mishka Beekeeper says, feigning embarrassment. “Relax, soldier! You’re among Stalkers now!”
“Welcome back, patsanni,” Squirrel greets them. “I was just in the middle of telling a joke to these bores here. So: what does a whore give her best client for Christmas? AIDS.”
“Not bad, but I know a better one, “ Ilchenko says. “How do you make a little girl cry twice? Wipe your bloody dick on her teddy bear!”
“Cool!” Sashka SWAT Officer hands Ilchenko a vodka bottle. “I’ll need to remember that, haha!”
The Stalkers laugh, only Mac scowls. “Screw that. I heard it a thousand times.”
“What’s wrong with you?” Ilchenko asks, still laughing at his own joke.
“You better ask what’s wrong with your jokes. They are disgusting. And even worse, they’re boring too.”
“Apologies, Prince Myshkin,” Ilchenko says, faking a polite bow. “I didn’t mean to offend your sensitivity!”
“If there’s an idiot amongst the two of us, Ilch, it’s certainly not me.”
“I guess you have met your match,” Tarasov says smirking at the machine gunner.
“You’re all pricks. I can’t wait to leave with Snorkbait for the Panjir Valley in the morning.”
“Two notorious tree-huggers teaming up… a match made in heaven!”
“Beekeeper, stop teasing the kid or I’ll kick your teeth in,” Snorkbait grumbles while taking notes on a writing block.
“At last something that could distract you from your scribbling.”
“I need to remind myself that I still can write, Sashka, not just push buttons on a PDA. I’m writing a book, you see – ‘Zone and the Art of Weapon Maintenance’.”
“Sounds strangely familiar, somehow,” Ilchenko says scratching his chin.
“God damn it,” Mishka Beekeeper shouts. “I need a woman, now!” He gets to his feet, takes his rifle and imitates copulation.
“Keep the bees in your fucking pants, you daft bugger!” Snorkbait says, waving the Stalker’s rifle away from him.
“Mac,” Tarasov quietly says, “let’s take a hike. We need to talk.”
Tarasov offers his hand to help Mac up but the Stalker jerks it away.
“Don’t even think about talking me into going back to Bagram.”
“How’s that bandage doing? You might need me to apply a new one. ”
“No… no… okay, maybe having a little walk is a good idea.”
“It is. Eases the heart, refreshes the soul. Right? Let’s go.”
Tarasov waves for her to follow him to the ruined hut where they will be out of hearing range, then takes a deep breath before questioning her.
“So… I guess you owe me an explanation, Mac.”
“I don’t owe you anything.”
“Yes, you do,” Tarasov says, taking Mac’s diary from his side bag. “I guess every honest finder deserves a reward. All I ask you in exchange for your notebook is to tell me the truth about yourself.”
Mac grabs the notebook from Tarasov’s hands. She eagerly looks inside, and hides it safely in the map compartment of her armored suit.
“Where did you find this?”
“The Captain found it after you’d left a campsite, obviously in a hurry.”
“It was when a dushman patrol came too close during the night… Thank you very much - there’s no more to say.”
“Listen, devushka, I am not in the mood to play along any further.”
“I didn’t take you for such a pushy dickhead.”
“Agreed, sometimes I can be a pain in the ass. It’s part of my job as an officer. And now listen up. I must take you back to Yar.”
“Why?”
“I didn’t exactly do this mission to gain favor upstairs, as Sidorovich would say. Yar will only fix my squads’ kit and weapons if I bring you back. Besides, his heart is broken. Ignore that if you can.”
“Emotional blackmailing is pathetic,” she replies, biting her lip.
“But I see it works. Let’s start from the beginning. Where are you from?”
“Argentina.”
“A woman from Argentina…” Tarasov makes a low whistle. “This place never ceases to surprise.”
“So what? Are you still under the effect of what you’ve seen under my armor?” Mac asks with a taunting smile.
“No reason to deny that. Actually, I do find you beautiful… even by Argentinean standards.”
Mac laughs. “You should see my niece… but come on, have you ever met a woman from Argentina?”
“Uhm… no.”
“See? Don’t try to be a flirt, it doesn’t work for you. Just be who you are. You’re a cool enough guy.”
“Those Stalkers have a point about women… Here in the new Zone, and back in the old one, we can be who we are. And you too have a point saying that one is cool when he is what he is. But outsid
e… I feel like a fish out of water. No woman out there would ever understand what the Zone is about and what she means to me. That’s why it’s bad that we have no female Stalkers.”
“I’m not a Wish Granter, but I hope that sooner or later you’ll run into a woman who appreciates your radioactive charm. I guess her heart will beat faster than a Geiger counter. Anyway, I know you didn’t just want to sob on my shoulders about how lonely you are.”
“Well said. And I have no intention of blowing your cover, missy, whatever you have to tell me.”
“Is that a promise?”
“Depends. But by now you should know that I keep my promises… just think about what I promised to the Captain.”
“Look… Yar didn’t tell you everything. Where should I begin?... It appears to be on another planet now, but anyway, back home I was just tired of everyone, stupid married friends always showing off about their so called wonderful lives, stupid society putting the pressure on me to be a wonder woman…”
“You are.”
“I don’t need your compliments. I mean it in another way… I hated the expectations of being a woman based only on appearance and pretension… Damn it, many of my friends would have sooner died than let themselves be seen without make-up and stuff. Do you have any idea how tiring it is to live up to all those stereotypes? But one has to, because if one just says ‘no’ to all that beauty-industry bullshit she gets treated like a weirdo. So, when I heard about the Zone I took a flight to Kiev and sneaked in, disguised as a Stalker guy, and I realized that, in there, I needed no more makeup, no short skirts, no eyelashes, nothing that is required from me before others accept me. In my disguise, I could be who I wanted – no expectations, no clichés, no pressure to do something just because fucking social rules pressure me into it… I could just be who I really was. In a Stalker’s disguise I didn’t even have to bother about guys offering their ‘help’ and ‘assistance’ at every step. I didn’t want to be taken as someone who needs ‘help’ because I happen to be a woman. It’s not even flattering, because what the fuck did I do to be treated with all this circumstantiality? Nothing! For once, I wanted to be judged by what I do and not my looks. No flirting, no more stupid games. It’s not as if I’m a man-hater or a lesbian, mind you… I do love men. Occasionally, I met some nice Stalker guy and when I was sure he would keep his mouth shut, I gave him the fuck of his young life. There’s more things one can do during the night than sitting around a campfire and telling dumb jokes, you know? And if I met a tough guy who bitched at me because he took me for just another Stalker, I bitched back at him. Vsyo zaebalo, pizdyets, na huy, blyad, idi na huy, huyesos! How’s that?”
“Not bad. Start smoking and soon you can pronounce the most important word like we Ukrainians do. Khui. From your throat. By the way, how do you say it in Spanish?”
“Pija, and something inside me says you’re a pijudo. Anyway, I eventually made my way to the Wish Granter and asked it, ‘unsex me now’…”
“Good God.”
“…and what did it do to me? I saw a bright flash and after a second my G36 and Stalker suit were gone and I was standing there in this exoskeleton with an FN2000 on my shoulder, and later I realized that all my hair was gone!”
“It’s growing back, don’t worry.”
“I’m not talking about a bad hair day, you moron. Imagine – I couldn’t take off that damned exo! I was imprisoned into it! I made my way back to Yar because he was the closest mechanic to the CNPP. It took him two days to get the suit off me without totally destroying it, because it’s a pretty good suit after all. Then I stayed with him because I kinda liked him… he got me out of that suit and of course saw what I couldn’t hide, but he was cool enough to keep it to himself. Now don’t give me such a jealous look – Yar could be my father! He actually tried to act like one… kind of.”
“He is quite fond of you indeed. So, when Yar moved his business to this new Zone you went with him, but left him nonetheless when you got bored.”
“That’s correct. I’m sorry, but that’s just the way I am – I can’t stay put in the same place for too long. It’s got me into a lot of trouble. Yar is cool, but listening to his monologues about optical image enhancements and titanium rod replacements and soft trigger mechanisms all day long… it’s hardly exciting after a while.”
“I’d disagree. But anyway, why did you pick such an English-sounding name if you’re from Argentina?”
“If you’d ever read something apart from weapon manuals, you’d get it by yourself. My real name is Elisabeth. Well, almost. I always wanted to go through a sort of Lady Macbeth transformation – getting rid of my weakness, or better: of my quality to be interpreted by others as weak and soft, something to be patronized, just because… Anyway, Beth – Mac – Macbeth. Ti ponish?”
“Yes, I understand. Let’s hope Ilchenko doesn’t find out about this.”
“How would he?” Mac shrugs. “He’s an idiot.”
“He studied literature before he… never mind, my point is that he’s smarter than he seems.”
“If that’s what Ilchenko is like when he’s awake, I’d hate to be in his dreams.”
“That’s just the way he is. I don’t want you to walk hand in hand and pluck flowers on the way back to Bagram… there aren’t too many flowers here anyway… but –”
“Forget it. I want to go to the Panjir Valley and check out that Stalker paradise.”
“Why do you make my life so difficult?” Tarasov sighs. “I asked you nicely. Let’s do it the hard way then… Probably your sophisticated female perception has already made you realize that those Stalkers, and of course Ilchenko, are not much short of killing for pussy. It could be their first fuck in months and the last of their lives, so they would probably jump at the opportunity. All I’d need to do is to tell them what you are.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
Aghast, Mac steps away from Tarasov.
“Yes I would. All the more because there’s a thing like chain of command, if you follow my meaning… and I haven’t been laid for a long time.”
“You really are a jerk, you know that?”
“Hey, what happened to ‘cool enough guy’? Sorry to disappoint you. And I don’t know about Snorkbait, but he’s probably more smart than to take on four horny men, all armed to the teeth, to protect an arrogant bitch like you!” Amused by the fear and anger dancing in Mac’s eyes, Tarasov gives her a grin as he continues. “Your only hope is that Squirrel will be too stoned to join the show. But then, I don’t know… three men, four men, does it make any difference?”
“Shit!”
“We’re all deep in it. So, will you come and see Yar or not?”
For a minute, Mac bites her lower lip. Then she slowly sighs before responding. “The deal with Yar was just to take me back to Bagram, not about making me stay there. Is that correct?”
Tarasov nods. Mac sighs again, this time in submission. “Okay, you win. I’ll pay Yar a visit – but only if you promise me to never, never ever tell anyone about my secret.”
“We have a deal.”
Mac mumbles something in Spanish that sounds like a very obscene curse.
“You are free to bitch at me if you want,” Tarasov says with a shrug, “but I appreciate that you don’t make my life any harder, Beth.”
For a minute, she examines her dirty fingernails, then fixes Tarasov with a piercing stare. “I lied to you… actually, I liked your compliments. It’s been a while since anyone called me beautiful… I guess you did read my diary.”
“Parts of it.”
“Can’t blame you – I’d do the same. That’s why I kept writing about a few things in my language. Not much… but important things. I had a lover back in the old Zone. His name was Strelok.”
Now it’s Tarasov who almost recoils with surprise.
“The Marked One? The mysterious ‘S.’ – it was him?”
“Yeah. It was love…. tough love. He loved me through hurting m
e. On the outside, he was guiding me. Educating even. But he lost his wits to the Zone… the Old Zone. He took pleasure in my pain, and I took the same pleasure in being hurt by him because, for me, he was the Zone. How I am now is his work. Did you ever meet Strelok?”
“Never,” Tarasov says, avoiding her sad gaze.
“Then you do not understand what it means to find another human being who resembles everything about what the Zone means – a new reason for staying alive. For me, it was love. Finding such a love and losing it is worse than your heart being ripped out by a mutant’s claws. I do hope, Major, that one day you will find such love, so that you understand what I was talking about.”
“I do understand what you mean. Now we better take a few logs from this hut to feed the fire, otherwise the others might think we’ve got lost.”
She ushers a long, tired sigh. “No, you don’t understand… one needs to hack your alpha male ego down to size, but I’m not up to that. All right… let’s get back to testosterone wrapped up in niceties. If I’m a woman and you’re a man, that means you carry the wood. Let’s get moving.”
06:17:58 AFT
At sunrise, Tarasov watches the two Stalkers and Ilchenko walking ahead towards Bagram. Mac has the Captain’s staff over her shoulder, occasionally swinging off towards Billy who tries to grab it with its teeth. Snorkbait and Ilchenko walk at her side, their weapons cradled. All three seem to be in a good mood and Tarasov cannot shake off a niggling feeling of jealousy.
“From Cordon to the Wish Granter, from the Old Zone to the New, from Bagram to that place that’s supposed to be a Stalker’s paradise… Will some people never stop chasing dreams?” he asks Squirrel, pensively.
“See… to me, that’s what being a Stalker is all about. Why, you don’t have any dreams left to dream?”
“My dream is to find a place which I would never want to leave again.”
“Now look at that! Who would have thought that you have a free Stalker’s heart beating under that dirty armored suit… Will we also go to the Panjir Valley, then?”
Squirrel’s question hauls the major back to reality. He shakes his head. “Maybe another time… Let’s get back to Bagram for supplies. Then we go to Ghorband.”
“Cool, man,” Squirrel says. “You gonna make me rich. This trip already cost you a fortune, you know that?”
Encrypted digital VOP transmission. Central Afghanistan, 29 September 2014, 08:44:13 AFT
#We did not get the shipment. The transport was ambushed.#
#What the hell are you talking about?#
#Your little games are annoying. You were supposed to maintain order in your area.#
#I’m so sorry about this. I could almost cry. Boo-hoo! And now listen to me you bastards. It’s not my fucking problem if your incompetent monkeys got whacked. I delivered your stuff. The rest was up to you.#
#Negative… #
#Negative, positive, negative…could you speak like a human being instead of a robot for once?#
#Negative. We learned that you failed to get rid of the outsider. We are through with you. You have been warned.#
#Don’t think you can scare me, you slit-eyed little monkey.#
#[static noise]#