Iosif and Artur both had their pistols out, pointing them every which way. Without thinking, Yuri’s hands swapped out the AK’s magazine. He nodded down the path toward the woods.
“Run,” he yelled. “Run like the devil is after your soul.”
The scientists bolted.
Yuri cut loose with three more bursts: left, right, back down the trail, then ran after the scientists.
Heart in his throat, breath heaving in his ears, his boots had wings. He caught up with the scientists just as Chernya’s dark trees loomed into sight. Yuri’s legs wanted to churn faster. He could almost feel hot breath on his neck, claws grabbing his jacket. In front of him, Artur slipped on slick boards and fell face first in the mud. Part of Yuri wanted to jump over him and keep going but he hauled the burbling scientist up and shoved him forward.
Fear and rage scrambled Yuri’s thoughts: I hit them. I must have hit them. Hit one at least. How many are there? Are they following?
The three of them burst out of the swamp like rousted quail. Seconds later they flailed up a bank of dark earth and crashed into the underbrush, thrashing through thickets lurching ahead wherever they seemed to thin out.
Five minutes and an eternity later, Yuri pulled up short. “Hold on. Hold on,” he yelled. “Stop.” His voice was ragged. Shrill.
Artur turned his head at Yuri’s command and crashed full speed into a tree. He crumpled and fell like a bag of potatoes. Iosif slowed, stumbled a few steps, then fell to his knees. Yuri slid to a halt, flung himself up and around, and pointed Sasha back towards the swamp.
They were deep inside the tree line. Yuri scanned the undergrowth, peered between the dark trunks for hazy, stalking shadows.
After a long minute he risked a glance to either side. Iosif had pulled his pistol out and held it tight to his chest in a two-hand grip. His head up, eyes alert, the scientist was breathing right in his nose, out his mouth, slowing his heart rate, his breath, dialing back the adrenaline dump. Smart, that one.
Artur on the other hand was gasping like a fish, his gaze darting wildly around the forest. “Where’s Suchek? Where is he? What was that thing?” He grabbed Yuri’s jacket. “Did it get Suchek? Did it?” he shouted.
All Yuri could do was nod.
3. his brain all hornets and fire
At first Yuri thought Sasha had given him the headache; a clip and a half of her painful chatter followed by his mad dash through the swamp, gulping down bog stench and terror. But that was almost an hour ago and the throb was only getting worse. Every step deeper into the Chernya was like an ice pick in his temples. But he swallowed his misery and pressed on. Yuri had made the decision to stay, and a good guide never showed weakness in front of his charges.
The egghead Artur would have quit right after the Wet Valley. And Yuri had had to confess he’d been a hair’s breadth away from agreeing with him. Only a nagging voice in the back of his mind — it had sounded like his wife — reminded him he wouldn’t see the rest of his fee unless the URAN uchenyye reached the bunker. Otherwise he’d already be hoofing it south out of the Zone as fast as he could.
Surprisingly it was Iosif who had convinced his associate to continue. They had a duty, he’d said, for science. Suchek would have wanted them to finish the mission. To honor his sacrifice. Plus there was no going back through the swamp now, eh?
Cuffing away tears and snot, Artur had relented and climbed to his feet. Yuri was pretty sure the tubby Suchek’s principles hadn’t risen above his belly, but he kept that opinion to himself. At least the scientists hadn’t shot him in their panic or pissed themselves, so that was positive.
Now in the dark forest the three of them walked side by side; Yuri in the middle, Iosif on his right, Artur plodding along on his left. Together, they threaded the black trees, treading under the heavy forest canopy as if it were a minefield.
Iosif was toughing it out, alert and watching the underbrush for trouble. Artur on the other hand had pulled inside himself like a turtle, all scowly and quiet. He kept up the pace but his main worry seemed to be his pistol. The scientist had unsnapped the holster strap and was clinging to the Makarov like it was a talisman.
Fear was a tormenter, a spider on your spine. Yuri understood this, and if fondling ‘Olga” was what got the scientist through, then fine. So long as he didn’t pull her out and shoot anything that didn’t need it.
Not that Yuri saw anything to shoot — there was no birdsong, no sign of animals. Not even gnats buzzing or flies. The quiet was eerie. Unnatural. The loudest noise in the forest was the scrunch of their boots in the litterfall.
Yuri glanced over at Artur. “It’s like a funeral in here. How much farther to your three rocks?”
The scientist started at Yuri’s voice. He blinked and brought himself back to the moment, checking the GLONASS navigator in his left hand. “One more kilometer and we should see the clearing,” Artur said.
The fingers of his right hand stroked his pistol’s pebbled Bakelite grip. “Your rifle is loaded, da?”
Yuri tried to smile reassuringly. “Don’t you worry. My girl is always ready to put out.” He figured it best to keep the man talking, so he asked, “How’s Olga?”
“Good, good.” Artur replied too quickly. He swallowed and eyed Yuri’s AK-74. “I wish I had a Sasha though.”
“Who doesn’t?” Yuri winked. “I’ll chat with Vanya and see what he can come up with. Hey, maybe we’ll lug some artillery next trip and blow those swamp fuckers to hell, OK?”
Raw memories winced across Artur’s face. He shook them off. “Artillery, yes. Blow them to hell for Suchek. That would be good.” The scientist’s eyes hardened and his steps quickened. “That would be very good.”
Satisfied for the moment, Yuri turned to Iosif.
The gangly scientist was scurrying along in a half-hunch, his head up, pistol in hand but pointed down as it should. His eyes were bright. Yuri swore this place brought color to his sunken cheeks and he noticed thin white cords trailed down the sides of the scientist’s flushed face. Yuri did a double take and realized the man had ear buds in and was listening to his phone.
Really? Here? Now?
Yuri sighed. University did strange things to men. But if that’s what it took to get him through this ordeal, who was he to judge?
Besides, the way his head was throbbing, a little music might not be a bad idea. His ears were buzzing and the pain was keeping time with his heartbeat.
“St. Strelok, preserve me,” he muttered.
Suddenly Yuri was struck by an odd thought: what kind of playlist do you have for the Zone?
He’d have to think on that one.
A few minutes later Artur stopped and pointed. “There. Should be another hundred meters. Hundred twenty, maybe.”
Yuri raised one finger to his lips, then motioned for the scientists to stay put. They nodded, and he flicked Sasha’s safety off and crept ahead.
Sure enough the trees thinned out ahead and there was a brightening between the black trunks that indicated a clearing.
Yuri grinned. Well, well, this bunker might be real after all.
Maybe he could squeeze URAN for salvage rights to whatever basic gear remained. As a bonus of course, for fending off that bloodsucker. Even old military-issue fatigues brought in decent coin and a little extra bacon grease would go a long way to ease the troubles he’d gone through this run… like this chicken-shit fever he was coming down with. Yebát', how his head hurt.