Devils live in a quiet pond, his babushka used to say.
His babushka… Yuri shuddered, remembering outside and suddenly another part of him had a deep urge to punch the scrawny man in the face.
Iosif slapped one of the boxes onto the floor. “Damn it.”
Yuri spit again and eyed him suspiciously. “Just what are you looking for?”
“It’s a — Ah ha!” A grin like a knife blade split Iosif’s skeleton face and he held up what looked like a battered, black lunch box. “Here’s one.”
Yuri peered at the scientist’s find and recognized an old military flashlight. “You risked the Zone for army surplus?” he laughed bitterly. “Because I can buy that Cold War shit for kopecks from Vanya.”
The scientist had pulled the lip off the top and was busily inserting the batteries he’d pulled out of his backpack. “I hope we don’t need this, but just in case.”
“Just in case what?” Yuri asked.
Iosif’s response was to flick the old flashlight off and on several times. The beam was harsh, bright with a purple tinge. Yuri’s headache reemerged.
Sasha was slung across his back and it occurred to Yuri to include her in this little Q and A session, seeing as he was all Q, and Iosif, while talking more than he had the entire hike out here, was very cagey with straight answers. But there was the little matter of his final fee. And, Yuri had to admit between bouts of nausea, some curiosity. All this effort, there must be something valuable tucked away in here. Better to play nice… for now
“Tell me more about this Special Project 57,” he said instead.
“Bioenergetics research,” Iosif answered.
“Which means…?”
“Which means we were analyzing bioplasma dynamics.”
Yuri bit back the urge to shout. “Bioplasma? And what is that?”
“A theoretical energy field that, under certain conditions, is capable of emitting charged coherent radiation beyond the body surface in the form of electrons and possibly protons.”
“You’re speaking Greek,” Yuri said tightly. “Plain talk for me, remember?”
Iosif rolled his eyes. “We were investigating the scientific foundation for paranormal phenomenon: telepathy, telekinesis, remote viewing. All top secret. All KGB and Military. OK?”
“Out here? In the Zone.”
The scientist shook his head. “It wasn’t the Zone when we started.”
“And after the incident?”
Iosif’s eyes lit up. “It was theorized the same emissions that caused the localized, micro-anomalies could accelerate the development of psychic abilities. So we were ordered to remain on site and increase the frequency and factor of our tests.”
Yuri’s gaze encompassed the dingy, concrete interior. “You were researching magic mind powers? In this place?”
“There are sub-levels,” the scientist sniffed. “Two of them. Very advanced. The testing cells were on the bottom floor.”
“Cells?”
Iosif clicked the light off and on again. “The majority of the test subjects were prisoners. They were offered reductions in their sentences in exchange for participation.”
One important thing Yuri learned in the army was to never volunteer. The next important thing was never believe an officer’s promises. “And what, you taught zeks to bend spoons? Read playing cards from another room?” he asked.
“The focus of our research,” Iosif explained, “Was to induce or enhance psychic abilities with pharmacological and electric stimulation.”
Yuri shook his head. Fucking officers. “So drugs and shock therapy.”
“That’s a crude misrepresentation,” the scientist replied and strode over to a row of battered lockers on the far wall.
“Outside. I saw- ” Yuri shivered, struggled for the right word. “Things. Visions and shit. What was that? Drugs?”
“The Verdansky emitter,” Iosif called over his shoulder.
“What did I say about plain talk?”
Iosif sighed. “Think of it as a short-range radio transmitter set to frequencies that stimulate the parts of the brain associated with psychic phenomenon. We used it to deter unwanted visitors.”
“It’s still on after all these years? How?”
“Geothermal power.”
Yuri would rather shoot himself in the foot than ask what the hell that was, so he changed the subject. “You used URAN as a cover to get here.”
The gaunt man didn’t turn around and didn’t reply.
Yuri persisted. “Tell me, why are you here?”
“Files,” Iosif said, then he seemed to consider something. “And rumors,” he added.
“What kind of files?”
“The classified kind.”
The temptation to grab Sasha spiked. Yuri resisted. “And the rumors, they are classified too?”
Iosif went still again. After a moment, he turned to face Yuri. “There are rumors of survivors,” he finally said.
“Survivors?” Yuri scoffed. “Of your tests here?”
Iosif nodded, serious as a heart attack.
I am definitely NOT getting paid enough. Yuri thought.
The scientist slammed a locker door shut and came to the doorway. He went to pass by but Yuri stepped in his way. “Where are you going now?”
“To get those files, for starters. Then turn off the emitter. We won’t make it out of here unless we do.”
Yuri pursed his lips. “And what about the rumors?”
“There’s that too,” Iosif said, and slipped past Yuri into the hall. “Help me finish this and I’ll make sure you get a bonus.”
Yuri watched the scientist walk away. This was supposed to be a babysitting job. Now it was like pissing while running. But the scarecrow men outside, the visions… what choice did he have?
“Pizda rulyu,” he muttered, then pulled Sasha around and followed.
There was a large cargo elevator off the main hall. It looked like it still ran but Iosif declared he didn’t want to risk getting stuck, so they took the stairs down, him in the lead.
Yuri watched the skinny scientist, vintage Makarov in one hand, antique hand lamp in the other, checking his angles on the landings, rounding the corners, pistol at the ready… He knew what he was doing and seemed to be taking these ‘rumors’ seriously.
Damn zhulik played me. Played the academics too, Yuri realized. This guy didn’t give a monkey’s toss about tubby Suchek or blubbering Artur. And if I snuff it here, he certainly won’t lose sleep over me either. Maybe I should be the one to deliver these ‘classified’ files…
Yuri’s finger drifted down to Sasha’s trigger. WWSD? What would Strelok do? he asked himself.
But you need him to get out, his wife’s voice said. To turn off the hallucination radio and get the rest of your fee.
And now a bonus, Yuri noted. Or so he says. He watched the scientist’s pointy shoulder blades shift under the jacket as they descended.
You’re Yuri Bonyev, expert guide, are you not? his wife’s voice asked.
I am.
Then be a man and keep eyes in the back of your head.
That advice grew louder the deeper they went into the facility. Even without Iosif’s sparse ‘confession’, it was obvious the bunker was exactly the kind of dark and creaky place in the movies where ‘Very Bad Shit’ had happened years before and none of the actors came out alive. Peeling paint, echoes, shadows and grime, the facility was drenched in misery. It was a tomb fit for a cursed Pharaoh. The lights even flickered.