To My Last Breath - The Dog

The inn was full tonight. I was forced to listen to my new friend’s jabber. He’s name was Sergey but I called him Serg. We were sitting for a couple of hours now and both Serg and me had drunk almost two bottles of vodka. Serg was a lucky son of a bitch. He was one of the few who made a fortune venturing into the Zone and were still alive. Me was a pity foreigner who crossed the Ukrainian border a couple of weeks ago illegally. This was a pretty risky undertaking but it was better than what I had at home: a jealous girlfriend, empty bank account and of course two gangs I owed money; lots of them. After I left the army I tried to start my own enterprise. I got involved in not-so-legal stuff and the result was, as I already said, two underground bosses wanting me dead. Then I read in the local newspaper about the Zone and the easy profits it could provide. I browsed the Internet for a month and suddenly I knew I had to go there. I needed to disappear and so it looked like the perfect place for that. So here I was.

“Don’t worry, pal”, said Sergey: “You’ll get lucky too. You know, I can get you along next time I’m leaving for the Zone. Do you want to come with me?”

“Sure, why not! That’s great”, was my reply. As if I had much of a choice. We spoke in an English-Russian mixture. Serg spoke some English; I had studied some Russian in the Army so we managed to understand each other well. “Man”, I thought: “How much does this guy drink and nothing happens to him.” Then I looked at him again. Sergey was a large, tough man with a typical Cossack look and deep blue eyes that were turned now into bloody pools from the alcohol.

The inn was one pretty dirty place, full of smoke, visited by stalkers, professional alcoholics, military soldiers looking for trouble, crooks, weapon traders, drug dealers and sometimes also by local peasants. Since I started visiting it there were four fights and one man was shot dead. Nobody seemed to care, and police never came. I was told that things like these were happening here all the time and the bodies were disposed in a nearby minor shaft, which was used as a graveyard for stalkers that didn’t make it. But I still somehow liked this place; it was so different to me, and it felt like home. Despite of the dubious visitors I knew I was safe here, because I was Serg’s friend and everybody respected him. Well it was at least safer than outside in the forests.

“Listen to me, pal. You never know what you’ll find in the Zone. You never know but a good weapon can kill them all”, he laughed.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Do you have good weapons, pal? I know where to fetch some good weapons”, said Serg and started laughing again. Then he suddenly became serious. He checked if someone was listening and continued whispering: “This is not the place to talk about that, pal, but I really know where we can get some great weaponry for free. We shall do it tomorrow night. Do you want to come with me? And don’t tell anybody. Do you understand? Don’t tell anybody!”

After he finished, Sergey returned to his normal state of laughing, jabbering and drinking. I had a bad feeling about that but could I disagree? Sure not, I needed a trustworthy guide and Serg looked like one. After all he was a successful stalker and me just a mere newcomer, an illegal at that.

Another couple of hours passed. Sergey had fallen asleep on the table and I was watching the card game on the nearby table, where two army officers, a middle aged stalker, known by the name Mohammed and a strange fellow with black leather clothes were exchanging their money. I was observing the game for about half an hour now and I knew that the guy with the black leaders was cheating. He was absolutely skillful at doing it. The game was interesting but I was sensing trouble. I’ve noticed the tension on the faces of the two officers. One of them was touching his belly often. I guessed there he kept his gun. Perhaps it was time to leave. I definitely didn’t want to be there when the shooting would start. I was just thinking to wake up Serg to tell him that I was about to leave, when someone approached us and landed his heavy fist on the table. Sergey woke up immediately and angrily looked at the intruder then he calmed down. It was an old but sturdy man known as The Dog. He had long gray hair and grayish, penetrating eyes.

“I have to talk to you”, said The Dog to Sergey. He looked at me and then he added: “Alone!”

“Sure but this guy is coming with us”, answered my new Cossack friend. “So he’s staying.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea”, replied The Dog, and I was able to sense his rising suspicion.

“Damn you, man, this guy is with us. Trust me!”

“I sure hope you know what you are doing, Serega!”

“Sure I do! Now tell me, what you’ve found out.”

Before answering the old man looked around to make sure that nobody would hear what he was about to say. Then he drew a map and he started whispering: “Serega, the army has discovered the place. It is deep into the zone. They’ve built an outpost and they’ve put patrolling vehicles in the area. I guess there are also a few automatic machine guns and perhaps other sorts of traps too. I guess they must know something. They are also building a laboratory and probably they’ve even started digging. What shall we do, man?”

“Dammit!” cursed Sergey. I looked at him and I couldn’t believe it. This man has drunken so much alcohol this night and he looked as sober as a twenty-year-old abstainer. Damn, this man was tough.

“Dog, we shall do it! We shall kill these bitches if we have to. It is ours!” then he looked at me: “Are you coming with us? Say now or go away.”

“I’m in”, slipped from my mouth.