Picnic in the Zone

I plan on Splatting down random......Well I guess you can almost call them Journal entries of my time in the Zone Playing STALKER: Call of Pripyat.

Enjoy ^_^ Please note they probably wont follow any real chronological order whatsoever.

This ones abit f a Rough drafty kind of one Called. Comments and Critisisms Welcomed.

Zombie Landmines

“See? A nice calming walk. Just like in a resort!”

I spat my irritation at a passing bush. Fucking senile old man, He had no idea what I saw. The two of us, as unlikely a pair as you ever did see, wandering around in the middle of the night in the zone for no real reason other than a ‘Need to know basis’ and a hearty promise that I will be PAID for this shit when it’s all over. All ‘Uncle’ Yar had on him to guide his way in the dark was a flashlight, all he saw before him was the path we were to take towards whatever place we were suppose to be going to.
Remember, ‘Need to know’.
Ugh, I just hope this whole thing wont get me killed, a not so comforting thought just as I crest the Hill overlooking a massively irradiated area stocked with the run down buildings of an abandoned village, my Night vision goggles pick up at least 10 ‘Zombies’ Along our path. Now these aren’t your Hollywood zombies, not at all. Oh they shamble around all right, Shambling Stalkers who got their Minds Blasted by the ‘Brain Scorcher’, no the big difference here?

These zombies shoot back.
Oh, Did I mention that they also wear body armor?
Fun, no?

“We’re almost there!”
I flinch and curse under my breath as Uncle Yar Shouts merrily, completely oblivious to the danger around us. The strange thing is, the Zombies seem to be paying us no mind. Odd, considering I spent quite a few moments in the last week blowing these shambling brain dead twits away. A literal wave of them had passed by the Old Barge in Zanton where I called home. Well, at least temporarily anyway. A Nice time for me to Practice my sharpshooting.
Wandering through the abandoned little sector the local Stalkers refer to as ‘Kopachy’, through the green haze of my Goggles I eventually spot a long building. FINALY! Now I get to find out why the fuck I’m wandering out here for.

Without a word spoken we wander through the cold wooden house my hands tighten over the grip of my assault rifle. The building is empty, and there’s the part that’s making my knuckles whiten, I mean EMPTY. No Furniture, no Oven or cabinets, no nothing. Now normally this would be par for the course considering that everything and anything of value out here in the zone can and WILL be taken and torn apart for parts and materials, what REALLY gave me the chills was how relatively clean the place was. The walls had no graffiti, the floors had no scraps or detritus, it was as if everything got sucked onto a black hole. It leant the place an almost unearthly characteristic. I mea, who the hell would go through the trouble to keep a run down shack clean? Sure as hell not the Zombies anyway.
“Now let’s see if I was right.”
The old man mused as he mounts the stairs into the attic above. I could still hear the death rattle breathing and howling moans of the zombies outside. What horrified me the most though, was that if I listened very carefully, I could actually catch words here in there in some mashed garble of Russian. The low sonorous cacophony of animalistic growls and half gurgled human speech making my bowels tighten up and whole body shiver and quake, knowing full well that those sounds will haunt my dreams for awhile.

What happened next was pure unadulterated chaos.
My Brain slipped into the old Rhythm of Aim, shoot, switch targets, Shoot, Switch Targets and shoot again as Uncle Yar and I spend a good 5 seconds making sure that there was nothing left breathing in the killing field. Those mercs didn’t stand a chance, caught in a minefield of zombies with two good shots picking them off from cover? Not a damn chance.

“Well! That’s that I guess. You probably have plenty of questions for me yes?”
Fucking Mind reader this one eh?
Turns out the old man stumbled in on a conversation the mercs would have rather kept silent. He knew those poor saps would be gunning for him and so he concocted this clever little trap with them in mind.

But I had to ask, why me?

The old man smiled a knowing smile before answering.
“What’s the point of getting the Mercs angry with Freedom? We had one war and that was enough. Besides, this was a personal matter. No point involving them, you know”
Well shit. Balls AND brains. In fact I immediately flagged Uncle Yar as a man you be VERY wary around if I ever found myself on his bad side. For now, We shared a Bottle of Vodka inside the ruined building we were bunkered down in until the first bit of sun began to crest the distant mountains, bathing the valley in a warm orange glow.

“To Yanov?”
Yeah, back to Yanov Station for a nice hot meal and a bed to sleep on. I walked with the old man back. It’s like he had said before we left.

“It’s always nice to have someone to chat with.”

Me? I’m just glad I got Paid.

Damn you man, now I want to play it.