A Shephard- ZoC Main Story Vol 2 Chapter 1

Yantar. Another day where the sky felt more like a waterfall. A couple of flashes would light up the crumbling brick facade. Some from the errant lightning strikes, and others more man-made.

No one would visit this god-forsaken place anymore. The scientists had left months ago to their newer site by the Jupiter Plant. The facility itself had been picked clean on the old rush to the center of The Zone. Its out of the way location would make it perfect for some of the shadier characters of the zone, but its haunting legacy kept most at bay. The occasional story told by a stalker who went to take a look, and would still find the odd zombified Stalker, flesh melted to the firearm they refused to let go, pulling a trigger that long ago stopped functioning. That and the other assorted mutants who flourished in the absence of man.

More flashes, but in a quicker succession. A brief pause. A single, brighter flash in response. Louder than the others, if anything could be heard over the worsening storm.

The only thing Yantar still had, and would forever hold, would be it’s history. It was an open library of everything detestable about the zone. The blatant profiteering of artifact hunting; the senseless violence of its mutated wildlife, a gigantic gravestone to the scientific arrogance of man. Hell preserved for those who would be willing to go to the edge of the zone to find it.

Another crack. Pause. Crack. Pause. A shower of smaller pings against the side of a rusted out bus; as if someone forgot their change in the laundry machine.
“If he’s using buckshot at this range, he must be getting desperate,” you mutter to yourself, nervously peeking through the windows of the bus. However, you weren't doing much better.

This trip out to Yantar has cost you. Getting those artifacts to barkeep, however late that detour took you, won you some favor. A couple of other tasks, and finally a lead.

Someone once traded with someone who sounded like your brother at the yantar plant. How long ago, they didn’t know. He used to run the route a lot, apparently. And that was as good as it was going to get. It took a while to guide yourself out here, but Lucy became more familiar with the surroundings the closer you got. Good girl.

It was a pleasant walk, full of talking to her to keep the time.

What was not pleasant was the increase in mutants as you go further along.

Not pleasant at all was just how much ammunition you had gone through on your rifle, scaring them off or killing a couple in the occasional scuffle. So far away from the stash point holding all your ammunition, you pressed forward.

And now, right at Yantar, you’ve run into the type of problem barkeep told you didn’t plague the facility anymore: Stalkers.
Or a Stalker. With a very tenacious attitude towards your continued living. He opened fire the moment you walked into the valley, and has not stopped even in the suddenly worsening weather.

You take a step back and try to peek over with Lucy, your SVD. You’re not sure what she is, an artifact, a blessing, or an incredibly vivid hallucination. The Zone is a strange place. But now, right now when it counts, there’s no greater insurance than a rifle that can spit out 7.62x54 at distances of 800m with incredible accuracy.

A bit of movement, and you swing to track-

Another rattling of buckshot against the side of the bus, and you pull down. You’ve got the better weapon for this sort of thing, but the other stalker is hell bent on wasting everything to keep your head down. Ammunition you did not have to respond in kind.

Visibility is already terrible through the downpour too. You’re too tired to think of anything clever at this point, with how long this has been going on. You don’t care about reason anymore, this guy needs to die or get it over with.

And now what is absolutely not pleasant is the funny color the sky is just turning. You know what this mean, and the other Stalker sure as hell does as well. A quick glance, and he still hasn’t moved, however.

You’re not playing this waiting game. You were lucky, once, to survive an emission. Something that still leaves you queasy and not quite sure about your life expectancy, but something you don’t want to experience again.

Behind you is a concrete bunker, a 100 meter sprint through more rusted wreckage, collapsed walls, and assorted fauna. And the most secure thing in this whole valley you reckon.

You peek up and fire an errant shot, and then start sprinting.

Not the smartest move, but staying in an emission is not one of those either.
You have precious seconds before the other Stalker figures out what’s going on, you’re already halfway there before he crests the position of the bus you were at and takes another errant pot shot. He must be running to the same shelter too, as his aim is wild and you don’t even hear the ricochet.

The rapid swish swish of the suit material, the bouncing weight of the pack and chest rig, the increasingly fogging glass plates , and the deepening groan of the sky that can now be heard over the deafening rain accompany you on your last leg of the journey.

The last sign making a pacifist out of your seconds-ago would-be murderer as you look over your shoulder to see him running even faster then you are; his shotgun now slung up as he sprints to the same shelter you are.

The top hinge of the heavy outer door is broken, leaving it ajar. Perfect for your to jump over the small threshold and into the second space. You don’t even think, just pray as you grab the heavy inner door and push with all your might. It budges just a bit, enough for you to throw yourself through. But enough time for the other man to get to the outer door.

Turning around, you start to heave the door shut as you hear a muffled scream and a hand reach forth. There’s no hesitation as you seal the small gap and rapidly spin the lock. The bunker starts to rattle as the zone opens itself once again, but somehow the muffled banging of the door behind you is louder.
Rapidly now, you back away and just stare. Who knows if this bunker is safe, what horrors might have taken refuge in the time since humanity left it. Who knows if it’s even safe from an emission? But you mind does not ponder these things; just staring at the door.

The banging continues for a while. Bang. Bang.

Each dull thud reverberating, condemning you as you have condemned the man on the other side.

The banging slows. And the banging stops.

You’re not sure how long Lucy has been standing next to you now, or how long she’s been holding onto you. Weather she’s just as scared as you are, horrified, or something else entirely, you are not sure.

You continue to stare at the door in dread, the weight sinking in. The bunker continues to rattle.

FInally, you come out of your stupor at a particularly loud bang at the door, and then silence.

You’re soaked. You’re tired. You’re terrified of what you’ll have to find on the other side of that door. And as you collapse against the opposite wall, Lucy sits down next to you. Taking off your mask and hers, she leans forward and does her typical blank stare into yours. You’re not sure if she understands what just happened, or she’s just silent out of consideration, but you wouldn’t have the time or energy to explain anyways. You pull out your makarov, and lean into her. The blowout seems to be over, but the storm is still raging outside.

And you’re not ready to find out what’s on the other side, as your adrenaline high has worn off. Leaning both on the metal bunker wall and her, you collapse into her shoulder. Glad for the miracle that is your wonderful rifle, you quickly drift to sleep.