A Shephard- ZoC Main Story Vol 1 Chapter 6

Part 6 - Ferryman of Junk

The part had finally come. You had actually helped retrieve it yourself, leading a small team through the now familiar gap in the patrols around the border. You were beginning to suspect, and some of the side conversations from Sid confirmed, that at least some of the military were paid for those gaps to be there. Nothing as brazen as driving right through, but they would take longer than usual to pass through the area you always took.

Once back on the inside, you made small talk with a few stalkers as the goods were unloaded. An angry bellow from Sidorovich interrupted the conversation.

“What do you MEAN these are the right detectors? I paid him a handsome amount to “lose” some Veles detectors for me, not give me last generation scrap!”

A muffled response.

“When you get back out there, and you see the bastard, you put a bullet in him for me. Or don’t bother coming back to The Zone. I am an honest man-”

You suppress a laugh

“ and I will not tolerate bullshit like this. Because he is outside the zone does not mean he can treat me like a senile babushka and give me trash for my pension money.”

You watch as a stalker in a darker suit hurries, almost running, out of the bunker.

You pipe up, about the handgrip

“And YOU-” he snarls.

A pause.

He takes a breadth. And several more.

“Eugh, forget it. It’s not your fault.”

Your stare serves as a cue for him to expose more of the story.

“Artifact detectors. You need artifacts detectors to find artifacts. To use artifacts to make more money. Theres some high tech shit out there now, high tech shit I paid lots of money for to make even more money reselling. And all I got”, he sighs, as he points behind him to a large sack of small electronic boxes, “are last generation junk. A whole lot of Echos and a few Bears. The latter isn’t so bad, but it doesn’t quite have the positional accuracy, and display, that a top of the line Veles does.”

“Here,” he motions for you to come closer. “Grab that faded orange box in that bag. “

You quickly comply, and open it.

“That is a Bear detector. A little old in terms of detectors, but three years ago a stalker would have killed for something “high-tech” like this. Keep it. I’m going to lose profit on this whole bunch anyways. Maybe I can pawn it off on a few rookies…”

Starting his scheming again, you interrupt him to asking him how the thing works.

“Pop open that top part, it serves as an antenna. The Bears aren’t completely accurate to location, but the only LEDs that correspond to where the artifact is will light up. The direction changes, you change with it. Follow it until you find the artifact. Here, switch is on the left-” he reaches over, thumbing the device. It lights up, and points right at you.

“Huh, that’s odd. Reading you like you already got an artifact on you, but I don’t see any pouches for them.”

He presses the red switch on the right, holding it down for a few seconds.

“Make sure when you find artifacts, you use it like that to calibrate it with what you’ve already retrieved; it’ll save you a lot of headache and walking around in circles.” he continues to explain, as the detector is no longer going off. You stow it away.

“And my handgaurd?” you ask, a bit impatient at the distraction from your prize.

“Oh yes, it’s in here somewhere,” he mumbles, fishing through the heavy case you helped carry back through the border.

“Here.” He pulls an object wrapped in plastic.
You instantly tear at it, like a kid on Christmas morning going into his presents.

It’s a beautiful dark wood, a bit darker than your stock, but you suspect that’s more lighting and a smooth polish than anything.

“It’s not the original one piece handguards, but the forward catch should be able to keep it in place nonetheless.” Sidorovich says.

“Thanks Sid, “ you mention as you continue to stare at the last part of your prize.

“Don’t push your luck with that “Sid” crap. Nobody, not even my mother can call me that.”

Whoops.

Calming down once more, he motions the door

“I know you’re eager to go up north. And I’m sure you’re not wanting to stay down here, even though I could make it mighty profitable for you. Trust me, I’ve tried before. But the allure north is too great. I have one last job for you. These last couple of weeks, I’ve come to trust you. That doesn’t come lightly, not in these parts. I know you’ve been asking around, about some documents you found. Well, information’s also valuable, and I’ve looked into a bit of it myself. Now I could buy them from you outright, at an offer that’d be generous by my standards. But I’ve already sold them.”

You can’t help exclaim “What the fuck Sidorovich?”
“Hey hey hey, calm down. You don’t even know what you have there, and I do. And I know that those egg-heads up north would love to have some documentation like that. So, I’ve arranged for you to deliver those documents to them. At double what I would have paid you, even after my cut. “

You are still upset, but he has a point.

“If you make it north, by the Jupiter Complex, there is a small team of state-sponsored scientist yokels hiding out in a drop-in bunker. I told them it’d be an indefinite amount of time to get it to them, but they were so excited, they didn’t seem to mind. You’ll get paid only when they get the documents, not a moment before. If it turns out it’s not what they thought it was, you still get paid, though. I’ve done enough of these contracts with them to establish myself. The man you’ll be looking for is Novikov. And here-” he motions to a smaller bag you didn’t notice at your feet. “You’ll probably need what's in there. “

You grab it without looking through it.

The final thing you hear from him is the usual “and good hunting, stalker.”

You exit his bunker, probably for the last time in a while. It’s still early, but the long job last night has you tired. You pick your usual cot in the basement and catch some sleep.
You must have been asleep for a while, as you wake up it’s already dark. Fuck, it’s way too late to head out.

With some time on your hands, you open that small sack Sid gave you.

Hot damn, what a parting gift. Aside from the extra anti-rads, ammunition, medkits, and food, there was a large set of nvg’s, with oversized straps to accommodate your bulky mask underneath. You have no idea how much this would even cost, as it’s not something you’ve ever seen him sell. But being able to move at night without worry bumbling into a mutant in the pitch black, or your flashlight telling every bandit in the garbage where you were, was a huge advantage.

Next, but certainly not least, is your rifle. You set it down on the cot. As if undressing your girlfriend after prom, you gently undo the front latch, sliding the worn, broken handgrip forward and off. And with even more care and gentleness, you clasp the new, darker grips onto the barrel; covering it, the operating rod, and gas cylinder system. Pressing back down on the forward latch, you step back in amazement. It’s a completely different rifle, you now feel. Gently lifting it up, in almost a princess carry, you marvel at it. It’s probably your imagination and excitement from finally having completed this task, but you feel it’s a bit warmer today. Practising sighting it, the forward grip feels much more comfortable now that you can wrap your hand around it and not get splintered. It was a bit bulkier than the last one, but you didn’t mind. You had even reworked the stock for this occasion, being careful not to buff off the Lucy etching that was still on it. You can’t get sleep with how exciting this new development is; having a weapon you can truly call your own.

You offer to take some of the night watch, as you have nothing else better to do, and test out your fancy new night vision toy as you stare into the night. You’re incredibly surprised by the clarity, especially given with how dark nights in The Zone usually get. As you spin around, you are face to face with Mr. Green.

“Hello, Blank.” He says, as you recoil in surprise.

How does he keep doing that?

“You learn a lot in the army.” he hints, not realizing you didn’t mean to ask that outloud.

“I hear you are going up north. There is a lot up north, but I feel like I should talk to you for a bit on what you’ve gained down here. This rifle,” he says, lowering it from your hands, “is a treasure. I can see it even clearer now.”
He lingers on those words, staring with those blind eyes at something you cannot see.

“And you,” He continues, grabbing onto your shoulder, “have been marked by the zone. Not everything can be explained here. And even the explanations are often...lacking. But I know. Those eyes are a dead giveaway. You survived, somehow. That may be for the better, or the worse.”
ou feel like asking how he really knows, but he is already answering you as you think it.

“I used to be in the army, yes.” He taps the faded nametag on his jacket, the name barely visible as you continue to look at it through the green haze of the goggles.

It reads “T. Orest”

“It can be a blessing to survive an emission. But when there isn’t a base to come back to, comrades to talk back to, or anymore left to remember you exist, it can be a curse. The Zone gives, but it also takes.”

He starts to turn around and walk away, stopping to look not at you, but your rifle.

“Remember that.”