Chapter LV: Wrath of the Zone

 A mushroom cloud with a light red tint to it rose over the horizon, taking over the sky and covering the otherwise bright blue day. The land darkened below, light growing as dim as during late evenings. The sun disappeared behind the cloud, taking with it the last rays of hope. And then the howling begun. Strong gust of wind swept across Garbage, and with them came a sort of whispering and wailing of otherworldly nature. As if the ghosts of those perished to emissions came before it to warn the living.

Boris and Dima were already springting towards the Depot. They barely had time to dodge the various chemical and gravitational anomalies. The sweat from the fight before mixed with the panic-induced streams that now created rivers down their foreheads and backs, but on they pushed. They knew the alternative, instant disintegration or zombification. The winds were now so thick with radiation and dust that it was hard to see forward, the landscape appearing grainy before them. Boris spotted the mouth of a tunnel not far from them, grabbed Dima's shoulder and started pulling him along.

They could see the first wave of the emission closing in, a fiery wall of death and destruction. A flesh was trying to outrun it, but it was too late. The helpless creature got caught into the torrent, swept aside. Its body begun swirling inside the wave, twisted into unnatural shapes and finally disintegrating into bits of bloody chunks. Boris pushed Dima inside the tunnel and followed behind, collapsing into the floor as the flood of lethal energies passed by. They were safe, for now, Boris thought, but his cognitive functions were soon overtaken by the need to vomit.

He tossed his helmet aside and let go, the stew Hip had made the earlier night spewing on the floor. The stinking liquid having been released, Boris finally raised his gaze, only to look down a double-barrel shotgun. A bandit in a trenchcoat stared him down.

• Well well well, looks like we got some prime Duty fuckers to deal with, the bandit commented snarkily.

• We're Redemption members, buddy, so put that shotgun away. We're here to help you guys out, not kill you, Boris replied, still a bit dizzy. Dima was looking worse for wear, holding his head, his eyes glassy.

• Redemption eh? I think I do recognize you, you're that big guy who shook up Sultan pretty bad. I think he'd pay big bucks to see you full of lead, the bandit pondered out loud, still not moving his shotgun. He glanced quickly at his companions, which was a mistake. Boris grabbed his shotgun and pulled it down, the bandit pressing the triggers but the buckshot being stopped easily by the Nosorog plates. Boris pressed his FNX under the bandit's chin. The other bandits raised their shotguns, shocked by the development.

• How about you boys lower those weapons before I blast his head off instead? As I said, we're not here to fight you, and besides, Sultan is dead. No one will pay you for killing us, but I'll make you pay for trying it, Boris ordered in his most authoritarian voice. The two rookie bandits looked at each other and lowered their double barrels. Boris released the trenchcoat thug. The emission still continued howling outside.

• Fine then, we'll let you live. But what's this about Sultan being dead?, the bandit leader asked.

• Someone assansinated him last night. I've got contacts in Dark Valley and they informed me of it. It's probably a bit hush-hush as you boys probably don't want the loners finding out about it, but my sources are reliable, you probably found out I don't like taking chances with your folk, Boris answered with a confident grin.

• Well shit... Guess that's end of an era once more. We'd head straight to Dark Valley but this shithole is crawling with Duty and soldiers, we even had a quick truce with the loners at the Depot due to it but we got attacked and I'm not sure if anyone else made it out.

• Can you elaborate on the situation? We're planning to head on out once the emission ends and deal with the Duty and Military patrols.

• Sure, go ahead. Duty controls the Depot, they've got guards on the catwalks and ground level. Military has the outpost to Agroprom and the other one further south, as well as the Flea Market. Duty also has the entrance to Rostok under their control. If you do attack them, we can help by taking out the Agroprom outpost.

• Whatever floats your boat. For now, I need to take care of my friend, Boris said and turned to Dima, giving him some psy-block. Emissions could cause severe loss of mental functions, and psy-block, even if administered during one, helped remedy this somewhat. In fifteen minutes, Dima came back to his senses. The storm was slowing down a bit.

• There are few things I hate more than emissions, Dima whispered grumpily when he returned to the land of the living.

• I assume burers and canned beans are also on that list, Boris teased, receiving equally grumpy look from Dima.

• Your jokes are also on that list. Any sign of the emission ending soon?, Dima asked.

Boris nodded to the entrance of the tunnel. The wind and the howling was ending at a rapid rate. It would be safe to head out soon. Boris stood up, loaded a fresh belt into his RPD and new set of buckshot into his Fort. They stepped outside, the sky still swirling with red and orange clouds but otherwise normal. It started to rain, which Boris was glad of, it would cover their steps and help with not getting detected. The Depot was only a few hundred metres east from the tunnel. They moved slowly towards it, guns trained on the building. The bandits were already moving towards the outpost, and suddenly shotgun blasts filled the air.

Boris glanced back quickly and saw the bandits absolutely decimate the surprised military troops who had only just arrived back to their posts. With savage rage, Trenchcoat killed the last survivor, bleeding out on the floor. Dima peeked to check the way ahead, the Dutyers were coming to investigate the noise. Boris leaned out of cover slightly and let rip with his RPD, killing the black and red clad stalkers in seconds. Normally he would have waited for them to react and see if they were hostile but now was not the time for that.

The Depot was empty outside of Butcher, who had locked his doors when the soldiers came in. Boris told him to remain there for the time being when he greeted them, there was still plenty to do and Butcher's usual neutrality might have meant nothing to the soldiers. Boris took a defensive position on one of the large windows on the second floor, watching as the soldiers moved towards the Depot slowly. Dima crouched behind a crate near the main door, KS-23 ready and his Val locked and loaded on the crate, easy to access if the shotgun-cannon ran out.

Then the second cataclysm of the day happened. Sky darkened once more, but this time there was no massive rumble, only a siren coming wailing loudly in Agroprom, the noise echoing weakly into Garbage. A sound akin to that of a charging Pulse anomaly could be heard following the siren, and then an explosion of psychic energy. This explosion was followed by a dozen similar charging and exploding sounds, and the sky turned pinkish, filled with lightning bolts. A psi-storm had begun.

The soldiers Boris was observing looked up to the sky, and even from hundreds of metres away Boris could see horror on their faces. They started charging the Depot, disregarding all caution, and only stopped when Boris' machine gun cut down two of their number. The bandits ran into the Depot as well, and took position at the back. One of the soldiers, seemingly an officer, ran towards the Depot waving a white piece of cloth.

• You there, whoever you are, please let us in! Surely you wouldn't let us get zombified right here!, the officer pleaded, and Boris could hear his desperation.

• That's the bastard who killed roughly 15-20 loners and equal amount of bandits just in the couple of last days. Shot even the ones that surrendered, the bandit leader yelled to Boris.

• Is that so? Then good luck out there, you son of a bitch, the doors stay closed!, Boris replied, and fired a burst at the soldiers closing in. Another one met his end, collapsing down. Despite these men being Speznaz, they clearly were panicking.

The officer gave an order to charge the Depot, and the soldiers, roughly a platoon in strength, attacked with force, suffering heavy casualties as Boris cut them down. The air was feeling heavy, and even here in shelter, Boris could feel his mind boiling. The soldier's movements grew sluggish, and Boris managed to finish off even more of them, their aim getting less and less accurate. Others fell down, holding their hands to their helmets, screaming. Some tried to run back to the Flea Market, but it was no use. Slowly, they began to slow down, their pace turning from sprint to shamble. The screams turned to pained groans, words to incoherent mumbling. They looked around with glassy eyes, barely standing. The storm begun to dissipate.

As the last pulsating psi-energies were released, Boris and Dima stepped out, followed by the bandits. They moved in between the fresh husks, too dazed from their metamorphosis to resist. Pistol rounds and knives ended them one by one, until they found major Baranov, still partially a human. He looked at them confused yet angry, his curses turning into gibberish. Boris raised his FNX-45 and pressed it into his forehead, firing a single bullet. The military's reign of terror in Garbage had been wiped out, not by Boris and Dima but the Zone itself.

• Was this... was this the right thing to do, Dima asked, watching the husks they had created. Boris couldn't answer. He still felt sick.

• It was. Come, I'll show you just why we did good today, the trenchcoat bandit said and started walking towards the Flea Market. Boris and Dima glanced at each other, gave one somber look at the field of the dead, and followed in silence.