Chapter LX: The Rising Flames

 Single gunshot echoed in the heavily forested wilderness between the forgotten graveyard of Truck Cemetery and the blasted battleground of Army Warehouses. Its target slumped to the ground, hole in his left lung, gasping for air hopelessly. He kept gasping as a large figure in a heavy exoskeleton, known as Nosorog by the Zone-dwellers, closed in. Slowly, the newcomer raised a suppressed pistol and another gunshot filled the autumn air. The gasps came to an end, only a dripping sound of blood leaving a fresh wound audible in the red and brown forest.

• So, here ends the pursuit, another man in a SEVA suit commented, closing in on the killer.

• Indeed. It won't bring back the people he murdered, and neither will it give us any answers, but at least his rampage has come to an end, the first man muttered while placing his pistol to its holster.

• But are you certain we couldn't have persuaded him to give us information, Boris?

• I am certain. From what I read of his few notes, we're dealing with absolute madmen here. He would have taken his own life anyway, Boris replied, crouching to inspect the body.

A man, in his thirties, dressed in a trenchcoat drenched in blood. An inverted N-symbol with a skull in the middle, and a massive machete inside his coat. Two sawn-off TOZ-34 shotguns and a MR-412 revolver. And a book, brown leather book. Boris inspected it, leafing through the pages. It had detailed observations on victims, their names, ages, equipment, last words and the time of death. Hand-drawn maps of the Zone areas scattered between the pages, with strange symbols and runes here and there. Areas marked for anomalies, stalker shelters and mutant lairs.

• These guys are fucking lunatics, Dima, there's maybe thirty names in here, as well as these weird "ritual" descriptions. Makes Monolith look like reasonable fellows, Boris said, horrified. Dima took a look as well, his face growing more disgusted as he turned the pages.

• We need to end them. But first we need to decipher what this scribbling means, Dima said finally, closing the book.

• Indeed. I hate to leave Toha with the Diggers, but this is now top priority. We need to hunt those sadists down, as soon as possible. As if we needed any more jobs, Boris added, sighing at the thought of their workload.

Dima nodded and placed the book inside his rucksack. They decided to leave the murderer's body to mutants, a fitting fate for scum like him. It had been a day since Boris rescued Dima and Toha from the clutches of Zombified, and most of said day had been used to track the serial killer of Truck Cemetery. They were quite close to Army Warehouses, about on time as well to meet Anton Anomaly, Mark Garlic and Hip, who had been hunting another monster of the Zone, the karlik that had terrorized Cordon and Darkscape, dubbed Alpha Karlik by Boris.

The pair hiked for some more hours, arriving to Army Warehouses before nightfall. They carefully observed the small hilltop cottage overlooking the road from Rostok, Duty would often set up shop there. This time it was controlled by Bandits, and thus the pair passed through quickly. The bandits gave them scathing looks but were smart enough not to annoy a pair of heavily-armed stalkers. The guard at Freedom base was much more friendly, a man they had met before in Agroprom, Grishka Ink. They exchanged a few words before Boris headed to Lukash's office.

Lukash was seemingly on edge, but relaxed as Boris entered his office. Boris could see from the black rings under his eyes that sleep had been a commodity the Freedom leader could not afford as of late.

• So, what was it that you needed my help with, Boris asked after greeting the leader.

• There's a lot you could help us with. The Barrier is about to be attacked, and we need men holding that, but there's another matter as well. Hip already collected a drug shipment, no not recretional ones this time, stop giving me that look, Lukash said, giving a tired grin before continuing:

• But those meds are not all I need taken to Loki. I need someone with mercenary skills but not necessarily a mercenary. Thing is, the military is clamping down hard in the south where they have manpower, but are using agents to sow discontent in the north. They've been paying ludicrous sums to our men to join them in sabotage and open rebellion, not only Freedomers but stalkers, Clear Sky, mercs and the like. Duty has done this a bit too, and I need someone I can trust to stop this.

• Why me specifically? Why not Dushman's mercs?, Boris objected.

• Dushman is looking for any intel to fuel the Duty-Freedom war. The motherfucker benefits from it too much. I'm not going to give him any more advantages if I can avoid it. You I know to be a honest man, and I've seen you work. I trust your abilities, and I don't want to send my men to hunt their former allies, just in case, Lukash answered grimly. Boris nodded, satisfied with the explanation.

• Alright. I'll do it. But I want full backing of Redemption in exchange. We're a fledling faction for sure, but being allied to Freedom would make those damn bandits think twice.

• You've got it then. If the bandits try anything funny, we'll help you guys squeeze the fuckers down, I was already getting tired of them killing my stalker friends.

Satisfied with these results, Boris asked Lukash on the whereabouts of his friends. His directions led them to Skinflint's shop, where the trio was enjoying a meal. Dima had joined them already, sharing the operations in Truck Cemetery to them and the incident they had had with the lunatic earlier. Mark seemed the most interested, having taken of his GP-5 gasmask for once and listening intently to Dima.

• I think I might have heard of them. Some whispers here and there of a group of people who go around proclaiming that the Zone is a testament to failure of humanity. Some of them go around preaching it to people, but there are more... psychopatic members who preach in the form of blades in the dark. Theo stumbled upon one once, apparently he smashed the man's head in when the asshole tried to shank him, Mark told the group, and Boris nodded. Sounded like just the people they'd hunted down, first in Zaton and now here.

• Any idea who they are then?, Dima asked, but Mark shook his head. He had no clue.

Suddenly, an alarm started blaring outside. Flocks of birds rose up from the tops of the buildings of the Warehouse. It was not the typical emission, so Boris shot a glance at Skinflint, leaning against the table in his normal chill manner.

• Monolith forces sighted, all available fighters to the Barrier at ones. Remember, Mother Anarchy loves her children, do her proud gentlemen, a voice blared from the set of loudspeakers outside. The group rose up and prepared their weapons.

• Looks like it's time to fight Monoliths today, Anton said casually.

• Fun for all the family, Dima replied, loading a fresh magazine into his Val.

• Are they always this casual about this?, Skinflint asked from Boris, and Boris nodded.

• I have a natural tendency to find coldblooded jackasses, he answered with a grin and headed out.

• Says the biggest one of them all, Hip commented, following behind him. Dima chuckled.

The group marched towards the Barrier, the one outpost keeping the tides of madness at bay. The setting sun turned the clouds above blood red. As they settled behind the concrete blocks and sandbags forming the defences of Barrier, Boris saw the stern figure of Gatekeeper scanning the horizon. He glaced towards the overgrown and battered road ahead.

And from there, in an organized yet mechanical manner, the first warriors of Monolith marched forth, singing the battle hymns of the Wish Granter, a particularly large Preacher leading them. Boris gave a last parting look around him. How many of these men would fall today? How much blood would be shed to repel this raid? Men in stalker, Freedomer and Redemption uniforms stood against the horde, yet would it be enough?

He did not know. But it did not matter now. All that mattered was the battle ahead, and only the survivors would have to deal with the answers to these questions. Let loose the dogs of war, Boris thought, and opened fire.