Chapter LXXXVI: Darkest Hour

 The night sky over Western Yantar contrasted the flames rising from the underground complex. Cold stars lit the sky, while the snow on the ground reflected the fires. Strelok's and Father Diodor's group fought off yet another wave of Zombified, Strelok's SIG sniper wreaking havoc among the braindead while Diodor's and others 9 millimetre assault rifles cut a bloody tally. The explosion had alerted the group from their hunt, but the way to the demolition site was blocked by hordes of walking corpses, their rusty weapons still capable of fierce fire. Determined push allowed the stalkers to finally break the shambling husks. They made their way to the now-crumbled roof of the laboratory.

The lab was in ruins. The roof concrete had smashed through the wire mesh protecting the central machine, but Strelok had to admit that the Sin demolitioners had been quite accurate with their work. The roof had collapsed to the sides of the room below, leaving enough room for the machine below to survive intact. Look as he did, Strelok could not spot Boris, Kruglov or their men down there.

• The explosion might have buried them, Diodor said compassionately.

• We need to find a way to check for certain. I'm not leaving them behind in case they survived, Strelok answered with a tone that left no room for discussion.

• How? It's a long way down from here, and by the looks of things the entrances are blocked by the rubble. It'd take weeks to dig through, the priest continued stubbornly.

• Fuck. You may be right. And the longer we stay here, the more time Sin has to put their nightmare machine to good use. I can only hope they got out in time.

• Our Lord is merciful, we can only hope they have earned his mercy, Diodor replied quietly.

• Might be last days of my life if Sin gets that thing going, and I'm stuck with a priest of all things, Strelok sighed.

• God moves in mysterious ways, Diodor chimed, took one last look at the burning rubble and turned around.

• Damn I wish I'd be in Cordon now, even Sid is better company than these jackasses, Strelok muttered himself, sent a message to Boris to get to Limansk if they had survived and followed the preacher.

Deep down, in a room now buried, the PDA message announcement chirped cheerily. It broke the brooding silence of the room, the men raising their heads to see the source. Boris pulled out his PDA, grumbling curses as his thigh ached in pain. The PDA screen had been smashed by rubble, but he could see that the message was from Strelok. He told this to the others.

• Chyort, we were so stupid, Kruglov said, burying his head in his hands. It was odd to see him without his screen helmet.

• I know. Tricked by a bunch of fucking idiotic zealots. I've never been this humiliated in my life, Dima cursed.

• Calm down everyone. We'll get back at them. Kill every last one of the lunatics. They may have won now, but they made a mistake of pissing us off, Zakarov said, his voice steady yet full of anger.

• I agree. We screwed up. But we'll redeem ourselves. Kick the Sin bastards until they crumble, Sanyok responded in agreement. Dima lit a cigarette, lighting up the room in yellow glow.

• I guess you two optimists are right. I may have never been this humiliated, but the Sinners will regret ever pissing me off. I'll use their funeral pyre to lit my next cigar, mark my words, he grumbled.

• Well, it's settled then. We'll head to Limansk next, blow the antenna up, gut every Sin bastard and go back to Meadow for vodka and medals. This was their finest hour. Let it be their last victory, Boris said, standing up.

Everyone seemed to cheer up a bit, and with the improved mood of the group Boris took a further look at their surroundings. They were in a cramped corridor, most of the space taken up by the squad. At end of it, there was a door, which proved to be locked when Boris tried it. He told the others to give him some space and slammed his exoskeleton-reinforced leg into it, kicking the door off its hinges. There was a small control centre behind the doorframe, and Boris found an odd scientific suit, coloured black, in there. Kruglov appeared next to him and his eyes widened with excitement, all hopelessness vanished.

• That's... That's a scientific suit used by the Group members. SSP-10, if I'm not mistaken. Kalugin himself used one. This is a massive breakthrough to find one intact, the scientist yelled out.

• It's yours then. Unless Zakarov wants it. I prefer something that protects me from tushkanos, Boris replied with a grin.

Kruglov switched into the new suit, looking as happy as Hawaiian when someone got within Aloha range. Dima had checked the other rooms and found a staircase, which the group then used to get up to the surface once more. Breathing in the crisp winter air after long hours in the stale corridor air was a blessing, and for a moment each member of the squad simply stood and breathed in. Eventually Boris ordered them to head out, towards Dead City. The group marched through the fields and meadows of West Yantar, killing off straggler Zombified and mutants.

Their flashlights bounced off the pure white snow, moonlight brightening the otherwise dark abyss. Despite his injuries and worries, despite the stress and fatigue, Boris found the landscape hauntingly beautiful. Frost had seeped into the plants and trees, covering them with frazil ice. It was as if the land had turned into glass. It did make the anomalies more dangerous as they blended better in the pure ivory of the ground, but thankfully the Zone either trains one's eye to pick them up or takes one. The group took a short break near a bunker filled with vortex anomalies. Boris' Svarog picked up multiple artefacts inside but going after them would've been a foolish thing.

Dawn begun to paint the sky red, the clouds taking on a pinkish hue. Boris and Dima finished a can of salted meat they'd been sharing, Dima lighting a new cigarette while Boris emptied the can on top of his bread roll. Sanyok took a few nibbles of a protein bar and closed his eyes for a second. Calm before the storm, Boris thought to himself. He could not tell if some from this group would not make it in the siege to come. But if it was up to Boris? He'd make sure if someone had to perish, it'd be him over anyone else.

Further up north, kilometres away, a helicopter carrying a doomsday device spun its rotors ever slower as it kept descending. The Radiological institute of Limansk basked in the morning sun. The dawn had arrived, but for the world, the clock inched closer to midnight than ever before.