Chapter CXXV: Final Rest for the Restless

 Pale moonlight swept across the grasslands of Chernobyl nuclear power plant, conquering the areas left untouched by the buildings dotting the landscape. The walls and walkways sprawling to all directions would usually have dozens of Monolith guards, all patrolling with machine-like vigilance. But tonight, the guard posts were mostly unmanned. Stalkers were pouring towards the north, and majority of the Monolith troops were fighting them off in Zaton, Jupiter, Pripyat and Radar. Some squads had even been dispatched to areas that had mere month ago been completely safe.

For Boris' squad, this was a blessing. They used the northern gate to slip into the plant, avoiding the creaking of the rusty metal hinges. Mark stopped them for a second behind a building block and tuned a small RF receiver in his hand.

• What do you need that for?, Dima whispered a question.

• Theo and I used to have stashes all around the Zone with signal transmitters, on frequency 86. I'm hoping that one of those still works, it could lead us to him, Mark replied over the static of the receiver.

• Any idea if that will work?, Anton asked in turn.

• No idea. It's a longshot, but it's all we have right now. Any better suggestions?, Mark asked, tinge of annoyance in his voice.

• No. Let's try it out. But Mark?, Boris muttered.

• Yes?, Mark replied.

• You do understand that Theo is most likely dead?

• I do. I am ready for that. I just wish to have closure, I want to know for sure. Theo was to me like my brother, if he is dead now I want to bury him before moving on, Mark answered with a weary voice.

Boris nodded, it was all the answer he needed. Mark turned the button once more, and the machine beeped to life. It was a faint signal, barely there, but to the men it was an encouraging sound. Finding something using the machine would be trial and error however, as it only indicated location based on how loudly it beeped. It was a start, either way. They left the gate area quickly, marching towards the iconic blocky structure of the infamous nuclear facility. Their Geiger counters gave faint signals as well, prompting them to take the finest of radiation medicine, Anton's personally distilled moonshine. They passed the metal bottle around before continuing, the warm alcohol helping with the chilly morning.

Mark's sharp eyes surveilled the walls of the blocky buildings, which seemed suspiciously empty. The squad stopped for a second again to screw night-vision sights onto Dima's, Mark's and Anton's rifles. The 1PN51 and PN-23 scopes provided far better visibility, and Mark's SVDS soon revealed an enemy patrol ahead. Sinners, three novices by the looks, armed with Soviet weaponry. Their Volos flak jackets did not stop the dozen or so bullets that punched into them from the dark. From the distance, Mark's rifle crushed the opposition, and the patrol was gone. Boris and Anton closed in with Dima in the heel, prepared to take shots at the fanatics if they moved a muscle. The two exoskeleton-wearing stalkers heaved the corpses over their shoulders and carried them to a shadowy spot on the foot of another blocky structure.

The moonlight created corridors of light among the grassplains, which the squad avoided. They kept their eyes on any movement, as there was more than enough mutants in the area to be on alert for. Gigantic boars the size of tanks, monsters unlike any Boris had seen, travelled in the dark. Chimeras and pseudogiants clashed in the distance, two titans crashing into each in a spectacle of violence and primal rage. Mark led them past these dangers, guiding them to blindspots. The Svarog detector that Boris had inherited from Professor Antipin alerted them of anomalies in turn, beeping slowly when chemical or gravitational quirks in the fabric of nature came to view. At times, the beepings of Svarog and RF receiver matched into a cacophony of electric chirping.

Their movement was slow and cautious, as they wished to avoid the hordes of mutants. Thankfully, the larger creatures had either more dulled senses or were preoccupied. And the smaller mutated beasts did not want to bother a heavily armed and armoured group. Far ahead, a traincart surrounded by the ghostly green glow of chemical anomalies appeared from the darkness. It was like a ghostship of old, the Flying Dutchman, slipping into view, except its sea was the open grassland and its crew had left decades ago. The noxious gases rising from it reminded Boris of will-o-wisps, but the crackling of the RF receiver interrupted his musings. The device's noises had picked up a pace.

• I think we might be getting closer!, Dima said excitedly, unable to contain himself.

They continued a bit on, walking towards a signal until it grew faint before trying another direction. Dima's Val killed off a pack of dogs that had decided to try their luck with the squad. Further ahead, on top of a building that looked like a Monolith outpost, barrel fires signalled the presence of a fanatic force. They had far too good of a view over the surrounding terrain, and the strengthening of the signal pointed towards a nearby tower. As such, Boris ordered the squad to attack the Monolith fortification. Mark stayed behind as fire support while the others closed in.

Moving quickly along the grassy, open terrain, they tried to avoid the most illuminated spots. Hundred metres away from a ladder that would lead them to the roof, disaster almost struck. A cultist rifleman appeared from behind a crate, and threatened to spot the squad. But then a sharp crack could be heard from behind, and the PBF gasmask of the zealot was smashed to pieces by a bullet. Before the corpse had even hit the ground, the squad was on the move, rising up the ladder like their lives depended on it. They got to the upper floor and slid to cover. Dima leaned into a metal crate while tearing out the pin of a smoke grenade. Boris showed him three fingers and nodded, Dima nodded back. Seconds passed, the grey canister of a grenade threw out and started releasing smoke. Boris opened fire through it, Anton fired a M203 rifle grenade through it, and then Dima and Sanyok rushed in.

• This is where the fun begins, Anton quipped to Boris and charged after them.

Not to be outdone, Boris followed. After so long out of combat, the adrenaline rush was massive and boosted him into the battle. He could hear the barking of Anton's SCAR ahead, and as he emerged from the smoke he saw a Monolith soldier fall from the roof, three large holes in his armour. Another tried to aim at Anton but Boris' M16 bore twelve holes into his torso in turn. Dima struck one with his rifle butt and as the Monolithian staggered back, Sanyok blasted him dead as well. A short but brutal skirmish, with no survivors to speak off. As they recovered from the fight, checking the nearby areas for possible enemies and taking gulps of water, Mark climbed up to the roof as well. He took in the sights for a moment, then turned back to his device before looking up again, tracing the walls of the gigantic tower with his eyes all the way up to the top.

• Wait... Mark, you don't think he's up there?, Boris asked, following Mark's gaze.

• I don't know, but it would make sense why Monolith haven't disassembled his armour so that it still transmits after all this time. And why we didn't find him the last time we were here, Mark replied, looking at Anton who nodded.

• Yes indeed. We looked for Theo for a long time, Anton said quietly, with a face that told that he was deep in his memories.

• Well, I guess there is nothing to it but to keep going. Who's going up?, Boris asked.

• Not me. I have a terrible fear of heights, climbing here was bad enough, Sanyok said, face red with embarassment.

• Nothing to be ashamed of there, at least you're not afraid of canned tomatoes like me. I'll stay here too, though, climbing all that looks exhausting, Dima replied, patting Sanyok on the back.

• Okay, so Sanyok has actual reasons and Dima is just lazy. Got it. Anton? Boris?, Mark asked.

• I would rather not, please. I'm so close to getting home, I don't want to go climbing up an old rusty ladder hundred metres up from the surface, Anton replied and Mark gave him an understanding look.

• I'm coming. With the added strength of my exo, I can go first and avoid slipping. Tie a rope around you in a way where it won't squeeze you to death and give it to me then, I'll keep you alive, Boris responded, and Mark nodded.

They descended down back to the grasslands, with the three stalkers remaining up to cover them. The Redemption leader and the mutant hunter crossed the ground quickly and came to the foot of the massive industrial tower. It had probably not seen anything flow through it in years. The way up was a series of ladders, connected by metre long walkways after each ladder. Mark's locating device was beeping rapidly now. They were close. Boris begun his ascent, the exoskeleton-boosted grip providing confidence into his climb. The steps were old and had clearly been exposed to elements for years, but still held their weight. Step by step, ladder by ladder, walkway by walkway, they reached for the sky. Boris tried not to look down, but as he saw crows soar in the night sky past them, he realized how high they were now.

• Man, we're higher than a Freedomer on Bob Marley's birthday right now, Boris muttered to Mark, who laughed nervously, but the strengthening wind took his laughter with it.

They continued in silence. The steps creaked under their weight, the walkways screeched as heavy Nosorog-boots landed on them. At times they had to sweep away giant crow nests or skeletons of fanatical snipers to progress. Boris was certain he saw at least a dozen spoons, metal mugs and coins in one of the nests. Crows had had a field day picking up the remains of unfortunate stalkers here at the heart of the Zone. Even as the wind grew stronger and started generating more noise, the receiver kept blaring its signal at full strength. And that sound kept them going. So close to finding the legendary Clear Sky stalker. So very close.

They were at least 60 metres up now, maybe more. Boris stopped for a second to admire the CNPP in the moonlight. There was haunting beauty in it, the brutalist architecture lit up by the nature's pale colours. But Mark tapped him into the shoulder to keep him going. It was getting colder now, and it was not exactly the best time to enjoy the scenery, so Boris placed his hands on the ladder once more and kept going. And there, roughly ten metres up, something could be seen on the walkway. Possible just another fanatic corpse, but Boris doubted it. His climbing became faster, Mark coming up behind him as fast as he could. They kept up the pace and after a hair-rising fifteen minutes of speed-climbing made it up there.

And there, on the highest walkway of the tower, at the heart of the Zone, lay a Monolith Nosorog armour, painted in the colours of Clear Sky. Behind the Spartan helmet was a skull of a skeleton, and on its lap was a PDA. The other hand was clutching a SA 58 rifle, modified with a Leopold sight and with cursive name stenciled to the receiver, "Cataclysm". And before Boris could react, Mark fell to his knees, took off his GP-5 and tears flowed from his eyes. After all the hardship, all the uncertainty, he had found his friend. His brother.