“But…”
“Shh! Quiet!” The Captain says in a low voice. “I heard something!”
Now Tarasov can hear it too — it’s a muted roar coming from the depths of the tunnel lying ahead. Instinctively, he raises his weapon.
“If we hear it, we don’t need to fear it,” the Captain whispers. “It means that the bloodsucker has not detected us. Howl is good, but silence is deadly.”
“I hate bloodsuckers,” Squirrel whispers back. “Especially sneaky ones.”
The long, tedious march takes its toll on Tarasov’s energy. Walking is easy on the hard ground and the ascent is mostly non-exertive, but constantly keeping his eyes peeled and ears pricked becomes more and more exhausting as the time passes. As his mental energy depletes, a creepy sense of claustrophobia sets in.
Damn this spelunking… these narrow shafts sap on my energy with every step I take, no matter of the Emerald I carry.
He delights at the sight of the tunnel widening again into a long, oval-shaped space, and is already considering a short break when he sees the Captain freeze in his steps. Then he hears the noise of footsteps approaching them.
“Jesus Christ, here it comes!”
He doesn’t need Squirrel’s desperate scream to realize the danger. In the red glow of the Captain’s artifact, the shadow of a bloodsucker appears on the rocky wall only a few meters to their right. Tarasov raises his rifle to shoot but the Captain’s fragile figure is standing between him and the mutant.
“Bloodsucker! Hold it! Don’t approach!”
Tarasov is about to shout for the old man to get to the ground so that he has a clear shot, but realizes that it’s not him or his comrades the Captain is talking to — he is directing his words to the mutant.
“Hold your fire,” the major whispers to his companions. “Hold your fire!”
The Captain raises the staff holding the glowing artifact higher and steps forward.
“Move away, kravasos… move.”
With eyes wide open from dread and surprise, Tarasov watches the mutant’s shadow taking a step backwards, as if mesmerized by the artifact’s light. With a nod of his head, the Captain signals them to proceed.
Cautiously, they walk by the Captain who still keeps the artifact high and close to the bloodsucker’s snout where Tarasov can now see his eyes reflecting the light. When Ilchenko, the last man in their row, has reached the far end of the cavern, the Captain slowly takes a step back. Still facing the mutant he seems to hold under his command, he retreats towards them with slow, cautious steps.
“Now go away,” the Captain says in an almost fatherly tone of voice. “Go away until your sight returns.”
“I’ll be damned,” Tarasov exclaims. “Did you actually blind that beast?”
But before the Captain could answer, Ilchenko steps forward. “A blinded mutant is good but a dead mutant is better.”
Before Tarasov can bark to him a quick order to hold his fire, the machine gunner pulls the trigger on the PKM.
After the long silence the machine gun’s fire is deafening, made even more thunderous by the echo in the cave. Guided more by instinct than reason, Tarasov also opens fire, aiming his rifle from the hip at the center of the mutant’s shadow. Emitting a cry of pain, the Captain falls to the ground. Now Squirrel’s AK joins the fire. The shadow approaches them as their bullets hit the still invisible body. Blood splashes from ever more visible wounds and now the mutant emits a dreadful, long howl. Then it falls, swirling up clouds of dust as it hits the ground. A few seconds later, the natural color of its body appears as the mutant’s brain, which made it appear invisible by whatever mysterious ability it possessed, finally dies.
“No, no, no,” the Captain moans. “Why?”
Tarasov quickly helps him to his feet and notes with relief that the old man is unscathed. His relief quickly evaporates as he hears several howls echoing through the cave — coming from the shaft ahead, the tunnel they have left behind them, and from unseen caverns above and below.
“You see what you did?” The Captain casts an angry look at Ilchenko.
“Yes! I killed a mutant!”
“Useless, stupid private! You killed one mutant and called up a dozen!” The Captain turns to Tarasov. “Since my times, discipline has become even worse!”
“I’ll reprimand the soldier later,” Tarasov shouts back. “We must get to that damned factory, quickly!”
“The howls are getting closer!” Squirrel screams.
“Run!” The Captain shouts. “Run!”
They run, slowed down by Ilchenko who keeps turning back to fire short bursts from his weapon. If their march had been careful up to now, it has turned into a heedless rout as they follow the Captain who is sprinting ahead. He almost gets thrown to the ground when he suddenly stops and collides with Tarasov, who has no chance to maneuver around him in the narrow tunnel.
“There’s one ahead of us!”
The major empties his magazine into the mutant blocking their way ahead, cursing himself for not having loaded a full magazine after they’d finished the blinded mutant.
“Squirrel! Reloading, cover me!”
The heavy rattle of the PKM joins with the MP5’s clatter, the noise of both weapons almost obliterated by the bloodsucker’s howl. When Tarasov’s fires his now reloaded rifle, the howl turns into a pain-filled growl, but he keeps firing nonetheless until the mutant falls. They jump over the lifeless body and run forward.
“Vperyod, vperyod!”
“Squirrel, watch your back!”
“Damn it! We have been here before!”
“You must be kidding me, Stalker!”
“No, Major! Forward!” The Captain, now also tired and breathing heavily, points forward. “We’re almost there!”
“Any more side turns ahead, Captain?”
“No! This leads straight to the factory!”
Tarasov peers back into the tunnel as the machine gunner and the guide arrive. Bloodsucker howls are still echoing in the darkness, but none seem to be close enough to indicate an imminent threat.
Howls are good, silence is deadly, he thinks, remembering what the Captain said.
“Ilchenko, Squirrel! Haul your asses behind me! Cover me, I’m preparing a booby trap!”
Tarasov removes his last two hand grenades from his ammunition vest and carefully removes the fuses. At a position where any of the heavy-limbed bloodsuckers would move it, he places one grenade on the ground and cautiously puts a stone on the release grip. Then he does the same with the other one, not giving any chance to a mutant who was lucky enough to avoid the first grenade.
“Done. Let’s move on, and be quiet! Especially you, Private!”
The Captain’s guidance proves to be correct. After covering a short distance, the natural walls of rock and earth end in a wall made of bricks.
“We have reached the cellars,” the Captain says. “But this tunnel has always been open before. Strange!” He steps back, scratching at his beard.
Tarasov examines the wall. The rows of bricks are loosely laid and the balance of the whole structure seems to be borne by a single, if massive piece of timber in the middle. Overall, it looks like a makeshift barrier hastily erected to block the passage.
“This was not built by a bloodsucker,” Squirrel whispers. “That’s for sure.”
“Ilchenko, come over here,” Tarasov says. “Consider yourself our combat engineer. This wall must go.”
“Consider it done, Major.”
The burly soldier steps to the stone wall and gives it a kick with all his force. After a few more kicks, the timber yields. One more kick, and the wall collapses with a huge rumble, leaving a hole big enough for a man to climb through.