Peering down, the major can’t see anyone below. They quickly descend the ladder. As he arrives below, Tarasov hears a startled shout. A Chinese in civilian clothing jumps up from his computer, drawing a pistol and frantically firing in their direction. Two shots from Squirrel’s rifle send him to the ground. Tarasov quickly checks the body. His search yields a key in the technician’s pocket with a label attached.
“You don’t speak Chinese, do you?” Tarasov asks Squirrel showing him the label.
“It says, ‘generator room key’”.
“Don’t tell me you do speak Chinese.”
“Just guessing. But there’s only one door here and it has ‘generator room’ written on it in Russian and the same cramped characters as the key label.”
“That’s smart,” Tarasov says as the key glides softly into the lock.
A huge device stands in the room, emitting a low, humming noise. One thick cable goes up from it and disappears into a narrow shaft leading upwards.
“Whatever that thing is, it’s certainly not running on diesel,” Squirrel says.
“I wish I had a timed fuse,” sighs Tarasov. “Give me those grenades.” Tarasov carefully places the grenades in a spot that seems vulnerable. “Squirrel, move back to the entrance.”
“And what about you?”
“I’ll have about three seconds to get out of this room. Move!”
Left alone, Tarasov looks around for something worth taking before blowing the generator up, but only sees some tools left on the ground.
All right… here I go.
He takes a grenade and pulls out the safety pin’s ring, puts it with the others and dashes to the exit with two long leaps, where he throws himself down behind the wall. He has barely hit the ground when the deafening thunder of several detonations shakes the structure, unleashing a rain of concrete fragments and steel splinters through the door, followed by a cloud of dust and smoke. The air becomes thick with the stench of burning electronics. With the lights gone out, Tarasov switches on his headlight and quickly climbs up the ladder. Squirrel is waiting in a firing position at the entrance hatch, aiming his rifle at the outside.
“Whole of damned China woke up! I see the bad guys approaching!”
Looking out, Tarasov sees them too. A dozen commandos are running towards them, with more appearing from the radio bunker below, hastily putting on their armored vests and helmets.
Damn it, he thinks. There goes the opportunity to contact Degtyarev… Too many of them for us to take on.
“Let’s get the hell out of here,” he yells. “Back, same way we came!”
Jumping over the sandbags, they run. The first bullets fizz by. The enemy must have reached the bunker with the gun by now.
“Squirrel, run!” Tarasov turns back, firing his rifle from the hip for suppressing fire, but the commandos have him outgunned.
“I’m hit, I’m hit!” Squirrel shouts. Tarasov runs up to him, yanks him to his feet and flings the wounded guide over his shoulders. He can barely feel the weight in the exoskeleton, but the suit also prevents him from running as fast as he would like.
Leaping from cover to cover, he soon reaches the relative safety of the ridge and places Squirrel down behind some boulders, reloads his Vintorez and aims to pick off any hostiles that have been stupid enough to follow them into the open. None have. They seem content to remain behind their cover. Tarasov fires a few rounds into the top line of sandbags all the same. Squirrel’s AKM joins the fire.
“You all right?” Tarasov shouts.
“I got hit in the leg but can still shoot!”
“Lean on me! Let’s move, move!”
Hostile fire tapers off as the Stalkers move out of rifle range. Occasionally, just to keep the Chinese at bay, Tarasov fires a few shots. By the time he reaches the ridge, his own panting and Squirrel’s groaning is all he can hear. Casting a final glance back before descending the safe side of the mountain, he notices smoke rising over the bunker and grins triumphantly. The grin disappears from his face as he hears a loud, roaring drone. In a few seconds, a black helicopter emerges from the valley below.
“Squirrel!” he screams. “Can you still fire that RPG? We must take that chopper down!”
“Help me kneel up,” the Stalker shouts back. “Load this shit!”
Tarasov quickly removes the aluminum cap from the grenade and, with the piezo-electronic release bolt now open, places the grenade into the launcher tube.
“Ready!”
Pain is all over Squirrel’s face as he aims the rocket launcher and fires. The projectile misses. Tarasov quickly takes the other grenade from his back. The chopper looms closer and opens fire with its on-board machine guns, showering them with stone splinters and dust as the bullets hit the ground close to them.
“Bring it down,” Tarasov desperately shouts. “Bring it down or we’re finished!”
Peering out of their cover, the Stalker aims for seconds that seem to be endless before he fires the launcher at last, this time scoring a hit. The grenade detonates towards the chopper’s rear, sending the helicopter spinning around for a few seconds before it crashes into the mountainside, hitting the rocks with a loud, shrieking noise. Tarasov grabs Squirrel’s shoulder and drags him over the ridge at last.
Eye for an eye, chopper for a chopper, the major thinks, grimly, and rushes down into the valley, carrying the Stalker on his shoulders to safety.
“You’ll be limping for a day or two, but you’ll survive,” Tarasov says reassuringly while fixing a bandage on Squirrel’s wounded leg. “No need to look so gloomy. Here you go!”
After doing whatever he could to ease his companion’s pain, the major goes to the entrance of the shallow cave he has chosen as their shelter and looks out, watching for any signs of pursuit. There are none. Nor is there any sign of mutants or even other Stalkers.
“All this shit for a couple of food cans,” Squirrel bemoans. “This was the worst raid of my life.”
“Apart from you getting wounded, we’ve been successful. We have lots of intel now, and the slit-eyes will be licking their wounds instead of harassing the Stalkers around Ghorband… at least that’s what Bone had been hoping for.”
“Yeah, man, that really gives a new meaning to my life. Making Bone happy and getting shot in my fucking leg in exchange.”
Despite Tarasov’s best efforts, Squirrel’s wound had gone from bad to worse. Before long, he would be unable to walk. Tarasov had already taken to carrying some of the guide’s gear but quite soon, the major knows, he will be carrying Squirrel and his gear.
Tarasov contemplates for a moment, and then opens his artifact container. “Look… I don’t know what this artifact does, but it feels good to have it active, somehow. Here, take it, it’s yours,” he says, giving the Heartstone to the Stalker. “Maybe it will speed up your healing, I don’t know.”
Squirrel’s eyes almost pop out of their sockets when he sees the artifact. “Look at this — a blue, opaque shell with a red core, like a big chunk of glass… But… this is a Heartstone, man! That’s incredible! Where did you find it?”
“Uhm… close to that log hut at Hellgate, while collecting firewood with Mac. I didn’t know it was a Heartstone.”
“And you’ll still let me keep this?”
“Sure.”
“Oh, man, if it wasn’t for my busted leg, I’d dance right now! Now I only need the Heart of the Oasis, a Wish Granter Shard and the Compass artifact to have everything I want! And for you, this trip is for free! Wherever you want to go, the Panjir Valley, Kabul, I will guide you everywhere for free!”