Andriy Karamazov

“God, it stinks like piss in here!” – strained and panting, Lysyi crawled in the space under the fallen concrete roof of an old bus stop northwest of the former KAF Military Base. – “As if I have a choice”. 

Inside, he could even sit upright. Lysyi shoved his backpack between himself and the wall, then blocked the entry into the stash with some rubble and a rotten log. 

Night was creeping in. The cold evening sent chills over his body. Lysyi took two long sips of vodka, put the bottle away and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. The stench of the bus stop was still gut-wrenching but vodka worked. A warmth wave spread through him. Lysyi felt the chill begin to melt away. He leaned his head back till it touched the cold damp wall. – “Shit”. – The spiky concrete scratched his scalp. Lysyi pulled up his hood. 

Somewhere to the south the Military Base buzzed with life. Lysyi thought he could hear the State Perimeter Guard dispatching a fresh shift to the Inner Circle Barrier. To the West a hoard of wild boars fought a pack of mutated dogs. The day-long hike back from the Dead City took its toll; fighting exhaustion was pointless. His breathing slowed. Lysyi drifted, then slipped into fragile sleep. 

“You…” 

Lysyi was wide awake in an instant. His heart skipped a beat. The faint whisper was so close that he felt certain he was no longer alone. Makarov in his right hand, Lysyi looked around, then touched the concrete wall to make sure he was not still dreaming. 

“Just a dream” – he closed his eyes but kept the pistol ready. 

“You….” 

It came again – the drag of a blade against the metal right behind him. Lysyi jumped and hit his head, both hands tightening around his gun. Any trace of sleep vanished. 

His life detector was silent. Lysyi crawled to the exit and inched his head out past the concrete edge. A whiff of fresh air touched his face. The night was pitch dark but he still kept his flashlight off. Somewhere near the Barrier outpost, a short gunfight flared and died. To his left and behind him, the slope of the low hill flashed now and then with the light of electrical anomalies.

“Mur-der-er…” 

The hiss was so close it felt as though someone had whispered directly into his ear. Lysyi flinched and spun around.

“Who is there?” 

He dropped to one knee, gun in one hand, silent life detector in another. His whole body had gone so tight it was starting to shake. With every sense on alert, Lysyi thought he could hear the distant chatter at the old Military Base. 

“I asked who was there?!”

“Be-tra-yer…” 

“Left! No! Right, right here. No… Outside? No, no, behind me, in the corner!” 

He thrashed in the cramped ruin, scraping himself against the concrete. The walls clawed at his suit. Cracks split the fabric. He listened, but all he could hear was his own frantic rustling.

“You. Left. Him.” 

“W-What? Who is talking? Show yourself!” – Lysyi shouted, throwing himself toward every corner of the demolished bus stop. Sweat poured off him, salty streams flooding his eyes and making them sting. He stopped and looked around again. His hands were trembling. A shiver cut through him.

“You… a– “ – Lysyi raised the Makarov in both hands and fired where the whisper seemed to come from. The shot filled the shelter with a thick cloud of concrete dust that stabbed at his eyes.

“You… at–” – another shot flared inside the ruin. 

“Stop! Shut up!” – Lysyi threw his hands up in front of his face. The rough concrete tore into his skin. 

“YOU!” 

A sharp hiss, like spit in the face, pressed on him. 

“Ate…” 

It was as if a nest of snakes had coiled around the ruined bus stop. The whispering came from everywhere at once. 

“I… I had no choice!” – Lysyi cried, shuddering as tears burst from him – “No choice! I had no choice! He was with one foot in the grave anyway!”

“YOU! Walked. Him. Into it. Let die.” 

The metallic whisper intensified. The last words came out with a wet, chewing emphasis. 

“NO! It was… an anomaly! He walked! Walked into it! Himself!”

His throat was burning. Lysyi roared and slammed both fists into the wall. Pain shot through his arms. The concrete beneath his hands turned sticky. A spasm seized his whole body. He pushed himself upright and began battering his head against the wall again and again. Warm blood ran down over his face. 

“Not me! NO! I–” 

Choking on his own breath, Lysyi hammered his head into the concrete. A small puddle of blood gathered beneath him. 

“I… so hungry… was so hungry…”. 

He collapsed.  

“You. Ate. HIM!” – a raspy whisper pierced the darkness. 

Lysyi burst out of the shelter, cut right, then spun around. A second later his Kalashnikov vomited a hail of rounds into the old bus stop. 

Lysyi ran. “Don’t look back!”. 

A bend in the road. The sentry lights of the State Perimeter Guard outpost flooded the asphalt. 

“STOP! Show your hands!” – a scratchy command barked from the loudspeaker. – “STOP! Last warning!”

————–  

Lysyi’s lifeless hand slipped down from his bag into a pool of blood on the cracked asphalt in front of the outpost. A blueish sphere with a marbled, flowing surface rolled out of it. Smeared red, the artifact glowed with a calm, alien light.