The next morning began with a trial for Blin. Valerian decided to hold the trial itself in the courtyard, where a couple of strong stalkers dragged the traitor out. He looked pathetic: trembling hands, a tear-stained and swollen face, red eyes. As soon as the guys let him go, he immediately crawled on his knees to the clan leader and grabbed his pants, begging for forgiveness. But he remained indifferent, looking at the stalker with a cold gaze. One nod, and the same pair of stalkers dragged Blin away from Valerian.
"Today, a trial will be held regarding the betrayal of a stalker nicknamed Blin," Valerian announces loudly, surveying the courtyard filled with people. "Yesterday, in the face of danger, this stalker decided to betray his brothers and defect to the bandit scum. Do you have anything to add?"
There was a deathly silence, broken by the cawing of crows and the sobs of the accused stalker. Covering his face with his hands, he rocked his body like the Monoliths from the third part of the game. His shoulders trembled, and the volume of his sobs grew until he let out a loud laugh. Hoarsely, with despair in his voice.
"You..." he begins, pausing for a cough. "You drove me to this! It's your fault! You didn't value me at all, you bullied me, you laughed behind my back! After all, I'm a coward! Well, it's okay, I didn't kill anyone, which means, according to the code, you should just expel me from your ranks! And then, then I'll show you..."
"He's completely lost his mind," someone whispers next to me.
"He couldn't take it," another stalker agrees. "Petro said he listened to his crying all night..."
But then Valerian sharply raises his hand with a pistol and fires. Blin's head jerks sharply, and he falls to the ground with a bullet hole in the middle of his forehead, from which blood begins to flow in a thin stream.
"At first, I really wanted to spare him and let him go," the leader begins to say with noticeable sadness in his voice, putting the weapon back in his holster. "But if he had joined the bandits, it could have brought serious problems to our clan. I hope everyone understands why I did this. Dyatel, take a couple of volunteers and bury him outside the camp. And then come to me for a talk. Everyone is dismissed."
After watching Valerian leave, I decide to stop by the merchant. I had money on me and wanted to pick out something good for myself. I have a strong conviction that my body armor won't be enough for confrontations with the military and bandits. Although I don't plan to rush into things, it's better to have better gear.
"Hello, Furgan," I greet the technician busy with repairs and immediately turn to Shilov: "And to you."
"And to you, don't cough," Shilov replies, leafing through a magazine of a specific nature. "Just dropped by or do you need something?"
"I want to get a better armor than mine. Do you have anything?"
"Eh," the merchant sighs, putting the magazine aside. "Nothing, Executioner. I'd be glad to sell you something, but the last good body armors were bought up even before you joined us. Deliveries were supposed to arrive today, but because of this situation with the stolen case, Sidorovich refuses to cooperate with us. And the percentages he's jacked up, it's scary to even think about."
"And is there really no option?" I ask, hoping that at least something will be found for me.
"None at all," he replies, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. "Only if you go to Sidor yourself, but the price there starts from forty grand. Percentages."
"Mda..."
"But I have a business proposition for you," the merchant begins. "Although I can't help you financially, I can pay you with money. Or sell you a first-class suit at cost, as soon as all this mess with the case settles down."
"And what needs to be done?"
"So, listen," Shilov leans forward slightly, starting to speak quieter. "A stalker came to our camp a few days ago, even before the anomalies, looking for work. Completely green. And yesterday I got an order from the scientists in Yantar to bring some flora samples from the forest. The very one where you usually hunt. It's not a difficult job, and they pay quite well. It'll take a few hours, but he's been gone for two days. Damn the order, it's not urgent. But I'm worried about the kid. Go and look for him, and I'll thank you."
"Just sell me a couple of packs of slug rounds, twelve by seventy-six," I ask, agreeing to the task. "I'll test the shotgun."
"I'll give them to you for free," the merchant says, smiling and bringing me the ammunition I need. "Thank you, Executioner. Maybe you need anything else for the job?"
"No, I'll manage with this," I nod to him as a farewell. "I'll go look for him now."
An hour later, I was walking east. I don't know what happened to this guy, but I should have prepared thoroughly. I took a lot of medicine and more bandages, water, and food, checked the Witcher's shotgun, which turned out to be in almost perfect condition, it's clear that the bandit hunter took good care of the weapon, and loaded it only with slug rounds.
I was lucky that for the expert rank in hunting, the System gave me the ability to find and read tracks, which I will use. Reaching the edge of the forest, I crouch down and try to find traces of the lost one in the tall grass. But I can't find anything definite, there are many tracks at the entrance to the forest, many stalkers walk here. I need to go deeper.
After some time, I catch myself thinking that for the first time I feel uncomfortable in this forest. Although I walk carefully, trying not to touch even small branches on the ground or bushes, the feeling that someone is watching me doesn't leave me. And when I go behind another oak tree, I stumble upon a small clearing splattered with blood and several gnawed crow corpses.
The once green clearing, full of colorful flowers and bathed in sunlight, is now stained brown. I crouch down and examine one of the bird corpses. The blood has already managed to dry, and the remains themselves smell a bit of decay, but they haven't had time to dry out. Judging by the shape of the teeth, it was some kind of mutant, but unfamiliar to me, and it happened very recently, yesterday.
The creature was very hungry, to have decided to eat birds. Or are birds its main diet? But how could it catch them? Okay, one, maybe two, but there are at least seven or eight here. They should have flown away if their flock members were attacked. Moreover, there are no traces of the mutant itself here, only imprints of size forty-two boots in the mud a little to the side of the clearing.
It's quite possible that the one I'm looking for stumbled upon this clearing in search of the necessary flora precisely at the moment when the creature was here. But there are no spent cartridges, nor any signs of a struggle that took place here. And the tracks themselves end here, as if the guy was picked up by someone and dragged through the air. Very strange. As soon as I decide to leave the clearing and go further, a hoarse and barely audible voice sounds behind me:
"Stalker, kkha, help!.." someone rasps.
I quickly turn on my heels, raising my shotgun, and scan the area. No one. I cautiously walk towards the sound, trying to move as quietly as possible. I walk about ten meters and press myself against a thick tree, carefully peeking out from behind it.
Behind a couple of bushes, by a fallen tree, a wounded stalker lies half-reclining. Covered in mud, with bloodstains on his clothes. Dark medium-length hair is matted on his head, his face is very pale, and his gaze is dull, like a dead fish. If he's not helped now, he'll kick the bucket right here. I sling my weapon over my shoulder and run to the victim, grabbing my portable first-aid kit on the go.
But as soon as I approach, he grabs my right wrist with incredible strength, not letting me break free from his grip. A strange croak sounds behind me, and I, turning around, see a monster covered in gray skin flying directly at me. At the last moment, I fall to the ground, and the monster flies past me within a few centimeters of my head. The cold grip doesn't loosen, and I have no choice but to shoot this stalker directly in the head several times.
His hand weakens in time, and I manage to roll aside, dodging another
attack from this creature. I sharply jump to my feet, raising my shotgun, and, barely aiming, shoot. My shot pierces through what should be the shoulder of this mutant, and the monster falls to the ground, plowing a small furrow behind it. I work the bolt and fire another shot, this time in the head, and the creature, not having even managed to get up, falls silent.
First, I reload my weapon, and only then do I go to the mutant unknown to me. About a meter and a half tall, maybe a little more. A disgusting face with a huge flattened nose, sharp teeth, and remnants of hair on the skull I destroyed. Narrow but powerful shoulders, muscles and veins bulge under the thick gray skin. Instead of normal fingers, there are only two long, sharp claws. His arms and torso are connected by a dense leathery membrane, like flying squirrels. Only they glide, and this thing can fly properly.
Having looked enough at the monster, I decide to approach the stalker I killed and examine him carefully. And what I see is truly shocking. The one I killed had been dead long before I arrived. I didn't see it clearly from a distance, and then it was too late, but his stomach was completely ripped open, and judging by his appearance, some internal organs were missing. But how could he call me and even grab my hand? I don't understand anything.
After standing still for a while, I decide to drag the carcass of the killed creature back to the camp. Maybe someone knows what kind of monster this is. As a last resort, I can sell it to the scientists through Shilov or Sidorovich, at least it'll be some money. I grab the monster by the arm and start slowly dragging it towards the camp.
I didn't return to the camp until a few hours later, because I had to stop and rest sometimes. Although the mutant didn't weigh much due to its modest size, it was extremely inconvenient to drag it through the forest ravines.
"What is this?" asks the stalker standing guard at the entrance to the camp.
"I don't know myself," I shrug. "Help me drag it in, I'm tired as a dog."
Leaving the mutant lying on the ground in the middle of the camp under the watchful eyes of the other stalkers present, I head straight for Shilov. The merchant was in his usual place, still lazily leafing through his magazine. As soon as I get closer, he looks up at me and smiles. However, the smile quickly fades when his eyes don't find the lost stalker.
"Sorry, Shilov," I sigh, pulling a chair closer to the merchant's counter and slumping into it. "I didn't make it in time."
"Did you find the body?"
"And not just that," I nod in agreement, starting to tap my fingertips on the table. "The creature that ate it was also lurking nearby. And, I must say, it's damn strange."
"What's strange about it?" Shilov asks in confusion.
"Come on," I say, patting the table with my palm and getting up from the chair. "I brought it."
When we went outside, a crowd of stalkers had gathered around the killed mutant. They were all talking quietly and trying to guess what kind of creature it was. Dyatel, who had come closest, even turned the corpse onto its back with the toe of his boot, but only clicked his tongue.
"Maybe a bloodsucker?" one of them says.
"What kind of bloodsucker is that, you idiot," another stalker disagrees. "No proboscis, and it's too small, plus it has membranes."
"Hey, Executioner," a third one says, seeing me. "Who did you bring us?"
"Mimicry," Valerian's voice comes from behind me before I can answer. "A very nasty and rare mutant, you won't meet it easily. It can fly and lures new victims using old ones. So many good guys have died because of these scumbags, it's impossible to count. You see a wounded stalker, you rush to help him, and there it is waiting for you. Where did you find him, Executioner?"
"In the forest to the east of here."
"Where our meat gatherers are operating," the group leader muses for a moment, stroking his lush mustache, and then says: "Don't go into the forest alone anymore, just in case. Shilov, contact the scientists, they'll snatch this specimen up with their hands, even despite its damaged condition."
"Understood," the merchant replies.
"And you, Executioner," Valerian addresses me again. "Come with me, let's talk over a cup of tea."