THE ZONE

Part 1: STRANGER

Chapter 20 (Wish)

We stared. Then Ever bent, picked up the grenade, and tossed it back over the wall. I looked at him.

"The pin was out," he shrugged. The explosion rocked the wall, throwing off a shower of dust and mortar. Gunfire and shouting erupted from all directions, and I found Ever pulling me into the shadows around a corner. A little ways down the wall, several figures clambered over and dropped down to raise weapons and move out. The shooting rose from a roar to deafening.

"What's happening?"

"Military," Ever said grimly. He shook his head. "This is supposed to be a place of sanctuary." The whole reason I'd chosen Ever over the Biker was that he didn't frighten me. Now he did. "Stay behind me," he said, and I knew better than to argue.

He rounded the corner, striding purposefully. A soldier stepped into the open with some kind of AK; Ever brushed the gun aside and elbowed him in the face, simultaneously turning his knee around with a sharp kick. The man faltered, and Ever slammed his head into the brick wall, walking past at he fell. In the junction ahead, a man running past was shot in the back.

Ever immediately lunged right, shouldering through a wooden door into the nearest building. A stalker on a cot held up his hands in surrender, but the soldier standing over him racked his pistol-grip shotgun and blew a gaping hole in his chest, toppling both the cot and its occupant. He began to turn, but Ever rushed him, snatching the shotgun from his hands and flinging it away. He seized the soldier by his tac vest and shoved his head through the nearest window, which happened to be one of the rare ones with glass still in it. Ever ground the man's face into the shards, then raised the second pane, and I looked away just as he brought it down with a sickening shattering noise. He released the body, which stayed there. Then he was moving again. Head swimming, I stumbled after him.

There was an exit in the next room, and Ever threw it open, stepping into the open. Inside, the gunfire had been a little muted, but now it was a roar again as we emerged into the middle of the street. Stalkers were running everywhere, bullets striking chunks from the stonework all around. A stalker beside us dropped in a red mist, and I saw a sniper atop a building work the bolt of his rifle. Another soldier fired a protracted burst on the backs of several fleeing stalkers, then ducked back behind a corner to clear a jam. He looked up and saw Ever coming toward him. He glanced at his rifle, then dropped it and went for his sidearm, but too late.

Ever's fist smashed into his masked face once, then again, but the soldier had gotten out his knife. Ever blocked, hooked his leg between the other man's and took them to the ground. They grappled briefly, and Ever won, rising up to hit the soldier repeatedly and savagely in the head, then throwing up one fist, and bringing it down with all of his strength on the soldier's sternum. There was a horrible crunch, and the man stopped fighting.

He got to his feet, leading me through a building and up through a skywalk. I hurried after him, keeping low. We made our way through the chaos in a blur. I'd never seen a real battle like this, though it was more of a massacre. I felt very numb at the time, but I had a feeling the seconds ticking by were just counting up to my breakdown.

In a courtyard below, soldiers hurriedly marshaled a number of stalkers into a line against a wall. One of them said something into his radio, then motioned to his squad. I looked away, but Ever had stopped to watch. The last body hit the ground, and then I saw his hands at his sides. They were both dripping with blood, and he was flexing them eerily. For the first time since the attack had begun, he turned to look at me, and I had to take a step back. I'd seen livelier eyes on corpses.

"I'm sorry," he said over the roar of gunfire. I stared.

"What?" I shouted. A bullet struck the back of his vest, but he didn't seem to notice. He took a step toward me, and I took another one back. He pulled out his PDA with blood-slick fingers and held it out.

"Biker's signal is in there. He should still be in the area. Get him to take you to Morozov."

I took the device and looked up at him. Shrapnel from a grenade peppered the wall beside him, but Ever didn't even flinch. I swallowed my fear and met his gaze.

"What about you?" I demanded.

"I'm needed."

"What? Why?"

"They are killing unarmed men in a place of safety." He looked back down at the courtyard. "To me this is unacceptable. I'll meet you in Morozov." There was movement at the far end of the corridor, and a squad of soldiers stepped into view, weapons raised. I didn't have time to say anything, or even to look at him. I flung myself out the nearest window, rolling out in the alley below. I wouldn't think now, couldn't, really. I could just follow orders. Men poured past me; there was a crack like whip, and one dropped to a sniper. I tore after them, Ever's PDA in hand, lighting the screen and bringing up his digital map and focusing on the Rostov area.

There were signals on it that I didn't recognize. Most of them weren't moving. A nearby wall exploded outward, several bodies flying out onto the pavement. I tried to stay with the group that I was following, charging directly into the choking cloud of dust. More men fell. Another point appeared on the map. There he was. That was him, outside the northern walls. I thrust the PDA into my trouser pocket and broke into a sprint. A round ricocheted from a dumpster ahead; some sniper had his sights on me. Poor choice of targets. I flung myself over a railing, dropping into the yard below to roll beneath a pair of pipes protruding from the adjacent factory. I was on my feet at a dead run again, sliding over the hood of a derelict truck. There was the wall, rising out of the gloom ahead. No one was shooting out here; the fighting already sounded distant. I stopped and looked back. I could see flickers of flame beginning to light the sky.

Ever was back there somewhere.

The mission. I had to focus on the mission. I'd come here for a reason. I turned and ran up the wall, grabbed the top, and vaulted over, tumbling down into the dirt on the other side. I could see other figures coming over the wall down the line, other stalkers escaping the bloodbath. I rose and began to jog in their direction.

"Stranger!"

I skidded to a halt, casting about for the source of the voice. Then looked up. "Venge!"

"Catch!" Leaning out from the upper window of Duty, the small stalker flung a parcel toward me. I ran to catch it. He disappeared, then returned, and flung something else. Then the stock of a rifle thudded into the back of his head and he fell from view. I threw myself to the wall, to put myself out of view from the windows, clutching the satchel to my chest. After a moment, I crawled over to the other item he'd thrown – some kind of gun. I picked it up and straightened, slinging it over my shoulder with the satchel and taking off again.

The Biker's signal hadn't been moving, and I'd feared the worst, but that wasn't the case. He was standing a little ways down the embankment, staring at Rostov. His helmet and shotgun were gone. The Pernach hung from his right hand, a tendril of smoke rising from the muzzle. Other stalkers ran past him into the meadows beyond, disappearing into the gloom. I was amazed some enterprising marksman hadn't picked him off by now. As I neared, I could see that he wasn't hurt, just staring.

Staring and shaking with fury.

"Biker!" I shouted, running toward him. He ignored me. I halted beside him, panting. "You can't stand here," I gasped.

"My bike," he said.

"What?"

"They've got my bike." I could see his hand tighten around the handle of his Pernach.

I grabbed him by his body armor. "You are insane," I told him.

His expression hardened.

"Take me to Morozov," I said.

"What?"

"I can't make it on my own."

He looked at me, then back at the walls. A figure moved atop one of the taller buildings. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me away, running down the bank to skid into a drainage ditch and out of the line of fire. The Biker knelt, breathing heavily. "Morozov," he said, "why there?"

"I don't know. It's just what Ever said. I don't even know where it is."

He ejected the long magazine from his pistol. "It's out northwest, toward the frontier. It's one of the newest rookie camps. I've never been there."

"Why would he tell me to meet him there?"

"The military just invaded Rostov," he said, as though this were somehow akin to hell freezing over. "Being in the inner ring isn't going to be a good idea for a while, that's what he's thinking. And he's right." He glanced at me. "Where is he?"

"He decided to stay."

The Biker digested this, then nodded. "I'll bet he did. This is why the military wanted to kill Venge – they couldn't have witnesses to them being in Rostok, staging."

Another explosion rocked the Bar. I opened the satchel Venge had thrown me. Inside were my FNP9, modified as promised, along with spare mags for the MP7. At least I was armed. I mentally thanked him, and hoped that he made it through this thing alive. But I'd already seen what the military was doing to prisoners. I didn't want to dwell on that thought. But then why'd they hit him instead of just shooting him on the spot?

I shook my head. This wasn't the time or the place. I looked to the Biker.

He squinted out at the darkness. Night was falling fast, and we couldn't see much of the meadows. "That's a long way on foot."

"Beats the hell out of a military bullet," I said.

"Yeah. All right, kid." The Biker slammed a fresh magazine into the Pernach. "Let's go to Morozov."

Part 1: Stranger – End

Author's Note – though this is only chapters 1 through 20, The Way Home is complete at 100 chapters, and its direct sequel, Freedom, recently finished its run. The next major arc will begin soon. All 150 chapters of the Zone so far are available at pseudozone dot blogspot dot com. I can't post the next arc here, because it contains a couple of chapters that I didn't write – so you'll have to read it on the blog. (Sorry.) This version of The Way Home is the updated, Director's Cut version, with many improvements over the original stories from 2009. There's always something going on in the Zone – new stories, improvements to old stories, and such, so check in at the blog once in a while for the latest. Thanks for reading, and feel free to leave some feedback; I like to hear what people think.