Natural Healing

In the Zone, it is far more appealing to some people to let their wounds heal naturally. This is usually so they can spend their money on other things.

Sacha grunted through gritted teeth while he laid down on his mattress. His sides burned from the vicious mauling courtesy of a few very adept bloodsuckers. Bonesetter had already applied the necessary treatment, complete with his entire midsection up to his right shoulder wrapped in three layers of fresh gauze.

"Do you need an extra boost?" the medic asked.

He waved him off. I've still got a hundred needle holes that haven't closed up yet, for fuck's sake. "I'm good."

"You sure?" Bonesetter placed a capped morphine syrette beside the upturned pail next to him. "For handling those mutants, you sure deserve a free injection or two."

"I'll just let it heal naturally," Sacha carped, turning on his side to ease much of the pain.

"Naturally? Now that's something I haven't heard in a long while."

Really? Does everyone here not have any concern about the long-standing effects of too much artifact exposure on the human body? Especially those nuggets that speed up blood clotting? The wounded stalker wanted to gawk. "Just let me get some rest."

"Alright, then. Just let me know if you rip yourself open again."

Sacha heard the medic shuffle up the stairs followed by another pair of boots that echoed closer to his side of Yanov's underground makeshift lodgings.

"You plan on hunting again tomorrow?" Trapper asked.

"Hyvno, does it look like I'm in the proper shape for that?" he snapped.

The retired hunter chuckled softly. "Letting it heal naturally, eh? You'll be up on your feet in three days at most."

And to think you're still a fucking cripple from chasing those chimeras. "I'm sure it did wonders for you when you used to go out into the field."

"Wonders that come with a lot of patience." The corner brightened with Trapper placing another lit oil lamp on the shelf against the wall. "At least you can finally take a break."

Sacha huffed. I guess that's one good thing this week. "Put that out, would you? I'm trying to get some sleep here."

The lantern died, leaving the light from his PDA illuminating his face. "Get well."

Thanks, Sacha did not say.

Two days later, Sacha spent five hours under the magnifying glasses of far too much scientific machinery. While normally reserved for analyzing and cataloguing data from non-living samples, the SBU agent was among the rare few to have living tissue subjected to the microscope. It was a numbing experience but not as bad as the emergency surgeries Bonesetter had to perform every now and then (with the help of the ever efficient Assistant Doctor Vodka and the always lovely Nurse Morphine).

"Well?" he asked tiredly.

Ozersky removed his glasses to wipe them, all the while a smile reached his ears. "It's been proven that extended exposure to various anomalous agents could affect a person's physical metabolism. It's just amazing to see something like this in a living, rational human being. And the process is still on-going!"

Sacha pulled down his shirt and put on his sweater, relieved that the tests were finally over. "So I'm a mutant now?"

"That would be an overstatement."

I was joking. "So, if I get shot, I can heal faster. Is that it?"

"That is one simple explanation," the geneticist replied excitedly. "That would mean that you have evolved as quickly, though not sophisticatedly, as the mutants."

Sacha frowned. Great. I don't know if that is a blessing or a curse. "Is it because of all the drugs?" I stopped doing pot years ago and I only did cocaine once...or twice, I don't remember.

Besides, after Novikov installed those wave emitters into his suit, it felt as though he had been subjected to regular dosages of performance-enhancing drugs. Not like he was ungrateful, though. It was much better than the Bulat prototypes that the SBU had a hand in developing. The damn suit had a fucking needle poking my shoulder every ten minutes to administer 'substances'.

Ozersky shook his head then suddenly nodded. "It could be, it could be."

Can you give me a straight answer? "Yes or no?"

"Both."

Sacha swore. "If it helps, I only pump in morphine, metamizole, some hydrochloride, and the occasional vikasolum. Not on a daily basis, about once a week." Firefights happen that often, you understand.

"Major, you're fine. For now." The geneticist offered an encouraging smile. Somewhat. He tried to look encouraging. "Although, you need to have more proper treatment than that."

Amazing I'm still standing, then. It's been six years since I started jamming needles in my arm to stop the bleeding. And the nightmares. "Can I still drink?"

"Alcohol? So far, your body reacts to it like everyone else in the Zone."

"So I can flush out isotopes with one bottle of vodka instead of two?"

"Not quite."

The Major shrugged. Well, at least I won't have to mix anti-rad cocktails.

Trapper whistled. "That's quick."

Sacha twisted his arm, scanning his own freshly healed scars before pulling his sleeve up. I know. "I'm just glad I won't have to worry about this anymore."

The retired hunter smirked and folded his arms. "You're lucky. That is a deep wound. You're a day early. Have you been using artifacts?"

The SBU agent nodded. I just developed an uncanny ability to rapidly close up wounds thanks to all those years of getting fucked by anomalies and taking lots of drugs. "I may have looted one off somebody. Rubbed it here and there then sold it."

A chuckle. "I can tell a lie when I hear it, man."

"Oh?"

"You never use artifacts. Well, you very rarely use artifacts, to be precise."

Sharp bastard. "Well, this is one of those cases where I had to use one or else I'd bleed to death."

"You also like to keep a full tin of assorted medicaments on your person. Your suit too has additions that help speed up coagulation."

Sacha kept himself from scowling. Back off, Trapper. "I was unlucky, alright? Shit happened."

Trapper appeared amused. That or he was being deceptive about his true sentiments. Deceit was a vital survival skill that seasoned hunters develop overtime (after all, you don't just hunt mutants). "Alright."

The Major kept his eye on the retired hunter as he headed upstairs to eat. His duties in the Zone were getting more and more complicated.

ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: December 20, 2017

LAST EDITED: December 27, 2017

INITIALLY UPLOADED: December 27, 2017

NOTE: It bothers me sometimes how substance abuse in the Zone is never really addressed. Much. That and I sometimes think about the long-term biological effects of constant exposure to artifacts.