All hells broken loose!
Is it war?
Not yet, it isnt. But that doesnt mean it wont be. Nearly all the civilian populations gone already. Today they closed all the exit routes.
But What should I do? They have to get us out of here!
The powers that be have already moved everyone who needs moving. Come on, boys. Weve still got two stops to make.
Theyve lost interest in me. The officers returned my work pass and turned to go.
Wait! What about the shop? Where can I get some food?
Vasya, give the poor sod something.
A couple of tins are dropped at my feet. Without turning back, the assault rifles disappear around the corner.
Its all a bit too much Theyve just killed a guy! Surely the police should be here, examining everything, writing up a report of some sort. And what about me? What am I supposed to do? Am I witness? But then I didnt really see anything.
Having picked up the tins, I step round the dead body and take a look through the smashed window. Not much left for me, then. Looks like the shelves have been stripped of everything. All that remains are a few bottles of mineral water lying here and there. Does that mean the dead guy refused to share something with the officers? And they killed him for it without a moments hesitation. Christ, its kind of scary just going into the shop. But I have to. According to those guys the situations the same everywhere.
I climb through the window, trying not to cut myself on the shards of broken glass. So, the bottles go into the bag. What else have we got? Hey, cigarettes! But then, I dont smoke. Still, a sneaky little voice inside of me keeps saying Go on, theyre free! And theres no one around!
My eyes search for the till as my hand reaches for my credit card. Idiot! What are you thinking? What use is the bloody till when theres a dead man in the doorway! Well, yes. Really, what am I thinking? The card goes back in the wallet, the wallet back in the pocket, and a carton of cigarettes goes into the bag.
Theres no bread, nor are there any more tins. From the look of it, its not the first day theyve been poking around in here the place has been ransacked. They didnt take the water, but I guess nobodys worried about dieting right now. So, what about baby food? Well, if its alright for babies, then why not for adults. I can just see myself eating Baby Mum-mum for breakfast.
A loud bang from around the corner tore me from my daydream. Idiot, theres serious shooting going on out there! Time to get moving.
As I run into my building, I remember what it is thats been bothering me all this time. The insignia on the commanders sleeve. During my brief military service, we had all sorts of visitors to battalion headquarters. Officers and other ranks, infantry and all the other more obscure branches. They wore all sorts of different emblems and badges, but one thing they all had in common was that none of them featured foreign letters. But that badge was waving right in front of my face, so I got a pretty good look at it, and the lettering on it was definitely not Russian. A shield with a sword turned with the hilt up, and the inscription BEAR. What branch of the Russian army does that come from? I doubt very much it refers to a police division, either. And as for all those special services agencies, what can you say? Seems unlikely theyd stand for it, either.
On my way home, I noticed that there were far fewer cars in the courtyards. Seems like while I was sitting on the couch watching the news, those with more brains than me were getting the hell out of Tarkov. Well, well, well see. I cant think of many places where they welcome refugees from distant climes. Or from anywhere, for that matter. This isnt Europe, and even there theyve been having trouble recently.
My own building greeted me with darkness in the entryway. Have they turned the power off? But wait, no, the lifts working. Whats going on? By the light of the torch on my phone it becomes clear someones unscrewed the bulbs. So thats what weve come to, already stealing lightbulbs.
Back in the flat, I lock the door behind me and begin to lay out my spoils on the couch. I didnt manage to get much, but thank the lord for what I did find. Its enough to keep the wolf from the door for a day or two.
I put the kettle on the stove, then heard the mellifluous tones of the doorbell. Pasha Galperins face appeared on my monitor. What the hell was he here for?
Doors open! I shouted, and the system, ever obedient to my command, unlocked the door.
Hi!
Greetings and salutations! Come on in, I just put the kettle on.
Nows not the time. Did you hear they killed Misha?
Wait
Frolov?
Yeah.
Our system administrator. My colleague. A good-natured goof in round glasses who looked a bit like John Lennon. A totally easy-going, excellent guy. Who could have a problem with him?
Youre kidding I say uncertainly. Wait, who told you?
Dont you know whats going on out there! asks Pasha, his voice rising to a shriek.
I wasnt expecting such an outburst of emotion, and couldnt work out straight away how to answer.
Its chaos Some guys with assault rifles shot a bloke right in front of me, and the police never showed!
He starts to pace nervously round the flat. From what hes saying, I gradually begin to understand that the situation is much worse than I assumed.
Chaos, or more accurately organized disorder, had already taken hold of the whole city. Shootouts on the streets. The police had vanished somewhere, and nobody was doing anything to stop these sudden skirmishes. It wasnt at all clear who was fighting who. On his way to my place, Pasha had also been shot at, and only the speed of his car had saved him. Hed gone to see Frolov first, and found his corpse in the doorway. Someone had shot Misha several times in the chest, then finished him off on the floor with a shot to the head.
I knelt down beside him, and suddenly I hear someone moving around inside. I legged it!
Why did you come here?
You live nearby, and youre a better driver than me.
Thats true. Pasha bought his license, but sadly couldnt also buy the ability to drive the Mazda he bought on credit. He could just about manage to get around the city without crashing, but out on the highway it was a different story.
Its time to go. Right now!
Hang about, Ive got to get my stuff together.
What stuff? Do you really not get it? We need to leave. Fast.
Say what you will about Pasha, he can be convincing. I just couldnt find any objections. Followed round the flat by his constant shouting, I feverishly shoved anything useful I could find into a backpack. It wasnt even my biggest backpack, but sad to say there was still plenty of space to spare. I used to think everything I had was necessary and useful. Like hell! Outside the flat, it wasnt worth a thing. What on earth was I going to do, for example, with a golf club, even if it was signed by the vice-president of Terra Group?
Slamming the door, we head downstairs. In the entrance, were met by another familiar face Demyan Slootskiy. A programmer just like me, although he works in the next department. The funny thing is that we even look quite alike. In the office, they joke that its the job that smooths out the differences in appearance. And he and Pasha are almost neighbours, live on the same staircase. Galperin must have left him in the yard on purpose to guard the car. He had a point, I guess, although what exactly could Demyan do against even one armed man? We quickly load up my stuff and get into the car. Its warm inside. Pashas even kept the engine running, with the heater working all this time.
Im thirsty, whines Slootskiy.
Well, Ive got mineral water upstairs. And weve got a long road ahead of us.
Just get it fast, then. And what are you taking your jacket for, for Christs sake?
Good point. I even managed to work up a sweat with all this running around. Why would I put it on?
I dash back into the building, up in the lift, through the door, and theres the water on the table.
I grab the bottle and slam the door. The lift sings its little song, and Im back on the ground floor. I run towards the steps. Shit, my laces! I almost went arse over tip. I crouch down
Bang! Bang!
Aaaaa! A wild shriek sweeps in from the yard. It bounces off the glass and echoes deep in the entryway.
Shut him up!
Two more shots cracked dryly.
Now theyre done twitching.
Check their documents. Bags, coats. Go through everything.
I press myself into a niche in the foyer. There were supposed to be flowers here, but no one ever got the money together.
Thats Galperin. His photos right here on his license.
Whos the other one?
Hes got nothing with him.
Then get up those fucking stairs! Karasev should live here, too, and hes on the list. Third floor, flat 15. No hanging around.
I hear steps and try to make my spine grow into the concrete. True, theres no light in the entryway, thanks to the unknown lightbulb thief. But they might have a torch with them
Boss, theres a pass card here. Its Karasev.
So thats who he was hurrying to see. I guess he made it that far. Makes no difference, we still have to search the flat. Who knows what hes got up there?
Again I heard boots on tarmac. Now theyll come through the door and shine their torches around. But then, why would they? What do they need light for in here? Its not that dark outside yet, they may not have torches, and the lift door is always lit up with LEDs. You cant miss it. And thats exactly what happened. A couple of the bad guys made straight for the lift without hesitating, and only at the last minute did one of them shine a light on the call button for some reason. The lift played its little tune, and the cabin rose to my floor.
So far, so good. Now they go up there, break into my flat somehow, take a look around, and then what?
I dont know exactly what theyre looking for, but its going to take them all of five minutes to turn everything in there upside down. I dont have that much furniture in the flat its all modern minimalism. And then Then they come back down. Makes no difference how they come, on foot down the staircase or back in the lift. Either way, theyll see me. My niche is easily visible from the bottom of the staircase and from the lift door. And now I know they have a torch.
So, Ive got five minutes left, have I? Well, maybe six or seven. Theyll bury me here. Should I run outside? Yeah, right. How many of them are there out by the car? Perhaps theyre all deaf and blind? No, its really not funny.
I dont know quite what got into me, but instead of looking for a safer hiding place, I took off running up the staircase. The stairwells in our house are also all modern and minimalist, too, with no recesses or twists. Wherever you go, you can see everything. And theres no need for a torch, the lights are still on. I did at least have the brains to keep quiet, even taking off my shoes and climbing the stairs in my socks. First floor, second floor. Above me there was a crash and a screeching sound. My poor door!
You are illegally entering private property. I will now call the police.
My alarm system! I installed it myself. Fat lot of good its going to do me now. The police wont even come out for murder.
Stupid bitch! swore somebody upstairs. I almost started firing. Take that!
There was a smash and the voice of the alarm fell silent.
Thats more like it!
Having reached my floor, I take a careful peek round the corner. My door is wide open and the hallway light is on, though I remember turning it off. Theres nobody in the doorway, but voices can be heard from inside the flat.
Lets go!
Pressing my shoes to my chest and trying to make as little noise as possible, I cross the passage and turn on to the flight of stairs going up. And thats where I lose my nerve. I flop on the floor right where I am. I just cant go any further up. It was all I could do to get to the landing.
The voices sounded louder. It seemed clear the bad guys had found nothing and were now leaving.
Rig up something there just in case. Its the same guy who was scared by the alarm system.
What the fuck for? The owners lying downstairs!
You never know One of his friends might drop by.
Ha! Like theyll live that long. And what if his neighbour pokes his nose in?
What do you care about his neighbour?
Yeah, fair enough, agrees the second bad guy.
Theres some scratching and scraping. While hes waiting, the first guy has a smoke, judging by the smell rising up the stairwell.
There we go. Just like they taught us. Theyll never put those bones back together.
With any luck the smartarses who hired us wont give a fuck about the little details.
The song of the lift doors opening rings out, and Im left all alone.
What would the hero of an action film do now if they were in my place? Theyd run down, find the tripwire, disarm it, and throw the grenade after the bad guys. As far as I know, they use grenades to make that sort of trap. Which means you could throw it just as the bad guys were coming out of the front door. No doubt thats what an action hero would do, but Im not in a film and I dont know how to disarm a tripwire. During my year of military service, I only fired an assault rifle twice, and Ive never even seen a grenade except in the movies.
So, I stay sitting there on the staircase. I heard doors slamming in the yard, and the roar of the motor pulling off. Then something flickered across the window. I didnt need to look outside to know what that was. Galperins Mazda was burning. Along with the smoke, my last chance of escaping this nightmare drifted away.
I dont remember how long I sat on the staircase. Nobody came in or out of any of the flats, and the house was completely silent, as if all the residents had given up the ghost. More likely, theyd all fled the city. It was only thirst that brought me to my senses. I desperately wanted something to drink, but I had nothing with me. I stand up. My bones crack and my muscles ache. How long have I been sitting here?
The Mazda had stopped burning and was now just smoking. The stinking fumes poured out of the windows and spread through the yard. I couldnt see my mates bodies, so I assumed they were inside the burnt out car. Where to now? My empty water bottle was hanging on my belt, and my knife was in my pocket. That was all I had. No food or water, nothing.
I turn the corner and set off towards the same ransacked shop. There was mineral water there, and at least thats something.
Strangely, I didnt see a single passing car or person on the way. It was as if the whole city had died. At the end of my street as I turn towards the store, I see a fresh scratch with traces of paint on the side of a building. Clearly somebody had a close shave. And theres the car. Turns out they didnt get far anyway. The windows are smashed and the doors riddled with bullet holes. No luck for the driver. And then comes the smell the smell of blood. Splashes of red cover part of the windscreen and spray across the passenger-side window. Summoning my willpower, I walk around the car and look warily inside. No luck for the driver his last drive didnt get him far. A giant of a man lies slumped across the wheel, his head sticking into the instrument panel. Thats one big guy. How did he ever fit behind the wheel? Its clear why they shot him straight away. If someone that size had time to get out, thered be no stopping him. His pockets are turned inside out and the glove compartments open. On the back seat, some eviscerated bags are scattered about in a spill of clothes, spanners, and screwdrivers. Looks like the guy was in a hurry. Looks like he didnt get too far. The boots open, too, but theres nothing in it apart from the spare wheel.