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Stalker (pt.4)

“So, I don't understand," I said as we walked up the crumbling stairs of the university.

Andrei barely glanced back at me. “About what?"

“How I got…well, here I guess."

Again, Andrei sounded confused. “You walked with me here. You are confused about that?"

“Will you be quiet for a second?"

“I have been. You do most of the talking."

I sighed, massaging my head with my paw. “Okay, fine, you're right. What I meant is how I got into the land of humans in the first place."

We stepped into a massive hall, sort of almost like a tunnel, with faded red carpet underfoot and broken gold chandeliers hanging from above, their light bulbs blown.

“How did you get in Russia?" Andrei asked, as we walked down the hallway to large wooden doors.

“I was on a trip with a friend. We were riding a bus up to Vologda, to see my aunt, and a few attractions there as well. On the way there, after we left some small, unnamed town after gassing up, the bus hit a rail or something, and we flipped over. Don't remember much after that." I said. I could remember the shattered glass, the screams of passengers, my best friend, yelling in pain with a shard of metal in his shoulder…

Andrei stopped, looking at me intensely through his gas mask. He reached out and grabbed my paw.

“You crying?"

I wiped my tears away, trying to ignore my embarrassment. “Yeah, sorry, it was bad."

He nodded. “It is fine. Bus crashes are nothing to mess with. Did your friend make it out?"

I nodded. “I saw him being taken by paramedics before I fainted, I think."

“What happened after you fainted?"

“I ended up laying on the couch in those ugly apartments."

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, then said “I am sorry."

To my shock, he gave me a split second, large hug, then almost immediately let go.

I looked at him, stunned, which seemed to make him confused. “What?" He asked. “Isn't that what people do, hug sad person?"

I smiled. “Yeah, they do. You just didn't do it long enough…"

I stepped forward, and gave him a nice, big hug.

Now, keep in mind, I was shorter and smaller than Andrei, so I could hardly do anything to him. However, when I hugged him, he gasped like he just had all the wind knocked out of him.

“Are you okay?" I asked him, amused.

“I am… fine. Never been hugged before."

“Never?"

“From my memory? No."

This raised a lot more questions about Andrei's past, but we were having a moment, so I let it slide.

After a few moments, he lightly pushed away, breaking up the hug.

“As fun as this is, we cannot stay here. You look like you are about to freeze to death." He said.

I smiled. “Of course I was, but then I hugged you. You're warm."

“Okay." he said, oblivious. I sighed.

“What?"

“Nothing, oh nothing…"

He nodded. “Okay. we head inside now?"

“Yeah, fine."

The inside of the university entrance hall was surprisingly intact. No holes, craters or anything. It had those fancy wooden double stairs, covered in more red carpet, leading up stairs to the second floor.

“First order of business," Andrei said quietly. “We make sure the building is secure. I'll take the ground floor, you take the top. Take the SVD…"

He slipped his bag off his shoulders, taking out the long AK-47 looking rifle, and handed it to me. It was cold and smooth, and clearly boasted a power I did not want to be given.

“Do I have to take it?" I asked.

Andrei seemed to understand my hesitation. “Don't worry, it's just for safety and looks. You don't have to kill anybody with it, just injure them if you have to."

“How?"

“Shoot them in the leg."

“Oh, fine…"

Andrei unslung his shotgun and moved off into the darkness. It was eerie how quickly he disappeared. He seemed to become one with shadows, and melted into it.

That left me entirely alone, with no choice but to head up the staircase.

I slowly walked up the staircase, rifle raised. I was nervous. The last thing I wanted to do was fire the rifle and kill someone, but even though Andrei said to just injure them, deep down I was worried I would accidentally kill regardless.

At the landing at the top, there were two ways for me to go: right or left. I selected the left hall, due to it having more light, but that barely made a difference. It was still just as hard to see going down the left hall as it probably was with the right.

I walked past open doors to empty offices, a few classrooms, and what looked like a lounge. They were all covered in undisturbed dust, telling me no one had been here for a while. That sounded… promising.

I walked down the hall and arrived at a corner. Down the hall, more wooden doors sat open, probably just as empty.

But what was that smell?

I sniffed the air. It was familiar, I just couldn't put my claw on it. It smelled like…

Woodsmoke.

Somebody was here.

At the opposite end of the corridor, a door sat closed, the only one closed in the entire hall. A glowing, flickering light came from underneath the door.

I slowly walked towards the door, trying with all my might to keep silent. If I could just get on whoever it was…

The door opened, and out stepped an old, human man. He wore a white beanie with a red maple leaf on it, librarian glasses, an old blue coat, jeans, and leather boots. He clutched a walking stick in his left hand, a mug of coffee in his right. His white beard covered most of his face.

“Well, traveler," he said. He sounded like a weary, more hardened version of father christmas.

“No need to slink about. Come in, have some coffee. It may be the afternoon, but a warm drink will help you in this cold place…"

Normally, I wouldn't be so trusting of strangers in a place like this, but the man had a calming, peaceful energy that emanated from him. I followed him into the room.

It was another office. A large, mahogany desk had been pushed to the side, against the wall, which left a good five to six feet of open space in the middle of the room. A rusty barrel acted as a container for the fire, and was surrounded by two rolling office chairs, one of which the old man occupied immediately. A large, metal grate was on the top of the barrel, which allowed a steel coffee pot to sit there. The coffee inside was boiling, giving off that familiar smell I knew so well.

“Sit down, traveler." he said, waving his hand towards the empty chair.

I sat down. He reached for the pot, and poured coffee into a mug he had pulled from the depths of his coat. He handed it to me, and I took one long, big drink. It was black, sure, but anything was good at this moment, especially with how cold it was.

“So," he asked. “What is a dragon doing in such a hostile landscape like Russia, and nonetheless not even at all prepared for it?"

“Was on a bus to Vologda- heading north. Bus crashed, fainted, and seemed to teleported here, from what I can tell. As for being unprepared, well, I didn't have my coat on when the bus crashed, so there's that…"

He nodded. “Very tragic, how Russian buses around here always seem to get into accidents. But teleported?" he leaned forward, intrigued. “That's the most interesting thing I've heard all day."

“I admit, I'm mostly guessing on my part,"I said ruefully, “but it seems to be the only possible thing at this point."

“Mmmhh." he took a sip from his coffee.

“I'll ask sort of the same question. What's an old English man doing in Russia in a time and place like this?"

He smiled. “Well, I've come to see the turning of the age." his mood dampened considerably. “An end to the old world, I suppose."

“What do you mean?"

“Look around outside. You don't see the destruction, the emptiness? The dead city? We've gone into a new world, and very few will be able to adjust to it. I'm just here to oversee it, make sure at least some survive."

“Oh, and why's that?"

He polished off the last of his coffee and set the mug down. “This is nothing new. Places outside of the mainlands have been crumbling for ages, just nobodies cared enough to notice, or to stop the decline. My home up in Canada, for example. Old island, settled back in 1910. Mainland forgot about us, due to the problems with energy. Before you know it, a major catastrophe happens, and most of the island leaves or just dies to the cold. I was there for that transition, too. Same thing is happening up here, just on a far larger scale."

“That's pretty pessimistic."

“I would have agreed to that very much years ago," he said. As he talked, he seemed to become increasingly more weary, more tired of the world. “But now? It's just the truth."

He looked out of one of the shattered windows, off into the distance. “The younger generation will have to fix the older's mistakes now, just as it's always been. I want to make sure they're prepared for it first." he looked back at me sharply. “Is anyone with you?"

I nodded. “A Russian. He's impressive, to say the least."

He nodded. “Russians are hardened people. What is he?"

“He said he was a Stalker. Not sure what that is..,"

The old man let out a soft whistle. “A Stalker? No wonder you've been alive for this long."

“Excuse me?"

“Do you not know what a Stalker is?"

“No."

The old man picked up his mug, and poured more coffee into it. “A Stalker… think of them like this. Imagine if an American Navy S.E.A.L, a Russian commando, and a KGB officer decided to get together and form a club in order to train a kid. That's a Stalker, summed up simply."

“Wow…"

“Yes, indeed. You are in very good hands, especially for this… apocalypse. Where is he now?"

“Downstairs. I was supposed to check the upper floor, but then I ran into you."

The old man nodded in understanding. “Well, it's lucky you have him. Do you know him personally?"

“No. I just met him outside a cafe. I tried to tackle him because I thought he was a criminal, but you can imagine how that went…"

“And he let you live?" he said, surprised.

“I think my appearance surprised him."

The old man nodded. He was about to say something, when, speak of the devil, we heard a loud gunshot coming from downstairs.

The old man stood up, and doused his fire. “That is my cue to leave. Good talking to you, miss-?"

“Daronean."

“Methuselah."

Methuselah took a tattered canvas bag, and walked over to a window. He opened it, then lifted himself up, and lowered himself down outside.

I peered over the ledge. There was a ladder against the wall, and he crawled down it swiftly for an old man, then ran off and disappeared into the shadows of an alleyway.

“Strange old man…" I muttered, then grabbed Andrei's rifle. I drank the rest of the coffee, which was cold by now, set it by the still burning fire, then ran out the door and down the hall to the stairs.

On the landing at the bottom, I could make out an open doorway on my right. I ran for it and ended up in what looked like a cafeteria.

Andrei was lying on the tile floor, with the body of a large, four legged wolf draped over him. He was alive, but seemed to be stuck.

“Little help?" he asked. “Body… very heavy. Cannot move."

I pushed the dead wolf off him and helped him up. He was unharmed, but the blood had gotten all over his gray camo jacket, which made it look like it was covered in ketchup stains.

“What happened? I asked him.

“Was walking back, going to help check upstairs, when wolf surprise me. Shot it, and well… you know rest."

“Ah-"

Andrei raised his shotgun suddenly, pointing it at my shoulder.

“What are-?"

Blam!

I heard the sound of something heavy falling to the ground behind me.

I suddenly felt very faint. “You just saved my life, didn't you?"

“Maybe."

I turned to see a decapitated body of a woman being me, clutching a short submachine gun. Behind the body stood a man in green camo with a officers cap, looking disappointed at it.

“You had to kill her?" said the officer in a distinct, German accent.

“Sorry, Kommandant." Andrei said. “She was about to kill Daronean. Would have been bad if Daronean was shot."

The German nodded. “Fine. good to see you, Stalker."