Денис Седов – One step into Tomorrow: Reflection (страница 3)
Chapter 3. The Settlement in Ozyory
Soon we were rolling along a dirt road heading west. We left the key to our cache in a small hiding place under a slab, behind the drainpipe. If something went wrong and one of the four of us managed to get here, they could access everything we hadn't taken.
Nastya drove confidently, squinting slightly at the sun. Sanya was silent, turning a folding knife in his hands. Vasya glanced at the tablet.
«So, where to next?» he asked, turning to me.
«We head for the A-108. The Big Ring. Then towards Klin. But there's another question. These names… Are they the same here?»
Nastya nodded and, without taking her eyes off the road, said:
«So far, everything you've named matches.»
I continued:
«A lot of them match, I've noticed. Ozyory, Kashira, Kolomna—all sound familiar. Only sometimes things are different. A settlement exists here, but we didn't have it. Sometimes it's the opposite, it's missing. But the roads seem to be the same as ours.»
«Got it. So we navigate by the map, but check everything.»
«Maybe we can get hold of a local map somewhere?» Sanya smirked.
«Should we stop in Ozyory?» Vasya clarified.
«To refuel. We'll play it by ear. Need to take a look. If we see something's wrong, we'll drive straight through. I need to check one more address there, but we won't take unnecessary risks.»
We reached Ozyory without incident. The road, though broken in places, held up. Potholes, cracks, of course, were present, but there were no traffic jams. In one place, just before the turn-off, we had to push aside a Chinese hatchback blocking the way. Empty, sunk into the ground, as if abandoned in a hurry. Everything was quiet and seemed absolutely empty. Until we reached the entrance to Ozyory.
As soon as the first houses appeared, about a hundred meters from us, a motorcyclist shot out from behind a shabby kiosk standing by the road. In an instant, he was racing towards the center, gunning it to the limit.
«Went to warn someone,» Vasya muttered. «We'll probably be met now. Maybe we should go around somehow?»
I hesitated. My eyes darted between the road, the shoulders, and the gray sky over the rooftops. Then I finally decided:
«Turn the car around. Park over there by the kiosk. If they start shooting, they won't hit us right away. And we'll be able to get away.»
Nastya silently nodded and turned the wheel, pulling off the road. The car softly crunched over the gravel and stopped almost right against the concrete wall of the kiosk.
«Nastya, Vasya—into that house,» I pointed to a two-story building on our side of the road, about twenty meters away. «Position yourselves so you can cover us. But if shooting starts, head straight for the car, and we leave in the opposite direction. We'll wait here for about thirty minutes. Then we leave.»
Didn't have to tell them twice.
Five minutes later, we were in position. Sanya and I by the car. Nastya and Vasya on the second floor, with windows overlooking the road. Two barrels stared out from behind the tattered curtains, and I knew they'd cover us.
The first ten minutes, we just stood in silence. Listening. There was almost nothing to see: the street ahead was empty, the air still, as if the city was holding its breath. Occasionally, a gate creaked in the distance, a shutter banged somewhere, but it all sounded like the sounds of a deserted city, not a threat.
Sanya crouched by the hood, fiddling with his rifle. His fingers moved automatically, checking the bolt, adjusting the sling. I stood leaning against the cab, watching the road. My eyes stung from the strain—the gray sky, the blinding dusty light, the glare off the glass.
Fifteen minutes. Nothing.
Twenty. A lone raven appeared on the horizon, landed on a roof. No cars. No people. No motorcade we'd been expecting.
After another five minutes, Sanya relaxed. Leaned back against the wheel and stretched.
«Maybe he just took off because of us?» he muttered.
«Maybe,» I replied. But I didn't believe it.
Half an hour. A shadow flickered in the house—Nastya moved to the other window. Vasya stayed in his original spot. From there, he had a good view of the turn, and if anyone moved from that side, they'd know first.
The city was still silent.
No shots, no voices, no engine sounds. Only the wind carried the smell of dampness and dust.
I looked at Sanya, then signaled to the window opposite. Nastya nodded.
«That's it,» I said, «let's go.»
Even though it was quiet and there were no signs of life, I still couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching. From the dark eye sockets of broken windows, from the alleyways. Too quiet.
There was no point in just standing here any longer, and I had no desire to drive forward and risk the squad.
Footsteps sounded from the house—Nastya and Vasya were moving from their positions. Sanya stayed by the car to cover us to the last.
I turned and started towards the driver's door of the jeep when a voice came from a dark alleyway:
«Just going to leave like that? Without a word? Without tea?»
The voice caught me off guard. It sounded calm, but with a weary smirk. Sanya immediately aimed at the opening, and Nastya and Vasya retook their positions at the windows.
«I'm coming out now. Slowly. Don't be nervous,» the same voice continued. «Just no sudden moves, good people. We're coming out.»
A man appeared first. Military uniform, rifle combat-ready on his chest, load-bearing vest—all familiar.
But behind him came… a mutant.
«Don't shoot!» I yelled, almost losing my voice.
Everyone's reaction was instantaneous. Instinct screamed: mutant means danger. But I'd already seen something like this in recon while «flying» over Kolomna. Some mutants… they negotiate. Live with people.
«Come out calmly. Don't worry. We won't shoot,» I said, addressing the mutant directly.
He was taller than all of us. A massive body, altered, but not hideous. He wore camouflage stretched over his broad shoulders. In his hands—a familiar machine gun, the same kind we'd left in Kolomna.
«Who might you be, good people?» the man asked, approaching. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with strong, calloused hands, and straw-colored hair. Around fifty years old, probably.
«Just passing through. Heading to Moscow. Decided to stop in, refuel, get a feel for the situation,» I replied, trying to keep my voice calm. Even though the mutant nearby sent a slight shiver under my ribs.
«Are you with anyone, or on your own?» As he said this, the man glanced at our jeep, coming almost right up to it. His rifle hung on his chest, and he was already pulling out cigarettes.
«On our own. But if it makes it easier for you, consider us military.» I looked him straight in the eye.
He glanced at Sanya, as if assessing.
«Army, huh… Might not even exist anymore, but better the army than the rabble roaming around these days.»
He paused for a moment, lighting his cigarette.
«My name's Arkhip. We live here. And we won't let anyone mess with the town,» he nodded and made a circular gesture above his head.
Somewhere behind the houses, an engine immediately started. Three more people emerged from the alleyway, holding their weapons casually, without threat. A UAZ followed, and the familiar motorcycle. The same one that had left the kiosk. The guy, the motorcyclist, parked with a skid, clearly showing off for us.
The mutant, without looking at us, climbed into the back seat of the UAZ, barely fitting. Arkhip, tossing his rifle into the vehicle, turned back to me:
«What's your decision? Staying or moving on?»
«We'll spend the night with you, if you'll have us.»
«Then follow me,» he said curtly and slammed the UAZ door shut.
«Seriously? They've got a mutant on a leash… How did I manage not to shoot him?» Sanya patted his rifle, as if calming both it and himself.
«You think it's safe?» Vasya asked.
«I think so,» Nastya answered for me. «If they wanted to kill us, they'd have done it before the conversation. But it's too early to relax. We leave in the morning.»
They put us up in a house by the road, about two hundred meters from their base. That it was a base was beyond doubt: barbed wire, fences, machine gun nests. All correct, no need to let strangers into the main house, especially temporary passers-by like us.
«Alright, make yourselves at home, get some rest. Put the car in the yard—no need to show it off. It's a good house, you'll find somewhere to settle. It's quiet here. Gangs pass through sometimes, but they're just passing through. All the locals are on good terms with us,» Arkhip told this casually, already standing by the car.