‘We’re going up to the Library. We’ll go as far as the doors and steps. I’ll go in first. If the stairs are clear, Ten’ll keep his sights on ’em and we’ll go up; then we’ll cover Ten and he’ll come up. No talking on the stairs. If you spot danger, signal with your flashlight. Don’t shoot unless it’s absolutely necessary. Shots can attract them.’
‘Who?’ Artyom could not stay quiet.
‘What do you mean, “who”?’ repeated Melnik. ‘Who would you expect to meet in the Library? Librarians, of course.’
Daniel swallowed hard and paled. Artyom looked at him, then at Melnik and decided this was no time to pretend he was a know-it-all.
‘And who’s that?’
Melnik raised his eyebrows in surprise. His bearded partner put a hand over his eyes. Daniel looked at the floor. For a long time, the stalker looked at Artyom with eyebrows raised and when he finally understood that Artyom wasn’t joking, he coolly answered, ‘You’ll see for yourself. The main thing to remember is this: you can keep them from attacking if you look them straight in the eyes. Straight in the eyes, got it? Don’t let them get behind you… That’s all. Move out!’ He put on his gas mask, then his helmet, and gave the sentries the thumbs-up.
The officer took a step to the master switch and opened the pressure doors. The steel barrier crawled upward, slowly. The show had begun.
Melnik waved his hand, indicating it was OK to come out. Artyom pushed the transparent door, raised his rifle, and jumped out into the street. And although the stalker had demanded that he follow in his footsteps and not wander, it wasn’t possible to obey…
The sky had changed completely since that time when Artyom had seen it as a boy. Instead of a limitless, transparent sky-blue space, dense grey clouds now hung low overhead, and the first drops of an autumn rain had begun to ooze from this cotton-like sky. A cold wind blew in gusts, and Artyom felt it even through the cloth of his protective suit.
There was a mind-boggling, inconceivable amount of space here, to the right and to the left and in front. This boundless space was both spellbinding and strangely depressing at the same time. For a fraction of a second, Artyom wanted to return to the Borovitskaya vestibule, underground, and feel protected by the nearby walls and immerse himself in the comfort of an enclosed, limited space. He was able to deal with this oppressive feeling only by forcibly distracting himself to study the nearest buildings.
The sun had already set, and the city was gradually descending into a dingy twilight. The skeletons of low apartment houses, dilapidated and pitted by decades of acid rainstorms, stared at the travellers with empty orbits of broken windows.
The city… It was a dismal, yet magnificent sight. Hearing no calls, Artyom stood still, looking about as if mesmerized; he could finally compare reality with his dreams and with nearly equally blurry childhood memories.
Daniel, who likely also had never been on the surface, froze next to him too. The last to emerge from the station vestibule was Ten. The stalker slapped Artyom on the shoulder to get his attention and pointed to the right to where, in the distance, the silhouette of the cathedral’s dome stood out against the sky.
‘Look at the cross,’ droned the Ten’s voice through the gas mask’s filters.
At first, Artyom noticed nothing in particular, and didn’t actually see the cross. Only when a giant winged shadow took flight from the crossbar with a lingering, bloodcurdling wail did he understand what Ten had meant. After a few flaps of its wings, the monster had gained altitude and began to glide downward in wide circles, searching for prey.
‘That’s where they nest,’ said Ten with a wave of the hand.
Staying close to the wall, they moved to the entrance of the Library. Melnik led the group, staying several steps ahead while Ten was stepping backward, half-turned, covering the rear. It was precisely because both stalkers were distracted that Artyom was able, even before they had drawn even with the statue of the old man sitting in the armchair, to cast a glance at the Kremlin.
Artyom had not intended to do it, but when he saw the monument, it was as if he had been jolted, and something cleared up in his mind. A whole piece of yesterday’s dream suddenly popped to the surface. But now it didn’t seem to be only a dream, because the panorama and Library colonnade that he had seen exactly resembled the view that was before him now. Did that mean that the Kremlin looked the same as he had imagined in his visions?
Nobody was looking at Artyom, even Daniel wasn’t nearby, as he tarried behind with Ten. It was now or never, said Artyom to himself.
His mouth became dry and blood began to pound in his temples.
The star on the tower really did glitter.
‘Hey, Artyom! Artyom!’ Someone shook his shoulder.
A numb awareness came alive with difficulty. A bright flashlight beam assaulted his eyes. Artyom started to blink his eyes and shaded them with his hand. He was sitting on the ground with his back against the granite base of the monument. Daniel and Melnik were bending over him. Both were looking into his eyes with worry.
‘His pupils are constricted,’ stated Melnik. ‘How’d you manage to lose him?’ he asked Ten, with annoyance. The latter stood at some distance and kept his eyes on the street.
‘Something made a noise back there, and I couldn’t turn my back to it,’ explained the stalker. ‘Who could guess he was so quick… Look, he almost made it to the Manezh within a minute… And he would have kept going. It’s a good thing our Brahmin has a head on his shoulders,’ he said and slapped Daniel on the back.
‘It shines,’ said Artyom to Melnik in a weak voice. ‘It shines,’ he said, looking at Daniel.
‘It shines, OK, it shines,’ repeated Daniel, reassuringly.
‘Weren’t you told not to look over there, dumbass?’ said Melnik to Artyom, angrily, now convinced the danger had passed. ‘You going to obey your superiors?’ he asked, and cuffed him on the back of his head.
The helmet reduced the educational value of the blow, and Artyom continued to sit on the ground, batting his eyes. Having finally run out of obscenities, the stalker grabbed him by the shoulders, shook him hard, and put him on his feet.
Artyom gradually recovered himself. He grew ashamed that he was not able to resist temptation. He stood, looking down at the toes of his boots, hesitating to look at Melnik. Luckily, Melnik didn’t have time to read any sermons, as he had been distracted by Ten, who was standing in the intersection. He had signalled his partner to join him and was pressing his finger to a filter on his gas mask, indicating a need for silence. Artyom decided to stay out of trouble by now following Melnik everywhere and never to turn in the direction of the enigmatic towers.
Approaching Ten, Melnik also froze in his tracks. The bearded man was pointing into the distance, away from the Kremlin, to where the long-crumbling high-rises along Kalinin Prospekt gave the appearance of grinning, rotten teeth. Carefully drawing near to them, Artyom looked out from behind the stalker’s broad shoulders and immediately understood the situation.
Right in the middle of the Prospekt, about sixty metres from them, he saw three human silhouettes standing motionless in the gathering dusk. Human? At such a distance, Artyom wouldn’t have bet they were, indeed, people, but they were of medium height and stood on two legs. This was encouraging.
‘Who’s that?’ Artyom asked hoarsely, whispering, while trying to identify the distant figures through the fogged window of his gas mask. Were they people or some spawn that he had heard spoken of?
Melnik silently shook his head, making it known that he didn’t know any more than Artyom. He shone the beam of his flashlight at the motionless beings and made three circular motions. Then he switched his flashlight off. In answer, a bright spot of light came on in the distance, moved in a circle three times, and went out.