Название: Predator. Escape from Tarkov
Автор: Александр Конторович
Издательство: Литературный Совет
Жанр: Научная фантастика
isbn: 978-5-0009-9486-3
isbn:
The Mazda had stopped burning and was now just smoking. The stinking fumes poured out of the windows and spread through the yard. I couldn’t 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 that’s something.
Strangely, I didn’t 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 there’s the car. Turns out they didn’t 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 didn’t get him far. A giant of a man lies slumped across the wheel, his head sticking into the instrument panel. That’s one big guy. How did he ever fit behind the wheel? It’s clear why they shot him straight away. If someone that size had time to get out, there’d be no stopping him. His pockets are turned inside out and the glove compartment’s 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 didn’t get too far. The boot’s open, too, but there’s nothing in it apart from the spare wheel.
I feel terrible, and move away fast, willing myself not to throw up. But what would I throw up anyway? I haven’t eaten since yesterday afternoon.
Time to get to the shop! Nothing’s changed much there since yesterday. Not much to tempt the window shopper in the ransacked store. And the bottles of water are still in one piece. I grab one thirstily and just drink and drink. Phew, that’s better! I almost empty the bottle.
Shit, how can I carry more than three or four? Christ, I’m an idiot. There was a bag in that car, wasn’t there? Didn’t look like it was covered in blood, either. I run back and grab the bag, and while I’m at it pick up some spanners, screwdrivers, and pliers from the floor. Why? Tools always come in useful. Now, back to the shop.
I managed to fit seven bottles of water into the bag, along with a few packs of bread snacks (beggars can’t be choosers), a packet of some grain or other – and that was all I could find. Everything else was sold out before I got there. I take a look around. Yesterday’s corpse is beginning to smell, or is that just my imagination?
Something catches my eye. What is it? I don’t get it. There’s an idea jumping around in the back of my head, but I just can’t work out what it is. It’s only as I’m leaving the empty shop that I realize what it is – a jacket! I should have taken the jacket off the dead driver. It was lying on the floor. But then, it was covered in blood. How could I put that on? “Don’t be fussy,” nags a voice in my head. “Are you planning to run around at night in just that shirt? Aren’t you the tough guy!”
Still, it’s not that cold yet. During the day your teeth don’t chatter, at any rate.
But then I remember my night on the staircase. There was no draft, but you wouldn’t say it was warm, either. And that was in a building. A residential building, mind, with a good heating system. A building I can’t go back to, either. What am I going to do, knock on my neighbour’s door and say: “Sorry, but they tried to kill me here yesterday and put a tripwire in my flat. Mind if I stay with you for a while?” I can imagine the response.
Which reminds me, where can I go? Round to one of my co-workers and risk catching a bullet? Clearly they were looking for us from some kind of list, and I doubt it was just the three of us on there. Apparently, it’s the people I was working with the last few days. So I might meet yesterday’s visitors at any of their homes.
So, where am I heading, then? Nothing comes to mind. Do I really want to crawl into some basement like a homeless guy? Well, the basements round here aren’t so bad. Hell, some of them even have offices in them. I’ve been in quite a few. True, they nearly always have steel doors. But then again, I’ve got tools now. And there’s an office I know not so far from here.
Alas, my talents as a housebreaker were enough only to pull the decorative cover off the keyhole. Beyond that, it was just thick steel that I could do nothing with. Any attempt to pick the lock with a bent piece of wire was stymied from the start – I didn’t have any wire. And even if I did, I had no idea how to bend it. Somehow, I doubt a simple right angle’s enough… Having spent a couple of hours trying to get in, I gave up, sat down on the steps, and opened up a pack of Baby Mum-mum. There’s no need to laugh. I’d like to see what you’d do in a similar situation.
What about the window? It’s got bars on it. Damn, what am I going to do? If only I had a crowbar…
Where could I get hold of a few good tools? All the shops were closed. At the port, obviously. But the port’s a fair hike away. There must be something closer. Construction sites! They’re bound to have crowbars, and all sorts of other useful stuff. That’s where to go, but where exactly? I didn’t know the address of the nearest construction site, but I had seen something out of the bus window. Hang on, I’ll get there just as night falls. And? Do I really have a choice? No, I don’t. Let’s go. But what about my supplies? What if I find something useful there? Where am I going to put it? The shop water, my water bottle, and the bread snacks find a temporary home at the bottom of the steps that lead down to the basement. You can’t see them from the street, and no animal’s going to find them. It’s not like I’ve got sausages or anything. I took only a single bottle with me, and the bag. Great, tomorrow I’ll bring a crowbar, and I can finally move in to my new digs.
Chapter 2
I can’t say that my walk to the construction site made for a nice, leisurely stroll. When I was about half way there, frenetic gunfire started up not far away, and I heard the whistle of a bullet close by. I had absolutely no idea I could run that fast. In the end, I had to hide behind an empty garage and wait until the unknown opponents finally finished resolving their issues. It took them nearly an hour. Then there was a burst of automatic fire (from something bigger than an assault rifles, as far as I could tell), and everything fell quiet. Before that, most of the firing had been from shotguns and pistols, I think.
I waited another hour before finally emerging from my hideout. It was quiet and there was no firing. Who exactly had beaten whom was of no interest to me. The main thing is that there’s no more whistling bullets and I can move on. I stick my head out from behind the garage and look around. Nothing. I make a dash for the cover of the nearest building. After another half-hour’s walk, I notice a crane towering over the rooftops. I’ve made it! There’s the construction site, and now it’ll all be simple. I’ll find a crowbar, and maybe a few other useful things, then I’m off. I may even have a roof to sleep under tonight.
I skirt round the building.
“Hold up there!”
Who’s this, then?
A pair of guys in leather jackets. One’s holding a hunting rifle, and the others not armed as far as I can see.
“What СКАЧАТЬ