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The Holy Grail

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  14:16:07  17 March 2007
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Sajeezzar
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On forum: 03/16/2007
 

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Sajeezzar
03/17/2007 14:19:24
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The Holy Grail

I wrote a story a long time ago, but I lost it with some other stuff on my old computer. Anyway, I decided to write another one just for fun... Comment if you wish:




Cyril stepped out of the car and gazed at the horizon, admiring the red sky painted by the sun going down to the west. Yes, he came alone. Yes, he had no experience about the place, no information, just greed and lust for money. Cyril opened the trunk of his Lada that he bought just for this one trip and took out an old hunting rifle and started walking towards the abandoned apartment flats. He was wearing a second-hand long dark green raincoat, camouflage pants and rubber boots to defend himself from the radiation just a little bit. He hid his lada in the nearby bushes, not that anyone would like to steal it, but just in case.

“Where to start?” Cyril pondered as he arrived to a large open field near the apartments. The gray concrete titans of the land stood mighty and abandoned before him. They looked sad, just like everything else around here. Cyril shrugged and slowly wandered towards the concrete oasis amidst the radiation desert, looking around the once beautiful and now desolate nature.

Cyril heard heavy breathing and hid behind some oil barrels behind one of the apartments and spied through a crack between them. Three heavily armed men. Their weapons looked like Kalashnikovs. Yes, Kalashnikovs. Typical eastern european stuff: sturdy, unreliable, but accurate.

“Oh Mary, Mary, Maryyy...” One of them sang until he was interrupted by the first one, apparently their leader.
“Be quiet, they are near...” He whispered and pointed forward. Cyril decided to follow them a bit further away from them, hiding behind bushes and apartments, until they left the apartment area and wandered to the woods. Cyril stopped and stayed in his own oasis and went into one of the towering concrete apartment blocks.

The apartments in the ground floor were covered in some sort of plants that looked like grass, but were taller. Cyril gathered some flowers and smelled them.
“Smells like grass, how interesting!” He thought sarcastically and continued on to the second floor where he found a television in one of the apartments. He kept switching it on and off, on and off, but to no avail. No electricity here, mate! This was going to make Cyrils life a lot harder. It was already getting dark and he had no light, only matches and a lighter that he reserved for his cigarettes.

The apartment was perfect for a base of operations. It had a bedroom, kitchen that had no running water, living room with a useless television and a balcony with a view to the east where the would rise. Cyril placed his rifle next to his bed, in case someone even greedier than him would pop up and try to take his money, life or something worse. He sat on the bed and lit a cigarette with his lighter. Ah, the sweet taste of nicotine and tar combined, the perfect thing when coming to a abandoned city with no shops. He checked his equipment again:
“Bandages, medicine, 10 rifle rounds, canned soup... and 20 boxes of cigarettes.” Yes, Cyril had a pretty big smoking addiction, but he decided he would take a break from it here. Then he noticed the cigarette in his mouth and smiled. He walked to the balcony and threw it away and watched the almost black sky with a few stars visible. It was time for security measures that he had planned before he came here. He went downstairs and barred the main door of the apartment block, went back upstairs and locked his “Base” door. Cyril felt safe now.

He slept well, even though he heard a few noises outside that sounded like someone was stomping the ground with heavy feet, but Cyril discarded the thought as lucid dreaming, a problem he has. He had problems with his bed though, it had no sheets or a blanket so Cyril had to sleep with his raincoat on.


The sun was shining from the east, through the bedroom window and straight into Cyrils eyes. He sat up and noticed that the bedroom door was open, although he left it closed last night. He stood up and yawned. He went to the front door and opened it, only to be met face-to-face with a Kalashnikov barrel.

“Stop! Stop! Hold it right there! Who the hell are you!?” The man behind the deathmachine Kalashnikov was as scared as Cyril. He had a radioactive suit and a gas mask. Cyril stood still for a while, his heart beating as fast as a racecar pumped full of adrenaline.
“I... Wait, who the hell are you then?” Cyril decided to be oh-so clever and asked the man pointing him with a weapon capable of blowing half of his head on the wall in a blink of an eye.
“No! I asked the question first!” He shouted and put the rifle barrel between Cyrils eyes.
“Does it matter?” Cyril asked him and smiled. The man with the Kalashnikov was afraid and lowered his Kalashnikov.
“Good question! Hmmm...” He pondered and said: “... My name is Kirill and yours is?” Cyril laughed and they shook hands. A deal was made, an alliance.
“Well I am Cyril, and I think we are in the same boat here, so lets not go shooting each other. I have a high powered hunting rifle over there that I could get and blow your head off if I wanted to, OK?”

Kirill left the apartment and Cyril made a deal with him. Kirill would tell his band of scavengers to leave this house alone and not disturb Cyril and Cyril made a deal not to kill Kirill. Kirill told Cyril that there were scavengers frequently going through this area, because there is a town nearby filled with anomalous activity. Right before Kirill left he said: “You know if I were you I would have killed me.” Yes, it was a bit confusing, but Cyril got the idea.

Later that day Cyril regretted not taking that fancy Kalashnikov that Kirill had. Its strange that a yellow belly like him had a weapon like that. It was not a normal AK-47, it was a AK-SU, used by Spetsnazes and was now useless to them as they use high tech gadget weaponry capable of blowing up entire cities in one shot. Just kidding. How did Cyril know all this about weapons? One reason could be his father who was a real weapon fanatic. The garage was filled with all sorts of shotguns, rifles and pistols. Well they were all really crappy, but Cyrils father had many books about weapons that he could only dream about.

Cyril made some coffee and relaxed at the balcony, sipping coffee and looking at the woods beyond the fields. Behind those woods might be his future, a golden treasury just waiting for a scavenger like him to take its artifacts. Actually he had no idea what he was looking for, but he thought he would notice when something important would pop up. His total of 15 rounds, 10 in the bag and 5 in the clip of his rifle, would not be enough to defend himself against the bands of scavengers, willing to steal, lie and murder their way to fortune, just like Cyril. He decided not to go to the village yet, but to explore the houses that surround his apartment. There was a total of four large tigers of the concrete jungle, overshadowing all other structures nearby. He hid his backpack and took some cigarettes as he left the apartment.

Outside, he took a deep breath of fresh air into his lungs and continued wandering around the area. He went to the first house and the front doors glass was broken with a brick. He opened the door and stepped inside. The air smelled dusty, apparently no one had been in the house for ages. The ground floor was overgrown just like his apartments, and had nothing important left anymore. The second floor was covered in graffiti. Cyril found a few needles in one of the apartments and a dried pool of blood on the floor. In another apartment he found a knife with blood on it and a bloody sink. Cyril picked up the knife and imagined the murder scene: Junkies fighting over the last few bits of their fix and eventually one of them killed the other. Well it could have been two polar bears tossing knives, training for their circus act. It could have been anything, but Cyril doubted that the polar bears would have been using drug needles.

The stairs to the third floor were covered in excrements and Cyril noticed bats hanging from the roof, but kept on going. The bats screamed a little bit, but didnt go all Indiana Jones on Cyrils face.
Cyril went to one of the apartments. It was clean and had flower paintings on the walls. Maybe it was some sweet grandmothers house who had to leave with the others. Cyril checked the pantry and found boxes with cookies and a couple bags of flour. Cyril resisted the cookies and went to the balcony for a smoke. He saw men in uniforms walking down below, armed with military type black weapons. Cyril couldnt recognise them from this far away, but they definetly werent the cheap Kalashnikovs the other scavengers had. One of them turned around and looked straight into Cyrils eyes through the gas mask and pointed at him. He said something, but Cyril couldnt hear it. He quickly hid behind the plastic table on the balcony and tried to see what they were doing. They had disappeared.

Cyril was scared and ran out of the apartment, scaring the bats on the way and this time they did go all Indiana Jones and screamed and flew around as Cyril ran downstairs as fast as he could. He took his rifle and hid at the doorway. He heard someone speak through a gas mask to the right, behind the house.

“Hey, not that way, go over there, corporal!” The voice was definetly coming behind the house and was really close. One of them ran across the street and hid behind a fence, aiming at the doorway where Cyril was, ready to provide covering fire for his comrades.
“Is this really worth dying?” Cyril pondered. Those guys were using military weapons, tactics and mumbojumbo and Cyril had no chance against them so he left his weapon inside, lifted his arms and walked out of the doorway.
“Dont shoot me im...” A shot was heard and the bullet sliced Cyrils thigh. It was not a direct hit, but it threw Cyril off balance and he fell to the ground.
“Hold your fire, corporal!” One of them shouted and they all went back to cover. Cyril crawled back to the doorway and loaded his rifle.
“What the hell...” Cyril said and leaned out and shot the corporal behind the fence in the head. The rifle was so powerful it threw the man a few feet back and Cyril noticed he was missing a piece of his head.
“Fuck! Fuck!” Cyril heard one of them shout in rage.
“Kill the fucker! Kill him!” The same guy shouted and stood up and released a rain of death to the doorway. Pieces of concrete, metal and grass flew around and Cyril fell to the floor and hit his wound, making it even worse. He heard footsteps approaching the building and leaned again, shot the man twice in the chest and leaned back. Two bullets left in the clip. He looked at the man who he just shot: He was breathing heavilly and holding his chest, but there was no blood. A bullet proof vest, these guys were definetly not kidding around. Cyril shot him again, this time he aimed straight for the head and the man fell down to the ground in a rain of blood. The place fell quiet, no sound or voice was heard for a few minutes, until the last two stood up at the same time to the other side of the courtyard and fired at Cyril. He jumped and fell on his back shooting at the same time, only empty clicks were heard from his weapon.
“For fucks sake!” One of them yelled in frustration and started approaching the building. Cyril had no bullets, he had only... The bloody knife from upstairs and his head of course. He threw away his trusty old rifle and hid under the stairs. Soon, the man searching him only to kill him and avenge his comrades was standing in the doorway, nervously looking around for Cyril with a happy trigger finger.

He didnt say anything, he just walked slowly to the stairs and Cyril jumped out of his hiding at the man. Both were possessed by furious rage, for good reasons. Cyril was trying to defend his life against superior odds and the man was avenging his dead friends now lying on the ground with pieces of their head missing. Cyril tried to stab the man, but he kept doing some sort of self defence karate kung fu jibberjabber moves and avoiding Cyrils quick stabs. He grabbed Cyrils arm and pulled him and hit him with his shoulder, at the same time Cyril managed to stab him in the stomach and he fell to the ground on his knees. The finishing move. Cyril held the knife backwards and stabbed it into the soft spot on the mans neck and it sunk all the way through his throat. The man shouted in agony and blood spurted out of the neck on Cyrils face. This is not what he wanted... This is not what he wanted from the Zone... But goddamn, it proved out to be more fun than he imagined. Oh yes, he planned killing people before he came here. Its a place without rules, laws or police. Only things that control the people here is the will to survive and greed. Cyril slowly took the knife out of the mans neck and looked sad.

“Fox calling base, do you read me?” The last man was frantically trying to contact some base with his radio.
“This is fox! Do you read me, base!?” He started shouting at the radio. Cyril took the dead mans Abakan assault rifle. It was... everything his father dreamt of. Even better than the AK-74, it had all the funky accesories a man could need in the Zone. It still had around 15 rounds and three clips that Cyril took the mans vest. He sat down on the ground and aimed through the scope and played around with it, until he pulled the trigger and blew the radiomans head to pieces.

His second day in the Zone and already changed. At first Cyril thought the worst thing he would have to do would be playing chess with mutated pigs, but no, he had to get into a fight with... He examined the uniforms and saw the flags in their sleeves. Shit. The military. Cyril kept swearing and swearing and realized his mistake. He took all the soldiers gear: A geiger counter, food, chocolate, a total of nine clips of ammunition for the precious Abakan, bullet proof vest and other spare clothes and medical equipment. Could this be everything he asked? Was this some sort of gift from a higher power granted to him to aid his search for the Holy Grail of Chernobyl? Now he had everything he needed to venture to the over radiated village and fend off the other scavengers. The only problem was the military. No, no the radioman did not have a chance to reveal the position to the base and they did not know who Cyril was. Cyril hid the corpses of the soldiers so no one may ever know the truth. Hopefully.

Cyril was eating canned food in his apartment and pondering his actions. There is no going back, he had risked too much, done too much to leave it all. He put on his gear: A gas mask, the raincoat with a bulletproof vest under it and the Abakan clips. He went downstairs and stepped outside. He could not get the feeling off of him, the feeling of him being a murderer. No, they shot him first! It was self defence! He fooled around with the Geiger counter and saw the meter going back and forth wildly as he turned it on. It let out disturbing rattling noises. Cyril ignored it and went forth.

He ventured past the fields and woods with only one thing in his mind: the treasure. He did not even know what it was but he was so certain, so sure that it would be there. He dreamt of it and felt it everywhere he went, it had become his obsession.
He arrived at the village and the geiger counter went wild again. The area was deadly, but Cyril ignored it and continued on his quest. He wandered around for a while until he saw something lying on the ground, holding a bunch of flowers and breathing heavilly. It had no legs, only arms and a long head like a 50’s scifi alien. It turned around and looked at Cyril. Its face looked human, but its eyes were not visible. Its brown skin was gleaming in the sun as it stood up on its arms and dragged his stub that could be called a tail towards Cyril. Cyril did not waste a moment hesitating and shot the smiling mutant straight in the face. The shot woke up something in the nearby buildings and heart piercing howls echoed in the streets. Some sort of humanoid came from one of the doors and started running towards Cyril, only to be met by a three bullets.

“What the hell!? What!?” Cyril panicked. He had never seen anything like this. He had only heard of mutated home animals like dogs and pigs that would have been no problem to a man wielding an all devouring Akaban rifle.

The humanoid fell to the ground, but more kept coming, jumping and howling. Cyril shot and shot and rained bullets and created an impenetrable wall of lead around himself, killing at least 4 of them before he had to reload. Two more came from a apartment block far away from Cyrils position and started running on all fours. They were howling like bloodthirsty maniacs through their gas masks and were probably planning to cook or eat Cyril raw.

Briefly, Cyril became one with the Akaban. He felt it like an extension of his arm, no longer as a weapon. It felt like his Excalibur on his quest for the Holy Grail, it strengthened him and he felt safe behind it. Cyril loaded the weapon and released a rain of bullets on the two ex-stalkers or whatever they were. Suddenly, the village fell quiet.

“Come on! Come here so I can shoot you in the face! You ugly bastards!” Cyril shouted and cursed as he walked through the village. He felt dizzy.
“No!” He shouted and kept going. Before him was a golden temple surrounded by white clouds and pure light. He felt free... He felt like he had accomplished something. He climbed up the stairs of the temple and went inside. He came into a large roofless room with pillars on the side. Before him was a golden square, lying on a large bed of flowers. Birds were singing and Cyril heard the water flowing in the waterfalls of the pillared temple. Cyril mumbled something and fell to the ground. It was over.

Cyrils exposure to radiation finally conquered his body. He lied down on the ground. Suddenly he was lying in grass and the temple was gone. He was in the village again and everything was fading. He felt relaxed for some reason and sat up. Someone was running towards him, looked like a scavenger.

“Dude, you OK!?” What? Dude? He was clearly american as he was holding a Colt .45 pistol.
“I found it...” Cyril said and fainted.
“What did you find? Dude? What did you find?” He kept asking Cyril but Cyril was unconscious.
Unconscious, but smiling. Oh yes, he found it.
  14:30:08  17 March 2007
profilee-mailreply Message URLTo the Top
Sajeezzar
Senior Resident
 

 
On forum: 03/16/2007
Messages: 1429
I know the literature contest doesnt exist anymore or whatever, but I wanted to get this thing finished.
 
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