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Deadly Misfortune

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  12:02:40  10 April 2006
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On forum: 07/31/2003
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Deadly Misfortune


The rain slammed into the Kamaz truck windshields, hindering the drivers' visibility as the three-truck convoy rumbled along the un-maintained, muddy road. Their headlights illuminated the dense fog which gripped them like a ghostly hand. With his hands bound tightly by a piece of parachute cord, Kim Sartain lay in the back of one of the Kamaz trucks. A grainy potato sack covered his beat up head.

He heard a swift swing, and then felt a terrible crash of pain evolve around his stomach as an object crashed into him. Kim winced in pain, and thoughts screamed inside of his head. «How in the world did I get into this? A stupid mistake, or just a dumb decision!» He cursed, and listened to the rain pattering against the canvas covers of the trucks.

There was a faint click of a lighter, and the smell of tobacco filled the musty compartment. He listened as someone inhaled deeply, and then a few seconds later, exhaled. Kim stretched out his leg, and instantly someone barked out, «What do you think you„re doing!» There was a clank, and Kim felt the cold feeling of fear run throughout his body as a rush of air came down at him. Something heavy and solid nailed him in the head and blackness swept around him.


Kim, a dark featured, short, and muscular man in his late twenties, sprinted through the thickly wooded area. Branches tore at his face. He breathed in deep and cursed as he heard the familiar, high-pitched squealing noise behind him. Never-the-less, he stayed focused on the fast approaching objects ahead of him. His AK-47 rifle strap caught on the brush and tore off, causing Kim„s shoulder to graze an oak tree, and he stumbled. He regained his balance quickly and continued onward, through the heavy brush ahead of him. At last, he broke through, and he rejoiced as he saw a small, abandoned town up ahead.

Picking out a solid, concrete radio tower, Kim made a dash for it. He climbed the steps and turned to look back. The brush he just came from shook, and a carpet of deadly rats scampered toward him. Kim squeezed the trigger of his AK-47, and it jolted in his hands as it spit out hot lead into the pack. Then, he turned to the steel door entrance of the radio tower, and gave it a hard, solid kick, and it swung open. Kim entered, and slammed the door shut.

Blinded by the sudden darkness, he grabbed for his flashlight and switched it on. A heavy file cabinet sat five feet away, and Kim quickly slid it across the tile floor, blocking the door. Then, crouching against it, he took out a small, portable, electric lantern from his pouch, and turned it on. As the room lit up, Kim observed the small room; two metal doors, some shelves, and the file cabinet. Something slammed up against the outside door, and the file cabinet shook. Kim checked his AK-47, making sure it was ready.

Kim was part of a small group of stalkers known as the Vipers. He joined with the hopes of becoming one of the best. But the line of work was rewarding enough alone. He had entered the Chernobyl Zone three times, with this being the fourth. Ever since the Chernobyl accident, the surrounding land had been closed off. Dangers lurked everywhere. Strange anomalies and weather effects began to appear. Despite the dangers, the Zone was filled with many unique artifacts that could be sold for a high price. Small groups, called stalkers, slipped past the Russian patrols and explored the Zone in hopes of finding artifacts. There was another slam at the outside door, and the file cabinet shook once again. Kim cleaned his AK-47 and set it within a easy arms reach. He camped there for the night.

The dead beat of rotors awoke Kim. Grabbing his AK-47, he gathered his supplies. He pushed the file cabinet aside, and opened the door slightly. The sound grew noticeably louder, and he saw a MI-24 Hind hovering 50 yards down the main road. The chopper was unmarked, and Kim quickly shut the door. He turned to the other metal door, which blocked him from entering further into the Radio complex. Twisting the door handle, he creaked it open, and entered a room which appeared to be the observation deck. From there he observed the chopper more closely. A heavy, black rope swung down, and camouflaged solders, armed with what appeared to be FN2000s, slid down. Kim peered through his optical to get a closer look. He noticed that the soldiers were unmarked, like the chopper, and they appeared to be Russian.

A shock ran through Kim as he realized that he must be viewing The Russian„s dreaded, special force, the Spitnaz. «What the hell are they doing here!» Kim mumbled. He counted twelve of them sliding down. Then the chopper lifted and its massive frame turned and leaned forward, it veered and set a course toward the horizon.

The Spitnaz force split up into pairs, and moved into various buildings, as though to be checking out the area. Thinking quickly, Kim scanned the observation deck, and found what he wanted; a man-sized vent on the plastered wall. Without delay, he creaked the vent open and slid on in. Quickly, he refastened the vent, and hoped for the best.

No sooner had he found cover, Kim was startled as a figure passed by the vent and stopped. The hair on Kim„s neck stood on end, and he held his breath. He wondered how the Spitnaz could have made it up there so fast. Kim squinted his eyes and tried to get a clearer veiw, but the figure was in a corner, blanketed by the dark shadows. It turned and scurried toward the stairs and Kim choked as he saw the outline of the figure more clearly. «If that„s a Spitnaz, then they have huge heads," Kim muttered under his breath. Kim-continued to lie in the cramped, but cool vent, not daring to make a move.

The day wore on, and Kim laid there in silence. Hours went by, and soon it was almost dark. Again, he heard the rotors of a chopper growing louder. Kim carefully opened the vent, and slid out. He peaked out through the observation window and was amazed. Down at the main road there were six Spitnazs, gathered around a small container.

«They must have found something," Kim thought. He looked up. The chopper was about two miles out, and coming closer. «They must have been on a mission," he concluded. «They must have gotten something really good! Why the hell else would the Spitnaz come out here, and be sitting there with a container!» Kim looked up again as the beat of the chopper got slightly louder.

«This is my chance! There„s got to be something in that container, and I want it," Kim muttered with determination. Taking action, he took aim at one of the Spitnazs, and he let loose. His gun let out a roar, and a bright orange, amber light flew from his rifle as it kicked in his arms. The glass shattered and he saw one of the Spitnaz fall, and two others stumble.

A split second later, there was a stream of steady lead being pelted into the observation deck. Kim ducked down as something whizzed by his head. He rolled down the stairs and ran down a short hallway. He kicked open the door, and glanced down the road. The container sat abandoned, in the middle of the road. «The Spitnaz must have ducked for cover," thought Kim.

Suddenly, a bullet whizzed past, making a loud thud as it collided into the wall. Kim ducked back into the hallway, and unhooked three smoke grenades form his flak vest. He pulled the pins and quickly chucked them down the main road in a straight line, leading right up to the thick brush surrounding the woods. Thick gray smoke spewed from the grenades, and Kim dashed out.

Immediately, fire erupted from all directions. But, the smoke covered his actions well, and kept him one step ahead. He reached the container and grabbed it. It felt heavy, and something in it shook as he bounded through the smoky lane. Asphalt pelted his legs as bullets nailed the ground behind him. Passing the second smoke grenade, he sprinted into the third cloud of smoke.

Instantly, he knew his deadly mistake, as he inhaled. He felt his head start to spin, and his vision went blurry, he made a daring leap out of the deadly cloud, and hit the ground hard. Kim realized he must have grabbed a gas grenade along with the two other smoke grenades. He gasped for breath, then puked. The container fell from his grip, and he heard the chopper above him.

A Spitnaz turned him over and smashed his face into the dirt. Then he tied Kim„s hands together tightly. Heaving him up, the Spitnaz jabbed his gun into Kim„s back.

Kim shot a glance upwards, and saw the chopper begin its landing. The pilot„s head suddenly jerked back, and the helicopter tipped to its side and smashed into the radio tower, causing a massive explosion of bright light and a deathly, ear-piercing boom! The Spitnaz threw Kim down and strapped on a wire attachment to his helmet and cried over his radio,

«Its a controller!, Where is it!»

A voice crackled back, «Sarge, no visual yet!»

The Spitnaz cursed, and grabbed Kim. «You, get out there," he ordered. «You„re our bait!»

Kim was shoved down, into the open road. As he glanced around, an unknown force gripped his brain, and he stumbled, and fell back. An oddly shaped figure with huge, sickening eyes caught Kim„s attention. It stood on the roof of a storage garage, and its white, fleshy body swayed back and forth. Kim yelled out, «The roof…!» But the force on his brain suddenly grew tighter, and pain plunged through his body. A loud ringing screamed inside his head and his whole body went numb. An unknown outside force navigated him around in a circle, and he smacked into a wall. Gun fire exploded around him, or at least he thought it did.

It stopped, and he fell to the ground. The ringing was gone and he could move again. The physical powers of the alein-like controller was gone, and pain once again filled his body. He turned about, and peered into the barrel of a FN2000.

«Nice work! I knew stalkers were good for something," taunted the Spitnaz, who then spoke into a radio, «I got both the bastards. Call for plan B and get those trucks rolling in here! Over and out!»

«Roger! Calling in trucks," crackled back the radio. They waited for the trucks.


Kim awoke. His head ached, and the potato sack was still on. Bright beams of light trickled through the tiny holes, and Kim realized he was in an upward position. His hands were wrapped around a wooden post. He heard voices, and footsteps. Something yanked at the potato sack, and it came loose. Kim was blinded by the sun, and he could barely make out the figure of a man, who muttered, «Good morning!»

Then the man walked back to what appeared to be a line of men. And fear once again struck Kim, as he heard the cocks of rifles, and the all too familiar yell of, «FIRE!»
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