Roadside Picnic

"For the day is nigh,” Gutalin announced “For the white steed is saddled and his rider has put his foot in the stirrup. And the prayers of those who have sold themselves to Satan are in vain. Only those who have renounced him will be saved. You, children of man who were seduced by the devil, who play with the devil's toys, who dig up Satan's treasures—I say unto you: you are blind! Awake, you bastards, before it's too late! Trample the devil's trinkets!” He stopped, as though he had forgotten what came next. “Can I get a drink here?” he suddenly asked in a different voice. “You know, Red, I've been canned again. Said I was an agitator. I keep explaining to them: Awake, blind ones, you're falling into the pit and taking others with you! They just laughed. So I punched the shop leader in the nose and split. They'll arrest me now. And for what?"

Dick came over and put the bottle on the table.

"It's on me today!” I called to Ernest.

Dick gave me a sidelong look.

"It's perfectly legal,” I said. “We're drinking my bonus check."

"You went into the Zone?” Dick asked. “Bring anything out?"

"A full empty,” I said. “For the altar of science. Are you going to pour that or not?"

"An empty!” Gutalin echoed in sorrow. “You risked your life for some empty! You survived, but you brought another devil's artifact into the world. How do you know, Red, how much of sorrow and sin … "

"Can it, Gutalin,” I said severely. “Drink and rejoice that I came back alive. To success, my friends."

It went over well, the toast to success. Gutalin fell apart completely. He was weeping, the tears streaming like water from a spout. I know him well. It's just a phase. Weeping and preaching that the Zone is the devil's temptation. That we should take nothing out of it and return everything that we've taken. And go on living as though the Zone were not there. Leave the devil's things to the devil. I like him. Gutalin, I mean. I usually like weirdos. When he has money, he buys up the swag without haggling, for whatever price the stalkers ask, and totes it back at night into the Zone and buries it. He was waiting. But he would be stopping soon.

"What's a full empty?” Dick asked. “I know what a plain empty is, but this is the first time I've ever heard of a full one."

I explained it to him. He nodded and smacked his lips.

"Yes, that's very interesting. Something new. Who did you go with? The Russian?"

"Yes, with Kirill and Tender. You know, our lab assistant."

"They must have driven you crazy."

"Nothing of the kind. They behaved quite well. Especially Kirill. He's a born stalker. He just needs a little more experience, to break him of his hurrying, and I'd go into the Zone every day with him."

"And every night?” he asked with a drunken smirk.

"Drop it. A joke's a joke."

"I know. A joke's a joke, but it can get me into a lot of trouble. I owe you one."

"Who gets one?” Gutalin got excited. “Which one is it?"

We grabbed him by the arms and got him back in his chair. Dick stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it. We calmed him down. Meanwhile more and more people were coming in. The bar was crowded and many of the tables were taken. Ernest had gotten his girls and they were bringing drinks to the customers—beer, cocktails, vodka. I noticed that there were a lot of new faces in town lately, mostly young punks with long bright scarves hanging to the floor. I mentioned it to Dick. Dick nodded.

"What do you expect? They're starting a lot of construction. The institute is putting up three new buildings and besides that they're planning to wall off the Zone from the cemetery to the old ranch. The good times are over for the stalkers."

"When were the good old days for stalkers?” I said. There you go, I thought, what's all this new stuff? I guess I won't be able to make a few bucks on the side any more. Maybe it's for the best. Less temptation. I'll go into the Zone in the daytime, like a decent citizen. The money's not the same, of course, but it's a lot safer. The boot, the special suit, and so on, and no worries with the border patrol. I can live on my salary, and I'll booze it up on the bonuses. Then I got really depressed. Penny-pinching again: I can afford this, I can't afford that. I'd have to save up to buy Guta the crummiest rag, no more bars, just cheap movies. It was bleak. Every day was gray, and every evening, and every night.

I was sitting there thinking, and Dick was yelling in my ear.

"Last night at the hotel I went into the bar for a nightcap. There were some new guys there. I didn't like their looks at all. One comes over to me and starts a conversation in a roundabout way, lets me know that he knows me, knows what I do, where I work, and hints that he's ready to pay good money for various services."

"An informer,” I said. I wasn't very interested. I've had my fill of informers and little talks about services.