Taking Lives

Chapter 2. Baptism by Fire (2)

"And how did a foreigner end up among you?" he asked, referring to the professor.

"The professor isn't a foreigner. He just has an unusual first and last name," Vorobyov replied immediately.

Sergei fell silent. Seeing that he had no intention of continuing, Oleg took over.

"When the carousel started, it was Bernstein who talked everyone into staying. He revealed that they couldn't save their loved ones, and that they had little chance of dying themselves. True, at first everyone was afraid of a tribunal—a military court—but then it became clear there was simply no one to punish them. So now no one holds a grudge against the professor; quite the contrary, after all, he saved everyone's skins."

Oleg smiled slightly, showing yellowish teeth, and continued.

"Of course, as has now become clear, many survived, but the professor estimates that about seventy percent of our planet's population perished. After the epidemic began, until the world completely collapsed, the professor maintained contact with some of his buddies for some time, receiving all sorts of information from them, and thus scraped together some knowledge about the virus, which, if it didn't help us survive, at least allowed us to understand what was happening in the world," he concluded.

Then everyone sank into their own thoughts. Andrey was pondering what he'd just heard; the others weren't particularly talkative either, only occasionally exchanging remarks, warning each other about slopes, ravines, and overly dense thickets. Andrey wasn't afraid of the rough terrain—in this world, almost all roads were rough. But what really bothered him was his bloated stomach, which, after three days of starvation, was taking its revenge on him as best it could—he'd stuffed himself to the brim yesterday, and was paying for it today.

The airfield itself turned out to be surrounded by a minefield on all sides, and on two sides—to the north and east—by a forest, which, as it turned out, was also heavily mined in some places. The colonel informed them of this when they got very close. Having reached the edge of the forest, they saw three hundred meters to the right the twisted and rusty hulk of an armored personnel carrier, which had likely once attempted to cross the minefield. Now it had become an example to other similar kamikazes. After a quick inspection through his binoculars, Gronin chuckled dejectedly.

Andrei had once witnessed what happens when you step on a mine, and the memory lingered long afterward. So now he wasn't thrilled about the prospect of walking through a minefield, the resulting adrenaline temporarily relieving his intestinal problems. But Gronin had no intention of leading the group through a minefield. Why do that when they could take a short detour and enter through the main gate?

However, even from the edge of the forest to the road they walked slowly, following the colonel's footsteps. His imagination conjured up a variety of unpleasant prospects, and Andrei was deeply troubled by them. He felt as if he only needed to take a single step to the side and, who knows, perhaps crows would peck at his remains right next to this wreck...

"Just before the disaster, the military bases were being de-guarded, and the manpower had to be replaced with various alternatives," the colonel began to explain for some reason. "It's not that anyone was afraid of an enemy invasion, but leaving military installations completely unguarded was still unacceptable."

"I don't see any signs anywhere," Rodionov noted, looking around. "Weren't you worried about the possibility of civilian casualties?"

"Max, everything happened in such a rush that we didn't even mine everything we wanted, otherwise we would never have gotten through the forest," Pavel lamented. "And there was no one left to put up barbed wire or signs. So we abandoned everything and ran away."

“Well, thank God, otherwise I almost thought they’d been stolen,” Max said cheerfully.

Everyone laughed, and only Gronin limited himself to a short chuckle.

“Yes, in our country this is also possible,” the colonel shook his head.

The airfield itself was surrounded by a fence of barbed wire stretched in rows, serving as a formal perimeter marker. There were no gates at the airfield entrance, so the group soon found themselves examining the runway, which was gradually being overrun by the ubiquitous weeds pushing through cracks in the asphalt. Directly ahead of them stood a row of dilapidated hangars with leaky roofs and wide-open gates. Not all the hangars were visible from here, but those in front of them spoke volumes about the state of the others. There were clearly no aircraft there. There were piles of rusty junk, leaky roofs, and an utterly depressing atmosphere.

Away from the hangars were several concrete structures and a flight control tower. The colonel sent Oleg, Vorobyov, and Jerry to inspect the hangars, while the rest headed for the tower.

Andrey was right in expecting to find complete desolation inside. There was nothing here. Absolutely nothing. Even the control room equipment had been dismantled and carted away. All that remained were metal skeletons, scraps of wire, and the remains of broken chairs. Wind howled ominously through the broken windows, as if trying to frighten and drive away those who entered.

Gronin silently bit his lip, watching all this from the threshold of the control room. The restless Rodionov walked around the wreckage, kicking the unruly wires. Then he cast a questioning glance at Pavel.

"Yes, Max, let's go," he agreed with a sigh. "Let's take a look at the residential block."