2009 - 08 - 24

Toronto Pickering Airport - Private sector #3

“Well hello there, nutcase.”

That was Nikolai’s greeting. I can’t say it wasn’t warranted but it certainly reminded me of the uncomfortable circumstances of our first meeting.

“Good afternoon Nikolai.”

My laid back attitude and greeting got a surprised reaction from him. That wasn’t supposed to be my response in the light of our previous interactions. Or at least that was the impression I got from his raised eyebrows and slightly pursed lips. Or maybe I’m reading too much into the situation but when talking to cutthroats being paranoid is a requirement.

“Alright, listen here nutcase. Here are your permit and all other paperwork. We will arrive in Zhytomyr airport tomorrow morning and drive to Kyiv Forward Base of Operations. You will pose as an entourage for the Russian group of scientists. They already know who you are and you can stay with them until they arrive in Sukachi - a small settlement of locals. Anything after that is your problem. Understood? Great. In Sukachi you will tell us the password and we will part our ways, no need to make everything complicated.”

“Okay. As long as I get there in one piece everything is fine.”

The only indication that the Mafia Boss heard my reply was a grunt and squinted eyes. He turned around and left without bothering himself with anything else. Not that there was much left to talk about. Everything he said right now was already covered before with the guy who made the papers during these last 3 days.

Nikolai made a deal with that scientific expedition group from Russia and I became part of the deal the very last moment. The speed with which everything was accomplished meant that either getting into The Zone wasn’t as complicated as I thought or I somehow lucked out. Doesn’t matter as long I get what I want.

I guess I should be taking this whole business more seriously but I didn’t have it in me. I couldn’t care less about how I got there nor when neither I cared about other details that should have been important if I had taken this whole thing seriously. I was like a mule that was happily trotting along if it didn’t get beaten. Just like that mule, I didn’t bother asking questions, “Where am I going? Why do I need to be there? What is waiting for me when I arrive?”.

This behaviour was completely out of character for me but being diagnosed with cancer almost crumbled my will to resist. So if the end is going to be the same, why not go with the bang, why not hitch a ride and enjoy the view of Hell while at it.

______________________

It was the time to board the plane so I finished my aimless stroll around this small airport and went back to the hanger. This time the doors were open and I could see a small and flimsy cargo plane. Looking at it, I felt doubtful whether this thing could travel across the Atlantic in one piece or not. Picking up my duffel bag stuffed with necessities for a couple of days I went towards that thing.

Near the plane, I could see Nikolai talking to someone who most likely will be our pilot for the trip. I stayed away while they were talking to observe things around the warehouse for a bit and not to intrude in their conversation.

A couple of guys were pushing boxes covered with canvas up the rails. What surprised me the most is how mundane everything looked. Right now these guys were loading up contraband with The Zone being its final destination. They were doing it in the broad daylight, in the middle of a public airport. Such audacity almost made me admire them and Nikolai. Or maybe they had everything covered. I doubt that they would ever feel so generous to explain it all.

“Hey, nutcase! Get ready and board the plane. You sit in the back with the cargo.”

Right now I was really tempted to shoot this motherfucker but it won’t help me one bit. Besides, I didn’t even have a gun with me. Nor did I ever shoot someone else with real guns and bullets…

Now that I think about it, what made me think that I have what it takes to survive in the Zone? Oh right, I was that blasted paranoia and hallucinations. But hey, if I get to sleep in the Zone just like I did these past few days, sign me up.

2009 - 08 - 26

Zhytomyr Airport - Ukraine

Finally, this torment is over. 10 hours across the Atlantic in the cargo section of a metal rusty casket, they called a plane, in a company of those 2 imbeciles whom I met in the club, 4 hours of sleep in the seediest motel I have ever seen, another 9 hours flight with those 2 silent morons, 24 hours of suffering in total, all for this moment.

“Welcome to Ukraine, nutcase!”

_________________________

“Alex, this is Sergeant Honchar, he will show you where you can get your equipment. You have 30 min.”

Nikolai surprised me with his civil introduction, almost to the point that I had to wonder whether I was hearing things. Thankfully he didn’t stick around to see my reaction and moved on.

“Good afternoon, Sergeant Honchar. I am ready to follow your instructions” I said. Instead of trying to outsmart myself and appear to be a soldier, which I never was, I stuck with a greeting appropriate for a civilian.

“Good afternoon, now follow me,” he said. Apparently English wasn’t his strong suit but as long as he spoke Russian I would be fine. I could always pretend that I managed to understand him.

Nobody has interrupted us on our way, which I was somewhat expecting. My civilian getup made me stick out like a sore thumb. Thankfully, my adventure didn’t have a chance to derail in the gutters just yet.

Getting inside the building that was few blocks away from the runway, we moved straight down the hallway and kept going until we saw a metal door, guarded by two young men in the uniform. They gave a crisp salute to the Sergeant and after receiving one in return assumed their previous position. Honchar opened the door and went inside the room with me right behind him.

We stood inside the armoury with walls completely covered by lockers, boxes and shelves with an inordinate amount of weaponry, ammunition and other stuff I had no clue about. Without a delay Sergeant mentioned me towards a crate that stood right next to us.

“This, your” Sergeant didn’t need fluent English to get his point across. I opened the crate with anticipation as well as a good deal of skepticism. Who knows what Nikolai got for his favourite nutcase.

Inside I found a skin-tight piece of clothing that resembled scuba diving wetsuit but significantly thicker and camo coloured. I’ve heard about those. Anti-rad suits designed specifically for the environment of the Zone. With this on you didn’t have to worry about radiation as long as you’ve got your hands and head covered. Of course, the development of this clothing miracle couldn’t go without the new technology that was created thanks to the mysterious qualities of artifacts. But thanks to it I didn’t have to worry about radiation.

Next came in the gas mask. Just your regular, full-head cover, gas mask except for latex that was replaced with the same material used for anti-rad suits. Looking back inside the crate I found everything else: a helmet, boots, gloves, vest, a couple of poaches, a rucksack with a tent and a sleeping bag, a flask and a short coat. From this moment onwards this gear would help me traverse the inhospitable lands of the Chernobyl exclusion zone.

While I was messing around with my gear, Honchar managed to bring a rifle and ammunition. In his hands was the progeny of the legendary AK - 47, the AKM - C. Just like AK, it worked and it shot, relatively accurately at that. Unlike the AK though, it had a shorter barrel, flimsy collapsable stock, same old iron sights and overall mediocre quality. This rifle has left a lot to be desired. But it was the only gun I can take with me so no use whining.

“Get ready. I wait,” said Sergeant Honchar leaving me alone in the room.

At first, I thought that he was awfully trusting towards me but a closer look told me that those 4 cameras weren’t here for nothing.

After getting kitted, I transferred everything I brought with me from the duffel bag into the rucksack and placed my personal items in free pockets. Fixing gas mask to my belt, I picked my AK and was finally ready to put this part of my life behind.

____________________

3 hours later we approached the Perimeter. A 3-meter high barbed-wire wall, with watchtowers standing erect every 300 meters. Taking into consideration the massive territory it surrounded it should have been an impressive sight. If not for the thing it was desperately trying to contain.

Kilometres away I’ve already noticed it. The Chernobyl Exclusion Zone.

Heavy like lead clouds enveloped The Zone. Like a blemish, they stained the view of the horizon, not allowing you to move your gaze away. The closer you got the more oppressive it felt, like a grey giant’s hand always hanging above your head, ready to fall and crush you beneath its fingers. That suffocating presence became more and more obvious with every meter the closer we got.

Looking around myself I noticed I wasn’t the only one that was affected. Ivan and Andrei, Nikolai’s bodyguards who sat with me, were clearly uncomfortable. Their eyes were looking everywhere but in the front, as if they were not looking, it would not exist. Nikolai, on the other hand, was staring without moving a muscle. He was staring down the dangerous predator and stood still, knowing that a single movement would spell his doom.

“Приготовьтесь, подъезжаем к блокпосту! (Get ready, we are arriving at the checkpoint)” said Sergeant Honchar and brought us from our reverie.

I waited until Nikolai repeated it in English, took out the documents and waited for the truck to stop.

A few minutes later someone slightly opened up the canvas that was blocking the entrance, looked inside and closed it back again. No inspection, no nothing.

“Don’t worry, it’s all has been taken care of. Nobody will check anything,” said Nikolai.

“Как твой русский? На русском говорить можешь? (How is your Russian? Do you know enough to speak?)” he asked.

Figuring that he somehow found out about it, I openly admitted it and continued our conversation in Russian:

“Yeah, good enough. How did you find out?”

“Don’t take me for an idiot. It was obvious.” was his reply.

I doubt that it was obvious, I am almost certain that he was intentionally gauging my reaction all the time he spoke Russian in my presence but I didn’t show anything. Then I realized. Honchar. He figured it out and told Nikolai. And here I was thinking that I was overly paranoid while Nikolai already managed to figure out whatever I was hiding. A dangerous man indeed, Max.