Lost Count

Rescue

Krest was a good companion. He knew the surface well, or at least the expanse of the Volga. Artyom took every word of advice he had to heart, working on keeping himself calm even during this stressful time. Krest was smart, and quiet, and damn good at sneaking about through the cover of night. He knew how to avoid the mutants, and often went first through the reeds to scope out possible danger.

"So, bratukha, who's this that's got you so high strung? You're acting like this guy is your wife or something," Krest commented as they walked alongside the river. Artyom had been able to get a handle on himself shortly after they left, explaining a few things to his companion before falling silent again. Now he looked away and gritted his teeth. Was it that obvious? He'd have to be more careful. Krest, for all of his usefulness and wit, was still a wild card in Artyom's book. He didn't know the man's values, his goals, anything. So he just shook his head and kicked a stone as they passed by it, flinging it into the water with a soft splash. "Alright, you don't have to say anything. I'll meet your friend soon enough."

Good. Drop the subject. He didn't want to hear any more about Pavel or his relationship with him. He'd probably give Pavel a good thrashing the next time he saw him though, for making him worry so much. This world was undoubtedly more dangerous than the Metro, easy to get lost and ambushed by a pack of ravenous mutants. And distraction would kill you. They spent the rest of the journey in silence, punctuated by the odd whisper of directions. They kept an eye out for any structures or disturbances, anything where someone could get lost. Nothing. Nothing out of the ordinary, at least.

Krest tapped Artyom's shoulder, getting his attention. There was an old tower, rusted and bent. Below it were a few scare trees and bushes. It was something to check out, at least. Artyom nodded and stalked over to it, keeping his gun at the ready just in case of a mutant hiding in the shadows. One could never be too careful. A quick glance to his watch read 3:47; close to sunrise. It would be good to find Pavel now and return to the Aurora for some much-needed rest. Artyom could feel the fatigue beginning to set in. He kept his eyes to the ground and to the short stalks of plants, searching for any evidence that someone had passed through here.

"Artyom!" Krest whisper-shouted, getting his attention. He was standing next to a tree and crouching on the ground. Artyom rushed over to see that he was on top of a hole of sorts, leading down into a small bunker. And inside it...

Pavel!

Artyom was on his knees within the second, fumbling with taking most of his gear off in order to lower himself down into the hole where Pavel lay unconscious. He must have fallen. "Watch it!" Krest grabbed his shoulder, drawing attention to the now frantic clicking of his Geiger-counter. It was going crazy, almost haywire. "You can't just go down there!" But his words had no affect. Artyom had been though lethal doses of radiation before; something like this would never stop him. Especially not now, not when someone's life was in the balance. He didn't even know how long Pavel had been down there. A quick hop down was all it took; his breath was short and haggard. He quickly put his gas mask on and took a few deep inhales.

Pavel wasn't looking good. He had curled in on himself and Artyom knelt down to turn him over, frantically feeling for a pulse. Faint. Fluttering. But there. He shook Pavel's shoulders in attempts to wake him, but only got drowsy coughs and mild protests in return. A hand fumbled at the other man's belt in order to unhook his gas mask and secure it onto his face before it was too late. He looked around at their surroundings, making note of the hermetic door and frail grating of the window next to them. On the other side was the valve that commanded the door. Now wasn't the time to be careful and slow.  Now was the time for loud and fast.

Artyom flipped his Kalash around and began vigorously smashing the stock into the rusted grating. It bent and screeched, the old metal not even close to being strong enough to hold up against such an assault. He could hear Krest shouting something from above, but was unable to listen as his mind was overcome with one goal. One need. Only one thing to even think about.