of my grandfather, as he used it in Stalingrad. I hated it.”
“What do you mean, hated it?”
“I am a poet, that's why you heard me reciting poems. I wrote about life. This... thing was designed to take life from people." Grigori thumped his hand on the gun, and almost went to throw it away.
“Now I can't even go anywhere without it. It's like a curse, a curse I have to carry in my pack. Do you know, Anatoliy? I've never even used it. At least not since my father had me try it out." Grigori looked at him. Grigori's father had tried to get him to do some target shooting when he was given the gun.
“Never? Not even in this place? I find that difficult to believe.” Anatoliy replied, looking around them both. “This place is a cursed land, full of thieves, vagabonds, criminals who would rather kill than barter and trade. No, I don't believe you have not used it here. What makes you so special around these parts?”
Grigori paused before replying. “I'm nothing special. Some people call me Wanderer, and I learn things pretty quickly. I trade information, gather knowledge for people. I just seem to understand what's really happening, like between the lines. Usually I stay in Mineral'nye Vody, and for some extra money I'll look up a club, usually just a place in a basement of some ruined hotel, and recite poetry.”
Anatoliy looked interested. “You recite poetry? Very good, very good, I like it that you are a trader of information, a valuable commodity especially around here and in these times. I would like to know..." He was cut off by a howl, sounding much closer than before. Turning, he beckoned Grigori closer. Grigori grabbed his gun and pack, and searched quickly to find one of the ammo drums he had. Getting one, he checked it, and loaded it in, but for now, decided to keep the safety on.
Anatoliy had grabbed his pack too, and pulled out a machine gun, a AKS-74u, already loaded with a magazine, and equipped with a laser pointer sight. Anatoliy looked and saw surprise on Grigori's face, and just smiled.
“I know what you're thinking, Grigori,” he said, tapping his weapon, “how did a man like me come across a weapon like this?"
“Well, not really.” he replied, slowly. “I've seen some fine weapons carried by the gangs out here, but a laser sight. Now that is something exceptional.”
“Ah, my little precious. Yes an excellent addition to such a fine gun. Let's keep these nearby, huh? Sounds like we will be having some fun tonight." Anatoliy's calm voice helped to soothe Grigori's nerves.
They sat again in silence for some time. The wind had picked up a little now, and it was completely dark. The clouds had covered much of the sky, although small areas of the cloud broke off and they could see the stars beyond. The rustling of the leaves in the nearby trees became ominous, eerie, as if it were masking the approach of whatever it was out there. Anatoliy, suddenly coming to life, turned to Grigori.
“Tell me one of your poems, like you read in the club." He asked.
“Huh?”, Grigori replied, slightly startled and unsure what to make of this request. “No, I can't. Most of them are usually miserable poems for people who have drunk too much vodka. I don't tend to recite those outside of the clubs.”
Anatoliy still looked interested. “Please, for me, just one.”
Grigori let out a sigh. He stared at the flickering fire, deep in thought for a moment, then looked up to the darkness beyond.
“I have one, it's an old one from when I was a student. I hope you'll like it, it's quite short too." He turned to Anatoliy and started to recite:
“All my life is a speck of sand,
A moment in the history of time.
How long have I got, I do not know,
just my existence as undefined.
Move on, move on, always forwards,
Never looking back.
Move on, move on, keep on going,
Never giving slack.”
Grigori stopped. Anatoliy was still looking intently at him, his eyes full of life. This made Grigori uncomfortable. After what seemed like an infinite silence, Anatoliy finally spoke.
“That was pretty good, Wanderer, I liked that, short and to a point. It reminds me a lot of the old communist songs they used to sing, many years ago. Hopefully if we see the dawn tomorrow I would like to hear some more. I feel we're not going to get much sleep tonight. You're not tired, are you Wanderer?”
“Not much,” Grigori replied, “all this talking has kept me quite awake. I'd like to know more about you, Anatoliy. Where are you from?”
“Please, call me Sunrise. You'll remember that name much better. I'm not really from anywhere, you could say. Just been around, that's all.”
Grigori looked puzzled. “Not from anywhere? Surely you must remember where you were born?”
“Not really. My... my father said that I had been born outside, they were on their way back from visiting friends in a nearby town. That's why my mother, she had complications. It was winter, very cold. I know that much." Anatoliy looked away, out into the darkness. “So, in answer to your question, I'm not from anywhere, but I know where I was born – here in the wild lands. It's here I'll die one day, I suppose.”
“Okay,” Grigori said, apologetically, “I'm sorry. I guess curiosity gets the better of me sometimes. It's what I do.”
“Yes, you're right. You get and trade information. If we make it through the night, I have some information for you." Anatoliy stared hard at Grigori, making him feel nervous.
“Anyway, Wanderer!” Anatoliy's faced changed in an instant from the fierce stare to a much lighter look. “We need to keep an eye out for these beasts. I reckon they'll be coming from the east of Lermontov, over where the woods are on the outskirts of the city." He pointed off in the general direction. “I say we watch the city itself, and the east area near those hills. You can see the city there, and some people have lit fires in the ruins.”
As Anatoliy described his ideas, Grigori looked towards Lermontov. He could see the faint lights of fires, burning on the tops of the larger buildings at the outskirts. These fires would show weary travellers a safe entrance gate, and ward off any unwelcome animals that would come out on these darker nights. It was too far and dangerous to walk the distance in this darkness, their hope was the fire would keep burning and the clouds would not bring rain, or that they would clear from the sky and allow the moonlight to shine.
Another howl, much closer now. Anatoliy cocked his weapon, and flicked the safety catch off. Grigori did the same. The howl became a snarling. The change in tone meant that one of these beasts had caught a scent, and had started to trace where it was coming from. They had found them!
A sharp crack startled Grigori. Anatoliy laughed as they heard a snarl turn to a tormented yelp, and finally a thud as the unseen creature hit the ground. He had fired first, but he had the advantage of the laser sight.
“Got him!” he said, almost ecstatic. “Single shot to the head. The only problem now, the rest know we're here. Keep your eyes peeled, Wanderer.”
Grigori looked at Anatoliy, and nodded. He turned and scanned the darkness to the east of the city. He could hear a shuffling, snorting sound. Deciding where the sound was coming from, he pulled the trigger.
It had been a long time since he had fired a gun, and it surprised him so much he nearly forgot to release the trigger. Once he had, he heard a final snort, mixed with gurgling, then a thump as the beast fell to the ground. He could not even see it.
“Very good, Wanderer! Less bullets next time, perhaps?" Anatoliy remarked, somewhat sarcastically.
“Sorry, my fault. I've not used this for a long time." Grigori replied. He looked at his weapon, then looked back out into the dark. It had gone quiet again, save for the rustling of the trees by them. They both stood, waiting for the next round.
A snorting, snarling sound erupted from the east, towards the hills. Grigori could hear a thump-thump loudly as the animals, whatever shape they were, ran towards them. Us
ing his ears, he pointed his gun in the direction of the sound and fired. The report of the gun cut through the sound of the animals feet. He kept his finger on the trigger, spraying the nearby darkness with bullets until the drum was spent. At the final click, he let go of his breath.
“Well," Anatoliy called over, “you certainly want to make sure they're dead, Wanderer!" He was almost laughing. Grigori just looked out into the dark of the night, and Anatoliy quickly returned to watching too.
After a few minutes without any more noises, Anatoliy relaxed. Seeing him ease back, Grigori decided to relax too. They both went and sat by the fire again, with Grigori getting some more sticks from the pile and stoking the fire back to full life again. Sparks drifted into the night sky, as they both followed them they looked up at the dark clouds.
“That was some good shooting, my friend.” Anatoliy said, finally looking at Grigori. “Not bad at all. Just a shame to waste all those bullets.”
“Th.. thanks, I guess." Grigori replied, looking back at Anatoliy. It seemed to him they had gotten closer, maybe the adrenaline, the fear, had somehow bonded them. They both had to survive.
“No problem. I
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