Creative Writing: The Stalker

Words: 1223
Pages: 5

“Come on, you used to love this when we were kids!” a man complained to another, hefting his RPK-74 onto his shoulder, while his partner groggily crawled out of his sleeping bag with a deep scowl on his face.
“Being out in the woods, poking and pointing sticks like they were guns...”
“I’m sorry, Vadim,” the second man replied.
“But if I remember correctly, the woods outside your mother’s house did not have bloodsuckers behind every other tree.” Vadim chuckled to himself, “And she would cook fresh borscht after our little adventures, too.”

The remark earned a deep chuckle from his friend as they began their way through the brush. Vadim, careful not to trip over a bundle of branches, went around through a clump of dead plants.
“And I remember
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He squeezed the trigger, and his rifle fired true, blasting a gory hole through the mutant. The others were scared, but they didn’t run off. They stuck what they had for heads up in the air, trying to sniff him out.

“Good luck.” He quietly muttered under his breathe.

He aimed for the next and fired again, killing another of the beasts. After a few more shots, the last mutant dropped dead. Vadim surveyed for a few more seconds to make sure, but nothing new showed up.

He picked up his rifle and began walking back towards his friend.
He dropped the last bit of displaced earth on the mound and pat it down. He strapped his shovel to his pack and pulled out a large bottle. He took a sip for his friend, and the hard liquid burned its way down to the pit of his stomach. Vadim sighed in appreciation. Vodka, like all alcohol, got better with age, and that particular bottle he found in a mostly destroyed building that had looked no younger than sixty years. They had been saving it for when they finally decided to leave the Zone, riches on their backs and memories in their