Opalescence- the Secret of Pripyat Page 9

  —Why?

  She bit her lip again, this time until she bled.

  —Oh nothing, some old stories… Oleksandr is a good person. He had a difficult life, that’s all. That must explain his mood swings.

  She didn’t seem to want to say anything more.

  —Tell me again about Duga, did Andrei go back?

  —I think he goes from time to time. He has doubts about the solidity of the structure. Didn’t he explain it to you? It is still more than 30 years old and has not been maintained for ages. But the sunsets are beautiful, they say. What is your next goal?

  —You know, sometimes I think about giving up and leaving.

  —Don’t do that. Don’t do that.

  The tone of his voice had suddenly changed. Amanda seemed almost threatening to me.

  —I mean, that would be a shame. We make a good team. I’m sure we’ll get what we want. We’re making progress every day.

  I remained silent. In front of my apparent scepticism, she stopped and pressed my arm. She stared at me and said only one word.

  —Stay.

  The magnetism of his gaze had enough to be persuasive. It pierced the defences, charmed me as much as it frightened me.

  We arrived near a glade where some houses seemed to have remained away from the villages. It was an old farmhouse with a barn and a few silos. We went around the small courtyard at the front of the house. Gardening tools were still present. I had the feeling that the departure of the occupants had been very recent. The interior was clean and seemed to be well maintained. Bread was standing in the kitchen as if someone would arrive any minute to cut it up. Barely dusty newspapers were stacked on the ground. Amanda broke the silence: “I think I knew her. This Babushka died a short time ago. She didn’t seem particularly touched. The tone of his voice betrayed a certain detachment. Perhaps she was expecting this discovery?

  We were entering the second room. The bedroom was tiny and had no furniture, except for a single bed in very poor condition. The mattress was pretty thick, but pretty rustic. The patterns were discoloured and almost imperceptible. I realised that I had missed a detail. A Post-it was stuck to the door. He mentioned Kopatchi. It was a small village located west of the Pripyat River. After the evacuations, the decision was made to bury the houses in order to avoid returns and deter looters. They were now buried under clay mounds and radioactive hazard warning signs. Very few buildings had escaped this fate. Kindergarten was one of them. It had therefore not been spared from looting. Evil beings would come here and steal things or ransack the place.

  I examined the Post-it. It must have been hung recently. The writing was blurry and hasty. It could have been mine. I tore off the piece of paper and buried it in my pocket. I didn’t know what to do with it, but my instinct was to keep it safe.

  Amanda put her head in the embrace: ‘I’m tired, let’s go back to Pripyat.’

  ***

  The darkness was in motion, slipping everywhere to flood the most remote areas with shadows and blackness. I decided to go up to the roof of the building. The night was cool and dotted with opal-coloured stars. I smoked a cigarette, observing the constellations and the celestial vault. These bright stars were perfectly visible due to the absence of light pollution and other urban distractions. It is said that at certain times you could even see Saturn. I was trying to distinguish what my imagination was whispering at me. The smoke from my cigarette was rising in the sky towards the distant stars. My gaze was lost in this cosmic enigma, one more, where deep secrets seemed to be buried. I thought that each luminous star represented as many truths as one would have to grasp and clash to obtain an answer to the existential questions that pulled me. I was thinking about the future, the anguish that was coming.

  My eyes were drawn by a movement: a silhouette came to join me on the roof. She sat in a suit in front of me. Amanda’s tears were slowly running down her face. They seemed almost too clear. Were they false?

  —Are you not asleep? I asked.

  —Impossible. I don’t intend to,” she replied. Insomnia strikes me as much as you do.

  —You know, sometimes I wonder. If I leave this place, will I be able to come back?

  —Of course, you’ve already done it.

  —What do you mean?” I exclaimed in a hostile voice.

  —You really don’t remember anything? she whispered as she sobbed.

  I remained mute, my eyes dark.

  —You came here eight months ago…

  —What are you talking about?! I shouted.

  —That is the truth. You know the Zone as well as we do. You know that deep down inside. You just forgot it…

  —That’s enough! That’s enough! I don’t trust you anymore. You turned my brain over, you’re even worse than the other two.

  She took my hand and pressed it vigorously against hers.

  —Please…

  His gaze was both desirable and despicable. I could have kissed her as well as killed her right now. I pushed her away violently. She fell heavily to the ground, her face covered with tears.

  —Get out of here! I don’t need you anymore.

  Indifferent to my protests, she stood up and grabbed hold of me more beautifully, her cries redoubling in intensity.

  —Please don’t go, please.

  I freed my hands and let out an even more unbridled brutality by pushing it hard. It was on the edge of the roof, only a thin cornice separated it from the void. Her eyes were swollen with despair. I turned my back on him and went down the ladder that led to the ground.

  Should I believe her? Was she trustworthy? I was clenching my teeth, shaken by rage. No, she was exactly like the others, manipulative and driven by her own interests. From the beginning she had been playing me. I was more and more convinced of it, his gentle features concealed a pernicious being. May she rot in hell! I wished her death. As for me, I would continue on my way, my fists clenched and my heart full of anger.

  I cannot assess the extent of this time gap. I was possessed by a throbbing vertigo. The trees seemed identical, but the horizon, yes, the horizon seemed clearer. The cold was less biting while the wind was almost conciliatory. But I wasn’t crazy, it was still snowing. I could see the snowflakes falling. Were they real? I hastened to grab them with my hands and apply them to my face as if to convince myself of their existence. The effect was chilling. Yes, I was experiencing these sensations well. The gel crystals melted, dripping on my cheeks, and I cried with joy. I wasn’t mad. Winter had not gone, I had only been in the exclusion zone for a few days. I was always the same, clairvoyant and intrepid. I had been lied to. The villains. Of course they lied to me. I dreamed of twisting their necks, nailing their faces and hanging their carcasses in the Red Forest. Yes, that’s what they deserve. As these violent thoughts poured into me, I felt the usual pain: the recurring and unbearable headache that came back. I felt that someone, something was drumming against my brain, like a door being pushed down with a ram. The pain made me sweat and pant. I pressed my skull frantically into the frozen ground, desperate for an escape from this ordeal, for a more suitable end. The cold was real. The horizon had darkened. The blizzard’s grin was about to ring out. I closed my eyes as if blinding myself would hide my pain and repel the nightmare that was spreading inside me. Finally, winter had never dispersed. He had maintained himself, inflexible, as if persuaded to defeat me. I thought he had succeeded. I planned to surrender, stop this excess suffering and put an end to the anxiety. I no longer really knew who I was, what shaped me and what pushed me to act. I felt deprived of my conscience. My ego was gone. My past existence had been annihilated. I had become a near-human. A naked being, empty of substance and promised to a wandering identity whose end could not be other than a painful death. Tears were flowing. A fragment of humanity was still sleeping in me. The tear fluid was warm and drowned my eyes as if to purify my suffering. I had to run away. An inner voice was whispering at me to disappear. The idea was as sne
aky as its author. It had invaded me like a torrent, carrying everything in its path, until it reached me in the depths of my heart. I was trying to resist that intention, that temptation that was mine. The dilemma was tenacious, I couldn’t stand this confrontation anymore.

  Chapitre 7 — Fracas

  10ème jour dans la Zone.

  An owl was hollering. I unfolded the tent near an imposing conifer, preparing myself to spend yet another night in the Zone. I had somewhat lost track of the hours as if the perception of temporality had been affected by radioactivity. It was impossible for me to sleep. Slumber was playing me. Sneakily, Morpheus attracted me and then moved away enough to keep me frustrated and awake.

  To keep myself busy, I decided to watch the videotapes of the camera we had placed with Andrei. I was curious about what the images could reveal. I had the recording of the last two days unfolded in chronological order.

  I was a little unsettled to see myself under the effect of a thermal representation so much it made me look like an intruder. On the screen, Andrei and I could be seen walking around in the buggy garage, hiding the device before we retired. Then it was nothingness. As the hours passed, no movement was taking shape. The room was empty, orphaned by any human presence. I accelerated the scrolling. Still nothing. There was only the last day of registration corresponding to today. Finally, at 6:00 p.m. the image came to life. A silhouette appeared in the camera field. My pulse rushed. I immediately switched back to real speed. The individual moved quickly and precisely. Obviously, he had already broken in here and had his bearings. The man seemed tall and strong, but was unrecognisable. It was just a cluster of purple colours and more or less yellow tones. He didn’t come alone. A second person accompanied him, much more ill at ease and with softer, less confident movements. A projector had been turned on and placed on the side. The thermal camera was panicking. Coloured slicks merged into a psychedelic mixture. With the room now lit, I was afraid that the camera would not be sufficiently hidden.

  The two men stayed for more than an hour. They seemed to have come only to talk so much they didn’t want to interact with the room. One of them, the tall one, seemed to be holding a notepad. He wrote and drew frantically, pointing things out to his sidekick. Then it was his turn to express himself. The first one had his hands on his hips and walked a hundred paces listening to him. His body language betrayed a clear domination in his relationship with the second individual. The latter seemed more obedient than cooperative. Paradoxically, he seemed calmer as if he had a greater distance from their situation, from the problem that occupied their debate. I cursed myself for not having the sound. I was intrigued by their conversation. What was the justification for a clandestine meeting in this hard-to-reach building? Why did the tall one seem so tense, so anxious? Finally, the discussion stopped. The forecastle repacked the projector while the second one stuffed the notepad into a bag. The two individuals escaped from the room. The colours disappeared and the video became monotonous again. I turned off my phone.

  The night was troubled. I must say that my subconscious was fertile. Fantastic spectra and visions had followed one another without any coherence. My tormented sleep was abruptly broken by a crashing noise. Worried, I woke up with a start, my senses alert and my forehead soaked in sweat. The nocturnal calm contrasted with my agitation.

  Did I hear that shot?

  I had the greatest difficulty distinguishing dream from reality. My imagination had been so stimulated recently that my mind had turned into a double-edged sword. He was playing tricks on me, hurting me and shattering my perception of reality.

  Had I really heard that scream?

  I remembered Andrei’s story and his attack outside the Jupiter factory. My skin was oozing fear. My camp was exposed, visible to anyone who approached it without even looking for it. I was trapped. Instinctively, I grabbed my knife, a meagre defence for the terror that animated me. Outside, the wind was roaring, making the branches and fasteners of my tent squeak.

  Was I alone in this forest?

  It was not the wolves that frightened me, but human beings. Despite the cold, I was sweating heavily, trying to make a decision as best I could. Tired of my passive tension, I silently stepped out of the tent, looking for explanations.

  The night was clear. The moon was shining brightly enough to distinguish through the trees.

  I slipped between the bushes, always on the alert and as discreetly as possible. The air was humid and full of odours.

  A branch cracked. On the lookout, I suddenly stopped all movement. I was trying to imagine an explanation. It could have been the wind or an animal. Maybe it was a soldier? Maybe it was Stalkers? There had only been one shot, with no apparent retaliation. My watch indicated two o’clock in the morning. How long had it been since the shooting? Had it really been followed by a scream or was it the result of a crazy imagination? I remembered Andrei and the gun grip sticking out of his pants. The mobile network was inaccessible: impossible to contact him. I had to rely on only myself.

  The freezing night disturbed my thoughts. I didn’t know what to do, taking a look around. Worried and refrigerated, I finally returned to the tent. I came back with more questions than answers. As natural sleep was now impossible to access, I swallowed a small magic tablet that I had stocked up on. This time, no dreams, but the guaranteed promise of a peaceful night. Not even the reactor blowout would wake me up.

  ***

  The forest was dense and deep. The wind swirled the last dead leaves. I was lost in complex thoughts where elusive ideas swirled in the air like eagles flying over their prey. I felt taunted by my own unconscious. It was a frustrating feeling of which I was the victim. A trap set by my mind for myself. I needed to put an end to this state of floating, to understand what was braving me so finely. I could have remained absorbed in my dreams for thousands of years.

  I stopped suddenly. My gaze had been captured by a curious element. Something was lying in the distance. An emerald cloth contrasted with the lightness of the snow. A little haggard, I slowly approached between hesitation and interest. No doubt about it, it was a corpse. Far from having medical examiner knowledge, I was nevertheless wondering about the temporality of the death. My common sense suggested that the last breath came only a few hours ago. The body was spread symmetrically as if the individual had fallen asleep peacefully. It looked like a mysterious totem pole with its frozen look and its arms carefully unrolled, almost as a welcome sign.

  It took me a few minutes to realise the grace of her features, the softness of her cheekbones. I had been misled by his short hair and manly shoes, to say the least. The evidence of her femininity froze my blood. Strangely enough, the fact that it was a woman made me much more anxious than before. Had she killed herself? Had she been murdered? What motive could justify such an act in such a place?

  There was no evidence of any apparent injury, his physical integrity was intact. It could not have been the work of an animal that would have attacked him. The crime, if there was one, seemed perfectly executed. I was wondering if she had suffered. Not that I had any empathy. I felt more intrigued than compassionate.

  I rolled the body on its side, as gently as possible. I had never buried anyone with my own hands before. The body was heavy and difficult to handle. Maybe it was due to my fingers shaking nervously.

  I started digging snow, frantically shaking my arms to chase away the different pine cones that were complicating my work. When the cavity was satisfactory, I carefully placed the corpse, replacing the wick of the deceased who was twirling because of the wind. I had previously taken off his shoes and gloves. It would be more useful to me than it would to her. Slowly, almost religiously, I covered her body with snow powder. I held back my actions as if they were likely to create pain, to rush the deceased. When my dark task was finished, I knelt down in front of the small mound of snow. I hadn’t found any identity papers, any clues about this woman’s life. No tattoos, no inscriptions. Not even a ph
one.

  I walked away fast, not without cogitation. The buried body had never ceased to be an enigma, an image that would haunt me forever. I hesitated to contact Andrei to tell him about my find. Maybe he was involved? I started to doubt it. As a precaution, I decided to keep the secret of my discovery. I finally choose to turn back, with a tormented mind and uncertain motivations. Uncomfortable, I tried to purge my thoughts, to turn my attention back to other things as if I was trying to minimise what I had witnessed. However, as I walked, I couldn’t help but remember what I had seen, trying to solve the mystery of the victim. Was the body arranged for me to find it?

  My paranoia was getting worse. I imagined myself observed and stalked. It was impossible for me to move forward without taking a quick look behind me. I felt so tiny in that snow-covered forest.

  The fog was slowly rising in the sky. It dissipated as if to expose my position to some aerial spectator. The trees seemed taller and more numerous than ever. I was on the lookout, anticipating a possible attack. With one firm hand, I squeezed the grip of the knife in my jacket. I was ready to face anything. At least, I was trying to convince myself of that.

  Thinking, I looked up at the treetops, trying to find a solution. My eyes were drawn to a particular element: something was levitating up there. A shiver of fear crossed my mind. How long had the device been watching me?

  The drone was about 20 meters above the ground and was taunting me. It probably had a range of several kilometres. His pilot could be located anywhere, perhaps even outside the exclusion zone.

  The aircraft had stabilised a few meters from me, decreasing its altitude. He seemed to be watching me. No doubt about it, I was now sure: the drone had followed me into the Red Forest. I now recognised this metallic sound that had seemed so occult to me. The aircraft emitted a discreet but finely perceptible sound. Its light-grey colour made it invisible, it blended perfectly into this snowy environment. Rather compact, the device could operate stealthily and sneak through trees. He knew how to avoid obstacles and mastered low-flying. The pilot was obviously experienced. He had to accumulate dozens of hours of practice and had the necessary experience to operate in a forest environment. The cameras were staring at me while his small rotors were running at full speed. I grabbed a pine cone and tried to aim at the camera. With a very skilful lateral movement, the drone avoided my projectile and then calmly returned to its initial position, ready to resume its observation.