Predator. Escape from Tarkov
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I didn’t go into the main office, as there was no chance of finding anything interesting there. There’s a high turnover of workers here, so very few people have time to settle in properly. But the managers’ offices, where I was usually entertained on my visits, might well have something worth searching for.
Standing in the doorway of Vitya’s office, I survey the scene in despair. It’s as if every law enforcement agency in town, followed by the tax inspector, has had a go at turning the place upside down. If they were originally after documents then it looks very much like the tax inspectors, frustrated at not finding what they were after, just grabbed every little thing they might be able to flog to make up for their losses. The wide open cupboards, desk drawers strewn across the floor, and safe door hanging on its hinges all indicate that the offices were not just abandoned in a hurry, but evacuated like they were on fire. Hmmm, not quite what I was expecting to find here.
I trawl through the office rapidly, but apart from a few packs of cigarettes and piles of paper everywhere, all I find is a single unopened bottle of vodka. That’s it. Still, Vitya wasn’t the only manager, was he? There are other offices to take a look at. But they weren’t much different from the first one, perhaps a little less messy.
I found a few boxes of chocolates, some unopened bottles of cognac, and a couple of cans of beer. Apart from that, just a bunch of useless junk. On a coat stand, I found a bag with a laptop in it. The computer was quite old, but appeared to be in working order. On the other hand, the battery level was very low. Shit, does it mean all that effort to get in here was for nothing?
Vitya was nobody’s fool, and I had every reason to think he’d have some useful supplies. Instead I’d found yet more chaos and destruction. Cursing everything, I head back into the main office to see what I can find there.
I’d have been better off not looking. I go back to the boss’s office and flop down in his magnificent leather chair. At least that survived the attack. I take a slug of cognac and eat a couple of chocolates, which slightly improve my foul mood.
Shit, so what do I have in the way of reserves. Enough to live on for two or three days, and that’s already something. I also have a roof over my head. I doubt very much that anyone will try to break in here any time soon. I should pile all this junk up against the entrance door just in case – I’m not planning to use it, in any event. I’ll be coming and going through the cabinet. It’s safer that way.
Hang about! I jump out of the chair. What about the leisure room? Vitya always had one. They used to keep the servers in there. Then, when all the hacking business was over, he turned it into a shag pad. How did they ever get such a big bed through the door? In pieces, obviously. Now then, the door should be somewhere round here. I find it quickly enough, but it takes me a whole lot longer to work out how to open it. I didn’t want to break it down. Who knows, I might need it sometime? Finally, the bookshelf shifted slightly and silently turned on its hinges. There it is!
Yup, it was a shag pad alright, and a pretty fucking fancy one at that! (If only I could bring that girl here now…) There was a stack of clean bed linen, and several packs of condoms. Vital supplies in the present situation, obviously. Where have all the ladies got to, I wonder? That guy Makar has a few, I guess. I saw bras and other, hm-hmm, items of ladies’ toilette hanging on a line to dry. I doubt very much that it’s Makar’s thugs who wear that sort of thing. On the other hand, how the hell should I know?
There’s a vast flatscreen TV taking up half the wall, an en suite shower room (with no water), and that’s it. Nothing else, unless you count all sorts of gels and creams, and a razor with a packet of blades. Well, at least I’ll get the chance to shave – I’m beginning to look a little wild. No more luck with washing, however, as there’s still no water. I’ll even have to go outside to piss if I don’t want it to start stinking in here.
When it comes down to it, I now have a well disguised lair and a sumptuous bed with a fair supply of clean sheets, a razor, and all sorts of creams and gels. That’s it. And the condoms, lest I forget. Made in France, too. Valuable goods, if only I had someone to fence them to.
Hang about! Fencing… Associations began to form in my brain. No, not a plan to take the condoms back home to France (although it’s not like I’d turn down the opportunity), but something much more important and real.
Wandering the streets with the gutting crew, I saw several looted shops. And at the time I began to have some doubts on the subject – it seemed like those stores had been stripped out rather too quickly.
How long were we sitting at work completing our urgent project, without any contact with the outside world? Around two weeks. And in that time, had everyone cleverly worked out that they needed to leave town? Far from all of the flats that we gutted looked as if they’d been abandoned in a hurry. And that means people were evacuated. Probably in a reasonably organized manner. So where did the police go? That’s an interesting question.
So, the shops were looted, and that was clearly done when there was already no effort by the police to stop it. In other words, not during the official evacuation, when they’d have been even more eager than usual to keep peace and order.
It would take at least two full days to evacuate a city of this size, if not more. But we were working at the Spa for nearly a fortnight! And then I spent a bit longer at home, watching the news on TV. Idiot. Just at the time I should have been hightailing it out of there. Yeah, well… There I was, listening to the newsreaders’ fairy tales. Then there was Galperin with his escape plan, and my sleepless night on the stairwell landing next to my tripwired flat…
I remember the first looted shop. By then, they’d had time to strip it bare. You’d guess that the man those two guys in uniform shot was a looter running a little late. But, wait! That was the second shop I came to. The first one greeted me with battened down doors and steel shutters on the windows. Say what you will, but something doesn’t fit. All the other shops have been turned inside out, but that one they leave completely intact. At least, from all I could see it hadn’t been touched. Didn’t look like it had been abandoned, either. I follow the twists and turns of my memories. Wasn’t there a sign above the entrance? Something like “Proprietor – A. A. Ogryzko”. Or was it A.V.? Does that make any fucking difference? The shop hadn’t been raided, and that’s all that matters. That means the owner had somehow managed to survive, at least till that moment. And, who knows, he might peek out from behind the shutters one day.
At any rate, I now have an objective – to establish a good business relationship with him. It is a shop, after all. Which means there should even be some food there. And in exchange I’ve got a rich stock of condoms.
Chapter 3
The shop building has been transformed. Sandbags now cover all the windows, and there are even concrete blocks obstructing the path to the front doors. So, tell me do, who would go to all this effort if they weren’t planning to do some sort of business here? The shopfront sign is still hanging above the entrance, even. But there’s nobody around. Just the wind skipping down the street, kicking up all sorts of junk.