There were five of us, six if you include myself, and we were all humans, save for Demikas. Demikas was a black fox, native to the region, and was not much of a talker, which, among Stalkers, was a common trait. The rest of us had come from all over Eastern Europe in order to plunder The Zone for artifacts, and so we all had stories to tell of our travels. Peter would drink half a bottle of Cossacks and rise high on the warmth of the vodka, shouting and sputtering and working us all up into fits of laughter with his escapades and failures with women. Everyone but Demikas would be rolling around in the dirt with belly laughs by the end of the night when Peter started drinking. He kept watch over us when we were too drunk to aim our guns, or fend for ourselves. I told him that it paid to be the strong silent type in situations like this. He would nod in acknowledgement and return to the night watch. It amazed me that he never stole from any of us.

From behind the cloth that masked his face, his yellow eyes would gaze off into the wildlands of The Zone. He would hear, see, and smell things we could not, and so we kept him around, if only to keep our own asses safe. Anthros, especially foxes, were not well liked by anyone. They walked and talked and thought as we did, but with humans, we’re all too happy to ignore the spirit of a person unless we need target practice with our insults or bullets. Stalkers are the most rotten of the bunch, but our aim is often good.

One night during our usual bouts of inebriated celebration, we started talking about our families. Peter was proud to tell us that he has possibly seven or eight children, “But I’ll be damned if I ever meet them!” He howled with laughter. Sergei had a daughter, and a picture he kept of her was passed around the campfire. I was single, as were the rest of the men. We’d kept our minds and hearts focused on The Zone and continuing our drug or alcohol habits. For me, it was occasional bumps of ‘Kristal’ that the Easterners would bring over.

That night, as Peter began another story, I watched Demikas sit alone on a fallen tree near the creek. The fox scanned the shallow woods thoughtfully, his rifle resting loosely across his lap. I guessed it was loaded. Something about the fox intrigued me. He seldom spoke, and slept light, like a mother with a newborn. The other men had paid him little mind, and I’d guess that many of them would be happy to cast slurs at Demikas in the streets. I can’t say I was too different, but perhaps unwilling to hate a person without knowing them too well. Imbued with confidence from the Cossacks, I approached Demikas with the remainder of my bottle, wanting to know our silent guardian better.

“C’mon man, c’mon. Come sit around the fire with the rest of the men,” I told him. I waved my bottle around as a show of good faith. “It must be cold here all alone without any fire in your belly.”

“The rest of the men?” He asked, his thick cut accent concealing his tone. “Who will keep an eye on the rest of the woods? Bandits in this part of The Garbage are known to hunt at night. You go and enjoy yourselves. They will not get within 50 meters of this camp without me knowing. I keep watch.”

I nudged his shoulder a bit, to which he recoiled. “C’mon man, what are you, a Stalker or a watchdog? Come sit with us. There will be no bandits tonight. The night is too good to kill another person. Feel the chill? Smell the leaves? It’s not a time for murder. It’s a time for drinking and celebrating!”

His golden eyes, tucked deep into the black of his fur, studied me for what felt like ages. I smiled, hoping my vulnerability would at least show him I meant no harm. For the first time in the weeks that I’ve known Demikas, he pulled down the cloth that covered his face.

“Perhaps for a little while I will drink?” He asked, sounding unsure of his own intentions. It was strange finally seeing his whole face. I could not place why, but it looked youthful, almost feminine. He tried a small smile, and I returned the gesture by smiling wide and shoving the bottle of Cossacks at him. “C’mon man, don’t just stand there! Come sit by the fire with us!”

The conversation about our families was still going on when we returned to the fire’s warmth.

“Arty and our watchdog!” Peter and the men welcomed us back with a laugh. I could see their faces were red with warmth and good cheer. Demikas nodded and sat down next to me while the boys began talking. We traded the bottle back and forth until it was nearly gone, and my head was swimming. Hot blood pounding behind my eyes.I felt like singing. Demikas looked like he was holding it together better than I was, so, silently, I fought to be as composed as he was. He was my role model in not making an ass of myself.

“Demikas, you have a family?” Sergei asked. He passed the picture of his little daughter towards the fox, who stopped mid-swig to take a look at it. “That’s my daughter. If I can get out of here with our haul, than we’ll be able to leave Ukraine. Get away from all of this ruin and rubble. I’m thinking somewhere in the West.”

“The West?!” Another man sputtered. “They will turn your daughter into an animal. Piercings and hair dyes and decadence! She will not know herself by the time she is a woman!”

“She’s…” the fox stared at the picture, his mouth working but not knowing exactly what to say. The alcohol had probably gotten to him, or maybe he didn’t know how to deal with drunken humans like this. But I saw something in his eyes, something I had not seen from our fox. Some distant sorrow. “She’s very cute.” Demikas handed the picture back with a shy smile. 

“She is,” Sergei pointed his bottle at the fox. “But you never answered me. Do you have a family? Or something to fight for?”

Demikas took the bottle out of Sergei’s hands and knocked it back. “No, no family. Just debts.”

“Debts!” Peter cried in understanding. “What is the difference between a banker and a bookie? Nothing! Absolutely nothing! Both will take everything you hold dear so that they can get their fucking money!” With that the Stalker collapsed, giggling madly.

“There is more to life than money, fame, or cheap brothel girls,” Sergei added. “Family must also be important.”

From what I knew about anthro races, they had differences in their biology and romantic practices, especially from humans. So I asked Demikas if there was even a vixen in his life. He started coughing out some vodka at the question.

“Arty, you know that foxes mate for life?” One of the boys said, as the fox struggled to recover. This quickly came up for debate by Peter and a few other of the Stalkers, who swore that they had seen a few vixens at brothels. Demikas just stared at the ground, loosely holding the bottle of vodka by the neck. His eyes shut, head as heavy as a stone

“It’s not impossible,” he whispered. “Foxes mate for life, yes, but it’s not impossible to sell your body. It will just not be…pleasurable?” He shook his head. “No, that is not the word. It will just mean nothing. It will only hurt to be giving yourself to a stranger. It will hurt the one who loves you.” 

The alcohol having gotten the better of me, I asked if he once had a woman in his life. A hot blush scoured his cheeks. “N-No, no, I…” he drained the last of the bottle and set it down. “I have never known a woman’s touch, nor a woman’s love, except my mother’s.”

There came cheers from the men to take the Stalker to a brothel when we returned. Demikas turned to me, trying out a crooked and forced smile. I jovially patted him on the back, and told him that I’d keep him safe from these brutes.

“They’re just drunk, ignore them,” I whispered. That seemed to ease his anxiety a bit.

The fire had whittled down to a few embers, and with the stars and the moon still bright in the sky, we slept where we fell. Sometime in the night, I woke up to the gentle push and pull of hot air across my face. Demikas’ head was resting peacefully on my chest, his eyes squeezed shut. Every so often he would twitch and make a small whimpering noise, but he never woke. I thought about nudging him off, because his breath smelled terrible, but in the end, I allowed the Stalker his rest. He had earned it after many nights of silent vigil. I admit that it felt almost like a woman had done for me many months ago in Skadivosk. This woman, a call-girl, had done as I asked, and in a sweaty heap of bliss we collapsed against the pillows. Her head came to rest on my chest, just as Demikas’ was now. Men are not such simple creatures in that we require only satiation. Sometimes, we just want to feel the weight of a single person against us, in safety and comfort. But ask any Stalker, and he’ll boldly spit that he only cares for fucking and running.

The fox had gotten up before the rest of the men, because when I awoke, he was already downing coffee from a tin mug. Our eyes met for a second, me in the dirt and him standing above me, rifle slung over his shoulder, ready for the day ahead. He nodded politely. I returned the gesture.

We shared a quiet breakfast together. The mission today was to penetrate deeper into The Garbage, and locate an abandoned train yard. Rumors held that many rare artifacts were deep within the facility, one that could fetch us a high price. As I stabbed at my breakfast, cold sausage and bread, I listened to the sounds of The Zone waking up, sounds that Demikas heard long before I did. 

The Zone was a surreal blend of foreign and familiar. There were deep, bassy moans that bounced around the forest, the cry of birds and other creatures that violated any memory of a bird call. Things nobody understood hung on the fringes of my hearing. There were small sounds of churning and motion, like derelict factory equipment had come back to life. Occasional thumps of power went off like distant firecrackers deep in the woods. How strange it was to think that we were intruders in this world, simply dumb creatures who had snuck into the workshop of God.  

There were familiar sounds too. The sound of the wind rushing through the leaves. The language of the water slipping and falling over rocks in the creek. The groan of a man who had drunken too much the night before and was now waking up.

Demikas saw me looking around the forest, trying to understand what I heard. He offered me some explanations and some names for the strange sounds. I smiled to him and asked him how he knew so much.

“For a young one, you certainly sound like you’ve traveled your whole life in The Zone,” I remarked.

“I’ve been here only a handful of times myself. But I learn things quickly. I hear what others cannot. I am a good listener.” He pointed to his ears, and his eyes happily clenched shut. The cloth around his muzzle spread in a smile.




Perhaps we had been followed. Or sold out. I don’t know. In the train yard, Demikas, who usually keeps watch for anything, told us quietly that there was a lingering stench here, but one he could not recognize. 

“It could be anything you know,” Sergei said. “There is a bog nearby, if these maps are correct.”

Peter snickered. “Yeah, or perhaps someone farted and it threw off our watchdog’s nose!”

Just as the last words rolled thickly off of Peter’s tongue Demikas froze, shouted for us to get down, and threw himself behind an unused train car. Half a second later, a thunder clap echoed in the distance, and then Peter’s head burst open like a melon, showering us with his thoughts and memories.

We scattered as a hail of automatic weapon fire came at us from the North. Taking up positions behind empty train cars, we fought back, trading gunfire for what seemed like ages. I wheeled my own rifle into position and squeezed off a few rounds towards a tree-covered hill that stood outside the train yard. I could see the brown coats of crouched bandits dotting the hillside. Orange lightning erupted from the tips of their rifles. From here, it looked like flowers blooming. 

We were well defended, and had taken a considerable number of bandits, when Demikas, yelling over the steady thrum of gunfire, shouted at us to take cover again. Sergei, who had not heard the Stalker’s commands popped up to loose a few rounds on a bandit trying to flank. The sound of thunder broke the exchange of gunfire, and between heartbeats, Sergei was thrust back against the tracks, his ribcage exploding open, sloughing his innards out of a newly-made hole in his back.

I tried to scream but could feel no air in my lungs. What terrible weapon had these bandits acquired that allowed them to strike with thunderous force?

I saw the other men go down quickly after that. Bandits closed in around our cover, shouting and barking orders at one another as they coordinated their attack. I looked to my right to see Demikas catch a stray bullet in the shoulder and go down quickly. I began shouting his name, and tried going to him, but I heard something land in the gravel behind my cover. I turned around to see a single grenade sitting not but a few feet from me. I threw my arms across my face just as the blast knocked me back against the cold steel of the train. The last thing I remember seeing was Redderick’s body shivering and shuddering as a bandit poured the last of his magazine into the Stalker’s chest.


“Dead.” Someone called out. 
“This one too!” Another voice proclaimed.
“That makes all of them but the fox,” a third voice said.

My eyes slowly peeled open. At first I saw only faded blurs, but as life returned to me, the world became sharper. There were two bandits just a few yards away from where the grenade had thrown me against the steel of the train. I did not dare move or speak, and even if I could, I knew that it would mean only death.

“What do we do with the fox? He is no use to us.”
“I vote we kill him. What’s one dead Stalker among many?”
One of the bandits un-holstered a beaten looking pistol and cocked it back. “Put him up against that train. I want to put a bullet between his piss colored eyes.”

Demikas let out a yelp as the other two bandits sharply yanked him up by his arms and pulled him over to a boxcar, where they sat him upright. Demikas’ head slackened with blood-loss. The bandit with the pistol crouched down in front of the fox and studied his target for a bit. Then, laughing, he flipped his pistol in his hand and began striking Demikas across the face and in the head with it. Each blow earned him the bandit a squeal or a yelp from Demikas, who was too weak to fight back.

“It’s like beating a brothel whore!” he cried happily. The others laughed as he continued his assault. When Demikas stopped yelping and squealing, the bandit decided he was done playing with the fox. He stepped back and leveled his pistol at Demikas, squinting as he lined up the sights with the spot between the fox’s eyes. “There was a bitch a few towns over who I was seeing. She said I had to start paying for my fun, and I didn’t agree with that. So I left her with a few broken bones as a reminder of her place. Deep down…” the bandit stroked the trigger. “I wanted to kill her. So I guess you’ll have to do.”

I closed my eyes and thought of ways I might kill myself. I could not bear to watch or to hear this, and when they found out that I was still alive, I’d receive much worse than Demikas was getting. I meant to die on my own terms. I heard Demikas groan and mutter something under his breath. I thought it sounded like a name.

I waited for the shot to ring out, clear as thunder.

A piercing bark halted the execution. “HOLD IT!” Someone growled. I opened my eyes to see who was delaying the ceremonies. A gray wolf, towering at least 6’6” tall, strode over to the bandits. Slung across his shoulder was a large Gauss rifle, the barrel of the weapon bright red from use. As he approached the smell of copper and blood filled the air.

“What the hell are you doing?” he growled, rage simmering behind his voice. “I thought I told you that there was a woman among them,” he said, pointing towards Demikas, who had gone limp in defeat.

A woman? I thought to myself. That’s impossible. We’ve all been with each other for weeks, we would have known if one of us was a woman.

“You’re saying this is her?” The bandit motioned towards Demikas with his pistol. 

The gray wolf thrust his snout up into the air and took a whiff. “Yeah, that’s her. I told you I smelled something strange nearby, the scent of a bitch. This is her.”

He tore down Demikas’ face mask and roughly gripped her by her bloodied cheeks, as if he were examining livestock. “And she’s a young one too,” he brought his face close to hers and put on a taunting smirk. “A young, pretty girl playing dress up with the boys. Whaddaya say, lovely, won’t you tell me your name?”

Demikas’ face twisted into a scowl. She defiantly spit in the wolf’s eye, and followed up with a bitter curse. The bandits threw their guns back into their hands and aimed them at the fox, but the wolf commanded they hold their fire.

“That’s okay,” he said, wiping spit from his eyes. “I like them when they fight.” He snapped his fingers. “We’re gonna blow off some steam, and make sure this little vixen bitch wish she’d never been born. Get those clothes off. She’s not gonna need them.”

I clenched my fists as they hauled Demikas to her feet. She yelped and whimpered like a struck child as they coarsely gripped and pulled away at her coat and pants. She struggled, but could do little.

The bandits had all dropped their pants, exposing their bodies to the cold air. 

Demikas looked down and snarled. “Touch me with that and I will bite it off,” she warned. 

“You never know, I might be into that,” one of the bandits laughed. He slammed the butt of his rifle into Demikas’ stomach, knocking the air from her lungs. The fox went down in a heap, clutching her gut. The bandits fell upon her like vultures, holding her muzzle into the cold mud as they raked down her pants. Another retrieved a knife from his coat pocket and cut Demikas’ jacket, then heavy sweater, down the back. The clothing fell away from her like a protective shell being violently cracked open, exposing the well-guarded secret of her body.

“Look at this!” One of the bandits cried. “She has been binding her breasts like some sort of cross dresser!”

“Should have done something about your scent, you stupid little bitch,” the wolf snarled with delight. “There are more than just humans who roam The Zone these days.”

My fingers pressed upon the pistol in my pockets. I thought that if I could be quick enough, I could kill Demikas, and then myself. Or perhaps even bolder, attempt to kill one of the bandits. They had all dropped their weapons, thinking themselves alone. It might be possible to catch them with their pants down, so to speak. The wolf would be my greatest threat. Silently, I slipped the Makarov from my pocket and took the safety off. My mind was running in opposite directions, one towards cowardice, the other towards misguided bravery.

She struggled under the bandit’s hands, but the blood loss had drained the fight out of her. Too much weight on her legs, on her neck, too much pain in her shoulders and stomach. Too much violence. Her screams became muffled in the dirt. One of the bandits crouched behind her, hoisting her slim buttocks into the air.

“Hey Sid, do you think this bitch will be tight? I’ve never had a vixen before.”

“There’s a first for everyone,” the wolf laughed, slipping off his own pants. “So unless she’s got a hubby back home, this will a first for her as well.”

Her yellow eyes desperately flitted upwards as she fought under the oppressive force of the bandits. That was when she locked eyes with me, and saw in my hands the Makarov that I was raising towards the bandits. I clenched my teeth as I ligned the sights with the back of the wolf’s head.

Two piercing shots rang out as the gun jumped in my hands. The wolf, who was tall and strong, went down into the dirt like a limp sack when the second bullet broke through his skull. The next bandit caught a round in the gut while the one getting ready to take Demikas jumped for his shotgun. Demikas clutched her ears and kept her head down as I fired into the bandit’s side, aiming for whatever I could see. I wanted him to stop moving, I wanted him to die without dignity, with his pants around his ankles, his wild blood sprayed all over the dirt. The Makarov clicked hungrily, but the bandit had long stopped moving. 

Demikas was not moving either. I was at first frightened that I had hit her with a stray bullet. But I saw she was not harmed, save for her initial wound in her shoulder. Blood gathered around her, but she was still breathing, and to me, that was enough. 

“Demikas, you alive still?” I went over to her, the echoes of what I had done still carrying throughout The Zone.

She grunted in acknowledgement, which made me happy, but when I saw the pain etched onto her face, or felt the coldness of her body, that happiness faded. It would be only a few hours before she would bleed out.

“Listen to me, we need to get you somewhere safe. That wound doesn’t look good.” I said, tugging on the camouflaged pants around her ankles. She crossed her legs instinctively, shielding her delicate sex from my eyes or touch. “Demikas, I’m not going to hurt you. C’mon let me get your pants on. You want to die with your pants down like these fools?” 

She would not untwist her legs. She began groaning, trying to roll over. The blood loss had perhaps made her delirious. “Demikas, it’s me, Artonym.” I said, trying again to pull her pants up her legs. “Can’t you smell it’s me? Even I can smell me!”

“Get away from me you son of a bitch,” I heard her say. “You touch me with anything and I swear you’ll lose it!”

“Oh for fuck sake,” I sighed. “Demikas, Demikas, relax! You need to let me help you. I promise, I will not hurt you!”

“You cannot keep a promise, no Stalker can keep their promises, let alone their pants on!” I could hear the venom in her voice.

I clenched my teeth, growing frustrated. She had only a little bit of time before I could no longer help her.

“Either you let me tend to your wounds, or you die. I don’t care if you do not trust me. We have fought side-by-side for many weeks. I’m not going to allow a friend to die if I can help it.”

She stopped her meager attempt to defend herself. She lay still for a bit, with her jacket ripped open and pants around her ankles.

“Demikas?”

Worldlessly, with the last of her strength, she lifted her shuddering back-end into the air. I sighed and slid her pants up her legs. I admit, I could not help looking. There was indeed a woman in our midst. The pink slit between her legs, just underneath her black tail, told me what I needed to know. Her tail was difficult to get through the hole stitched into her pants, but I managed to dress her without much more trouble. She collapsed soon after that, breathing hard from the effort. Now came for the hard part.

I tried rolling her onto her back, but she refused.

“C’mon, if I wanted to take advantage of you, I would have done so already,” I said, trying again to roll her over so that I could patch her wounds.

“It’s not about that anymore, you idiot,” she snarled. Was she really going to jeopardize her life for her pride?

“Now is not the time for shame.” I reminded her, setting my bag down. As a show of good faith, I pulled a clear bottle of rubbing alcohol, a pair of tweezers and some bandages out. “You are not the first woman I’ve seen before, you know. Don’t flatter yourself.”

She thought about it for a while, and with a great deal of reluctance and embarrassment, allowed me to roll her onto her back.

The bandits had ripped her heavy jacket down the middle, and I peeled the rest of it off her body. There was a thick layer of tightly wound bandages around her breasts, so much so that I could not tell she had any to begin with. She was likely not a well-endowed woman to begin with. The bandages had been stained red with blood, which I followed back up to her shoulder. Her black fur was made even darker from her gaping wound.

“Arty,” she said, blood flushing her face and reddening her cheeks. “Be quick, please. This is not…comfortable…” she whined.

“I will go as fast as I can. You act as though I’ve never dressed a wound before.” I bit the cap off the rubbing alcohol. Her face scrunched up as I brought it closer to her nose.

“Strong smell?” I asked.

“You have no idea. Just get this over with before someone comes and finishes what these bastards started.”

After dipping my tweezers in the rubbing alcohol, I undid my belt and handed it to Demikas. “Listen, you will want to bite down on this,” I said. “This will not be a pleasant feeling. If you have a happy place in your mind – A den, a burrow, a field, wherever foxes spend their off-days, I suggest you go there.”

She held the belt up to me. “What am I supposed to do with this? Squeeze it?”

“No,” I said cautiously. “Bite down on it. You must not scream too loud here. We could draw the attention of Stalkers nearby.”

Her breathing had become ragged. With her hands trembling, she lifted the leather belt towards her mouth. Her jaws parted, and I saw behind her black lips were a row of narrow teeth, made sharp for ripping into meat. She was not kidding about biting anything off those bandits. Her teeth sank down into the pliable leather of the belt, and with a hesitant nod from her, I went to work rooting through the carnage of her shoulder.


By the time I had removed what most of the bullet from her wound, she had bitten completely through my belt. I stopped for a minute to allow her a swig of Cossacks, and then went back to work. This was not a clean doctor’s office, but it was the best I could do. When I had done what I deemed to be enough, I asked her to bite again on the belt.

“The surgery is done, but this will feel many times worse.” I splashed some rubbing alcohol onto her wound. From behind the belt stuffed in her jaw, she let out a terrible scream. Her whole body seized up as I hit her with another splash. We were lucky enough not to have been caught during the whole ordeal, because when all was said and done, both her and I were exhausted. I bandaged her up, and stole a belt from Dimi, a stalker in our group who’s brain was leaking from a hole in his head.


“You were a good patient,” I cooed, stroking Demikas’ head gently. “A few days rest and you’ll be good as new.” I felt in my heart that things were much grimmer than I told her. Her eyes peeled open slowly, and even with the fading light of the sunset, I could see that they were glazed over with fever. I put a hand to her forehead and felt a steady, unnatural warmth beneath her trembling skin. I frowned and tried piecing her jacket back together to cover her body.

“Th-Thank you,” she said with a raspy voice. “But please Artonym, don’t burden yourself with me any further. Night is coming, and The Zone is more dangerous in the dark. This ruined body of mine can still fight.” She motioned to a sawed-off-shotgun in the hands of a fallen bandit. “Give that to me. Some ammo. Head into the train station, find the artifacts, and then go. If something is coming, you will know it by the sound of my struggle. I will buy you time.”

“You’re not yourself,” I muttered, now taking stock of my surroundings. The Zone at night was a feral place. Mutants were more active, as were some bandit gangs. If I was to survive, I would need to move into the train station just a few kilometers down the tracks. It was an imposing, building with tracks running through a wide door. Before The Zone collapsed, this had been a prominent loading-unloading zone, as well as a work yard. In there we would find shelter, as well as the artifacts we had come looking for. Demikas’ eyes met mine as I turned back to her. She looked as if she could sense the turmoil within me.

“You have saved me once today, now allow me to return the favor. All I can smell is blood and the sterile reek of alcohol. I’m no good anymore anyway.”

The sun had dipped behind the trees, ushering in the encroaching blue light of dusk. I heard noises in the distance, and though I did not know what they were, I knew they would not ease any Stalker’s passing. Thunder snapped in the darkening sky. In the distance, flashes of lightning erupted out of the clouds. Demikas leaned her head back and let out a weak, delirious laugh.

“I think it’s going to rain,” she giggled. “You better get inside Arty, or you’ll catch a cold, or worse, a bullet!” 

I urged her to be silent. I could tell she was fading quickly, and so I made my choice. I did not waste all of this time with her so I could listen to the mutants tear her apart.

“Can you walk, Demi?” I offered out a hand. She tried pulling herself up, but her trembling body brought her back down into the dirt. She shook her head. “I feel…light-headed. Dizzy, even though I am not moving. I think I feel the world spinning…” 

“Very well,” I scooped her up into my arms. She let out a shocked squeak as I teetered her towards the railyard. She was surprisingly light. “We scatter, we die. And I’d rather not die.”

This was a hunch of mine, but as I carried her down the tracks and towards our shelter, I swore I saw color flush her cheeks. It was probably from the fever.

A fire was a poor idea, but as the rain began coming down, I made a small one in a small office, tucked into the corner of the building. I set Demikas near it. She huddled by the fire, still shivering from the fever, clutching my too-big-for-her jacket around her thin frame. I watched the entrance, though I felt reasonably safe. We shared some bread and sausages for dinner, and she managed to eat a little, which made me happy. It was possible that the artifacts we were looking for in here could help cure her fever, and that was why she seemed to be recovering so well.

This was a far cry from last night’s bonfire, I thought. Many hours ago, there were six of us. Now there is only two. I thought back to when we had shared our stories together, and how Sergei shared with us a picture of his daughter. I quietly observed Demikas trying to eat some bread. Why was she so willing to die, I wondered? Was it the fever?

“Demikas, I never asked you, but I meant to. You said you had no family, but you had debts. Who do you owe money to?”

She swallowed down some bread and began her answer.

“I am working to pay back the man who I bought this gear from,” she said apprehensively. I thought it was the fever that was slowing her thoughts. She studied me for a second, her questioning eyes looking me up and down. Satisfied with whatever conclusion she had reached internally, she continued. “When I said that I had no family, I was not telling the truth. What I have is no mother or father. But I have a younger sister on the outside, and she is the light of my life.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Yet you asked me to leave you to The Zone?”

She looked away, back towards the fire. “I was not myself. I was thinking that I could at least pay you back for trying to help me. One less debt among my gear, and my sister.”

“You owe your sister money?” I took a sip from my canteen.

The fox shook her head. “No, no. It’s not like that,” she said solemnly. “I don’t owe money to her. She owes money to someone else, which I’m trying to pay off. When dad was killed and mom died, we clung to each other, working odd jobs and surviving off of handouts and begging. About a year ago, she was taken in by a brothel owner under contract. The deal was simple: She could live and eat comfortably, but she had to give her body to the perverts. She was so young, and our situation was so desperate…She didn’t understand that she had signed her life away. She only wanted to be safe. The owner put a debt over her that nobody could ever pay, at least not without doing something extreme, so that’s why I am here in The Zone. These artifacts go for absurd prices on the black market, and one day, I hope to buy her out of her contract. Every mission I go on brings me closer and closer to the day when Emmi no longer has to sell her body for her next meal.”

“That is noble,” I said as I fed some small sticks into the fire. “But I am curious to know: Why the get up? Why hide your gender?”

She shifted uneasily, made more aware of her relative nudity by my observations. She pulled the jacket tighter over her chest bandages. “Stalkers are not exactly known for their chivalry.”

“True,” I nodded. Stalkers were already ravenously hunted by the crumbling government for trespassing into the exclusion zone, but most of them already came from a criminal background. Drugs, sex, violence, murder…This was nothing new to a Stalker. I did not indulge in the full range of vices afforded to a Stalker, but sometimes getting my fix required a little ‘shakedown’ of some arrogant dealer.

“The best decision that a Stalker can make is the one that keeps him alive to see another day,” Demikas continued. “It is only survival and then pleasure, especially in here. I do not believe that any Stalker is above using a woman if given the chance, so I made myself a man. I am also lucky in that my skills are valuable, to groups seeking a watchdog. Beyond that, I have made it a point to trust no Stalker beyond working with him to get paid.”

Now that was a curious philosophy. “Do you trust me?” I asked.

She was silent for a moment as she stared into the dancing flames. Outside the rain sputtered against the buildings, and the low rumble of thunder echoed over some distant and foreign field.

“I don’t know,” she said, never taking her eyes off the fire. “You had your chance to take advantage of me. You had many chances. I still don’t understand…” Her voice collapsed into a whisper. “I don’t get why.”

I moved to sit next to her, laying my rifle down between us. She did not flinch.

“We are not all as bad as you think we are. All of us have one reason or another for being here, and we are all complicated men. You heard Sergei, yes? He was here so that he may provide for his daughter. I’ve seen Dimi stab a Snork in the mouth just because it lunged at Peter. Both are reckless bastards who’ve probably hurt more people than they’ve helped, but sometimes, we give in to our better nature. They all come here for a reason, and so have you.”

“So then why are you here?” She asked, turning to face me.

I thought for a moment. I was here initially to make money to feed a drug habit. I had no professional skills, and no family keeping me out of trouble, but I did not feel like a daring bachelor. Most days I felt empty. The answer was not on my tongue or between my ears, so I looked into Demi’s eyes for an answer. I saw the fever glaze that was hanging to the golden marbles of her eyes. I saw the weariness. But I also saw the appreciation reflected in a look, and the trust that was now implicit. It was then that I knew why I was here.

“To help a friend,” I concluded.

Demikas seemed unsure of how to react. “W-We are friends?” she stammered. I smiled and nodded.

“I would consider you a friend, at least. Do you consider me a friend?”

She pursed her lips and looked down towards the fire. “I-I don’t know,” she whispered.

Several moments passed of silence. I tried to cut the sudden awkward tension in the air, fearing that I had overstepped my boundaries. “That’s fine if you don’t, I understand. It’s probably best Stalkers keep their distance from one another anyway.” 

Demikas squeaked a little, letting out a long-held breath. “No, no, it’s not like that. It’s just that…..” She looked at me again for reassurance. “Growing up as an outsider, I did not have friends. The humans would call me names and beat me. The few anthros our family knew were criminals. And now you call me your friend?” Her face twisted up with distress. “I do not know how to be a friend.”

I leaned back on my palms. Our shadows were thrown large onto the dusty walls of the building. Hers distinctly animal, mine, rounded and human. I watched them move as the fire twisted and crackled, bending our shapes. “It’s easy,” I finally said. “You are there for the other person, in good times and in bad. Sometimes you let them fall, but you will always try to pick them back up. You share memories and bruises,” I dug into my backpack and pulled out an almost empty bottle of Vodka, what we hadn’t done away with from last night. “And you share drinks.” I said, passing her the bottle.

The fox took the bottle in her hand and sloshed it around a bit. She studied it for a good while, observing how the orange light of the fire passed through the clearness of the bottle.

“About this friendship,” she looked at me, wearing a shy smile. “Perhaps you can teach me more?”

I smiled back and nodded. “Your first lesson begins tonight with drinks.”

She popped off the lid, took a small, shaking sip, and then passed it back to me. It was clear that the fever was still burning inside of her, but she was more lucid in here than she was outside, a factor I attributed to a possible nearby artifact of great value. When it felt safe enough to leave Demikas alone, I would go and search for it.

We drank in quiet sips, whispering questions to each other, obeying the silence enforced by the crackling fire and by the steady chatter of the rain outside. She explained to me many things I did not understand about her kind, such as her acute senses. If she were at full strength (and sober) she could hear things I could not with stunning clarity. The same went for smell. Now she could only smell smoke and alcohol, she reminded me, “but being around so many unbathed men for weeks, you come to know each man by his particular ‘brand.’”

All of these attributes made her and other anthros valuable to a Stalker trying to get the drop on someone in The Zone.

“You see, outside The Zone, we are less than worms to the humans, but inside The Zone, we are the only things keeping them alive sometimes,” she giggled. There was not much Vodka to begin with, so within the hour we had polished off the bottle. I made her drink water the rest of the night. 

“I have never known a fox, at least as I know you. I have seen them in the streets, in brothels, or working the docks near the harbor, but never have I gotten to personally know any of them.”

She shook her head a bit, shivering as the fire began to wither. “It’s our lot in life. We are not as strong as the wolves, but just as hated. So we must abide by our given talents to make ends meet. Many of us become Stalkers to provide for our habits. We’ll do anything to escape this world.”

“And what about your parents? What did they do?” As soon as I asked, I almost instantly regretted doing so. She drew her knees tight against her chest, and her eyes took on a distant, softened expression.

“Father was a dock worker, mother was a junkie. Outside of hard labor and selling ourselves, there aren’t many upstanding jobs for us, even less for our women. My mother would not sell herself like her sister did, so she turned to drugs to escape from our rundown apartment.”

She exhaled softly as the fire became embers and darkness once again enveloped us. “When I was 17, my father was killed by a debt collector who he owed a great deal of money to. Being that we were anthros, the crime was just another sad statistic that the government promised to bring to an end.”

I had no proper way to respond, nor idea how to. So I quietly apologized for her loss, and told her she didn’t have to share anymore if she did not want to.

“No, no, it’s fine. My mother and father loved each other, but they both had their demons to fight. My old man was a bastard who fought his demons with drink. Mother tried putting them to sleep with heroin. After father died, I guess she finally put them to sleep for good.”

Thunder boomed in the sky. I wondered if she could smell the rain like I could on better days, or if it smelled better. 

“At 18,” she continued, “I became my sister’s caretaker. We spent a year doing everything short of selling ourselves to survive, and then, like I said, she took up a ‘job offer’ to whore herself out.”

“My God,” I exhaled. “Having to go through that at such a young age must have been horrendous.”

“We are still young,” she said almost spitefully. “I am 19 and she is 15, and if I don’t return with money from this mission, neither of us will live to see 25.”

An awkward silence settled between us. In the dim light I could see Demikas scowling towards the fire. If there were a time to speak, it was not now. Thankfully, she was the one to break the silence. “You know, I have never told anyone these things. Nobody except my sister even knows me beyond my name. Is this…Is this what friends do?”

I nodded my head. “Yes. Friends confide in each other.”

She turned away from me and gazed out the shattered window. For awhile she watched the rain fall and the lightning flash across the sky. I shut my eyes and spread out across the floor, the Vodka sitting like a warm stone in my gut. The cold floor kept me somewhat conscious, suspended in the place between the waking world and the infinite caverns of the mind. Without my jacket, I would not find sleep.

“Artonym,” I felt Demikas’ presence next to mine. “I have a question.”

I grunted in response.

“Do friends…Sleep together?”

I raised my head and found that she had drawn incredibly close to me, her face nearly touching my own. I blinked a few times, trying to process the question. “Do friends sleep together? By sleeping together, do you mean-“

Instantly she drew her head back, the warmth of her blush becoming visible to me even in the darkness. “No! No! I meant that…I feel- I think that if we stay close, we can share our warmth. I can hear your teeth chattering, and it would be only fair…because I have your jacket, if we…shared it?” Her reasoning sounded more like she was questioning herself.

I rolled onto my back and spread my arms. I was beyond grace or tact at this point, wanting only the dark embrace of sleep. I still answered as best I could. “Friends sleep together sometimes. And so do lovers, and I love you as a friend. Now bring your warmth and my jacket over to me.”

Quietly, she inched back over to my side. Even though we did not touch, at such a small distance I could feel the incredible heat pouring off her feverish body. I wrapped an arm around her and brought her in tight. The jacket covered the two of us like a heavy blanket, and within a minute or two of feeling her trembling body go still and calm, I fell in to my dreams.


That morning I woke up later than normal. Demikas calmly slept next to me. The sun was well into the sky, but it was not noon yet. Perhaps 10. My mother had always told me that sleep was good for sickness, so I ate a late breakfast as quietly as I could and crept out of the narrow office and into the rest of building while the Fox slept off her fever.

There were many possible artifacts that I was looking for inside this building, but one I was most intent on finding was a piece of granite shaped like a Teardrop. This artifact was known among Stalkers to be one of the most valuable of them all, in that it cured sickness and closed wounds. Stalkers would pay a high price, and black-market surgeons would pay even higher, to have such a thing in their practice. It was, in my mind, the solution to two problems in one. 


The Teardrop was indeed in this building, nestled in a maintenance pit underneath the concrete floors. Workers would use these to perform repairs on individual train cars by being able to stand underneath them. When I found the Teardrop artifact, I made a quick dash back towards the office where I had left Demikas. 

The fox was did not wake when I returned, which was sometime around noon. I found her peacefully tucked beneath my jacket, her head resting peacefully against the cold floor. Her leg kicked out every now and then, and her face twisted up with worry, but only for a second or two. I wanted to let her sleep. A voice inside of me said that the rain had washed away the stench of death outside, and that no tracker or hunter could find us, but I was less worried about bandits or other Stalkers right now. I simply wanted to heal her wounds, and had never seen a Teardrop in action before. I tried to nudge her awake, and when that didn’t work, I pulled my jacket from her. She lay there on the floor, slowly waking, her boyish figure reflexively stretching itself out.

Her eyes opened slowly at first, but when she saw me holding the jacket that covered her almost-nude body, they split open wide in a panic.

“What the hell?!” She cried, scrambling to cover her already covered chest. “What is this?”

“This is your wakeup call! You’ve slept for well over 12 hours. As the Americans say, ‘rise and shine!’”

The fox eyed me cautiously, still trying to guard her meager body from my appraising vision. “But I have no other clothes,” she squeaked. “You expect me to walk out of The Zone practically naked?”

“No, but for what I would like to test, I will need to see you without my jacket.” I said, pulling the Teardrop from my pocket. It vibrated and hummed gently in my hand, singing softly with intense and other-worldly energy. She leaned forward, eyes wide in amazement, forgetting her near-nakedness in the presence of such a powerful artifact.

“You found a Teardrop?” She said, slack-jawed. “I have never seen one, only heard of their healing properties.”

“And now you get a demonstration,” I said, crouching down to her level. “Unless the other Stalkers are full of shit, this little sucker can cure sickness and close wounds better than any drugs or doctors.”

She looked curiously between me and the Teardrop. “You think that we can still get a good price for it even if you use it on me?”

In truth, I did not know the answer to that. Artifacts have a certain “lifespan” of use, or a charge. Some artifacts can only be used once, and some artifacts, like the ones you figure the government or military owns, can be used almost indefinitely. Rumors of a device that can replenish an artifact’s lifespan have been rampant among Stalkers and bandits for years, but no such device has ever been observed. It was wishful thinking at best.

I only knew this: I would live to fight another day regardless, but what was I fighting for? A drug habit? A woman to spend the night with? Some money in my pocket so that I could spend another week high out of my mind, cruising brothels and shouting out my soul in bars that had no name?

Demikas had a much more noble cause to fight for. “No,” I said. “Not ‘we.’ I. You will get a good price for this, and it will set things right with your sisters’ keeper.” 

She blinked twice, the words still sinking in. She then looked at me with her genuine confusion played out across her young face. “Arty, this Teardrop is worth a fortune. You know that. After all of this, I could never dream of robbing you of your fair cut.”

“That which is freely given is not robbery,” I smiled. “Now, peel off the bandages around your wound. I’d like to see this little miracle in action.”

With the bloody bandages tossed aside, I held the stone close to her shoulder, which was matted in dry and crusty blood. I could feel the Teardrop shaking in my hands, so I squeezed hard, and swallowed a knot of anxiety in my throat. I hoped this one had enough juice to heal her.

We watched as the wound began to slowly close, new muscle, flesh and hair springing from frayed and old skin. It was as if the very laws of nature had been suspended - something from nothing. When the process was over, I felt at the spot where the bullet had once pierced her. 

“How does it feel?” I prodded. She naturally winced in expectation of pain, but quickly her sense of alarm turned into wonder.

“It feels...like it did before. As if it had never happened to begin with. And my head,” she grabbed my hand and practically slapped it to her forehead. “I feel fresh. My body doesn’t feel as hot.”

I nodded in agreement. This Teardrop in particular was quite potent it seemed. It would fetch a high price. 

As we headed out of the trainyard, we saw in the distance the pile of dead we had left the night before. With a pair of binoculars shared between us, we saw that their bodies had been ripped open, their organs made a feast for the feral creatures of The Zone. She gave me an appreciative look. We did not need to speak of what might have been, had I given in to her feverish wishes.

When we neared the border of The Zones’ caustic reach, I radioed for a truck to come and pick us up. This was our way out. The army was busy fighting a civil war, and could not reliably patrol the erratic perimeter of The Zone. We waited at the top of an old quarry for a stolen military truck to pull up onto the road about a mile north of our position.

“This used to be a copper mine,” Demikas said. “I can smell the ore still laying out in the open where it had been abandoned. Copper smells like blood, or burnt hair to me. I don’t know how far down this goes, but I’d believe that it’s fairly deep.” she smothered the heel of her boot into the dirt, “I would bet money there are artifacts beneath our very feet.”

“As well as other nasty critters. It’s not worth it to me.” I remarked, taking a drink from my canteen. I was nearly out of fresh water. “You have what you need, and we did what we came here to do.”

She nodded, pulling a thick scarf over her muzzle. “I understand that. I’m in no hurry to rush underground after last night. I was only thinking of you.”

I nudged her with my elbow and smirked. “Is that so?”

Demikas shook the playful thoughts out of her head. “No, no, not like that you thick skulled idiot. I was thinking about what you were getting out of all of this. I have the Teardrop, what do you have?”

I barely had to think about my answer. “Let’s just say that a lesson learned is more valuable than money. And that friendship cannot be bought,” I smiled.

“That word again. I’m still getting used to it.” She made no attempt to stop her tail from wagging with delight. The radio signal from our ride came a few heartbeats later.

The truck was old and strapped together, but still passable as a military vehicle if one didn’t look close enough. Our driver, Sorynm, had the permits to get us past any checkpoints we came across, which was more important than how the truck looked.

Demikas and I sat in the back, bouncing along as the truck crawled over decimated asphalt and scored roads. The roar of the engine was too fierce, and the road too jostling for us to speak, so  we simply gripped the handrails and fought to stay upright.

Rolling then, underneath darkening skies, I looked out the back and saw the strange lands of The Zone falling away from us, slipping towards a distant point on the horizon. Clouds red as blood gathered among themselves over The Zone, and bolts of lightning, stretching like they were the narrow fingers of a God, crawled down to earth. We were leaving that place behind. 



Sorynm pointed the truck around the slight hovels and ruined buildings on the outskirts of the city, until the beast finally came to rest in an empty parking garage in the slums

“End of the line,” the driver slapped his palm against his door a few times. “Everyone out. And leave the gear. You know where to find it for next time.”

I thanked Sorynm and tossed him a wad of cash as payment. He nodded, and then told me he’d be at ‘The Bar’ in a few hours. Any bar was a popular gathering spot for Stalkers, fencers and drivers, and ours in particular was buzzing with lowlifes. We’d meet up there usually and discuss work.

“Arty,” he said to me. “I know of a man who has a job for an experienced Stalker. It pays well, but it is dangerous work. Come by The Bar tonight and we can discuss the details.”

Laughter escaped my chest. I was tired, sore, and could not even fathom taking another job tonight. “I will think about it Sorynm, alright? Maybe we’ll meet again soon if I need a driver, or a friend to swap stories with.”

The portly man raised his bushy gray eyebrows with surprise. “This job pays exceptionally well Arty. I recommended you by name!”

“And I am exceptionally exhausted. I don’t know if I need to sleep, drink or bathe,” I sighed, doing my best to maintain my cheer. 

Sorynm looked back to Demikas, who was standing quietly off to the side, and then back to me. He nodded with understanding. “Just don’t do all three at once, okay?”

“The best decision a Stalker can make is the one that will keep him alive to see another day,” I said to him, and slapped his door a few times as a farewell. The truck chugged off, pulling onto a decrepit street, leaving the two of us alone in the garage. Demikas was not silent.

“You turned down a job offer? Why?”

I shrugged, feeling the tension and stress interwoven in my tight shoulder muscles bite back at me. “I’m thinking of taking a break from Stalking. Perhaps get back into an honest line of work. You brush up too close with the scum of the pond and then it sticks to you. This job is killing me, and I need a long break.”


The fox nodded in understanding. “I can understand the desire.” 

We started walking out of the garage together. Headlights from a passing car cut through the dust and the darkness of the outskirts of town. It was nearly a ghost town out here, various bars, brothels, and pawn shops acting as solitary islands in the thick haze of industrial rot. Stalkers and whores and drug addicts and beggars flocked to them like sickly moths to a trash fire. I was headed towards none of these, so I asked Demikas where she was going.

She pulled the Teardrop from the pocket of the jacket she was wearing still. I couldn’t take it back from her, especially not in this neighborhood. “To pay off a debt.”

I told her that was a wise idea, and asked if I could tag along.

“You mean to come with me?” She said, pulling the cloth down from her face. “Why?”

“I want to make sure my friend is going to get a fair deal.”

She did not hide her smile, nor the excitement of her tail.


There were no streetlamps in this part of the city, so I stayed close to her. Thieves and pickpockets were sure to be about, and to have Demikas lose the key to her sister’s chains just minutes before unlocking them would be an awful crime. Up ahead, a group of teenagers waited patiently at an out of service bus stop, all of them with venom in their veins and a lust for cheap thrills. I made Demikas hook arms with me. She did so somewhat reluctantly, but as we passed the teenagers, instead of following close behind as they would any potential victim, they watched us roll on through, dumbstruck .

“Arty, I have seen friends walking around town before, and they do not walk like this,” Demi hissed.

“Oh? And how would you know?” I said, raising an eyebrow.

“Because I have only seen lovers or drunkards walk so close,” she hissed again, hunkering lower into her hood as strangers stepped around us.

“That’s the point. I figured that if we can astonish people in one way or another, they might leave us alone until we get to your sister’s brothel.”

“That is either brilliant or incredibly stupid.”

“The best decision a Stalker can make is the one that keeps him alive to see another day. But I won’t keep you if you do not wish.” I allowed my arm to fall slack. This only prompted Demikas to huddle in closer to me as we walked.

“No, no, I think you make a l-lot of sense,” she stammered. Aside from giving directions, she kept her gaze fixed on her boots, unsure of how to make sense of this. She seemed blindsided, as if an idea was caught in her mind. And I couldn’t blame her for being confused. The fever had swept through her like a fire. Not 24 hours ago, she had a bullet in her shoulder and the violent hands of bandits all over her body.

After some moments of silence, she finally spoke up.

“Artonym, it just occurred to me…” she let those last words linger cautiously in the air. “That this whole time, I had never thanked you for what you’ve done. It sounds dangerous to say this, especially to a Stalker, but- I owe you my life.”

“No no, consider it an even trade among friends,” I said thoughtfully.

My friend was not satisfied with this answer. “An even trade? For fuck sake, I’m still wearing your jacket.”

I did not know how to precisely explain my thoughts to her, so instead, I asked her where her and her sister would go after this. Demikas looked unsure and slightly embarrassed. I could tell she had no answer, or at least one she was willing to give. She’d always taken care of her sister and provided for her as best she could, but tonight all that mattered was trading the Teardrop for her Emmi.

The idea that I had was a stroke of genius on my own part, at least that’s what I’d like to think. Many years later, Demikas still teases me and says that she had been pushing me towards it all along. I normally nod my head and sarcastically tell her that she’s right, as usual.

Outside her sister’s brothel that night, many years ago, I turned to my friend and clapped her on her shoulder, beaming confidently at her. “You may pay me back by having dinner with me tonight. And bring your sister as well.”