«There's a sniper there,» reported an out-of-breath artilleryman. «First he worked from the five-story, then he moved. The last shots came from the flank. He took out the far mortar crew first, then the jeep with the machine gunner. One after another. Twenty minutes passed, and half of our guys are 'two-hundredth.' No spotters left. Machine guns damaged. We need to retreat, Grishka. They've recovered. We're sitting ducks. They'll kill us all here.»

Grishka went berserk. He pulled out his pistol and emptied it into the artillery senior.

«Forward, you bastards! I'll kill you all!» he raged, urging his men on.

After half an hour of fighting, over sixty bodies lay on the field. The hit Ural trucks were burning. No one ever reached the wall.

Only then did Grishka give the order to retreat.

The senior had no plan to surrender. He intended to pull out those who were left—out of a hundred and twenty fighters, barely forty-five were in formation—regroup and repeat the attack later. Ozyory didn't seem impregnable, just unlucky. A too-successful shooter was a temporary obstacle.

He was about to give the order when a sharp blow to his shoulder knocked him off his feet. The sniper had gotten him after all. Grishka's body was grabbed and dragged behind a hit Ural. Blood flowed fast. The bullet had gone through his right shoulder, nicked a rib, and lodged somewhere in his lung. Foam came from his mouth, pink and sticky.

«The commander's hit!» a cry rang out.

The surviving fighters glanced at each other, gathered near the vehicles. Silently, without hysterics, only once did someone curse softly. It became clear to everyone: that was enough. With the remaining forces, without mortars, you couldn't take an enemy like that. Grishka, though alive, was barely breathing.

«We're going back,» said one of the seniors. And the rest just nodded.

Gathering the remnants of the squad, they moved towards Klin. Home. To the base.

By the river, the vehicles and over fifty corpses and wounded were left to burn.

Chapter 5. Ozyory. A Well-Deserved Respite

I was waiting for Arkhip to pick me up. He had personally promised to take me back after the battle. Nearby, at the entrance to the local administration, the messenger, proud beyond belief, was surrounded by a crowd of Ozyory residents.

«Then we went from the five-story to another entrance, then to the water tower, from the tower to a merchant's house on the roof, from there back to the five-story. I must have run ten kilometers today, but it was worth it,» he was enthusiastically telling them about his morning exploits, how he had participated in the defense alongside the sniper and personally saved several people.

Everyone knew that it was thanks to the passing army sniper that they had managed to fight off the mega-gang. Ozyory had lost sixteen men and two women, many were wounded, but that was nothing compared to what could have happened if the settlement had fallen. Everyone knew exactly how the bandits treated the captured.

Upon my return, however, a storm awaited me.

«Why did you go alone again?» Nastya's voice cut like a knife. «Why do you have a squad if you ignore it? If you leave your people like that?»

«Nastya, dear, don't be like that. I just had to react quickly…» Arkhip tried to intervene.

«Arkhip Semyonych, don't interfere. We have our own business here,» Nastya cut him off sharply.

In general, she was right. But I desperately didn't want to get into an argument right now; I knew that later, when things calmed down, I'd explain everything properly. But for now, I just mechanically cleaned the rifle that had served me so well. Vasya and Sanya were helping me, diligently avoiding looking at either me or Nastya—just like children when their parents argue because of them.

«Konstantin… we'll… go. Later, please come to us. We'll remember the fallen, and figure out what to do next together,» Vasily Stepanovich was backing towards the door, pulling Arkhip along with him.

«Indeed, Kostya. We've got a ton of things to do. I'll send a car for you when we're ready,» said the head of the settlement, cautiously eyeing Nastya as he went out the door.

«Nastya, check the binoculars and put them on charge. They fell out on me once,» I continued cleaning my weapon. «They promised to arrange laundry for us in the settlement. So get your things ready: who knows when we'll have another chance.»

When the meaning of what I'd said finally dawned on Nastya, she suddenly remembered something and hurried into the room.

«She almost shot us all,» Sanya whispered. «Commander, after you left, she started getting ready to follow you. Vasyan told her the order was to pack up and wait. But she wouldn't listen. We barely convinced her. Although… I think she's right. We are a team, after all,» he added more quietly.

«I'm not going to undress before bed anymore,» Vasya put in.

«Anyway, guys, you have half an hour to gather your laundry. And enough about today. We did everything right. Debriefing over. Go get ready. Be armed and looking like a million bucks.»

The guys left. But after about ten minutes, Vasya returned.

«Kostya, I said something stupid this morning when I was half asleep, without thinking. I wouldn't have left them. Don't get the wrong idea.»

«I didn't. It's okay, Vasya. I sometimes say stupid stuff too. Just look at our Nastya… she says all sorts of things. The main thing is actions, brother. Go get ready.»

At that moment, Nastya was pulling a bag of laundry out of the room, listened a bit, then waved her hand and lost all interest in our conversation.

The car came for us an hour and a half later, when the sun was already beginning to set. The morning messenger was at the wheel. He introduced himself:

«Hello, my name is Slava.»

The guys greeted him with handshakes. And Nastya, as if she'd known him for a hundred years, immediately asked him to help with the duffel bag containing our laundry.

«Kostya, here are the trophies. Two mortars turned out to be intact, the other two are wrecked. We'll keep them for spare parts,» Arkhip showed me a pile of weapons. Nearby stood three vehicles. Behind the gates were Ural trucks. «The equipment is damaged, of course, but repairs are our thing. We'll fix what we can and put it back in service. About forty assault rifles, we can assemble one machine gun from two. We have a gunsmith, a former warrant officer, oh, he's good at it. Lots of ammo, grenades, under-barrel launchers, pistols… We took two rifles. In short, we'll be able to rearm a lot of people. And most importantly—the settlement survived. It didn't fall.»

He carefully draped a tarpaulin over the weapons and continued:

«Take whatever you want from this. It's all yours by right. Just don't take the mortars and heavy guns. Don't be offended, we'll really need them for defense.»

«Arkhip, I'm full to bursting. I don't need anything. We'll stay with you tonight, and leave tomorrow.»

«Where to? No, you can't go tomorrow. The laundry won't be dry, and we're not ready. Rest. The day after tomorrow, you set off in the morning. And don't argue,» he stopped my ready objection. «The people have decided. And while you're here, we'll finish your business. We'll check the address.»

Later, we sat at a communal table, remembering the dead. Many came up, greeted us, talked, simply thanked us. Ordinary people who had found shelter in this terrible and complex world. They knew how to enjoy small things, knew how to be grateful, and were ready to die for their own. And I looked at all this and was happy. Happy that I had been able to help. That my training, experience, and luck hadn't failed me this time either. And most importantly—that no one from the team had been hurt. They had already become family.

The farewell dragged on. Then, already in the dark, Slava drove everyone home. And there, a surprise awaited us. They had hastily wired the house for electricity—before, it had only been in the shower. They'd installed a refrigerator and a coffee maker, connected a gas cylinder to the kitchen stove, and the refrigerator was stocked so full that a large family could live for a week without leaving the house.

«Rest. No one will disturb you tomorrow. Security is everywhere. You can sleep in peacefully,» Slava said, wished us goodnight, and left.

We lived like royalty for a day. We all went together to shoot the bow. Watched movies, ate local delicacies, drank coffee, and simply enjoyed the silence. It was a rare gift, a respite on the road.

Chapter 6. Ozyory. Fedka

Arkhip arrived first thing in the morning. As always, Fedka accompanied him. The latter hadn't uttered a single word during all this time. Only once did Kostya notice any emotion from him: during the assault, when one of the enemy groups got too close. Then Fedka, machine gun at the ready, stepped forward and literally swept them away at the approaches to the wall.

In general, Fedka had become something of a mascot for Ozyory. The locals said that thanks to him, other mutants didn't come into this area. Today, as usual, he settled on a bench near the house and stared blankly into space with an impassive look.

«So, are you ready?» Arkhip looked agitated, as if on pins and needles. «My guys will be here soon. Let's sit for a bit.»

About twenty minutes later, a vehicle reminiscent of a «Lynx» from my world pulled up. It had armored arches and bulldozer blades welded onto it, with fuel canisters strapped on top.

«Here, take it!» Arkhip announced proudly. «We dug it out of an FSB garage. It'll suit you just fine. This is from everyone, a gift.»

The gift was conspicuous, too conspicuous, but it was impossible to refuse such a vehicle.

«Thanks, Arkhip. You really surprised me!» I walked around the vehicle, checked the controls, looked in the trunk—I was satisfied. More than that, even.

«Tires are bulletproof, has a tire inflation system. A good combat vehicle,» Arkhip was literally beaming with pride.

And when Nastya came over, hugged him and kissed him on the cheek, a deep blush immediately covered his face.

We started loading things into the «Lynx»—that's what this vehicle was called here. We packed them by priority: ammunition, food, water supplies, medicine. Well-wishers also arrived: men with weapons, women, children. Almost everyone living in the settlement.

«We checked your address. No one's been there for a long time. The door's kicked in, the house is deserted,» reported the head hunter, as Arkhip had introduced him.

And then something strange happened.

«A Creature is looking for you. Be careful.»

The phrase popped into my head. The feeling was like hearing an announcement at the airport—distinct, clear. I flinched and involuntarily looked at Fedka. He, as usual, sat on his bench, staring into the distance. Impassive, motionless. None of those present reacted. «So it's only me who hears this?» I asked myself the obvious question.

Not knowing how, I decided to mentally send him a question: I just clearly thought it, formulated the text, and mentally spoke it: «Who is this Creature?»

The answer came instantly, again silently, but clearly: «Very strong. And very cruel. Be careful.»

«Thanks, Fedka,» I thought back.

Fedka didn't even stir. Not a gesture, not a glance. Only the wind lightly ruffled the folds of his camouflage.

The feeling from such mental contact was like an MRI. I had an examination after being wounded. You lie there thinking about your own things, and suddenly a voice comes from nowhere: «Hold your breath.»

I took a nervous breath and returned my thoughts to the people seeing us off.

«Well, time to go. Mount up,» I commanded, and we started loading up.

The car slowly moved towards the exit. We honked for a long time, saying goodbye to these people who had left a mark on the soul of every member of the squad.

Chapter 7. Vysokovsk. Another Failure

Abu Faiz was angry. Nothing like this had happened to him since he had organized his squad here, in this infected and rotting world. Before, of course, things had happened. His squad had been destroyed in Syria, then he gathered new men—and again luck turned away. When the epidemic started, he returned to Russia. He did it for one simple reason: in ruined Syria, it was hard to survive even before the epidemic, and now there was no one left at all. Maybe there were people in some villages, but very few. And Abu Faiz was used to living comfortably.

As soon as he arrived in Russia, he immediately began gathering a squad. After about six months, he already had about a hundred men. The ideology had to be adjusted: it was impossible to find radicals in the required numbers here. But he kept the flag—it was his pride, his personal banner. After a year, Abu Faiz had become the commander of one of the most serious gangs in this part of Russia. Of course, there were remnants of the army, there were other groups from which one could expect strong resistance. But for some settlers to smash one of the best squads, killing almost everyone and destroying the equipment, he hadn't expected.

Grishka the Red was, of course, too hot-headed and pushed straight ahead, but he did it to please Abu Faiz, and that had to be encouraged. Loyal people needed to be kept close—Abu had learned that back in Syria, after repeated betrayals.

He was listening to Grishka's deputy's report for the third time. Grishka himself had only regained consciousness this morning, and Abu wanted to talk to him separately. Along with the squad, a local had also come—Viktor. He had led the squad to that settlement. At first, he was confident, but after the personal executioner had worked him over, Viktor had turned into a rag, ready to lick the floor of Abu Faiz's office on his knees. He was babbling something about other worlds. Abu wanted to shoot him, but decided to wait until Grishka recovered.

«Abu, we're ready to leave. Loading the devils and heading to the mutants. Then we'll stop by the market, everything according to plan,» reported the base chief, entering the office.

«Good. Take them, and as soon as they pay, leave immediately. Quicker with those mutants,» Abu Faiz grimaced. He hated dealing with them, but they paid well. For some reason, they needed people—not all, but only those they chose themselves. They chose a half-dead old man. And when they found out he had been nursed back to health and literally pulled from the grave by a big guy captured somewhere near Moscow, the mutant demanded him too. That was good: the ammunition received would be enough for a whole group's raid.

«What about Grishka? Is he conscious? Can he talk?» Abu stopped the already departing commandant with a question.

«Yeah, he's conscious. Silent, angry, can talk, though with difficulty.»

«I'll go see him in ten minutes. And tell them to bring that idiot… what's his name… Viktor. I'll deal with him after Grishka.»

The infirmary was located in a lower room. It used to be a workshop, then it was converted and even equipped with supplies from the local hospital. Abu Faiz was not a frequent guest here, and his appearance was unexpected. All the doctors and nurses dropped everything and stood in respectful bow.

At that moment, the door to one of the wards opened, and a pretty woman in a white coat came out.

«Who are you?» Abu asked, stopping her with a gesture.

«Doctor, Maria Sergeeva. Surgeon. I was sent to help from Livino.»

Livino paid tribute to Abu Faiz, and so far there had been no problems with them.

«You'll come to me in an hour,» he said in a tone that brooked no argument, and threw a glance at his bodyguard: «Check her out.»

The latter nodded almost imperceptibly. No longer paying attention to the pale woman, Abu entered Grishka's ward.

«So, screwed up again? Seventy men in Ozyory, twenty before that at the military's… Are you completely out of your mind?» Abu scolded him, lounging on the next cot and picking at the fruit on a plate. «Keep quiet. I've already been told everything. Why did you drag that idiot Viktor here? Why didn't you kill him right away?»

«He was with the Ryazan guys. And there were rumors they'd found some kind of channel. I didn't put pressure on him, and then I was unconscious. He came with a pistol. All his other weapons were standard, but the pistol… I'd never seen anything like it. So I wanted to find out where it came from…»

«Alright, when you're better, we'll put pressure on him together. For now, let them patch him up. Our executioner broke some things on him.»

With that, Abu left the infirmary. He was already anticipating his meeting with the woman doctor. And when, in the corridor in front of his office, he saw the bodyguard and Viktor standing nearby, he grimaced with disgust.

«Alright, live for now,» he threw contemptuously at Viktor. «You'll be moved to a better room. We'll see later.»

«You can't…» Viktor whispered through his broken lips and knocked-out teeth.

«What can't I, idiot?» the leader was beginning to lose his composure.

«You can't let the man go. I met him in the yard. Him and the old man with him. They were being taken somewhere. He's a liaison from that other world. You can't kill him…» from the strain, Viktor's blood began to flow. Fragments of teeth cut his broken and swollen lips. But he uttered this phrase to the end, despite the pain.

Then Abu Faiz remembered Grishka's words.

«Where are his things?» he growled at the bodyguard.

The pistol, delivered about five minutes later, was unmistakable. The serial number clearly showed it had been manufactured in Izhevsk, in 2012, in a large batch.

«Where did you get this?»

«Through the channel. I told you…»

At that moment, the woman doctor entered the office, pushed in by the bodyguard.

«Everyone out!» Abu Faiz yelled, grabbing his radio. «Get out!»

The radio didn't answer. The group transporting the prisoners to the mutants wasn't responding.

Later, a squad sent in pursuit would find an old bus crashed into a pole about twenty kilometers from the base. Three guards had been killed with an ordinary piece of rebar, which was still sticking out of the driver's throat.

**Chapter 8. Ozyory. The Start of the Route**

Vasya was driving the "Lynx," while Sanyok took the navigator's seat. Nastya and I settled into the wide back seat. The route had been agreed upon yesterday, and nothing foreshadowed any problems right up to the boundary beyond which Arkhip's groups hadn't ventured. Soft music was playing in the cabin, which I had started from my terminal.

I was surprised by how such things could coincide: for example, Bluetooth, automatic systems, cars. How is it possible to have such similar technologies in two completely different worlds? Sometimes entire towns here simply don't exist, and sometimes even house numbers match. It all seemed strange. I had a hypothesis, of course, but to confirm it, I needed knowledge and a foundation. For now, I put off thinking about it until a better time.

"Kostya, please don't be angry…" Nastya finally ventured. I had noticed for a while that she was ill at ease.

"You see, it hasn't even been a week since I watched guys get shot right in front of me at the sports complex in Shchurovo. Then you showed me how he died… well, you know who." She paused briefly, meeting my gaze. "Then suddenly I became an instructor, a sniper's assistant. We broke into the warehouse together. I… I became needed by someone again. You understand? Guys?"

Vasya and Sanya in the front seats grew quiet, afraid to even move.