The Shadow of Chernobyl

The Right Way

All was quiet on the eastern front... for now. Didn't I already use that line somewhere? Ah, I forgot, it doesn't matter anyway.

As I sat in the surprisingly comfortable chair, I held the standard issued machinegun I'd been given over my lap, it was the same weapon the gunner had used. It was a simple thing, a little on the heavy side, but the latter was probably because I was withering by the hour.

My current objective was to keep watch. A small walkie-talkie, I believe that was the term the Americans used, was attached to the right shoulder strap of my rig. The instructions were simple; keep an eye out for any suspicious activity and report any findings immediately. From the watchtower I sat in, I could see the center of Pripyat, the once towering skyscrapers reduced to rubble, except one that still stood proud and tall, even if it was shortened to half its original height.

Indeed, a lot has happened the past week. To be honest, I wasn't really sure how much time had passed since I'd helped the medic in the infirmary, but like everything else, it made little difference. Where should I even start? Obviously, the answer is in the question; the start.

For three days, I worked as a nurse, an assistant to the medic that helped me. The hours blended into each other like mud and blood, the routine became more monotonous with every patient we, he, treated. I deserved no credit, I was only an assistant. The medic was the one who did everything, he had the knowledge to heal the wounded. Anyone could've done what I'd done, I was no one, nothing special. A nobody.

Day by day, I grew more numb to the gruesome sights. I witnessed the cruelty of man in all its glory; poison, fire, lead, famine, and suicide. The latter didn't fit with the rest, but when you clock in to work to discover that one of the patients strangled himself with the same tube that kept him alive, you can no longer brush aside the fifth horseman of war.

By then, I fully realized the effect it had taken on my mental health. I was always aware of what was happening to me, but it took some time for the consequences to catch up.

After that incident, and the fact I had to dispose of him as well as the many other countless men, I lost my ambition. I no longer dreamt at night; I closed my eyes, and opened them to the next day. I no longer ate; no taste registered on my tongue, though that could've been caused by even the tiniest amount of gas. I no longer drank; the water didn't quench my thirst.

But I digress, I consumed only the bare minimum that would keep me going. The brighter reason behind my pseudo-fasting was the supply situation.

We hadn't received any reinforcements. Nothing. Not even an airdrop.

Not that it was much of a shocker. I didn't know what the whole picture was, but I caught snippets while eavesdropping on a few officers. To summarize everything in three words: "We are fucked."

However, despite the shadow that loomed over the dying candle in to my heart, I held on to a sliver of hope, the possibility, the chance, that help would come. Though, I knew for a fact that the population centers further north were a peg above us priority-wise.

Yes, the reactor was an important key objective, and a stronghold, but if they cut off the industry in the underbelly of the bear, it would disrupt logistics. Perhaps they had a good reason for leaving us in the dark, not that I knew a thing anyhow.

I had tried to also eavesdrop on the higher ranking officers, but the most I got from them was the obvious, deteriorating state of the fortress.

On a positive note, we had practically infinite power thanks to the radioactive fuels stored beneath the reactor. Although we had electricity, that wasn't going to feed our mouths and sate the growing hunger.