The old door held only by a good word and a stone that propped it up from the inside opened easily. The stalker entered a long-abandoned apartment, the one he had been to dozens of times and returned to as if it were home. In some way, it was his home.
Somehow, one window survived after all these years. He liked to sit with the thrown-off backpack because that was his favorite place. He could see the snow-covered Enerhetyk Palace of Culture on the horizon, illuminated by the moonlight. The snow sparkled and played with different colors, returning his thoughts to the distant past. A familiar song, which became a Christmas hymn far beyond Prypiat, flashed through his mind.
The night started slowly covering the Zone. The Zone that this year changed forever. Has She become different? Perhaps. More dangerous? Of course, She has. Has She become a refuge for hundreds of thousands of new stalkers searching for something of their own? Absolutely. And that was something that pleased his soul the most.
He knew — that night, he would not be alone. And if he had only one wish, he would have wished to be here — among his friends, among his faithful stalkers. And that wish would have been granted.
Merry Christmas, dear friends.
