The Apteka

September 26, 1983. Alarms blared at the Serphukov-15 bunker, alerting those inside that the United States and allies have launched an attack against the Soviet Union. The early warning system warned of an imminent attack by one nuclear armed, intercontinental missile. In haste, the leaders of the Soviet Union authorised what they thought was a retaliative strike. The whole nuclear arsenal against one missile. A missile that never existed. By the time the leaders of the Union realised their mistake, the United States was forced to play their hand. Mutual assured destruction followed, coating the world in nuclear radiation and ash.

I remember exactly what I did that day. I had ventured out into the heart of St. Petersburg, the Nevsky Prospekt, to buy a small heart shaped locket for my young, 10 year old daughter. My sweet little Anya grinned with joy when I handed her the necklace.

“This is for you. Inside, you’ll find a picture of your mum and me. Use this to remind yourself of who your parents are.”

I patted her on the head. Her hazel eyes stared back at me with joy. She had her mother’s eyes. Soothing, kind. Innocent to the horrors of war.

That’s when everything went to hell. The alarms blared loudly across the city, and people ran for the stations. In the sea of humanity, I lost my daughters hand. I tried calling out to her, tried to push through the crowd to get to my little baby girl. But to no avail. The overwhelming stampede pushed me further and further away, until I was forced to turn around and head to the safety of the underground tunnels. My only hope is that someone saw my frightened daughter, and took her to the safety of the tunnels. If not, I surely hope that her death was painless.

20 years onward, I found myself back on that street, having long given up hope that I would see her face again. The ruins of a once bustling St. Petersburg, now a home to the many devils birthed by man’s lust for war.

You forget how bright the sun can be. How jarring it can be to eyes acclimated to darkness. Its why moles live their lives underground, never having seen the brightest rays of sun. I had rushed ahead of my group up the escalator, and was blinded by the light. Once my eyes adjusted, I saw what had become of my home town. The whitest snow falling on the rubble of civilisation. From my vantage point, behind the safety of the unbroken windows of the metro station, I could see the old shops, long abandoned and decaying day by day. An old ice cream cart, from which I would buy the most delicious crème brulee anyone could ever have, lying on it’s side. And finally, the obelisk. Still standing, memoralising the dead of the Leningrad siege back in World War 2.

“Well get one of those soon enough.”

The muffled voice of Andrey rang out as he walked up behind me. He knew me well enough to know at what I was looking at.

“That’s if humanity survives.”

“Be optimistic Pavel. One day the surface will be ours again.”

“No time for chit chat, we have medicine to get” chipped in Oleg. His military training didn’t lend itself well to conversation. For him it was all about the mission.

“Please, who put you in charge?” The sarcastic remark came from Nata, our team leader. She didn’t make time for bullshit, hence why she was in charge.

“Let’s just get this job done before I regret volunteering to being a part of your group.”

Our mission was simply to get to the apteka (the chemist) and raid it for supplies. Down in the tunnels, the medicinal supply had long been running low. At Nevsky, we were fortunate to have enough to share with the other stations. Much like the old Nevsky Prospekt, our station became a hub of trade and commerce. Our main export was souvenirs from the surface, various home made delicacies prepared underground, ammunition, gas masks and medicinal supplies. But as supplies diminished, we knew that the only other way to obtain medicine, was to head to the surface. As such, the four of us volunteered to obtain the necessary goods.

We made our way to the old, heavy iron doors of the station, and began prying them open with crowbar. As soon as a gap emerged, the bitter Russian winter air rushed in from the outside, making Nata shiver a bit. It’s the one thing that I certainly didn’t miss about the surface. That damn cold.

Trudging through the unpaved snow, we slowly made our way over to the apteka. The icicles hung over the window and door, making it hard for us to see inside. Using the butt of his gun, Andrey swiped away the icicles on the door frame, making them crash to the ground below. He then pushed the door open, illuminating the inside with the flash-light mounted on his gun. He gave us a thumbs up, indicating that we didn’t waste our time walking over here.

Rows of undisturbed medicine sat upon the old metal brackets holding them up for sale. We got to work immediately, stashing all of it into our duffel bags. Any morphine, bandages, pain relievers. Everything that was deemed useful and hadn’t yet expired was taken. We navigated the long shelves, pulling everything apart, until there was nothing left.

“Well, I guess it’s time for us to return to the station,” proclaimed Oleg.

“Why stop here, when there’s another store up the road?”

Andrey knew this street like the back of his hand. You could tell by how much he loved talking about it near the campfires. The tales of walking around at night through the beautiful, bustling street amazed those younger who have never seen the light of day. To the older, it was a reminder of what was lost.

“Are we sure it’s not looted?” asked Nata.

“If this one isn’t, then neither is that one,” came the confident reply of Andrey.

Oleg took a little bit of convincing, but we finally agreed to venture out to that store. It truly wasn’t far, just over the Anichkov bridge in opposite direction to the station. With our heavy in tow, we made our way across. Looking over the railing of the bridge down at the Fontanka, I remembered a warm summer day, when I had taken Anya out on a boat ride. She put her little hand into the water, as the boat slowly made it’s way under the bridge. After disembarking, we strolled down Nevsky Avenue, before having some sweets at the Sever-Metropol. What I wouldn’t give to go back to those days.

“Look out!” Oleg shouted.

I stood alone on the bridge, Oleg’s scream bringing me back to reality. I turned and looked up. Overhead, a winged demon, gnashing it teeth and screeching like a banshee. Without a second thought, I bolted from the bridge. Oleg acted fast, firing his gun at the incoming threat. Andrey and Nata ran inside, swinging the door open to escape the creature. The beast swooped down, crashing head fast into the ground, narrowly missing me. I jumped towards the door, opening it up and closing it behind me. I expected Oleg to be not far behind me, or at least in front of me. My visor was covered in a layer of fog formed by my breath as I ran away to hide, so I didn’t see where he was. I didn’t realise that he was still outside, until I heard Oleg’s screams.

The demon grabbed a hold of him, digging it’s claws into his body. The screams abruptly stopped, replaced only by sound of bones crunching. Teeth gnashed and teared at his body. Every gruesome bite, amplified through the loss of sight. I could Nata in the corner, whimpering in fear. Andrey tried to not to gag. With one final bite, I heard the beast take off, before the body of our comrade flopped over onto the ground with a light thump. I could only imagine the pain he must have felt, being teared apart like that. I caught my breath, my visor clearing. I raised my head, coming face to face with a gun.

“Who are you?” the coarse, muffled female voice commanded the room.

“We needed supplies. Please, we do not want any conflict,” Andrey managed to whimper out.

A glint of gold caught my eye. A golden chain, strung around this woman's neck. At the bottom of which hung a heart shaped locket. Like the one I bought Anya all those years ago.

“Anya?”

The woman turned her head back towards me. Through the visor I saw tired, but familiar hazel eyes.

“How do you know my name?”

“Baby girl. Don’t you remember your old man?”

Those eyes widened in disbelief. She lowered her gun, as I stopped leaning against the wall.

“Dad?”

She looked away for second. A brief pause. Followed by a sudden slap.

“That’s for leaving me dad.”

She came in for a hug, gripping me tightly around my waist.

“And this is for making you worry.”

Our sweet reunion was cut short by the sudden howling of grunts outside.

“Shit, they smelt us out,” Andrey lifted his gun to face the store window, as shadows from outside danced along the icy glass.

“Follow me!” cried Anya, making her way to the back of the chemist. We all followed, running through the door just as the beasts crashed through the glass on the other side. Anya began running down the back streets, us following in her footsteps. Not far behind, snarling grunts tried to catch up. There was no time to turn around and shoot. We just had to keep running. The immense dose of radiation had deformed the beloved house pets and birds into ferocious, nightmare-inducing creatures, all with a thirst for blood. Their howling shrieks and the occasional flapping of wings made even the most experienced crews cower in fear. There was no room for mistakes.

We ran out onto the street, and with no time to think, we ran for the closest metro. The door was slightly ajar, but it needed to be forced open. Nata, Anya and I began heaving it open, while Andrey provided cover fire. I looked over to see three grunts about to lunge at Andrey, when the unmistakable banshee screech tore open the sky. The winged beast grabbed a hold of one of the grunts, scaring the other two off. Andrey ran over to the door, helping us heave it open just enough to let us through. We climbed through the small gap, heaving the door shut with a heavy thud.

We took a moment to catch our breath. The crunching bones continued outside, as we made our way down the escalators. Anya raced ahead, reaching the door below. She knocked on it twice, leaving a pause, before knocking three times more. The creaky doors opened up, and new faces greeted us from the darkness.

“You’ve brought guests,” a male voice sternly cut through the silence, as we walked through the doors.

“I did indeed,” Anya’s voice came through loud and clear with that gas mask on her face. I could she that she truly was my daughter.

“Very well. Welcome to Gostiny Dvor.”

Before we had time to respond, I felt the butt of a rifle hit me in the leg, making me fall to the ground. Nata and Andrey also fell.

“What are you doing?”

“We’re deeply sorry, but we need your medicine.”

The guards proceeded to first tie our hands behind our backs, and then knocking us out. The last thing I saw besides the butt of a rifle, was my sweet little angel, her eyes wet with tears.

“I’m sorry dad.”