Chapter 4: Food?
In the aftermath of the catastrophic event that had decimated the world's population, Ilyas had risen as a leader, albeit in a small sector. It was a bittersweet victory, achieved at the tremendous cost of countless lives. Now entrusted with the responsibility of maintaining order and safeguarding the survival of those in his charge, Ilyas understood that the weight of his decisions would shape the destiny of the remaining survivors.
He had lost almost everything - his family, his girlfriend, everything he held dear. As he prayed for their safety, he hoped with all his heart that they had found refuge in the metro. Before the war, he had considered himself fortunate to be stationed there, close to his loved ones. He yearned for their well-being, longing to be reunited with them unscathed.
All he had left was his position in the army, the camaraderie of his fellow soldiers, a collection of medals adorning his chest, and his trusted pistol. He relied on the latter as a means to vanquish his enemies, or even as a last resort for himself.
Ilyas sighed, his gaze drifting across the surroundings - the cold, damp floor, the worn walls, and the low ceiling that encapsulated the fragile sanctuary of the metro. It was a refuge, buried over 90 meters beneath the surface. He ran his hand along his desk, its surface crafted from an unknown, likely inexpensive wood. Taking a moment to collect himself, he organized his official documents before reaching for the intercom. He requested his new secretary to summon the officers of his battalion - a collective of three companies under his command.
Captain Igor, accompanied by Captain Dimitri and another officer from his original company, entered Ilyas' office. The Major addressed the pressing issues at hand: Food, Radiation Protection, and Metro Security (the fragile infrastructure). He thanked Captain Igor for his efforts in gradually resolving the housing problem and entrusted Dimitri with the responsibility of maintaining justice.
The dimly lit room, adorned with maps and documents scattered across the desk, bore witness to the weight of their tasks. Ilyas, wearing his worn military uniform, sat behind the desk, his gaze focused and determined.
"Comrades," Ilyas began, his voice resonating with a mix of exhaustion and determination. "We are facing critical challenges that threaten the survival of our people. Food supplies are dwindling, and we must find a solution before desperation takes hold. Radiation levels are increasing, and our people need proper protection. And, as you both know, the fragile infrastructure of the metro demands constant vigilance to ensure its stability."
He paused for a moment, looking at each officer in turn, their faces etched with concern. "Captain Igor, I have seen your resourcefulness and dedication in tackling the housing issue. I trust you to continue finding innovative ways to address this crucial matter, providing our people with shelter and a sense of security."
Turning his attention to Dimitri, Ilyas continued, "Dimitri, justice is paramount in maintaining order and unity within our community. I task you with upholding fairness and accountability, ensuring that no one takes advantage of the chaos surrounding us. Your role is vital in preserving the morale and trust of our people."
"I am also entrusting you with the task of forming teams that will patrol regularly throughout our sector," Ilyas declared, his voice filled with authority. "Resolve any issues that arise, and remember, violence is not always the solution, even though it may seem to simplify things." With a pointed stick, he indicated various locations within the metro on the map. "Here, here, and there, you will position troops on a permanent basis, with rotations, to ensure constant protection of these strategic zones."
He then gestured towards the platform, the sole point of supply and reliable communication. "The walkie-talkies work, but they are not secure and often suffer from interference. "
"We must also secure the metro's borders..." Like many others, Ilyas believed that even after the bomb explosions, Russia was still at war, with occupying forces present. He knew he had to monitor the entrances to prevent the extermination of the Russian nation.
The room fell silent, the weight of their responsibilities palpable. Each officer understood the immense challenge ahead. United by a common goal, they exchanged determined glances, ready to face the trials ahead.
"Do you have any ideas or questions?" No one responded, a predictable outcome considering there were no miraculous solutions or eccentric scientists capable of discovering a magical remedy for radiation and hunger...
Silence enveloped the room.
"Well then, Captain Igor and Captain Dimitri, you are dismissed. I believe you both have plenty of matters to attend to! Glory to the Soviets!"
"Glory to the Soviets!" the two captains exclaimed, their heads nodding slightly as they exited. Ilyas found himself alone with the officer from his original company. He rose from his seat, opened the door, ensuring no one was eavesdropping, and returned to the room. The officer anticipated that Ilyas had something highly confidential to discuss, and yet...
Ilyas met his gaze, a sigh escaping his lips. He asked sincerely, "I... I have... I have a personal favor to ask you." Taking the map hanging on the wall, he placed it on his desk. Extending his finger towards Sector A, he explained, "My parents and my girlfriend used to reside in this neighborhood near Universitet station. If my loved ones have survived, they should be somewhere around there. I want you to lead a small team of ten men equipped with anti-radiation gear since you'll need to traverse the surface. Along the way, conduct a couple of air analyses, although that is of secondary importance."
The officer appeared visibly uneasy. He harbored no desire to embark on this mission, but he knew Ilyas well. Firstly, Ilyas was no saint, and secondly, they had known each other for a significant period, causing him to feel a profound sympathy for Ilyas' family. After a prolonged period of reflection, it seemed he had made his decision.
"Major, I would be willing to assist, but... you would be violating martial law, and..."
Before he could complete his sentence, Ilyas interjected. "You will be promoted to the rank of Captain and I will grant you permission for a duration of one week… You know that the most challenging part is always the beginning. Moreover, you won't be exposed to any risks, I will inform the Central Metro Command that you are engaged in a reconnaissance and radiation level measurement mission."
The officer, driven by ambition like everyone else, swiftly altered his stance and declared, "At your command, Major! I will depart immediately, and my team will set out within three hours."
Ilyas watched him leave, settling back into his chair. "Pff, he's an open book. People all crave promotions, but don't I? We're all human, and humans yearn to ascend... At least he has a weakness."
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Accompanied by a personal guard of 10 men, Ilyas embarked on an inspection of the sector housing his command center.
As he traversed the stations and tunnels, he couldn't help but notice the significant improvement since the first day. Tents were beginning to dot the landscape, signaling signs of progress. It was around noon, and the soldiers had commenced the distribution of rations. Each person had their own response to the meager sustenance provided—some devoured their portion in haste, while others opted to consume only half, preserving the rest for later. Ilyas's attention was also captured by a mother who selflessly gave the majority of her meal to her ailing child...
But Ilyas remained unphased by it all. Having witnessed families in far worse circumstances during his time in Afghanistan, where assistance was scarce and skeletal figures greeted the arriving soldiers, he knew the limitations imposed by the scarcity of provisions.
The tunnels revealed their deteriorating state, riddled with cracks and leaking water. Ilyas couldn't help but ponder the metro's long-term survival. From the day following the catastrophe, the metro had already fallen into such disrepair. Imagining its condition two decades hence was a terrifying prospect.
"There's already mold. Ah, I fear we won't endure more than 5 years," he commanded a soldier to procure a sample for future analysis, hoping to gain insights into the structural integrity of their underground haven.
Undeterred, he pressed on, but a peculiar sight caught his eye—a glimpse of something within a crack. He stooped down, retrieving the object with curiosity. "Some kind of mushroom? Growing even in the absence of light?" Slipping the mushroom into his pocket, he resumed his journey.
Back in his office, he meticulously examined the piece of concrete he had procured. "So, there are organisms that thrive without sunlight." Setting the concrete aside, he turned his attention to the mushroom, contemplating its edibility.
"Secretary, please contact the military doctor."