Stalker Page #2

You're an "in" writer.

Women must be running after you

in flocks.

My inspiration has been lost,

Professor. I go begging for it.

Have you been used up?

What?

Yes, I guess, in a way.

Do you hear it? Our train.

- Have you taken the roof off the car?

- Yes, I have.

Luger, if I don't come back,

call on my wife.

Damn it, I forgot to buy cigarettes.

Don't go back.

- Why?

- You must not.

- You're all like this.

- Like what?

Believing such nonsense.

Well, I'd better leave it for a rainy

day.

Are you really a scientist?

Down!

Don't move!

Go and look, is there anyone there?

Move it, for God's sake!

There's no one there.

Go to the other exit.

Where on earth did you look, Writer?

- You didn't forget the jerry can?

- No. It's full.

Everything I told you before...

is a lie.

I don't give a damn about inspiration.

How would I know

the right word for what I want?

How would I know that actually

I don't want what I want?

Or that I actually don't want

what I don't want?

They are elusive things:

the moment we name them,

their meaning disappears,

melts, dissolves

like a jellyfish in the sun.

My conscience wants vegetarianism

to win over the world.

And my subconscious is yearning

for a piece of juicy meat.

But what do I want?

World domination.

Quiet!

Why a diesel locomotive in the Zone?

It services the outpost.

It won't go any farther.

They don't like going there.

Take your places!

Everybody here?

The guards have arrived.

Tell them to turn the TV off.

Hurry!

Go look if there's a trolley

on the tracks.

What trolley?

Go back, I'll do it.

The jerry can!

Give it to me!

Get rid of your knapsack,

it's hampering you.

You may travel light, if you wish,

as if going for a stroll.

If someone gets hit,

don't shout or rush about.

If they see you, they'll kill you.

When everything settles down,

crawl back to the outpost.

They'll pick you up in the morning.

Can they catch up with us?

They fear it like the plague.

Fear what?

Here we are... home, at last.

How quiet it is.

This is the quietest place in

the world. You'll see for yourselves.

So beautiful here.

Not a single soul here.

What about us?

Three men can't spoil the place

in one day.

Why? They can.

It's strange that flowers don't

smell. Or have I...

Do you feel anything?

I feel the stench of the bog.

No, that's the river. There's a river

here.

There was a flower-bed nearby,

but Porcupine had trampled it down.

The smell lingered

for many years though.

Why did he do it?

I don't know.

I asked him why, too.

And he said:

"You'll understand later."

I think he just came to hate the Zone.

Porcupine, that's his name?

A nickname, like yours.

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