Chapter 17 – Kill or be Killed
Shutov felt like they’d had a good day in Cherno but observing his men, he noted their demeanor told a different story. Many of them weren’t used to hearing the gun shots that had been ringing out all day. Emanating firstly from that religious nutter shooting from the tower. Then, later on, different rifle shots rang from out-of-town before, finally, their own shots in Cherno. The men had already learnt not to shoot infected that were located in town, but sometimes it was unavoidable, and every time a shot was fired, the men panicked. Every shot led to a barrage of questions and analysis.
“Who’s firing in Cherno?”
“Where did the shots come from?”
“What gun was that?”
“Who do we know who had one like that?”
Despite the rising panic, they’d had a good day - no one had died, and it seemed everyone was well kitted up. They had food, water, basic survival gear, and some of them had even found camouflage clothing. Sure, there were a few sheep among the wolves, but overall, he was pleased with the men he had and didn’t want to lose them.
They were now bunkered down in a small apartment building across the road from a hospital. Vuk had picked the location - it was easily defensible with men able to observe from the roof and only one entrance to guard. Shutov was becoming increasingly impressed with Vuk – he had good instincts coupled with military training and he understood the need for rank and control. Vuk had also found the military documents that Shutov would look over tonight. He hoped they would contain information about what was happening in Chernarus.
Shutov had put The Butcher and Sam on the roof to take first watch. The Butcher was a concern to Shutov - he coveted his AKM which he refused to relinquish when others needed a gun. The man was intent on survival and Shutov was sure he was using them until he didn’t need them anymore. He didn’t really trust The Butcher so he made sure that The Butcher always had another man nearby. The Butcher was a killer, cold blooded and without remorse, so right now Shutov would rather have him nearby that out in the unknown.
He walked up the stairs, nodding to the men as he passed them. Some nodded back but many kept their eyes down, focused on themselves. Shutov felt that if he didn’t do something soon he was going to lose some of them. They already looked defeated and it had only been two days. If they continued to be beaten down by this situation then by the end of the week they’d all be dead.
Vuk was seated near the ladder that led to the roof, eating some baked beans from a can. Shutov sat down next to him, resting the CZ550 on his lap. The fool from the tower had carved the word Salvation in the wooden grip and Shutov had taken to unconsciously tracing the letters with his trigger finger.
Vuk noticed this and indicated towards the word, “salvation is what these men need sir. We’re in an unprecedented situation here and all this shooting, it’s…” Vuk trailed off looking for the right word.
“I know Vuk, but what am I supposed to do? Sometimes killing is necessary. You yourself were nearly killed,” replied Shutov.
“I understand that Sir, but that man was delusional, he thought I was Jesus.”
“These are crazy times filled with crazy people. Would you have preferred The Butcher didn’t kill him?”
“Of course not. I still want to live, I’m just concerned about the cost. We could have tried to talk him down, tried to communicate with him. The Butcher didn’t do any of that - he just fired - and now a man is dead.”
Their conversation drew in the other men who sat at the stairs and listened to them. “It was killed or be killed,” Shutov responded, “the man was well armed and shooting at you. Who knows how many others he may have killed if he wasn’t killed?” Some murmurs of assent came from the men on the stairs.
“The Butcher did the right thing,” said Luther, “the man was dangerous up there.”
Vuk looked over to Luther. The man was a worm, he was one of the weak that attached himself to Shutov like a newborn on the teat.
“We could have talked him down,” said Vuk. Luther shook his head and went back to rifling through his pack. Vuk turned to Shutov.
“We lost a very good opportunity to gain intelligence about this situation. Those papers I gave you are weeks old, his knowledge was up-to-date. Who knows what information was lost when he died?”
“I don’t think you would have had a chance to ask a lot of questions with bullets flying at your face, do you?”
“In this case I think you’re right. But what will we do when we see the next survivor?” Vuk queried.
Shutov thought over a response until finally he exhaled, shaking his head, “I don’t know. The only people I trust right now are the men in this building. I would die for them and they would die for me. What if we bring someone else in and they steal from us?”
“What if one of us steals from another?”
“Then he will be executed,” replied Shutov and some of the men cheered, fists pounding the stairs.
“Death? For something as simple,” he held up his meal, “as a can of beans?”
“Vuk look at our food situation. We have enough for two or three days maximum. A can of beans may mean the difference between life and death.”
“So then we should ration the food out, no man should eat well while another man goes hungry,” Vuk offered up his beans to the men around him but they refused and waved it away.
“Are you setting up rules now?”
“In a way we all should. You’ve just said stealing equals death and I think we should also ensure no man hoards the food whilst another man starves.”
The men nodded and Shutov followed with his own nod.
“Agreed. Let it be known we share everything, food, water, ammunition – everything. But only with the men before me.”
“What will we do if we see another man not of this group?” asked Vuk.
“Like you Vuk, I want to live. How can I trust someone I don’t know? And even if I could trust them, every extra man is another mouth to feed, another person to arm up. Can we really afford to further spread thin our supplies?”
“No!” some of the men responded.
“We can’t,” Vuk also replied, “so if we see someone else, then we let them pass.”
“Why the sudden concern about others?”
“Because tomorrow we move to Elektro. And just as we have found sanctuary here there may be others there. I’ve been on the other side in Serbia, scared, running alone, afraid of groups of men with guns. I want it to be clear - we leave others alone - we don’t assist them but we don’t harm them either.”
“We could let them pass, form a truce of sorts,” Vuk nodded but Shutov continued on, “but then what? Perhaps the one man we let pass returns with ten others. Or perhaps he’s alone and follows us from afar, waiting until we are asleep to kill and rob us.”
“You can’t be certain of that.”
“No. All I’m certain of is that these are desperate times and in desperate times, men are unpredictable and dangerous. If we are to be safe then we must be suspicious of all others, I’d rather be paranoid and wrong, than trusting and dead.”
“So what should we do then?” Vuk asked.
From the ladder upstairs came The Butcher’s cold response, “we kill on sight.”
Some of the men nodded and Vuk shook his head, “it can’t be like this. Not again.”
Shutov rested his hand on Vuk’s knee, “Vuk I agree it’s not pleasant-”
“Not pleasant! You speak of killing men for petty crimes they may or may not commit.”
“And you speak of laws in a lawless land. There are no rules out there, no police force to rely on, no judge to sentence a man. I speak of survival - that’s all. But you are right that we should all be committed to this. We will vote on this. After all, we’re not savages.”
“You could have fooled me,” Vuk retorted.
“You misunderstand. What we’re proposing is savage. To kill men so as not to b
e killed by them. But we don’t do this out of animal instinct, or a homicidal desire,” not all of us Shutov thought, glancing up at The Butcher, “we do this solely to survive. Any person we kill may have valuable loot that may help one of our men survive another day. He may have food, water, weapons or ammunition - therefore we kill him so that one of us may live. But only if we all agree to this. So a show of hands for those who agree. Will it be kill or be killed?” Immediately two hands appeared down the hatch to the roof.
Some of the other men raised their hands quickly and the few sheep were slower but eventually the eyes of the others forced them up. Only Vuk kept his hands down as he buried his face in them, trying to erase the moment. He pulled his hands away and looked around at the others, some encouraging him to raise his hand.
“What you speak of is banditry. Murdering others for the gun on their back and the beans in their pockets,” said Vuk.
“I speak of survival,” Shutov replied.
“We could survive without killing others, but, as you say, it would be more dangerous. So let us be clear that we are agreeing to banditry. If anyone takes issue with that then lower your hand now,” Vuk hoped one would lower his hand because alone he had no chance.
Vuk and Shutov looked around but all hands stayed raised. Vuk pondered on this. If he left them he’d most likely be killed by Shutov. If Shutov was prepared to kill men for the food in their packs, what would he do to Vuk if he betrayed him and left? As distasteful as it was to him if he didn’t agree, then he’d probably have an ‘accident’ and die anyway.
“Then I will be a bandit with you my brothers, not because I want to but because I need to, and together we will survive,” and with that Vuk reluctantly raised his hand. A small cheer erupted from the men and they congratulated each other as a small amount of camaraderie returned.
“Very good my brothers. Rest well tonight because tomorrow we move to Elektro,” a hurrah resounded as the men dispersed to find somewhere to sleep.
“God help any Survivors we see tomorrow,” Vuk whispered but it was still loud enough for Shutov to hear. Shutov ran his trigger finger across the carved word Salvation on his rifle, this time consciously.
“I think we can both agree God forsook this place a long time ago,” he slung the rifle on his shoulder and walked down the stairs, not waiting for a response.
Vuk looked up the ladder at The Butcher’s smiling face staring down at him. The Butcher nodded before moving away from the hatch and returning to the darkness. Using his finger Vuk scooped the last of the beans out of the tin and tossed it aside. He’s right - the Devil rules here, Vuk thought as he pulled his shirt up over his eyes and tried to get some sleep.