Zhukov didn’t want to stray too far from civilization, as the strange creature of the night still had him worried. So, after Igor roused the drunks the next morning, they were quickly off to pillage the town. Surprisingly, the village had little of value.

The industrial sector contained a tavern, a carpenter’s workshop, a warehouse, and a smithy of sorts. Though there were plenty of raw materials and tools in these buildings, none of it was particularly useful to them. Sergei had been hoping to find welding equipment, along with scrap metal, to patch up the hole that was still on the driver’s compartment of the KV-1S. They had been using a patch of tarp to cover the hole. Sergei was worried that once Vasily sobered up, he would start whining about it. Much to his dismay though, the smithy had nothing more than rudimentary tools, unsuitable for the task.

The residential district held even less valuables. The people living in the village must have lived a very frugal life before they became undead. Many of the houses had bows and, even stranger, swords. Not a single firearm in sight. Perhaps it was no surprise they succumbed so easily to their attackers. They did, however, find a variety of of iron and, what appeared to be, copper coins. Though since none of the mints were familiar to them, they left them where they were.

The church proved to be the most useful, as inside a variety of plants bore both vegetables and fruits. Some were familiar, potatoes, carrots, cabbage, apples, grapes, and the like. Others were…unknown. Zhukov told Vasily he could bring one bottle of alcohol for every plant he tested for edibility. Vasily was more than happy to oblige and began to wolf down everything in sight. He even attempted to eat the bark off of the trunk of a tree, but was quickly stopped by Zhukov. Surprisingly, everything seemed to be edible and much of it was thrown in with their other food supplies.

Having stayed true to his word, Zhukov had let Vasily take a burlap sack over to the tavern before they moved out. Though, much to Zhukov’s surprise, Vasily had chosen to make the most out of the sack. He’d returned, dragging behind him a torn burlap sack, upon which sat multiple casks and bottles. Zhukov shook his head, clearly displeased, but a promise was a promise. They tied the casks down to the back of the tank and gave Vasily a new sack to store the loose bottles in.

Finally, the group was off again, leaving the undead standing aimlessly in the plaza. They were off to the next village. Hopefully, the next town would be a bit more normal, and a lot less dead.

As the Russians disappeared off into the winter tundra, a familiar undead stood patiently, waiting. When the Russians were long gone, it eyes began to change. The brown eyes that had long since lost their shine, exploded with a greenish-yellow light. The undead turned back to face the others of its kind in the plaza, flesh beginning to fall from its bones. It calmly walked towards the center of the group, stopping to pick up its missing arm and raise it into the air. All the undead in the village began to growl with approval.

……….

The crew was in good spirits, their stocks of alcohol having been replenished. Which made the dull ride a bit easier to bear. Unlike the short distance between the cave and the first village, the second village proved to be much further away. After three hours of driving towards the north east with nothing exciting occurring, Vasily called out with suprise. He’d spotted something through the driver’s view port. Zhukov opened up the commander’s hatch and peered out with binoculars in hand. It was another settlement, the one they had been looking for.

Unlike the last settlement, this one was built into a mountain, surrounded with colossal walls made of stone brick. A strange sight. The group rode on, hoping to find someone living this time, and perhaps more alcohol.

…………….

High atop the stone walls, sat a stubby man with a beard that reached down past his knees. He was on the verge of dozing off, having just enjoyed a few pints of his favorite brew. The peaceful view of nothing but snow, being just too entertaining to watch.

The stubby man’s eyes opened with a jolt when he saw a small blob appear on the horizon, slowly making its way towards him. He quickly shifted through a pile of equipment that sat near his post, eventually finding what he’d been looking for. A spyglass. He used his newfound equipment to peer closer at the blob that was approaching.

It was strange dark green green beast. Looking almost metallic, with wispy smoke spewing out near the rear. A strange sight for sure. The stubby man rang a bell nearby, signalling the town of a possible attack. Other guards rushed over and took up positions along the wall, hidden from sight.

The stubby man began to sweat when he saw the beast was heading straight for the entrance. But, right when the vehicle was about to crash into the gate, it slowed to a stop. To his surprise, a variety of humans came out of the beast, five in total.

A human with a bushy grey beard that reached down to his chest, appeared first. His eyes were a pale blue, and his wrinkled face held the look of a seasoned veteran.

The second was helped out by the first. His face was much more terrifying. He was completely bald, without facial hair. The left half of his face was covered in unnatural burn marks. The eye on the right side of his face was brown, the other was white and seemed ruined. He held a serious, almost menacing look.

The third to arrive, came from the same place as the other two. He appeared to be much younger, perhaps middle aged. A long, deep scar extended from his right brow down to his lower left lip. Though both eyes were brown, his right eye seemed to have been made useless by the wound. This man seemed much more easy going, a smile plastered across his face. Which revealed a missing tooth on his upper jaw, where the scar on his face ended, beginning again on his lower lip. Below his beaming smile, was a very thick brown stubble.

The fourth to arrive, came from the front of the machine. He wobbled about when he stood up near the others, who were still on the machine. In one of his hands, he held a clear bottle. He was also middle aged, with hazel eyes, complemented by a reddened face. He was clearly happy, a satisfied smirk stretched across his face. Patches of dark brown hair could be seen under his headgear, he had no facial hair. The human attempted to take a swig from the bottle, but toppled off the machine, ending up face first in the snow. The other humans roared with laughter at this sight.

The last to arrive came from the same hatch as the human prior. He was clearly the youngest of the five. With a clean shaven, blond hair, and a pair of deep amber eyes. He looked around in confusion, clearly concerned about reason for the outburst of laughter. After seeing his comrade still face first in the snow, his face exploded with worry. He quickly scrambled over to help the, clearly drunk, human back onto his feet.

The stubby man felt a chill go down his spine, and sprung up out of hiding, crossbow in hand.

“Bandits!”

The other guards, upon hearing these words, also sprung out wielding crossbows pointed at the outsiders.

…………..

Zhukov had to blink a few times to dispel his disbelief. He looked around and saw no one other than his crew.

“Bandits? What bandits?”

“You’re the bandits!”

“Us? Bandits?”

“Yes, you!”

“Look at us! we are clearly civilized folk.”

The stubby man’s jaw dropped. He couldn’t believe such dangerous looking men weren’t bandits”

“Well…prove it…”

“Prove what?”

“Prove that you aren’t bandits, and we’ll let you in.”

“Oh? And how do you suppose we do that?”

The stubby man paused for a moment. He hadn’t ever seen bandits in this godforsaken wasteland, but if there were any bandits, he was sure they would look like these humans. But, before he could think any further the leader of the human group spoke up once again.

“Okay, how about this…You let us in, and if we kill you, then you can kill us too.”

“What the hell kind of an agreement is that!”

The stubby man was infuriated. He wanted to just shoot the human right where he stood. Though another one of the humans spoke up before he could. This time, it was the drunk.

“Mhpf…mphf…mffp mrpp fhmm.!”

The youngest human gave the drunk a whack on the back, sending a mouthful of snow spewing out from his lips.

“We…we…we gots alcohol!”

The stubby man scratched his beard, pondering.

“Alright! Let’em in!”

When the gates opened, Zhukov’s eye twitched, but he didn’t let the matter bother him for too long. They had finally found civilization. Though his displeasure returned as soon as they entered the town and saw the people who lived there.

“Oh fuck, did we end up in the Gulag after all?”

Zhukov couldn’t help but express his disbelief at the sight before him. Countless midgets, as far as the eyes could see. Some were stocky, with long beards. Others were thin with long pointy ears, some green and others grey.

“Gulag? No this is the town of Kelturm, named after the chief, Kel.”

“What does Turm mean then?”

Yakov was curious.

“Fuck if I know! Anyways I’m Grundolf, leader of the guard here. Sorry bout the mess back there. Though you were a bunch’a bandits.”

“Do you get bandits around here often?”

“Nope. Never.”

Zhukov’s eye twitched again at Grundolf’s blunt response.

“Any who, I’ll buy you all a few pints as an apology. Come with me.”

Vasily was the first to follow, happy to have a chance to drink more. He was followed, reluctantly, by his comrades. They made their way through the crowds of tiny people, who stared at them with curiosity and wonder. Soon they’d arrived at a tavern, it was hard to miss, having a giant sign with a beer mug hanging right over the front door.

When they entered, the first thing they noticed were two other humans, who appeared to be rather displeased by their sudden appearance.

“Oh Scheiße, It’s ze Russians.”

“Aw, bloody hell.”