[CONTAINS: Nightmares, clingy adults. I don't really like this anymore, it feels very forced. Pavel's personality is different now and Tolyan does not really exist anymore...
RANDOM EXPLANATION OF THE TITLE, GO! When I wrote this Pavel’s nickname was “Shenok”, meaning “Puppy”, so I thought it would fit that the story be named Dog Nightmare. Also when I was really into Jack Stauber my favorite song of his was Dog Nightmare. It's still a banger.
(Also, Pavel was not called "Shenok" for weird reasons, but because you sometimes call newbies or rookies “puppies” in Russian. I changed it to "Zajats", since I realised people would just call him a rookie, or puppy, anyway, even if his nickname was something else.) ]
It was calm in the east bedroom on the top floor of the Bar. Outside the windows was a dark void, but if you were to press your nose to the cold glass, you would see a few dimly sparkling stars up in the deep blue sky.
The room's only light source was a single kerosene lantern on a round table in the corner, peacefully casting its warm firelight over the rows of bunk beds. A few of the bunks had already been occupied by stalkers who decided to take an early night.
Two awake stalkers were sitting at the small table. One trying his best to patch up a hole in his jacket, the other one leaned back in his chair, smoking a cigarette.
The only sounds breaking the silence was the wind creaking in the walls, the slow breathing of the sleeping stalkers and the occasional curse word when the man repairing his jacket pricked his finger with the needle.
”D’you want me to help, Tolyan?” the smoking stalker asked with a chuckle. The stalker called Tolyan only answered with an irritated grumble.
The door opened and filled the dim room with light. Someone leaned in through the doorway.
“Hey, Arkadij!” The voice was harsh, puncturing through the comfortable silence like the darts from the games down in the bar.
“One second!” Arkadij took what was left of the cigarette and put it out on the table, then he got up from his chair with a grunt.
“Well, it was nice ‘talking’ to you.” He lazily waved his hand while walking away. “Sweet dreams!”
He closed the door behind him and it was quiet again. Tolyan didn't like being alone. Sure, there were other stalkers in the room, but they were asleep. He liked the safety of having someone there, just in case he needed to talk to somebody. Even if Arkadij had been a rotten conversation partner and truly didn't care about him, at least he was awake.
The stalker in the bed closest to the table whimpered in his sleep. Tolyan looked up from his jacket. In the bed, layed a strikingly young-looking guy. He was tossing and kicking, and his face twitched like he was crying.
Poor kid, Tolyan thought. He can’t be any older than 20 years.
“…no, ged..away fromm..me!” Whatever dream the boy was having, it was probably not a good one. Tolyan sighed. He was reminded of his own nightmares and how often he was angry that none of the people he slept beside had woken him up.
Tolyan got up from his chair and creeped over to the young stalker. His dirty, blond hair was stuck to his forehead with sweat and he was mumbling incoherent words. Tolyan grabbed the boy's arm and shook it lightly.
“Hey..hey, wake up!”, he whispered. The boy didn’t wake up and just whimpered.
“Hey!” Tolyan shook him a bit harder. “Wake the fuck up!”
The boy finally flew up and opened his eyes. His breathing was rugged, like he had just gotten out from underwater, and his panicked eyes were shooting across the room, trying to orient himself.
“Hey, hey, hey, shhh, look at me.” Tolyan caught his attention.
“You’re alright.” The panic in the boy's eyes slowly disappeared and was replaced by tears. He scrunched up his nose and sniffled. The tears overflowed his blue eyes and trickled down his cheeks.
“Hey, now, don't cry. You're ok, you're ok, patsan.” The young stalker bent over his pulled-up knees and put his head in his hands. His small body shook with quiet sobs. Tolyan didn't quite know what to do. He awkwardly reached out his hand and placed it on his back. The boy didn't seem to be too alarmed, so he started gently stroking back and forth over his shoulder blades. The young stalker was silently crying into his hands. You could see his round cheeks had become red from the tears.
“..fuck,” the boy whispered, his voice hoarse. He aggressively rubbed his face to pull himself together. Tolyan removed his hand.
“Nightmare?” he asked gently. The young man made a barely noticeable nod and looked up at him.
“...thanks..for waking me up.” He nodded towards Tolyans kneeling position. “And…staying here.” Tolyan gave a toothy smile as an answer and stood up from the floor. He gestured loosely towards the simple wooden chair where Arkadij had sat before.
“Come, sit down.” Tolyan quickly sat down in the other chair at the table, a plastic lawn chair. Sasha lingered at the bedside, a conflicted expression on his face.
“Come on, kid, I don’t bite! The best way to deal with nightmares is to talk about them. Then you realise how stupid they are, and then, you’re not scared anymore. Besides…” Tolyan reached into his backpack that he had thrown down in front of his feet. He pulled out a hip flask and two shot glasses. “…I need a drinking partner.”
The boy slowly sat up from the bed and creeped over to the empty chair.
[fill this in]
“My name’s Shov.” He put out his hand. “..or just Tolyan.”
“Pavel.” He forced a tiny smile and shook the older stalker’s hand.
Tolyan expertly poured the spirit in the shot glasses, so quickly you would have missed it if you blinked.
He hesitated before giving Pavel the second glass.
“Wait a second there, young man! You look pretty young for a stalker! How old are you?” he said with jokingly furrowed eyebrows.
“..seventeen”, Pavel answered silently with a sniff.
Tolyan’s smug smile disappeared.
“Really..?”
Pavel lowered his gaze. He seemed ashamed.
”…damn. You’re the same age as my little brother.”
He thought about it for a second, then slid over the full shot glass to the far too young stalker.
"Thanks.." he sniffed.
They both grabbed their respective glass.
“To...uhh,” Tolyan couldn’t find anything special to drink to. He still hadn’t mentally recovered from the depressing reveal of Pavel’s age. “To…whatever, to good health!”
They threw back the shots in perfect sync, which made Tolyan even more worried about Pavel. How much had he been through in such a short life to make him be able to drink straight vodka shots without significant reaction? Maybe he wasn't so glad to have this drinking buddy…
Pavel noticed Tolyan’s look and put the shot glass down further away than he usually would. But, the older stalker didn't stop looking at him. What was he doing? Tolyans eyes were scanning him, noticing and examining every shift in his posture.
“..w-what’s your brother's name?” he asked, to kill the uncomfortable silence.
“What?” Tolyans eyes shot up to his. “Uhh, sorry, his name’s Vladimir.”
His short answer left the air quiet again. Pavel stared at an invisible spot on the wall.
“Well, what did you dream about?”
“Nothing,” he said, too quickly.
“You’re lying.” said Tolyan with another grin.
Pavel didn’t answer.
“I also had many nightmares when I first came here,” said Tolyan, trying to get the young stalker to open up. “You get used to it.”
“No, it's not..a ’Zone’ kind of nightmare”, Pavel mumbled while dragging his hand through his short hair. He had many of those nightmares too. Visions of the Zone’s grass wrapping around his arms and ripping them off. Black bramble growing out of his mouth. Bottomless pits. He shivered. “Either way, I don't want to talk about it.”
“You sure? I won't laugh.”
Sasha stayed silent.
“Whatever.” Tolyan grabbed the flask and poured a second round into their glasses. “I’m not a cop, I don’t need to know everything.”
[further text is me experimenting]
“Where’ you from then, Pasha?
“I thought you said you weren’t a cop?”
“Come on, bro, give me something to work with here! Can I guess where you’re from then?
*nod*
Voronevka?
Nope.
Then it must be Galkovaja, right?
Yes.
*victory gesture*
How were you so sure?
You’re young. You wouldn’t have travelled from far away just for this shitty life.
Okay, where are you from, asshole?
Dobryanka. Close to Perm.
Is it nice there?
I guess. It’s a bigger city than Galkovaja but otherwise it’s pretty similar. [double check if dobryanka actually is similar or not]
“You’re worse than Arkadij.”
“Who’s Arkadij?”
“Truba. He’s with the market guys.” “Boring as hell, only opens his mouth to insult you.”
“Oh yeah, Truba. I think he talked to me once…or he talked at me.”
“He’s an asshole, right?”
“Definitely. Would not shut up about how short I am.”
“…you are short, though.”
“Not you too!” “It gets tiring being called tiny all the time.”
“Yeah..” “All I ever get when I say I’m seventeen is laughter or silent pity.”
“I mean, it’s a crazy young age to be a stalker at…”
listen pasha, i don’t what to say that it was good that you had your mysterious nightmare, not at all. But, if you hadn’t tossed around, I wouldn't have woken you up, and then I wouldn't have had this nice conversation with you.
That’s a bit much for someone you just met, I know that, but I am a teeny tiny bit drunk and I just want you to know that I appreciate your company.
Glad to hear..
no really, like right before you started tossing, the other guy i was talking to before went down to the bar and… I am not good at being alone with myself. It’s fucking scary.
Okay…
Like after a while my head starts buzzing and I can hear voices.. saying my name like right in my ear. So it is nice to have company to distract me from it.
…Sorry that you have to deal with…that.