As the sun set behind the hills of Wild Territory, a cold wind blew down their slopes, through the forest and into the valley below. Trees swayed and their branches creaked as bushes rustled beneath. Andros shifted his weight where he lay, pulled his collar tight against the chill breeze and waited for the leaves around him to settle. When the bush he was hid inside grew still and his view of the valley cleared, he raised his binoculars to his eyes.
Beyond the trees of the woodland and the grassy field of the valley, he watched an amateur stalker unload a rucksack at the mouth of a train tunnel. Andros smiled when the rookie removed a large stone with both hands. The rock was purple yet scintillated silver and when the rookie released his grip, it buoyed in the air like a boat on water. It was priceless, its properties unworldly – it was an artefact of the Zone.
The wind blew over the hills again and the leaves around Andros fluttered to mask the treasure. He shuffled towards a clearer gap in the foliage but felt the jab of a flint to his knee. He put down the binoculars and reached to push the flint away but his sleeve snagged a branch and it broke with a snap. A flock of crows squawked above and took flight with a flurry of wings.
Andros grabbed the binoculars and pressed them back to his eyes. He saw the rookie throw the artefact into the rucksack and run for the train tunnel.
“Damn,” Andros said. He grabbed his rifle and his ammo but before he could load a bullet the rookie was gone.
Andros pushed himself to his feet and yanked aside a branch. He leaned out and spied east and west, his fingers danced over the barrel of the rifle as he hesitated. The valley was silent, void and he saw only the ripple of the grass in the wind. He stepped out of the bush and pushed his way across the field. The grass was long and wet and the wind was cold as he paced with eyes wide and ears alert. There was no danger or sound of threat and when he reached the far side he crouched and stepped to the edge of the train tunnel.
Inside he could hear the wind swirl but without a deeper echo. Andros leaned forward and saw the tunnel inside had collapsed and was impassable. Concrete slabs with twisted rods jutted up from mounds of earth; a severed pipe dripped onto a carriage, half crushed beneath the rubble. Andros’ eyes narrowed - where was the rookie?
Across the train tracks and a bed of pebbles, there was a metal door fashioned into the tunnel’s wall. Above its threshold, a sign read 'Pedestrian Walkway', but with the collapse of the tunnel it too would be impassable. A smile grew across Andros’ face as he looked at the door, still left ajar. The idiot stalker had hidden in a place with only one exit – a rookie mistake.
Andros stepped up to the door and peered inside with a quick glance. The passage was dark and narrow, mould grew on the walls and the air was sour. Andros placed his rifle back over his shoulder and unhooked a shotgun from his belt. He further inched the door open with the toe of his boot, aimed the barrel inside and pulled the trigger.
The passage flashed yellow and thundered with the ricochet of buckshot. Andros’ ears rang as the smell of gunpowder wafted back into the tunnel. He pulled the trigger again.
When the ring of the second blast subsided, Andros flicked on a torch and kicked the door open. The passage walls, ceiling and floor were chiselled with pellet holes and a cloud of powdered cement swirled in the air. At the far end of the passage he could see the collapse of the tunnel; fallen rubble and earth blocked the way through. But there was no rookie, dead or alive; only an air duct with its cover removed. Andros tapped a finger against the shotgun. The duct was high, near the ceiling, but wide enough for a man to crawl through.
“Sneaky sod,” he said as he stepped inside the passage. He placed his feet without a sound, edged up to the air duct and listened.
The passage door slammed shut behind him.
Andros’ heart leapt and he dropped his torch, the bulb smashed and in an instant he was swallowed by darkness.
“No,” he whimpered as he groped the walls and stumbled back to the door. He found the handle, gripped it with two hands and pushed down. The handle turned and creaked, but not enough to release the latch. There was resistance from the other side, someone was holding the handle against his efforts. It was the rookie.
Andros banged the door with a panicked fist – then froze. A noise echoed out of the duct behind him. He heard shuffles, the click of bones and breaths wheezed through wet lips. Andros let go of the door and searched for his shotgun. It was gone, he had dropped it with the torch. He grabbed his rifle instead, but it was unloaded. Andros whispered a plea and padded his pockets. Where was his ammo? Had he left it in the bush?
A shape emerged from the duct and crawled down the wall like a spider. It rose, thin and crooked; a pale shadow in the dark.
Andros closed his eyes. He had entered the passage with no ammo, no escape. He had made a fatal rookie mistake.
S.T.A.L.K.E.R Short Story - A Fatal Rookie Mistake (Fanfic, 950 words)
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Originally Posted by C-Beams
Just a thought
The description is better in the second rewrite, but - for me - the high speed of the first rewrite is part of what makes Andros's stupid mistake believable. I wouldn't want to read a longer story all written at that hectic speed, but I think it can sometimes be appropriate for just one incident. Opinions will vary, though, and you should definitely write it the way you want it, not the way I'd like it! 
