The raid took place only on the third day after a memorable conversation at the firing range. The squad was large - fifty-seven men and women. Almost all the reenactors, stalkers, and those of us who had excellent agility and reaction time. There were only two archers in the entire squad. Mia and James, an older boy of my age, who had been taking archery lessons at school for a few years, but the army, which drafted him immediately after school, put a stop to this hobby. The bows were both weak, and if they could kill a man, it was from thirty meters, the distance at which the arrow would pierce the board.
Hmm, maybe I should make a couple or three golems with those talents. Let them look like samurai, for intimidation and impressiveness. And blood for that I'll ask these two guys, at the same time to test a theory of mine, if, of course, with shadows and magic arrows all work out as calculated Eduard.
- What are you thinking about? - I was asked by my namesake, who still wore a police uniform, despite the fact that we had a good supply of clothes.
- I want to increase the fighting golems, and when we get back I want two or three samurai. If we're lucky enough to run into mutants in the city, of course," - I answered.
- Blood you want to decant," - he nodded. - He's got his own hospital, and he's got every man he can think of. He'd squeeze a glass from everyone in the hospital and give it to you.
- Simple blood, Alex. It's weak, I'd have to drain myself very hard, which I don't want.
* * *
The motorcade skidded off the knoll (knolled by us, and in some places cleared by the tractor and dumped where there were potholes and hillocks) and ran onto a piece of asphalt, ripped out by some unknown force from the Earth and transported into a magical and terrible world.
Here the speed increased. They raced for ten kilometers and again jumped onto the dirt road, then back onto the highway, and in half an hour the bridge over the river and the outskirts of the metropolis were in front of us.
Usually there were a few dozen zombies standing on the bridge, the same ones who chase a column of stalkers when the earthlings return from the city with their loot. Usually the rebellious dead had enough patience for about as long as the bridge, after which they forgot who they were chasing, as the cars disappeared from their sight, accelerating to great speed on the smooth and level highway.