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Chapter 216 216 Chekov

Chapter 216 216. Chekov

The moment the [Gate to Hell] closed, Chekov lost all strength.

Supporting this door has used up the last of his strength. Even if he is lucky enough to be able to escape everything that follows and return to reality, he may only have a few days left to live and there is nothing he can do about it.

But that didn't make sense to him either.

He was the last witness of that year, and now, this history will be completely sealed.

For those who fight against anomalies, monsters, and unreasonable fates, borrowing a nameless name is the best military medal.

"That's it."

Chekov sat down against the wall. Everything was complete and everyone had evacuated. Now, all he had to do was wait for the final moment to arrive.

He groped in the inner pocket of his coat and quickly took out a small flask. He unscrewed the lid with some difficulty, and a pungent smell filled the air.

It's vodka.

No matter when and where, Siberians will always carry vodka, even in space, even in this deepest place.

He put his nose to the spout of the pot and inhaled the strong smell.

Due to physical reasons, his body, which had not drank for thirty years, had a violent reaction. Chekov coughed several times, his shoulders trembled, and he almost couldn't hold the flask.

“What a nostalgic smell.”

Chekov could feel that this area would soon sink into the abyss, and with all the pollution, this area would completely disappear from the sight of human civilization in many years to come.

with him.

Chekov took a sip of wine from the jug.

As soon as the fiery liquid touched his throat, it burned down his esophagus and poured into his stomach.

"Cough cough cough."

Chekov was really stimulated by alcohol this time.

He frowned and coughed several times, and his vision became blurred.

I don’t know when the sound of artillery fire disappeared. The surroundings were empty and quiet, like loneliness, waiting for a person’s death.

Suddenly, he felt something cold on the back of his hand.

"Snowing?"

Chekov opened his eyes, raised his head, and saw snowflakes falling from the sky, quickly covering the surrounding area with snow.

Simple buildings, continuous birch forests, and endless wilderness are his hometown, his motherland, and the land he loves most.

He stared at the vast land in a daze.

"Chekhov."

A call brought Chekov back to his senses.

He turned around and saw Natasha, a red-haired woman, the military doctor of his company. Chekov clearly remembered that she had rescued many people, and many comrades also had a crush on this cheerful and lively girl. , but in the end he was devoured by the monster, and his cute face with freckles was torn to pieces and mixed with the snow into the soil.

"Chekhov."

There was another call, and political commissar Belikov appeared next to Natasha. This particular political commissar was always meticulous, and it was difficult to find dust on his shoes. But Chekov knew very well that he died in that battle. What a miserable ending this person had. He was such a clean person, but he died in the most filthy mud.

"Chekhov."

Trotsky had a good voice and could hum "Katyusha" at night.

"Chekhov."

Tarkov was originally a teacher and would recite Pushkin's poems silently before fighting.

"Chekhov."

Makorov is tall, but shy like a girl, and often blushes at jokes.

"Chekhov."

Countless calls made Chekov's vision gradually clear.

He saw it.

He saw the flying snow, thick smoke, and biting cold wind all over the sky.

He saw those comrades who had fought alongside him. He was old, but they were still in their prime.

He saw the birch forest on the outskirts of Moscow, the square in Stalingrad, and the flag flying on the streets of Berlin. It was a sickle and a hammer. Whenever he saw it, it would bring tears to his eyes. A red flag.

"Get up, Chekov, the battle is about to begin."

Company Commander Lermontov patted Chekov on the shoulder and stretched out his hand to pull him up.

The moment he stood up, Chekov felt that his body became lighter. As he stood up, in an instant, he changed from an old man to a lively young man.

He was wearing a gray-green military uniform with a badge on his chest.

The badge has a red background and is engraved with intertwined golden sickles and hammers.

This badge, even after time and decades, is still shining brightly at this moment.

After so many years, many things have changed. The once unbreakable alliance has collapsed, the once like-minded comrades have parted ways, and even that period of history has been blurred and forgotten.

After all these years, some things never change.

Such as this moment.

"I hope after all these years, you still remember how to hold a gun."

Company commander Lermontov threw a gun to Chekov.

Chekov picked up the gun, pulled the bolt, and loaded the gun. The long-lost blood rushed to his head. He knew, he had always known, that their cause was noble and just.

"Comrade Chekov, we won the final war, right?"

Political Commissar Belikov stood next to Chekov. He looked ahead. The deep thick fog had enveloped him from all directions and was about to swallow everything.

"Yes."

Chekov's nose felt sore. It had been many years since anyone had called him "comrade".

Now, this common title brought tears to his eyes.

"We defeated those damn monsters, our alliance made everyone live a good life, and our next generation will never have to fight like this again, right?"

The usually calm and indifferent political commissar's tone was trembling slightly at this moment.

Chekov was silent for a moment.

He knew everything that happened next, and he also knew the answer to this question.

It is precisely for this reason that at this last moment, Chekov told the first and last lie in his life.

"Yes, we did."

Some red flags have fallen, but some will always fly.

"That's really, really great."

The political commissar Belikov sighed, he picked up the gun and stood at the front of the queue. Chekov knew that the political commissar would always be the first to charge.

A huge roar filled the eardrums, and the murmurs from the indescribable abyss tried to capture all of Chekov's thoughts.

In the distance, the pale shadow is like a ghost, spying on all living creatures in this endless abyss, making a frightening howl.

But before that, a louder voice had taken over.

That's a bugle.

The high-pitched trumpet sound echoed in the space.

Immediately, the soldiers launched a charge.

"Ula!"

Captain Lermontov shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Ula!"

All the soldiers responded with the loudest voices.

"Ula!"

Chekov roared at the top of his lungs.