The Hollywood Effect: A sci-fi set in chernobyl in the past

Every week @f3nix posts an incomplete story and challenges commentors to contribute other half. This is my contribution to the challenge.

The Hollywood Effect

The still sky of February was a dirty white brick above the town of Chernihivs'ka, an hour and a half east from the Chernobyl nuclear power plant. That morning was so cold that even breathing was hurting.
The old lada advanced through the Desnyans'kyi district, directed to the Hollywood Mall like an uncertain icebreaker in spring along the Bering Strait. "Hollywood Mall, what a dumb fucking name," thought Hennadiy, driving his lada- icebreaker, crusted with old mud and ice. There was nothing further from Hollywood than that human agglomeration. Especially on a cold winter morning, at the end of a grueling nightshift checking warehouses, placing stupid "Dozor Security" cards under doors or windows.
At the intersection between Rokossovs'koho and Travnia Street, a bright colored billboard caught his attention: a flourishing freckled girl was estatically savoring a spoonful of instant soup antychni smaky.
"Lyubov is more beautiful than you," Hennadiy thought instinctively, and a lump in his throat suddenly formed.

Yes, Lyubov, with your high cheekbones and the blue eyes made of ancient ice, you were so beautiful that it hurted me and when I stared at you, my lost gaze, you used to burst out laughing, throw me a fist, then we made love. You were a fierce and joyous creature, never aware of how much your beauty could set those around you in awe. You.. we were many things before your light began to fade and your colors faded away too, like the sad fences I now watch from the fucking Hollywood mall. Until this nightshift will be over. Until you too will be finished, distant from me, in the hands of another lover named heroin. Thinking that everything had started as a foolish game, with that Nazar "the Spaniard", his feigned friendship and his pearls of wisdom like "After three times you have to stop otherwise you'll get the monkey". All our dreams went to hell, Lyuba, I let you do that, I let you slip away slowly together with our future.

Hennadyi finished the cigarette, throwing the stump, extinguished well before touching the icy puddle.
Enveloped in his thoughts, a memory suddenly surfaced bringing a glimmer of hope.
He remembered of that night when he finally faced Nazar and beat him hard, his face swollen by his fists after the fight: "If you really care to make a change in your life, why don't you follow me in the zone? I could have an interesting job for you. After that, you can buy all the smack you want for your Lyuba".
Hennadyi was seven years old when, in 1986, the reactor exploded, interrupting for more than a year his games in the yard and distorting the life of his whole family. His father, a surveyor, had worked on the almost impossible rehabilitation of the nuclear power plant, right in the area of ​​reactor n.4. The coffin. They were called "liquidators" and it was thanks to their heroic and, unfortunately, unconscious work that the radiation was contained within the areas subsequently called "alienation zone".
The worst areas, with radioactivity exceeding 40 curies per square km of cesium 137, had been completely confiscated and closed. That exclusion was in force till today. For security reasons, at least this was the official version.

It was Wednesday, Hennadyi promised himself that in the evening he would go to the old canteen, the Dining Chernobyl n. 19, to meet that son of a bitch of Nazar and understand more.

The poorly lit canteen hides the ugly details of the place; the dusty furniture and litters, remnants of splashes of liquor drunken men conservatively left behind and other intangible tragedies only reflected in faces among garbage that much needed to be taken out. In this cesspool of dissonant figures there was one piece of garbage Hennadyi felt needed to be taken out but, he was a rational man. His eyes somersaulted in the dim room and an iota of joy jumped out on his face, perhaps a reward of familiarity or control, as he saw the Spaniard, followed by a dull anger and flickering anxiety. He sat across Nazar and rested both his arms on the table as an act of faith. Nazar spoke in his usual tone of cocktail of overconfidence and narcissism, "I told you you would come around, didn't I tell you that? I did. didn't I?" "No doubt, he's drugged out.", Hennadyi contemplated. "I need money.", after much deliberation and silence Hennadyi spoke grimly swallowing his pride to which Nazar visibly rejoiced. "Remember that muddy playground.. by the school.. with green and yellow seesaws and.. ", Hennadyi interrupted "Yes! the Playground, what does that have to do with me?" "Meet me there tomorrow after your shift. bring a big bag" "Lyobov?" Hennadyi's voice shakes. "She's fine, she's... fine."

"My wife has become a slave to a stalker and a grave robber and I am doing his chores.", Hennadyi spit in disgust as he leaves the canteen. "No matter, I will cure her at any cost." His routine takes over and time drones on with few cigarette breaks. He reminds himself to carry a knife and a bag to the playground tomorrow before he falls asleep.

Hennadyi waits for Nazar at the playground a little anxious and distracted by his own thoughts. Nazar arrives with three more goons to which Hennadyi reacts by naturally assuming the worst, "is this the bottom of dishonor in you heart?" Nazar laughs and reasons: "I knew he'd think that. Didn't I tell you guys? I did. I did. Relax. I'm not a murderer.", Nazar points to himself, "This. Man. Is. Not. A. Murderer. The loot needs big arms that's all. And you. It needs you. The center of the mystery. The chosen one." Nazar contemplates a while and speaks again erratically, "Do you remember where your old house is? we're going there first. A lots of money is involved." "The drugs have eaten through your brain. That place will kill us.", Hennadyi argues with reason. The goons quizzically look at each other's faces. "Follow me and you'll be fine. Each of you gets 1.5 million.. DOLLARS ok 1.5 MILLION dollars." All four follow Nazar quietly as he expertly tread in between the radiation spots and slow static ticks of Geiger counter fills the cold February night. The old familiar shapes resonate with Hennadyi's memories but, traveling this deep into isolation zone is no excursion to stop and cherish. Hennadyi quickly takes the team to his old home. Nazar takes out flash lights from his bag and starts looking around the ground. "The basement. Where is it?". "Right there.", Hennadyi confidently points to a wooden plank. Nazar raises the plank by the hinge and where there should've been a dim flight of stairs was a faint yellow golden glow to Hennadyi's surprise. All five rush through the flight of stairs to this place resembling an imaginative palace or treasury of fairy tales' creatures. Gold everywhere, Vials and vials of gold before a large metallic pipe toward east, facing the reactor. "Your father did this." Nazar whispered to Hennadyi still in awe and speechless. "My father did this."

The gold had formed by slow neutron bombardent on mercury. This phenomena was proved in 1941, years before chernobyl.

Hope you enjoy.