A quiet city, long abandoned by people. Patrols on the outskirts, red and white lupus tape, fog and silence. On empty streets and in abandoned houses, death lurks, many-sided, incomprehensible, invisible. And a lonely tramp, before crossing the invisible border of the dead lands, whispers something under his breath, listening to the noise of a distant patrol car. Why does he go there, risking his life every time? For money to feed your family, or for adrenaline, excitement, or simply in search of freedom from the hateful dullness of everyday life? He will never find the answer to this question, and to be honest, he is not looking for it. It has long been clear to him that stalkers are allowed into heaven without a queue...