Return to Dyatlov Pass

~ Chapter Four ~

The chill in the air was nothing compared to the coldness within their group. Shit. Nat had hoped a good night’s sleep would restore some of the cheerful optimism that had existed before Steven’s outburst, but it was soon clear it hadn’t.

She hadn’t seen so many unhappy faces since the last election. Only Igor looked to be in decent spirits, but even he gave the mountaineer a wide berth, as though whatever troubled Steven were contagious. And Steven was troubled—of that, she had no doubt. Nat didn’t think he was intentionally trying to be a temperamental douchebag.

The man was scared.

“Andrew.” Bumping him with her elbow, she nodded to where Steven stood apart from the group. At least her producer would keep McDreamy company, even if the job wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant as he’d originally hoped.

“I know,” he whispered. “But neither of us will be able to keep up with him.”

He was right. As soon as Vasily was ready, Steven pushed his way to the head of the group beside the Mansi, where they walked together in silence. If it wasn’t exactly companionable, at least it wasn’t hostile.

“What do you think?”

Nat knew what Andrew meant. What was Steven’s problem? He’d fought to get on this excursion, so why say all that stuff about not appreciating it? What had motivated him to campaign for a spot on their team? It couldn’t just be the podcast. There had to be more.

“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I intend to find out. Something’s up with that guy.”

Part of her thought Steven had a point, however poorly he’d expressed it. They were investigating the fate of nine young people who had been cut down in their prime, after all. The occasion demanded some solemnity. She refused to dance on any graves.

The sky was gray and overcast, matching Nat’s mood. She longed for a little sunshine, but knew colder temperatures would come with it. That was yet another advantage they had over the Dyatlov group. It was warmer than it had been when the young Russian skiers had set off on their journey, with no storm in sight.

The trail began at a sharp incline and continued steadily upward. Nat’s calf muscles soon began to ache, and she wished she’d taken the time to get a good massage before leaving the States. She consoled herself by noticing that the chatter among her group had died off as everyone concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Only Vasily and Steven, far ahead of the others, didn’t seem affected. Anubha and Joe had opted for snowshoes over skis, and even their energetic pace had slowed. Nat hoped no one could hear her wheeze.

She focused on Anubha’s cobalt blue parka until her eyes watered. Left, right. Keep pushing forward. Right, left. Breathe (gasp). Left, right. Nat blinked, surprised to see that hot pink had replaced the cobalt blue.

“How are you doing?” Lana’s tone was casual, but Nat could see the sympathy in the Olympian’s eyes. She felt a temporary rush of resentment.

“Fine.” With a Herculean effort, Nat managed not to puff. “And you?”

“Oh, I’m great. I owe you both a lot for getting me back in the wilderness. This is so good for me. I’d really let myself go after the games. Depression, you know.”

Nat couldn’t imagine the perky woman depressed. She wondered again if this chipper routine was a persona Lana slipped into along with her snowsuit. “Our pleasure.”

“You have to understand, this comes as naturally to me as breathing. I’ve spent most of my life on skis. It would be a completely different story for a recreational skier, even one who’s fit. Are you sure you’re both okay?”

The way Lana directed her question to Nat and someone over Nat’s shoulder indicated that Andrew was still with them. Good. For the last mile or so, she’d been too exhausted to check.

“A… break… would be… nice,” Andrew said, sounding more drained than he did after an all-night recording session. What if he (or someone else) had a heart attack out here? Did anyone on the team have more than the most basic first aid skills? It was something she hadn’t considered.

“I think it’s close to lunch. I’m sure the others are feeling the same way. I’ll speak to Vasily.” And with that, she was gone, easily gliding past Anubha, Joe, and Igor.

“She… makes it… look… so easy.”

“Save your breath. You’re probably… going to need it.” After slowing down enough to speak to Lana, it took all her strength to resume her former speed. Nat could no longer keep from gasping. Sweat trickled over her nose, coating her lips with salt.

“Attention, everyone.”

Exhausted, Nat forced herself to look at the head of the trail, where Steven waved his arms. His voice was clear and confident, easily heard. “We’ll stop for lunch at the crest. Shouldn’t be longer than another twenty minutes.”

Andrew groaned.

“Hang in there, my friend. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.”

“I… quit.”

Nat laughed, even though she couldn’t afford to spare the energy. “You can’t quit now. How would you get home?”

“Would… find… way.”

She risked a peek and was surprised at how miserable her producer looked. His cap and scarf were encrusted with ice, and his eyes watered, leaving red trails on his exposed skin. “If you can’t last for twenty minutes, how will you make it back to Vizhai?”

“Fuck… you.”

“Stop making me laugh. I can barely breathe as it is.”

“Whose… f-fault… is that?”

“Yours.” She slipped away before he could catch her, expecting a snowball to connect with her head at any moment. Smiling, she approached the trail with renewed vigor. Andrew always made her feel that way. She often joked he was the love of her life, but it wasn’t really a joke. She’d yet to meet a straight man she connected with so well.

The brief exchange had put them farther behind the rest of the group. Nat couldn’t see Vasily or Steven anymore, and even Anubha and Joe were a blur. Igor had slowed to wait for them, and when he caught her eye, he waved them on.

“Andy? We have to hurry. We’re holding everyone up.”

In hindsight, it had been stupid to put the slowest skiers in the back. If the others hadn’t noticed they’d fallen behind, what had begun as a lark could have quickly become a life-and-death situation. She’d speak to the group while they ate lunch about changing their formation. Perhaps Igor could bring up the rear.

Rather than seem annoyed when she at last came abreast of him, the Russian grinned, clapping her on the shoulder with such enthusiasm she stumbled. He steadied her by the elbow before she fell. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It is a tough climb, yah? But we’re almost there. You rest soon.”

“That’ll be good.”

“He is okay?” Igor’s brow creased in a frown as he regarded Andrew. Nat was dismayed to see how far he had fallen behind.

“He’ll be fine. We trained for this, but you know. A gym in California is hardly the Ural Mountains.”

“Yah, this mountain, she is something else. But no worry. We wait for your friend, and then we go have lunch. Yes?”

Winded, Nat managed a nod, hoping Igor attributed her flushed cheeks to the cold. Fuck, this was embarrassing. They should have taken a full year, put in a lot more training. What had they been thinking, attempting to keep up with mountaineers and Olympians?

In another minute, Andrew caught up, his face an alarming shade of purple. “Sorry,” he gasped.

“No worry, my friend. You okay to go?”

What if Andrew couldn’t make it? Nat didn’t know what would be worse—figuring out how to get her producer safely back to the village, or being stuck in the middle of nowhere with this contentious group of strangers. Igor, Lana, and the Inuit couple were nice enough, but Steven and Vasily—ugh. She’d never survive a week with them without her best friend.

Thankfully, Andrew managed to regain his wind after a brief rest and they pushed on, Igor setting a slower pace. By the time they reached the crest, the rest of the group was sitting around a roaring fire. Lana, Joe, and Anubha clapped when they arrived.

“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. Now we can eat,” Joe said. “The good news is, at this part of the trip, we’re spoiled for choice. We have beef stew, chili, goulash, spaghetti and meatballs—”

“Ooh! I’ve never had camp spaghetti and meatballs. Let’s try that one.” Lana’s eyes sparkled as she beamed at the group. Either she was telling the truth about the outdoors rejuvenating her, or she really liked spaghetti.

“How could you not have had spaghetti and meatballs? It’s a classic,” Igor said.

Joe pulled the silver packets from his bag while Anubha gathered snow to melt for cooking water.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” Steven asked, and Nat noticed how everyone froze at his question. She wished he’d stay quiet for a while, give the group a chance to forget what a pessimistic asshole he was.

“Am I sure what’s safe? Spaghetti?” Joe’s voice was calm, but his body language changed, as if he were preparing for a fight, his back rigid and shoulders squared. “Yeah, pretty sure.”

“I’m not talking about that processed garbage. I’m talking about what she’s doing.” Steven pointed at Anubha, who glared at the mountaineer.

“My name is Anubha, and there’s nothing wrong with this snow. It’s perfectly clean.”

“What about the things you can’t see?”

Andrew groaned, sinking onto a snow-covered log next to Lana, and stretched his hands to the fire. Nat hoped Steven wouldn’t take her producer’s response personally, but when she glanced at him, he was still staring at Anubha. He hadn’t even noticed Andrew.

“What are you talking about?” Joe asked.

“Am I the only one who knows the history? Back when they found the Dyatlov group, their radiation levels were off the charts.”

Joe shook his head, black hair flopping to cover one eye. “That was in the ’60s. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Cold War is over.”

“It was 1959, actually, and it doesn’t matter. Ever hear of Chernobyl? It won’t be safe for another twenty thousand years.”

“This is hardly Chernobyl.” Andrew couldn’t stand people he referred to as “spoilers,” those with a knack for spoiling everything they were invited to or included in, and he was already convinced Steven was a spoiler with a vengeance.

“I think he came on this trip just to ruin everyone’s week,” he’d griped last night after dinner. So much for the startlingly blue eyes and rugged jawline. Physical attributes only went so far with Andy.

“It doesn’t have to be. Say the radiation here lasts only a hundred years. That’s enough.”

Andrew sighed. “You got the Radalert handy, Nat?”

“Yeah, it’s right here.” She pawed through the front pocket of her backpack, removing the radiation detector. Nat went to give it to her producer, but he shook his head.

“Give it to him,” he said, indicating Steven. “He’s the one who’s so worried about it.”

“Look, I’m just trying to be smart about this. I get that I’m a big pain in the ass to everyone, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’m sure none of us wants to come down with radiation poisoning.”

“You’re not a pain in the ass, Steven,” Lana said, her voice dripping with sweetness.

Anubha snorted. “Yes, he is. But in this case, he also has a point.”

“Thank you.” Pushing off his rock, Steven moved closer to her, extending the device close to the snow she was gathering. The machine made a light clicking noise but no beeping as he studied the levels intently. Finally, he straightened. “It looks okay.”

“Let’s get that snow boiling, babe. We’re already behind schedule.” Joe cast an uneasy glance at the sky, but Nat couldn’t detect anything worrisome. Just the same gray, gray, and more gray.

“I thought you two were going to get us some fresh meat. Wasn’t that the deal?”

Nat couldn’t get over Steven’s audacity. The two Canadians had volunteered to cook lunch for everyone, but the mountaineer was still complaining. Unbelievable.

Anubha ignored him, but her husband appeared to take the man’s shot in stride. “Not right now. There’s no point in going to the effort when we’re only going to be here for an hour.”

“Surely it doesn’t require that much effort to catch a rabbit or squirrel,” Steven said. “Look at this guy.” He gestured to Andrew, and my producer shrank further into his parka. “He’s running on empty. He needs the protein.”

“There’s plenty of protein in these packets. They’re designed for hikers. That’s what they’re for.” Joe took the pot of snow Anubha handed him and wedged it into the fire.

“They’re designed for campers; there’s a difference. And they’re not real food.”

“I’m okay, really. I’m a vegetarian,” Andrew said, which was a lie, but Nat hoped it was enough to distract Steven from his tirade. What was wrong with this guy? The worst thing you could do was alienate the people responsible for feeding you.

That got Joe’s attention. “Are you able to eat this?”

“Yeah, I can handle that. I’d rather have something that’s not as visibly dead as a rabbit or squirrel, if you know what I mean.”

“Understandable.” Joe shifted the pot so it would get more heat.

“Why is it understandable? It’s bullshit. What vegetarian goes on a trip like this? There’s no way a vegetarian diet has enough protein and fats to sustain you. Do you know how many calories you’re burning by shivering alone?” Steven glared at Andrew. Nat was sure her producer was regretting his impetuousness at this point. Looks were definitely not everything.

“That’s actually not true,” Lana said. “If you know what you’re doing, you can get more than enough protein from a vegetarian diet.”

Steven made an odd scoffing noise. “Sure, if he plans to sit here for hours eating nuts and seeds, but we don’t have time for that. I can’t understand why he came along if he’s going to be a weak link.”

Summoning more energy than Nat would have suspected possible, Andrew leapt to his feet. “Hey, I’ve had about enough of you. I’m still the producer, and I can send you back to the States tonight with a nice bill for all your travel expenses.”

“Andy…” Nat hoped she could intervene before they reached the point of no return, but perhaps they were already there.

“No, Nat. I know how forgiving you are, but let’s face it—it was my mistake to bring this guy on board, and from the first, he’s proven to be a real shit. We don’t need someone like this on the team.”

“I have more right to be on this team than you do. What are you contributing, besides a lot of lost time and whining?”

Nat’s mouth fell open. She’d come across some winners in her day, but never someone quite so determined to be unlikeable. “I can’t let you talk to my producer that way, Steven. We wouldn’t even be here without Andrew. So either you apologize and stop causing trouble with everyone, or you can leave. It’s your choice.”

“You can’t force me to leave.” Steven narrowed his eyes.

“Maybe I can’t personally, but I’m sure Igor can, if it comes down to that.”

Igor raised his hands in the air in a gesture for peace. “Everyone needs to calm down. What are we, children?”

“I agree with Nat. Steven should apologize to Andrew.” Lana turned to address the mountaineer. “What you said was mean and uncalled for. No one is the weak link. We all have something to contribute.”

Nat fully expected Steven to dig in his heels and really get nasty, but once again he surprised her. “You’re right; it was wrong of me to say that. I’m sorry, Andrew. And I apologize to the rest of you as well. It’s not my intention to be an asshole. I’m under a lot of stress, and I took it out on you. Please forgive me.”

Everyone looked at Andrew, understanding it was his apology to accept or not. Even Nat, who knew him best, wasn’t sure how her friend would respond. He was exhausted and probably in pain. To say he wasn’t at his best would be the understatement of the year.

Andrew was silent a moment, but finally he smiled. “You’re forgiven. This is hard enough without us at each other’s throats. And you are a valuable member of the team, as long as you can stop being such an asshole.”

Nat held her breath, but Steven came forward to shake Andrew’s hand. “Done. I was genuinely worried for you, even though I’m sure it didn’t come across that way. We’re going to have to ensure you get the nutrients you need. Otherwise, with the frigid temperatures and the altitude, this will be extremely dangerous for you.”

“That’s okay. I’m not really a vegetarian. I just said that so you’d lay off Joe and Anubha.”

“Wow, I really have been an asshole.”

Igor clapped the mountaineer on the shoulder, and Nat noticed Steven didn’t so much as shift his stance. It was probably a good thing the argument hadn’t come down to a physical confrontation. She was no longer sure the Russian would have won. “Yah, you have been, but that is all over now. Now, we feast on plastic spaghetti, yes?”

The group laughed, and Nat watched the tension leave their gathering as if an actual cloud had disappeared. She resolved to sit beside Steven at lunch and get a handle on what was stressing him out. As much as he gave her the creeps, it was her job to take care of these things.

However, Lana beat her to it. “What’s bothering you, Steven? Anything we can do to help?”

He shook his head. “You’ll laugh at me if I tell you.”

“No, we won’t.” Lana’s insistence was accompanied by assenting murmurs from the rest of the team. “What’s going on?”

“How much do you all know about the Dyatlov group? I mean, really know about them?” Steven paced beside the fire, looking at each of them in turn.

Joe shrugged. “I know the basics. Nine Russian skiers went missing around here, and a search team found their bodies a week or two later. So far, no one knows for sure how they died, though some think it was an avalanche.”

“The avalanche theory doesn’t make any sense. It wasn’t the right time of year or the right place. Plus, there were no signs of an avalanche, none of the damage you’d expect to see done to their tent or campsite,” Lana said.

Steven nodded. “She’s right. Anyone know some of the other theories?”

“Being Russian, this is a big deal to us. I think I have heard them all.” Igor ticked them off on his fingers. “Weapons testing, government conspiracy, UFOs, animals, the wind going around the mountain made them crazy, the Mansi…” He tipped his head at Vasily, who was listening with no expression on his face. “Sorry.”

“You did pretty well. But you’re missing one. Do you remember what it is?”

“Wasn’t it Bigfoot or something?” Anubha said, and Igor snickered.

“Oh yah, Bigfeet. I forgot about him.”

“You’re close. Not Bigfoot, but the yeti. Otherwise known as the abominable snowman.” Out of everyone, Steven was the only one not smiling, but Nat had grown accustomed to that.

“So ridiculous.” Anubha rolled her eyes. “Aliens? Bigfoot? I’m sorry, yetis. Who believes that stuff?”

“I do,” Steven said. In the resulting silence, you could have heard a snowflake fall.

“You’re joking, right?” Joe asked, but Nat could tell he wasn’t. The mountaineer’s face was so grave it could have been cast in stone.

“I told you you’d laugh.”

“We’re not laughing, Steven. It’s a surprise, that’s all. You seem so…” Lana trailed off.

“What, sane? Level-headed?”

“Serious, is what I was going to say.”

“I am serious. My beliefs do not preclude that.”

“So, what do you believe in? UFOs, yetis, or all of the above?” Andrew asked.

“I can’t speak to UFOs, although I do think it’s incredibly self-centered of us to think we’re the only planet with intelligent life—using ‘intelligent’ very loosely in regard to our species. But that’s par for the course, isn’t it? Human beings are extremely self-centered. We have no concern for anything but ourselves.”

Aaaand, just like that, Steven was back to being the happy soul they’d grown to know and love. “That’s a cheery thought.”

He pinned her to the spot with that alarmingly intense gaze of his. “No, Nat, it’s downright depressing. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

“So, it’s yetis. That you believe in?” Igor said.

“Yes, but hear me out. I have my reasons. A few years ago, I was hiking in the Six Rivers National Forest, near the Oregon border. As usual, I was on my own, which didn’t bother me. I actually prefer it that way.”

It was difficult not to roll her eyes. Big surprise there.

“Anyway, it didn’t take long for me to realize I wasn’t alone. Something was tracking me. At first, I thought it was a wild animal, but it was too intelligent. Whatever was following me was capable of critical thinking. And it had opposable thumbs.”

“Whaa?” Lana said. “How could you tell?”

“At night I kept my supplies up in the trees, in a net, and when I woke up, my pack had been rummaged through and every scrap of food that wasn’t canned was gone. Here’s the strange part—whatever went through my stuff had untied the net and unfastened my pack without damaging it or making enough noise to wake me up. What kind of wild animal is capable of that?”

“So it was a person,” Andrew said, echoing Nat’s own thoughts.

“That was my suspicion too, so the next night I set up a camera. And trust me, what I found on it the next morning was not human.”

Nat shivered in spite of herself. Asshole or not, the man could tell a story.

“Are you saying you have the Bigfeet on video?” Igor asked, eyebrows disappearing under his fleece cap.

“Yes, I do. I suspected it was a hoax, some wiseass wearing a costume so he could steal from campers, so I brought it to these video production guys I know. Then I showed it to a few zoologists. They all confirmed it. This was no hoax.”

“But if you have genuine footage of Bigfoot, it would be priceless,” Nat said. “You’d be famous.”

“That kind of fame I do not want.”

“So what did you do with it?” Anubha asked. “Just put it in a drawer somewhere?”

“No, it’s far too precious for that. Let’s just say I’ve got it somewhere safe, somewhere no one will ever find it.”

“But why? That kind of evidence, if it exists, could change everything.” Andrew raised an eyebrow at her. Nat guessed his thoughts. If they could convince Steven to let them publicize it, what a podcast that would be. The resulting glory could lead to a lot more than a raise.

“Oh, it exists. But the way it would change things is exactly what I don’t want.”

“What do you mean?” Lana asked, but Nat was pretty sure she knew where the mountaineer was going with this. It was in his comments about the destructive nature of their species.

“Think about it. Once I released my evidence, people would descend on that forest, searching for him. In the process, they’d destroy one of the most beautiful wild spaces we have left. And if they found the creature? They’d destroy him too, all in the name of science.”

“What kind of track did it leave?” Joe tipped his head at his wife, who handed him the bowls so he could fill them with steaming spaghetti. It looked and smelled every bit as good as what you’d order from an Italian restaurant. Nat’s mouth watered.

“That’s the thing. Aside from its immense stature, that’s how I knew, without a doubt, that this wasn’t some dumb animal. The creature wore a type of homemade shoe that looked like bits of plant and bark strapped to its feet. It made a kind of drag mark on the ground that could have been anything. It certainly wasn’t as distinctive as a footprint.”

The group fell silent, pondering the notion of a Sasquatch wearing shoes. It was an incredible story, but Nat didn’t think the mountaineer was lying. Either he’d seen what he said, or he believed he’d seen it.

“Just because you saw this thing in the United States does not mean it’s here, in Russia,” Igor said.

“Are you aware of the note the searchers found in Dyatlov’s tent?” Steven asked.

Nat was, and she felt chilled in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

“It said, From now on we know that snowmen exist.”