Return to Dyatlov Pass

~ Chapter Eighteen ~

The food formed a lump in her stomach. Finding her underwear in Steven’s pack had killed her appetite, but they had so few meals left. She couldn’t waste it, even though every bite tasted like cardboard and she could feel his eyes burning into her.

She was so confused. At first, she’d thought Steven was the bad guy, then he’d been a good guy, and now he was the bad guy again. Maybe no one was good or bad, but a myriad of puzzling shades of gray.

“You have to leave me.”

Nat started when Igor spoke. The tension between her and Steven must have infected everyone else, because for the last while, everyone had stared into the fire in gloomy silence. Even Andrew appeared to be at a loss for words.

“What are you talking about?” he said now. “We’re not leaving you.”

“You have to. It’s the smart thing to do.” He gestured at his blanket-covered leg, and Nat realized they still had no idea how bad the injury was. She hoped the bone hadn’t broken through the skin, increasing the Russian’s chances of infection. “I can’t walk, and you guys have to leave. You have to get out of here today. They’ll return tonight, wanting revenge for their friend. If you stay, you’ll die.”

Andrew got that stubborn expression on his face she was all too familiar with. “We’re not leaving you to die.”

“He’s right, so you might as well stop talking nonsense, Igor,” she said, lending her will to Andrew’s before Steven could speak up and say that actually, abandoning one of the last remaining members of their group was a capital idea. “If you’re not going, we’re not going.”

“You can hide me. Hide me in that ravine Andrew’s talking about. Splint my leg, and maybe I’ll manage to survive until it heals enough for me to leave. That gives me as good a chance as I’d have trying to get down the mountain with you.”

Right, the ravine. “What ravine?”

“The ravine—you know, the one Lyudmila and her friends hid in.” Andrew’s eyes shone the way they always did when he thought he’d come up with a brilliant idea.

“Have you forgotten what happened to Lyudmila?” The memory was enough to make her stomach churn. All that blood she’d swallowed, proving the poor girl had still been alive when her tongue and the inside of her mouth were removed.

“They survived the longest. It might buy us a night or two, maybe more. Plus, we don’t know what happened. Maybe they made too much noise or something, and that’s how the creatures found them. We wouldn’t make any noise.”

The prospect of hiding in Lyudmila’s grave was far from comforting. “Andy, we have no idea where the ravine is. And, even if we manage to find it—and that’s a big if—what if the creatures remember where they found Lyudmila and her friends? What if that’s the first place they think to look?”

“I’m assuming they have life cycles. They bleed, they hurt, they die—they’re not immortal. They’re not magic. It’s unlikely that the ones who are terrorizing us are the same ones who murdered the Dyatlov group.”

“Maybe not, but the bodies of Joe, Anubha, and Lana were clearly posed to recreate what happened in the past. So if it’s not the same creatures, that knowledge has been passed on.”

“Reports describe the ravine as being two hundred and fifty feet deeper into the woods past the cedar tree where we found Joe and Anubha,” Steven said. “We should be able to find it.”

“Or break our own legs in the process,” Nat said. “I don’t think we should hide. I think we should fight.”

Igor wrinkled his brow. “Fight? Fight how? You’ve seen how strong these things are. That one threw me over fifteen feet like I weighed nothing. What chance do we have against that kind of power?”

“They may be stronger, but I’m willing to bet we’re smarter.” Nat steeled herself for a battle. She’d suspected it wouldn’t be easy to convince them, but her instincts told her it was the right thing to do. When they’d minded their own business, the creatures had picked them off one by one. But when they’d fought back, they were left alone. All it took was the death of one snowman to force the creatures into a retreat.

Steven chuckled. “I wouldn’t take that bet. Humans are the dumbest species in existence.”

She decided to ignore him. Enough with his naysaying. He’d argue what color the sky was if it suited him. “There have to be things we can do, traps we can set, weapons we can make. Think about it—they could have returned and killed us last night, but they didn’t. They took their dead and left. They attack the weak, don’t you see that? If we’re not weak, they might leave us alone. And I don’t know about you, but I’m tired of being weak. I want to kick some yeti ass.”

“They also took Vasily,” Andrew said.

“More reason for us to fight back. They’ve killed four of our friends. Do we really want to roll over and let them kill the rest of us?”

“I get what you’re saying, Nat. And if my leg weren’t buggered, I might agree with you. But I’ve felt the power of these creatures—you haven’t. And I honestly think the only shot we have is for you three to hide me and get the fuck out of here before they come back.”

For some reason, Igor’s resignation angered her more than Steven’s devil’s advocate routine. Was she the only one who wasn’t a coward? What was wrong with them? “You’re right. I haven’t felt their power, but I have felt their weakness. I stabbed one through the eye and killed it. If I can kill one, I can kill more.”

“Not trying to take anything away from you, but you did have the advantage of surprise,” Steven said. “You won’t have that next time. They’ll be ready for you. And we only have one knife.”

She rolled her eyes. “Obviously I’m not going to try the exact same strategy again. And there are other things we could use as weapons. We have climbing gear, cooking utensils, and tools. There has to be something. But I seem to be the sole person interested in standing up to these fuckers.”

Steven sighed, rubbing his forehead. “My interest has always been in doing what’s best for the group as a whole, trying to ensure that the greatest number of us survive.”

“And how’s that working for you?” she shot back.

“Nat, that isn’t fair. It’s not Steven’s fault four people are dead.” Andrew shook his head at the number. It seemed impossible that half of their group was gone, but that very fact galvanized her. Didn’t they get that?

“I never meant to imply that. I’m simply suggesting that what we’ve been doing so far clearly isn’t working. And since I’m the one who saved your life last night, I’d hoped you’d listen to me.”

“I am listening to you. I’m sorry, but it sounds kind of mad. What do you want us to do, charge these things armed with cooking pots and ski poles, assuming we still have some poles lying around somewhere? Maybe if there were twenty or thirty of us it would work, but with four? Our one hope would be to render them helpless with laughter.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, doing her best to ignore Steven’s smirk. “I wouldn’t suggest anything that insane. But I do think that with some planning we can beat these things, or at least scare them off so they leave us alone.”

“Do you have a plan, Nat? Are you thinking of anything in particular?” The fact Andrew was taking her seriously, or was willing to hear her out, was enough. He wouldn’t let her down. They’d worked together and been friends for too long. He knew, better than anyone, that she didn’t have stupid ideas.

“I do,” she said. “But the first step is to fix Igor’s leg. And then I’m going to see if I can charge our phones and get a signal.”

“Maybe he’ll cause an avalanche with all that screaming, and then we don’t have to worry about the yetis,” Andrew joked, but paled when the Russian lunged at him. Her producer doubled back so fast he tripped and almost fell on his ass.

Igor’s face darkened with rage as he spat foreign words at them around the belt Steven kept wedged between his teeth. “No such luck,” the mountaineer said. “I think we’re done.”

To Nat’s relief, the bone hadn’t broken through the skin, but Steven had diagnosed it as a “bad break” of the tibia. She’d always thought that was an odd expression. What on earth was a “good break”?

Splinting the leg began with her and Andrew trying to hold Igor down while the mountaineer gently tugged on the limb until it was straight. Her ears still rang from the Russian’s ear-blistering shrieks of pain.

Igor leaned to one side and threw up on the snow. So much for the beef tips.

“Almost done, big guy. Just a bit more gauze.”

She’d found Joe’s carved walking stick in the couple’s tent. The workmanship was stunning, and it hurt to chop it in two to make the splint. But she had a feeling the trappers would have understood.

No one had ever had a more elegant splint. If nothing else, they’d done Igor proud.

“Tape, please?” Steven asked, and Nat gave it to him, careful not to make contact with his skin. Once again, she struggled to reconcile her feelings about him. One minute, he was a sexual deviant; the next, the closest thing they had to a medic. He’d set Igor’s leg like a pro. If they could get the creatures to back off, the Russian’s tibia could possibly heal enough for them to get safely home. “There you go. How you feelin’, man?”

Igor glowered at him. “How the fuck do you think I’m feeling? You bloody torturer.”

“Hey, I get that it’s not fun, but we had no choice. You’ll thank me later, when you’re back teaching chicks how to ski with your nice, straight legs.”

“Maybe. But in the meantime, I’d get out of my sight for your own safety.”

Steven threw up his hands. “I can’t win with you people.” Glancing at the fire, his face fell. “And we’re almost out of wood again. Nat, will you help me, please?”

Startled, Nat looked to Andrew, hoping he could read her mind.

“It’s okay,” he said, failing her utterly. “You two go ahead. I’ll stay with Igor and keep him company.”

Clearly, they’d have to work on their telepathy if they ever got out of this mess.

She fell behind Steven on the trail, keeping her distance as they trudged to the edge of the woods. Her heart was beating uncomfortably fast. What if he tried to hurt her? Did he have the knife? Tucking her hands in her pockets, she felt around for anything she could use as a weapon if it came to it. Some tissue, a tube of lip balm, and a pen. Clenching the pen in her fist, she vowed to jab it into his eye if he so much as looked at her funny.

She was so focused on her plan that she almost ran right into his back. “What’s wrong? Why did you stop?”

“Listen, Nat. I didn’t really need your help to gather the wood. I wanted to talk to you.”

Tightening her grip on the pen, she nodded. “I kind of figured that.”

“Things have been tense between us since you went in my tent, and I’ve got a pretty good idea why. For the record, I’m really embarrassed you saw that. I’m sure I must seem strange to you.”

Was he serious? “No, strange isn’t the word I’d use.”

He reached for her arm, and when she jerked it away, his face crumpled. “It isn’t what you think. That… clothing you found, it’s Lana’s. It may sound silly, but she was such a private person. After my aunt and her friends disappeared, a team of searchers came up here and went through all their things. Some stuff—personal items—went missing, including a journal. I couldn’t stand the thought of anyone pawing through Lana’s private things, making crude comments about them. I was determined to survive and make sure no one saw them but me.”

It was a pretty speech, and if someone else had made it, Nat might have believed it. “That would make a lot of sense, except for the fact that you also have my underwear. Please don’t tell me you’re stockpiling my panties for safekeeping, because if rescuers arrive to save my life, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what they say about my undies.”

She got a little satisfaction watching the color drain from his face.

“There must be some mistake.”

“I’d say the whole thing is a mistake, but it wasn’t me who made it. I hope you’re not about to suggest I don’t know my own underwear. It’s easy to spot, since it’s a departure from the rest of your collection. I assumed you’d wanted some variety from the lacy, frilly stuff.”

“C’mon, Nat. Do I strike you as some kind of creepy panty sniffer? I swear, anything I took was from Lana’s tent, and I did it to protect her. If somehow a pair of yours got into the mix, then they were with her things.” He clapped a hand to his forehead. “Argh, this is more embarrassing than I thought. I can only imagine what you must be thinking of me.”

“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” She’d started off with a strong conviction never to believe him again, but now his story was wearing on her. Could he be telling the truth?

“I would never violate your privacy that way. Lana and I were lovers; it was different. I promise you that she’d be okay with what I did. Otherwise, I never would have done it.”

“Lovers? Is that what you call rape these days?” The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She watched Steven warily. He could crush her windpipe before she had the chance to scream. But instead of looking angry, the mountaineer appeared horrified.

“Rape? Are we back to that again? I never raped anyone. Why would you say that? Even if you think I stole your underwear, that doesn’t make me a rapist.”

“Why else would Lana have told Igor you forced yourself into her tent? While she didn’t say rape, it was strongly implied.”

Steven removed his cap to run his hand through his dark hair. It was sickening that even now, he managed to look handsome. “I wish she were here to explain some of these things herself. Lana was a sweet girl, but sometimes her naïveté got her into trouble. She told me Igor had made some advances, was coming on strong. Since we were stuck with each other for the week, she didn’t want to hurt his feelings. She was desperate to avoid any bad blood. So she told him she was gay. That worked pretty well until Igor saw me going into her tent one night.”

As much as she didn’t want to believe him, Nat could picture it. The crestfallen expression of betrayal on Igor’s face, Lana’s verbal tap dancing to explain her relationship with Steven while keeping the peace. But still, Lana claiming Steven had forced his way into her tent could have gotten the mountaineer killed. “Why would she say it wasn’t consensual, though? You’re lucky Igor didn’t wring your neck.”

“Well, according to what she told me, that isn’t quite what she said. She said we were friends, and that I wanted more from the relationship than she did. Which was probably true. I was more than willing to relocate to Canada if she didn’t fancy moving to California. Lana was quite hesitant, said we were rushing things.”

Nat raised an eyebrow. “I’d say. You’d only known her a few days.”

He shrugged, kicking at a crust of snow. “Doesn’t matter. When you know, you know. There isn’t another woman like her in the world. I’d stake my life on it.”

It was his tone, the sincerity in his eyes, that convinced her. As creepy as his panty hoarding was, there was no doubt in her mind that he’d loved Lana, and loved her very deeply. Whether or not Lana had felt the same was anyone’s guess. “Once again, it seems I owe you an apology for leaping to conclusions. But it was so startling to find my underwear in that pack. Especially since I was looking for the breakfast burritos.”

A smile played at the corner of his lips. “No problem. This has been so mortifying that I’d be perfectly happy to forgive and forget. Deal?”

“Deal.”

“So, with that out of the way and my fledgling reputation as the Great Panty Bandit of Dead Mountain laid to rest, will you tell me your plans for tonight?”

“Later. First, we need to gather firewood. A lot of firewood. Once we rejoin the others, I’ll explain everything.”

“Okay, I guess I can remain in suspense for that long.” Steven knelt to gather branches that had fallen during a previous storm, but not before Nat caught him wiping his eyes.

“Steven?”

“Yeah?” His voice was a bit rougher than usual, and in spite of her misgivings, her heart went out to him.

“I’m sorry about Lana. She was a wonderful woman.”

“Thanks. She felt the same way about you.”