Return to Dyatlov Pass

~ Chapter Three ~

I’ve made a mistake.

The thought had first nibbled at the corners of Nat’s conviction that morning, when she’d met “her” Mansi, a slight man with short, wavy hair and a heavily lined face. Vasily spoke strongly accented English that required no translator.

“You’re certain you don’t have any problem taking us up there?” she’d asked once introduced, hoping for a pithy sound bite about the horrors of Kholat Syakhl, the infamous Dead Mountain.

The man regarded her with dark eyes that were surprisingly cold. “Prefer not to, but times, they are difficult. Many of my people are starving. Others are leaving the community. I will do what must be done.”

It sounded ominous but Nat soldiered on, determined not to let the Mansi discourage her. “When should we meet you tomorrow?”

Vasily looked at each member of her group before responding. Anubha, the startlingly beautiful Inuit tracker. Her husband Joe, who appeared to be more than a little rough around the edges. The appropriately named Igor, a blond Russian ski instructor who smiled and nodded so frequently Nat questioned how much he understood. Lana, a Canadian survival expert who’d once been an Olympic alpine skier. Steven, an amateur mountaineer from California. And finally, herself and Andrew.

Andrew, a California boy through and through, shivered in his brand new parka, stamping his feet to warm them. They’d been outside for less than ten minutes. For the hundredth time, Nat considered leaving him behind at their hotel in Vizhai, but her producer had always been a part of these adventures. It wouldn’t be the same without him, like undertaking a hike with a missing limb.

Originally, the plan had been to assemble a group of nine who would mirror the characteristics and demographics of Dyatlov’s friends, but that soon proved to be impossible, as well as dangerous. Choosing someone because they were young, blonde, and Russian rather than adept at hiking and surviving was pure madness, as much as it would have made for a great show.

“They are ready, your group? They have trained? The pass is Category III. It is difficult terrain. Only the very experienced should go.”

Nat met Andrew’s eyes, sympathizing with the panic she saw there. Out of their group of seven, the producer was the least prepared, closely followed by her. Unlike the others, they were not elite athletes or survival experts. They had trained until their muscles had ached and each new pain had become indistinguishable from the last, but still—climbing mountains in California was hardly in the same category as what they’d experience tomorrow. Nat’s naturally slim frame had turned wiry and nearly gaunt with all the unaccustomed exercise, which wouldn’t stand her well if she ended up stranded on the pass somewhere. She resolved to stick close to Anubha. Or perhaps Vasily was her better bet, since he was the one with the gun.

“Yes, we have.” She lifted her chin slightly at the expression of doubt that flitted across the Mansi’s face. What she didn’t have in athletic prowess, she more than made up for in stubbornness. She’d carry Andrew to the pass on her back if need be.

“Do your people really believe the mountain is cursed?” Lana asked.

Vasily’s response was a look so withering the Olympian visibly shrank inside her Canada Goose parka. “My ‘people’ live in the real world. We do not believe in fairy stories. Kholat Syakhl is a bad place, but not because of any curse.”

“What do you mean? What makes it bad?” Nat jumped in, feeling she should rescue her fellow Canadian, whose cheeks were flushed and not by the cold.

He shrugged. “The weather. The terrain. The wildlife. A lot of risk for little return.”

“Wildlife? I thought you called it Dead Mountain because there was no game up there?” Steven’s question had an edge to it, just enough of a challenge that Nat wondered if they were going to have a problem with the mountaineer. She wished they’d had more time to acclimate as a group and learn each other’s weaknesses and strengths before they braved the hike. But time, as they say, was money.

“Perhaps the bears and wolves did not get the memo,” Vasily replied. Anubha chuckled under her breath.

Bears and wolves. Some people speculated that a wild animal had caused Lyudmila’s facial trauma. But what animal removes its victim’s tongue and eyes, leaving the rest of the face intact? Nat shivered. The Mansi certainly hadn’t been hired for his winning personality.

Igor spoke to Vasily in Russian and both men laughed. Maybe she did need a translator after all. Were they laughing at her? It wasn’t a comforting thought.

“We should leave at dawn if we’re going to make the first camp before it gets dark,” Igor said, flashing his perfect teeth at her. “It will be a very long day. We need much rest.”

“That seems like a good idea. Seven, then?” Andrew asked, and Nat didn’t miss the amused look that passed between Igor and Vasily.

“Five,” Vasily said, staring down her producer as if daring him to argue. Andrew, who often called it a night at five in the morning, swallowed hard.

“I suggest we have dinner and then turn in. We’ve arranged for a feast in a traditional restaurant nearby.” Nat infused as much cheer into her words as she could, in spite of the feelings of trepidation that crept over her. Had they done the wrong thing, choosing the team based on skill rather than personality? Everyone was so different, their only common ground a love of the outdoors. Though perhaps love wasn’t the right word for it, especially in Vasily’s case.

As though he’d read her mind, Vasily slung his pack over his shoulder. “I prefer to have a simple meal in my room. I will see you here at five tomorrow.” He left without waiting for a reply.

“Anyone else?” Nat asked, mentally crossing her fingers. She was concerned Igor would follow suit, but the ski instructor stayed where he was. She was fairly certain it was the promise of an extravagant meal that kept him rooted to the spot rather than their company. “All right, let’s go. Five o’clock is going to come early.”

To their credit, no one groaned. As the group fell in line, Lana chatted with Anubha and her husband while Igor and Steven shared war stories of mountain life. Still, the Mansi’s attitude clung to Nat like a shroud, and the blast of frigid air that greeted them as they left the hotel certainly didn’t help. As much as she talked tough about how hardy Canadians were, that was all it was—talk. There was a reason she’d relocated to California.

“Vasily’s sure a charmer, isn’t he?” Andrew kept his voice low so it wouldn’t carry to the rest of the group.

“Thankfully, we didn’t hire him for his charm. If he gets us to Dyatlov Pass and back in one piece, that’s good enough for me.”

“If?” Her producer had a gift for picking up on the slightest nuance. “Are you having doubts?”

Nat pulled her muffler higher on her cheeks, eyes tearing in the bitter wind. “We trained for six months, Andrew. Dyatlov’s group did this sort of thing for most of their lives and look what happened to them. Having doubts means I’m of sound mental health. It would be insane not to have doubts.”

“I guess so. Whatever happened to them—you don’t really think it’s still out there, do you?”

“I think our biggest challenges are going to be the weather, exertion, and our own paranoia. Whatever killed Igor and his friends, there’s no way it’s still out there sixty years later.”

She hoped she sounded more confident than she felt. The truth was, she had no idea what had happened to the Dyatlov group. What had terrified nine experienced outdoorsmen so much they cut open their tent and ran into the cold in their underwear? Why had Lyudmila’s group survived so much longer and sustained such terrible and strange injuries? Where did the radiation on the bodies come from, and why were the tops of the trees near some of them burned? Something had terrified the skiers, and judging by what had befallen them, rightly so. But what? There were a million theories, all of them ultimately unsatisfying.

“Fuck, it’s freezing. Couldn’t you have decided to solve the mystery of the Bermuda Triangle instead?”

Linking arms with Andrew, Nat smiled, huddling closer to her producer for warmth. “Maybe that should be our reward for surviving this.”

If you survive it.

That nasty voice in her head again, the one that kept insisting she’d made a mistake. But of course they’d survive it. Why wouldn’t they? They had the best team, the most sophisticated equipment. Whatever had happened to Lyudmila and her friends back in the 1950s had to have had a rational explanation. Her job was to find it, not to die trying.

“Vasily gives me the creeps,” Andrew said.

“He’s not the most amiable fellow, is he? But consider things from his point of view. His way of life is dying out, and to feed his family, he has to drag a group of ill-prepared tourists up one of the region’s most dangerous mountains. If he’s a little grumpy, can’t say I blame him.”

“Ill-prepared tourists? I take offense to that.”

“You know what I mean. Just looking at it from his perspective. He has no idea how amazing our team is.”

“That’s better.”

As they followed the rest of the group to the restaurant, Nat tried to pinpoint what was bothering her. Was it Vasily’s doom-and-gloom demeanor? The eeriness of following in the footsteps of nine people who’d died horrible, unexplained deaths? Or something more?

“We’re going to be okay, right?”

The concern in Andrew’s voice echoed her own thoughts. She squeezed his arm. “Of course we’re going to be okay. We’re going to be sitting in the sun with margaritas, laughing about this, before you know it.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Me too.

The Russians who welcomed them to dinner were friendly and cheerful, passing around generous glasses of homemade vodka as soon as their group arrived. Lana looked doubtfully at her share as it slid down the worn wooden table into her hand.

“I’m not sure we should be drinking. We’re going to need to be on top of our game tomorrow.”

“A little vodka never hurt anyone,” Igor said, downing his shot with a hearty “Na zdorovie!” He grinned, clinking his empty glass against hers before grabbing another. “It warms the blood. Try it.”

Nat held her breath as she waited for the Olympian’s response. She wasn’t sure about Russia, but in many countries, refusing a drink was considered an insult.

“I guess one wouldn’t hurt.” With a tentative smile, Lana took a small sip that immediately set off a coughing fit. She clutched her chest, her eyes streaming. “Wow, that’s strong.”

Everyone laughed as Igor pounded her on the back. “You see? It’s good stuff. Puts hair on your chest.”

“Well now, that’s exactly what I need.” Wiping her eyes, Lana sat beside the Russian, leaving the rest of her glass untouched, but the ice had been broken. Nat could breathe again. From this brief exchange, it appeared their group was going to get along fine.

She was surprised when Steven took the chair next to hers. He was the one she knew the least about. He’d been a last-minute addition, but Andrew had said the mountaineer’s credentials were so extraordinary he couldn’t refuse. Nat suspected the man’s dark good looks and startlingly blue eyes hadn’t hurt.

Their hosts refilled the glasses and passed stoneware bowls of soup down the table, along with thick slices of dark rye bread. Nat leaned over the bowl so the steam could caress her face, thawing her still-frozen nose. The soup was a lovely, if surprisingly vivid, shade of magenta. Borscht.

“Nervous about tomorrow?”

Steven watched her with an intensity she found unnerving, as if those turquoise eyes of his could see right through her. She considered lying, but decided on a half-truth. “A little. You?”

“Nah. I survived Everest. What these guys call a Category III is nothing.” He buttered his slice of bread, but his attention remained focused on her. It was everything she could do to keep from squirming. Beautiful men had always made her uncomfortable. Why on earth had she left a gay man in charge of choosing the team?

“You climbed Everest? What was that like?” She’d never met anyone who’d braved the world’s highest mountain before. Though she didn’t have similar aspirations, people who did fascinated her. There was so much risk, both personally and financially. Climbers had to pay at least thirty-five thousand dollars just to have a go at it, with no guarantee they’d ever make it to the top. And even if the weather cooperated enough to make an attempt at the summit, the mountain was littered with the bodies of those who had failed.

“Phenomenal. It’s one of the greatest experiences the world has to offer. I highly recommend it.”

His unwavering gaze made her uneasy. Nat concentrated on her soup, focusing on spooning the warm beet-and-beef concoction into her mouth. Spiked with a hint of fresh dill, it managed to be hearty and refreshing at the same time. “Oh, I’m not at that level. I probably wouldn’t make it to Base Camp.”

Never mind not being able to afford it. Her podcast did well, but not well enough she could throw away thirty-five grand on a single experience, and a gamble at that.

“Don’t sell yourself short. I bet you can do anything you set your mind to.”

Nat looked up, startled at the compliment. “Thank you. That’s a nice thing to say, especially considering you hardly know me.”

“How’s it going?” Andrew whispered on her other side, probably jealous Steven had chosen to sit beside her. Her producer had already taken to calling the mountaineer “McDreamy” behind his back. She bumped his leg under the table, their universal signal for Not now.

“Oh, I know you better than you think. I’ve listened to every episode of Nat’s Mysterious World.”

“You have?” She knew she had loyal listeners, but every episode? A weekly cast for five years added up to… well, a lot of episodes.

“Yes, I have.” Was that a glimmer of amusement in his eyes? “Didn’t your producer tell you I’m a fan? I think that’s what convinced him to let me come.”

“He must have forgotten to mention it.” She gave Andrew a kick under the table, more for pure enjoyment than retribution.

Huge platters of food arrived and Igor stood to address the group. He was beaming, clearly in his element. Nat was warming to him. Every team needed a life of the party.

“You are in for a treat, my good friends. These are blini, otherwise known as Russian pancakes. They are better than what you are used to in the West, yah? Made of buckwheat.” He spoke to their hosts in his native language before continuing. “Elena says there is smoked salmon, homemade sour cream, and caviar. If you don’t like the fish, try the mushrooms. Yours to enjoy. Priyatnogo appetita!”

Another platter, this time of chicken, lamb, and beef skewers, needed no explanation, nor did the Russian potato salad. Nat’s stomach rumbled as she piled her plate high, forgetting to worry about her dinner companion for a moment.

“How did you get interested in this stuff?”

“Umph?” Nat mumbled around a mouthful of smoked salmon and buckwheat. Mmm, bliss. She normally wasn’t a fan of sour cream, but this homemade version bore no resemblance to the tasteless stuff found in grocery stores.

Steven gave her a patient smile. His plate showed a lot more moderation than hers. “I asked how you got interested in this.”

“What, food?” Because food was all she cared about right now. Perhaps the others could brave Kholat Syakhl while she stayed here with the borscht and blini.

“No, the weird stuff. Monsters, UFOs, ghosts. The paranormal, I guess you’d call it.”

“Actually, it’s more unsolved mysteries that intrigue me. I like to keep an open mind. The rest of it comes with the territory, I guess.” Nat wondered why she had to explain this if Steven was such a fan of her show. If he’d listened to every episode, wouldn’t he know this already? “When someone has had something incredible happen to them, something not a lot of people would believe or even understand, they naturally gravitate to a receptive audience. I try my best to be that audience.”

“But why? What made you interested to begin with? Did something happen to you?”

Nat stifled a sigh. This was what it was about, this dinner—getting to know each other, becoming a team. But she wished Steven would give it a rest and eat his meal for a few minutes. His constant focus on her was making her self-conscious. Still, it would be rude to ignore him.

“Not really. That is, nothing major. I’ve definitely been in places that have a feel about them, something that gives you goosebumps and sets your teeth on edge, but beyond that and the odd unexplained sound, I haven’t had a paranormal experience myself.”

“Unexplained sound?”

“Yeah. You know, doors closing by themselves. Rustling, bumps in the night with no explanation. Pretty standard ghost tour stuff.”

“But you’d like to experience more.”

It was a statement, not a question, but from the way Steven stared at her, Nat knew he expected an answer. She thought for a moment, taking the opportunity for another bite of blini, this time with mushrooms. Mmm. Who knew Russian food was so tasty? She’d expected a lot of cabbage and potatoes, and not much else.

“Enjoy it while you can,” Andrew muttered, as if reading her mind. “Starting tomorrow, it’s dehydrated spaghetti and astronaut ice cream.”

Ick. She wasn’t looking forward to the food at camp. Never mind the terrain—the cuisine, or lack thereof, would be the thing to survive.

“You’d be surprised. A lot of the food in those foil packets is actually really good,” Lana said. “Especially after a long day on the trail. You’ll think it’s the best meal you’ve ever had in your life.”

“And Joe and I will supplement our meals with fresh meat,” Anubha said. “I’ve brought my crossbow. We’re ready to do some serious hunting.”

“Fresh meat roasted over a campfire. There is nothing better,” Igor said, and everyone murmured in agreement. Everyone except Steven. What was wrong with this guy? Was he one of those strange “eat to live” people?

“Sounds like we’ll be living like royalty up there,” Nat chimed in, eager to bring the one-on-one with her dining companion to an end. Normally she was more than happy to answer questions about the cast, but there was something about Steven’s scrutiny that made her long for a shower.

“We’ll be suffering enough on the trail. No need to suffer in camp. If we get lucky, Anubha makes a roasted rabbit that will blow your mind,” Joe said.

Andrew reached for another kebab. “Sounds good to me.”

“I’ve never eaten rabbit before.” Lana wrinkled her nose. “I don’t know if I can eat something that’s cute and fuzzy.”

“What about lamb?” Igor gestured at the half-eaten skewer on her plate. “It’s cute and fuzzy.”

“That’s lamb? I thought it was beef!”

Everyone laughed at Lana’s exaggerated expression of horror. Again, everyone but Steven. Lana had clearly taken on the role of comedic relief in their group, whether intentionally or not. From what Andrew had told her, the blonde was actually super sharp. Nat couldn’t help wondering if the dimwitted Marilyn Monroe persona was an act.

“So you think only cute animals should be allowed to live? You do not think cows are cute?”

Uh oh. Nat suspected Igor was just goading Lana, but this conversation could quickly take a dark turn. Joe stepped in before she could.

“Let’s move on. We’re all friends here, right? No one’s going to be forced to eat anything. There’s no pressure. Anubha and I will catch what we can, and we’ll be happy to share it with whoever wants it. But we won’t think badly of you if you don’t.”

Andrew nudged her arm. She knew what he was thinking. The diplomat. There was one in almost every group. Nat was glad theirs was Joe. Before she could pat herself on the back too much, though, Steven spoke to the group for the first time that evening.

“That’s a bit presumptuous, don’t you think?”

Lana’s rosebud mouth fell open. Even Igor was speechless. Only Joe appeared unfazed by the mountaineer’s rudeness. “I’m sorry… what’s a bit presumptuous?”

“Saying we’re all friends. The truth is, we don’t know each other. And up on that mountain, things are going to get very real very fast. It’ll be every man and woman for themselves. I’ve seen it before.”

“That’s not a positive attitude,” Lana said. “Maybe we don’t know each other well yet, but we will by the end of the week. And I hope we’ll be friends.” She smiled around the table. Anubha smiled back.

“I’m not here to be positive. I’m here to survive. I suggest that be your focus as well, if you want to last until the end of the week.”

Nat inched farther away from Steven, until her thigh was pressed against Andrew’s. Ugh. Her first impression had been right. This guy was a jerk.

“I know you’re very experienced, but with all due respect, this isn’t Everest,” she said. “Our survival isn’t in question.”

“Are you deluded? You’re all acting like this is some kind of celebration, stuffing your faces and swilling the moonshine. Have you forgotten what we’re here to do? Have you forgotten what happened to those people?”

“Of course we haven’t forgotten. That’s why we’re here,” Anubha said.

“I’m sorry, but maybe some of us are grateful to be given this chance, and to be here in Russia.” Lana frowned. “I, for one, think it’s a wonderful opportunity, and I’m glad to be a part of it. If you can’t appreciate it, why are you here?”

Good question, Nat thought. Why are you here? A Category III trail obviously poses no challenge for you, so why do it?

“Appreciate it? Appreciate it? Am I the only one here who’s not suicidal? Why would I appreciate risking my own life?”

“No offense, Steven, but we’re hardly risking our lives. It will be challenging, yah, but you’ve survived worse and are here to tell about it. What are you afraid of?” Igor asked.

“What am I afraid of? I’m afraid of the same thing that killed Dyatlov and his people. And if you’re not…” Steven glared at each member of their group in turn. When his ice-blue eyes settled on her, Nat found it impossible to look away. “And if you’re not, you’ve got a death wish.”