J Moncrieff - Return to Dyatlov Pass

“You do seem to enjoy provoking people, judging by how you’ve behaved on this trip,” Andrew added.

“I never mean to. It’s a character flaw. I rub people the wrong way.”

“I’m sorry, but that’s a cop-out. That makes it sound like it’s an accident. You deliberately sniped at everyone, every chance you got. And don’t think I didn’t hear you arguing to leave me behind.” As Andrew glowered at Steven, Nat wanted to cheer. It was about time someone other than her dressed this guy down. He’d been a thorn in their side from the beginning.

“That wasn’t very compassionate of me, I admit. But I was only thinking of what was best for the group as a whole.”

At his attempt to portray himself as altruistic, Nat lost it. “Bullshit. Since when have you cared about the group? If you really wanted to find out what happened to your aunt, there’s no way you’d want to leave now. These murders are obviously recreations of what happened in 1959. The longer we stay, the closer you get to finding the truth.”

“Sure, I’d love to find out what happened to my aunt, but I’m not suicidal. In spite of my fears, I had no idea any of us were at risk, not really. Once Joe and Anubha died, it wasn’t worth it anymore.”

“How do we know you’re not doing this yourself? You admit you’re obsessed with the case. You’re the only one, other than Vasily, who had the opportunity to kill Joe, Anubha, and Lana.” Andrew’s voice broke when he said Lana’s name, and tears welled in Nat’s own eyes. “You’re the only one with a motive.”

Steven raised an eyebrow. “Are you serious? I want to find out what happened to my aunt, and that’s enough of a motive to murder three people? You can’t actually believe that.”

“Maybe your aunt’s death isn’t the motive. Maybe you killed Joe and Anubha because of your run-in with them the other night,” Nat said. “Lana could have spurned your advances.”

“Trust me, there were no ‘advances,’ and if there had been, she wouldn’t have spurned them.”

“You conceited asshole.” She’d never wanted to strangle someone so much in her life.

“I’m not being conceited. Like you mentioned, we were fond of each other. But she lived in Canada; I’m in California. What would have been the point of starting anything?”

“I’d like to think she had better taste.”

Steven winced. “Ouch. Hey, I get you’re both pissed at me, and I don’t blame you. I probably deserve everything you can throw at me—”

“Probably?” Andrew asked.

“Okay, I definitely deserve it. But I came in here to make peace, to see if there’s some way we can get past this. Let’s not forget that something out there is picking us off one by one, and this is what it wants. The more we turn on each other, the easier it will be for them to eliminate us.”

Andrew rolled his eyes. “Them? You’re not still pretending you believe this yeti theory, are you?”

“Here. I want to show you something.” Reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket, the mountaineer withdrew a folded sheet of paper and handed it to Nat. It was a copy of a photograph, a famous photograph she’d seen before, the one that had been found in the camera in Dyatlov’s tent. This version had been enhanced, which hadn’t helped much. It still looked like a man in a snowsuit in the cedar forest. All the enhancement had accomplished was reveal a bit more detail in the clothing. It remained fairly fuzzy. “Check out the material of his suit. Doesn’t it look like it could be hide, like Vasily described?”

Nat peered at the picture before handing it to Andrew. “Maybe. But I don’t see what that has to do with anything. It could have been a member of their group, or another tribe—anything.”

“If that doesn’t convince you, how about this?” Steven passed Nat his phone. On the display was a close-cropped photo of a bruised hand, the fingers curled into a fist. Her stomach lurched.

“This isn’t funny.”

“I don’t mean for it to be. Look between her fingers, Nat.”

Swallowing hard over the lump that had formed in her throat, Nat examined the photo closely. It took a few seconds, but finally she saw what Steven had been getting at. Lana clutched a small piece of animal fur. It looked like part of a pelt. Or, perhaps, a homemade snowsuit.

“That doesn’t prove anything. It could even mean an animal attacked her,” Nat said.

“Except there were no tracks. No bite marks. And aside from the bruising, her body was in perfect condition. What kind of animal would do that?”

“I hate to interrupt this argument, but while you two are bickering, we’re losing daylight. Something killed Joe, Anubha, and Lana, and I think we can all agree that we need to get the fuck out of here while we can.”

Before either of them could respond to Andrew, a shadow loomed over the tent, making Nat jump.

“Hello, guys? We have a problem.”

She sighed. Great. What else was new? There had been nothing but problems on this trip. Pushing past Steven, she pulled the flap aside. “What is it, Igor?”

The Russian’s eyes were red and raw, as though he had been crying. “Our skis are missing. While we were with Lana, someone must have taken them.”

It was a much-diminished group that gathered around the fire that evening, staring gloomily into the flames while the skies darkened.

And then there were five .

“We’ll have to walk down, yah?” Igor kicked at a stray ember, which fizzled in the snow. The temperature had dropped dramatically, and even near the blaze it was uncomfortably cold.

“We can’t. The snow is too deep in places, and it will take us too long. And what if there’s a storm? We’d die,” Steven said.

“We’ll die for sure if we stay here.” Andrew sounded so resigned Nat worried he’d lost the will to live. While his coloring and breathing had improved, and his mind appeared as sharp as ever, his spirit was lacking. And he probably needed that to survive more than anything.

“We’ll die if we get trapped on the side of the mountain in a blizzard too.” As usual, the mountaineer was brimming with optimism.

“Look, we all know this situation sucks, right? It sucks. So let’s stop pointing out how much it sucks, and start coming up with solutions. If you don’t have something positive to say, please keep it to yourself.” Nat took a deep breath. “Anyone have any constructive ideas?”

The disappearance of their skis had complicated things in more ways than one. Not only had it effectively stranded them on the pass, but the one person who’d had the opportunity to take them was Igor, and the Russian couldn’t have killed Joe and Anubha, since he’d been with her and Andrew at the other site when the trappers went missing. Igor swore that once Vasily returned from the forest, they hadn’t been out of each other’s sight. Not to mention that whoever had taken the skis had either taken them far or hidden them extremely well. The group had combed the Dyatlov Pass, the trail, and the forest as far as Lana’s body, without finding so much as a single track.

The resulting silence was deafening, but she wasn’t surprised. Take away the option of sniping at each other, and their “team” had nothing to say. If her job as a leader was to foster unity and inspire everyone to work collaboratively, she’d failed miserably.

“How about Joe and Anubha’s snowshoes?” she asked.

Steven lifted his head, and she thought she detected at least a glimmer of interest. “What about them?”

“Well, they’re better than nothing, right? Joe and Anubha moved pretty quickly in them.”

“I hate to sound negative , but Joe and Anubha were just two people. There are five of us. So I’m not sure how their snowshoes, assuming we can find them, would help.”