J Moncrieff - Return to Dyatlov Pass

“Can you roll onto the blanket, buddy?” Steven knelt at Igor’s feet, holding the blanket straight.

“I can try.”

Grunting, Igor half rolled, half scooted onto the blanket. His jaw clenched as he clamped down on the belt, and the sweat poured off him. Once he’d made it, he flopped straight back, panting.

“You’re amazing, man. You’re a machine.” Andrew clapped.

Nat had broken her wrist before, and she well remembered the sickening pain, the waves of nausea. She couldn’t imagine how much worse a broken leg would be.

“Are you all right, Igor?”

He spit the leather from his teeth. “Yah, I’ll be fine. Just give me a minute.”

“Once we get some momentum going, pulling him should be fairly easy,” Steven said. “But I’m worried about Vasily.”

“Do you want to check on him now? Andrew can go with you while I stay with Igor.”

“No, let’s not split up again. We’ll deal with this first, and then look for Vasily.”

Nat shuddered, picturing the creature dragging the Mansi from his tent. Vasily had been terrified, but he hadn’t appeared to be hurt. She hoped she was right about that.

“Okay, let’s get this party started.” Igor propped himself up on his elbows while Andrew rearranged a blanket over his body. Steven and Nat each picked up a corner of the cloth near the Russian’s feet, while Andrew stood behind his back, ready to help when and however necessary. At Steven’s nod, he held the belt so Igor could take it between his teeth again.

“Let’s do this slow and gentle. If we go too fast, we could end up pulling this thing right out from under him.”

For once she didn’t feel an urge to hit Steven for stating the obvious. His voice was soothing and she needed to be soothed. “Right.”

“On the count of three. One… two… three.”

At first, nothing happened. Nat leaned into it until her back strained and her vertebrae popped, and then slowly, slowly, the blanket began to move. Her feet slipped in the snow as she struggled to get traction.

“You all right?” Steven asked, but she had no excess energy left to speak. She managed a grunt while Igor moaned.

“You’re doing great, buddy. Doing great. Almost there.” Andrew was at his most encouraging. “Guys, he’s not looking so good. Can we move a little faster?”

Steven had been right. Now that they’d gotten started, it was much easier to pull, but they needn’t have worried about yanking the blanket out from under the Russian. The man was too heavy. They steadily picked up speed, closing the distance between the trailhead and the fire. Within a minute or two, Nat could feel the welcoming heat on her skin. She helped the mountaineer pull Igor alongside.

The Russian had looked better in the dark. In the flickering light of the fire, his skin was gray. She hoped it was an illusion. Sweat poured down his face as he gasped for air. Lowering herself to the snow, she stroked his head. “Andrew, can you get me a towel, please?”

He nodded and ran off while the Russian continued to moan. “Don’t worry, Igor. We’re going to splint your leg. Hopefully that will help with the pain.”

“No…” he managed, wincing. “No, please. Not yet.”

“Okay, we’ll wait for a bit. Try to relax. Are you comfortable? Well, as much as you can be?” Andrew was back with the towel, and Nat used it to wipe off Igor’s face. She was struck by how young he was. In pain and helpless, he looked closer to his actual age of twenty-four than usual. She’d forgotten he wasn’t much more than a kid. Although she wasn’t a religious person, she said a quick prayer in her mind that she would be able to return Igor to his family, whole and healthy.

“Nat?”

“Mmm-hmm?” Steven had been so quiet she’d forgotten he was there.

“We have a problem.”

“What is it?” she asked, though she’d have given anything not to know. Ignorance was most definitely bliss, but it was also a luxury she couldn’t afford.

“I went ahead and checked on Vasily. He’s gone. Along with his gun. The creature you killed is gone too.”

And then there were four.

Steven sat beside Igor with the blood-encrusted knife in his hand. His attention moved to her when she stirred.

“Good morning,” he whispered.

“Good morning.”

At the sight of him sitting there, keeping watch while the rest of them slept, guilt overwhelmed her. Taking a deep breath to steady her voice, she surveyed the campsite and noticed the towering pile of wood heaped just beyond the fire.

“Wow, you’ve been busy.”

“I can’t take the credit for that. I was too scared to leave you, so Andrew did it.”

Andrew. She glanced at her sleeping producer, her best friend. He was zonked out, mouth open, snoring away. Whoever would have thought that could sound beautiful?

“That took some balls, going back in the forest last night.” As nice as the stockpile was, she wished he hadn’t taken the risk.

“He stuck to the outskirts. Took a lot of courage, though. Not sure I could have done it.”

Pushing her sleeping bag from her legs as quietly as she could, she tensed when the cold air hit her sleep-warmed body. She stepped around Andrew to sit beside the mountaineer, holding her hands to the fire.

“That’s nice of you to say, but we both know you’re the bravest person here.”

He gave her a bemused smile. “I thought I was the Antichrist.”

“I’m so sorry, Steven. For doubting you, and for accusing you. I’m—I’m ashamed at how we treated you.”

“It’s okay. I think a situation like this would make anyone paranoid. And it’s not like I gave you any reason to trust me.” He stared at the fire, not meeting her eyes.

“Even so. A troll and a murderer are two different things.”

“Don’t forget rapist.”

Her hand flew up to cover her face. “Oh my God, I’m sorry. I was a total shit to you.”

He bumped his shoulder against hers. “It’s okay, really. I’m glad you see the truth now, because we’re not going to survive this unless we work together.”

Nat looked over at Igor, but the man was so covered with blankets and sleeping bags she couldn’t see his face. “How’s he doing?”

“Okay, I think. His coloring is a lot better this morning, and his breathing sounds good. Hopefully it’s a clean break and we can get it set today. It’s not ideal, but it won’t be fatal.”

Now that she could view it in the light of dawn, their campsite resembled the aftermath of a horror movie. There were pools of dark crimson around her tent and Vasily’s, and more blood leading away from the scene. The tattered side of her tent flapped in the wind.

“Seems familiar, doesn’t it?” He gestured at her tent, which had been sliced cleanly open.

“Dyatlov’s.”

“You know, it’s always bothered me, that cut in the side of the tent. It drove me crazy, wondering why they didn’t leave through the entrance.”

“And now we know.”

“All that talk about avalanche paranoia and infrasound making them insane, and it was yetis the whole time,” Steven said.

“Do you think that’s what that thing was? A yeti?”

“What else would you call it?”

She wrapped her arms around herself, feeling cold in spite of the fire’s warmth when she thought of those gold eyes. She’d only caught a glimpse of them, but a glimpse had been more than enough. “I’m not sure. I guess I didn’t expect them to be so humanoid. I’d always thought yetis would be covered with fur.”

“Did you get a look at the one you killed?”

“Did I kill it, though? I thought I did—put that knife right through its eye.” She shuddered at the memory. “But if it’s dead, where did it go?”