Left alone with the creature, Grigory’s bladder let go, but any smell was lost in the fetid stench emanating from the thing’s breath. Towering over him, it was covered in matted greyish hair. Its eyes were a muddy yellow, shining like a cat’s.
He turned his face away as it approached, squeezing his eyes shut. The stink of it made him dizzy, and he crouched against the wall of his prison, praying for consciousness to leave him.
The horror as the creature took hold of him in the most personal of ways, touching him as no one but Raisa and the occasional late-night indiscretion had in years, brought new life surging into his veins. Now he understood what the man had meant about putting something in his drink. His erection was massive, swollen and throbbing, larger than it had been since his youth.
As the reeking, slobbering thing threw him to the ground and mounted him, Grigory screamed.
THEY HAD BEGUN the day in deceptively high spirits, but as night descended, one of them fell silent. Like an infection, Sasha’s melancholy spread and festered, until everyone in the group could feel it looming over them.
By unspoken agreement, Aleandra was the one to approach him. He was hunched before their meager fire, staring at an old photograph he clutched in his hands.
“Is that him?” she asked, hoping he wouldn’t snap at her or otherwise push her away. She had been dating Sasha for over a year, and in the spring they planned to marry, but his ever-shifting moods worried her. Being around him was like balancing on an ice floe, never really sure when the fragile surface would give way beneath her feet, plunging her into freezing water.
He nodded, passing her the picture, which had curled at the edges.
“He’s very handsome,” she said, and he was. She knew that the man in the photograph had been Sasha’s father, a news reporter who had been openly critical of the government’s regime. When Sasha was only nine, he and his family had been brutally attacked by government agents. His mother and brother had died, and Sasha himself had barely survived. He hadn’t seen his father since that night, and had always assumed the government had murdered him as well.
Aleandra understood the attack had left scars on Sasha’s psyche, wounds that would never heal. While his father had been a drinker, they had been a close family, and though it had been fourteen years since the attack, he still missed his parents and brother every day.
“He was here, Allie. I can feel it.”
She shivered. Their isolated camp on Kholat Syakhl was creepy enough without fretting about the spirit of her boyfriend’s slaughtered father hovering over them. Grigory had been convinced the government was conducting unethical military experiments in the mountains, which was why they’d chosen the desolate place to begin their search for answers.
Aleandra shouldered the responsibility for her friends’ wellbeing. While they liked Sasha enough, he was not the sort of man who was easy to be close to. She had been the one to appeal to them for help, and she understood they had agreed for her sake. No matter what happened in the next few days, she had to make sure everyone got off the mountain safely.
“Everything all right?” Oleg asked. She suspected that her adventurous friend was the only one who’d actually wanted to go, rather than responding from some sense of obligation.
She stood, dusting bark and other debris from her snow pants. “Yes, everything’s fine, but it will be dark soon. We should prepare dinner while there’s still light.”
“Works for me. I’m starving.” At six-foot-seven and well over two hundred pounds, Oleg was always hungry. But his jovial nature was a welcome respite from the gloominess that shadowed their camp, so no one minded feeding him. He clapped Sasha on the shoulder. “How are you feeling, my friend?”
Tucking the photograph inside his jacket, Sasha straightened. “I’m fine; thank you.”
It was a lie, and all three of them knew it, but Aleandra was still relieved. Maybe this trip would help Sasha put some of the demons in his past to rest. If so, it was worth the risk.
FORCED CHEER SET the tone for the evening as the six friends tried their best to forget the grim reason for their adventure. As the vodka bottle was passed back and forth, they almost succeeded.
An unearthly howl split the night. Oleg stopped talking, mid-joke, and Aleandra felt a crawling along the back of her neck. She shivered.
“What was that?” Tatiana said.
Mishka grabbed the bottle out of her hand and chugged. “Sounds like wolves.”
“That wasn’t a wolf. I’ve heard wolves. That was something else.” Elena stared into the distance in a way that made Aleandra nervous. She tugged on her friend’s hand, urging her to sit back down.
“What, then? Coyotes? A dog?” Mishka narrowed his eyes as he challenged her.
“That didn’t sound like any dog I’ve ever heard,” Oleg said. “I agree with Elena. It’s something else.”
“Canines are pack animals. If it were a canine, it would have gotten an answer by now.” Elena retrieved the bottle from Mishka.
The group fell silent, listening, as Aleandra tried to ignore the sensation that something was creeping up behind them, preparing to pounce. When she couldn’t tolerate it any longer, she stood, trying her best to appear casual. “It’s been a long day. I think I’m going to turn in. Sasha, will you walk me to my tent?”
Her friends’ goodbyes were intertwined with teasing remarks and snickering, as she’d expected, but even though her cheeks flushed, she didn’t care. She needed to tell Sasha about her concerns privately, and if the rest of them wanted to think there was something more carnal going on, that was the fault of their own sick minds. Her boyfriend smiled for the first time that day, but as they left the fire, his seriousness returned.
“What is it, Allie? I can tell something’s troubling you.”
She hesitated, regretting they’d left the warmth and light of the campfire behind. The temperature was dropping rapidly, and for the first time, she was concerned their gear wouldn’t be enough to keep them from freezing. “That terrible cry. What do you think it was?”
“Probably a wolf, like Mishka said.” He slipped his hand into hers, and she clung to it, his closeness making her feel safe for the moment.
“Elena grew up in the country. She’s listened to those creatures howl all her life. If she says it wasn’t a wolf, I believe her.”
“What else could it be?”
As they reached the tent she shared with Elena, she beckoned him inside. Though the thin nylon was hardly soundproof, she wasn’t comfortable discussing her fears outside. She still felt that something was out there, watching.
Listening.
Sasha followed and zipped the flaps shut. He tried to wrap his arms around her, but she insisted on keeping her distance. She needed a clear head; now was not the time for romance.
“I’m sure you’ve heard the stories about these mountains.”
Sasha was quiet for a moment, and she could see him turning her words over in his mind. “Please tell me you’re not talking about the creatures.”
“There have been so many sightings, Sasha. You heard what they were saying at the tavern. The Mansi are too afraid to come up here after what happened to the Dyatlov group, and they’re skilled hunters. Surely, they wouldn’t stay away on account of a few wolves.”
The fate of the Dyatlov group troubled everyone, and had almost discouraged a couple of their friends — Tatiana and Mishka — from joining them. Earlier that year, a group of nine ski hikers, led by Igor Dyatlov, had ventured into the same mountains, eerily close to where they now camped. When an expected telegram from Igor never arrived, a search-and-rescue team had gone after the hikers. Searchers had found their mutilated bodies scattered around their campsite. One of their tents had been slashed clean through, and many of the hikers had been half-naked, as if they’d had to leave in a hurry.