“Maybe I wouldn’t have made it this far if I were from the Plains. My usual exercise is running my mouth. Tell them, Nat.”
If Andrew was back to cracking jokes, he probably wasn’t on death’s door. Nat forced a smile, but it felt weak. Her own heart rate hadn’t returned to normal yet. “He does go to the gym, but mostly for window shopping.”
Lana laughed, but Steven had a blank expression that indicated her wit had gone over his head. No surprise there. “Even if we decide to send Vasily back to the village, it’s getting too late. I suggest a few of us go on ahead and set up camp at the site. Once everything’s in place, I’ll return to help with Andrew,” he said.
“I feel a million times better. I think I’ll be fine getting to the site under my own power.” To prove it, Andrew sat up, but Nat didn’t miss the wince he tried to hide. Shit. She’d prepared for nicks, cuts, and bruises, but hadn’t anticipated a life-threatening illness. The dread she’d felt since arriving in Russia pressed heavier on her shoulders.
“That is too much work, Steven. Me and the others can handle Andrew,” Igor said, and unless she was mistaken, he sounded offended. No wonder—Andy wasn’t a large man. The Russian could probably carry him up the mountain by himself if he had to.
Steven shrugged. “Suit yourself, but whoever’s going to set up camp needs to get going. It’ll be dark before we know it.”
“I’ll go with you,” Anubha said. “It would be good to get some traps in place before nightfall.”
As the three prepared to leave, Nat was overwhelmed with melancholy, as if she’d never see them again. Steven and Vasily were necessary evils, but she actually liked the Inuit tracker. She hugged Anubha tightly, her mind straying to the Dyatlov group, and how they’d met their doom separately. Had splitting up caused their demise? If they’d stayed together, would they have survived? It was impossible to say.
“Be careful,” she said.
“Always. Don’t worry. I’ll see you in a couple of hours.” Anubha patted her on the back, kissed her husband goodbye, and strapped on her snowshoes. Nat watched the trio ascend until they vanished from view, praying her misgivings were the product of an overactive imagination, nothing more.
“We should start soon. We do not want to fall too far behind the others.” Igor knelt next to Andrew. “Do you feel well enough to ski? If not, I can carry you.”
Nat hoped her producer would be honest. Now was not the time for false bravado.
“I’m still a little weak, but I’d like to try. I am feeling a lot better than I was earlier.”
Reaching out to the Russian, Andrew allowed Igor to lift him into a standing position. Nat held her breath while she waited to see if her friend would regain his equilibrium or collapse. After a moment, he grinned, though his voice was shaky.
“All right. Let’s blow this popsicle stand.”
Lana tugged on Nat’s sleeve. “Can I speak with you privately for a moment?”
Nat nodded. “We’ll be right there,” she told the others before allowing the Olympian to lead her away from the fire. The harsh reality of the dropping temperature hit her as soon as she left the warmth of the flames. Getting to camp would soon be a matter of life and death, not only for Andrew, but for all of them. “What is it?”
“I’m worried about your friend. I don’t mean to scare you, but I don’t think this is a matter of him being tired or out of shape. I’m afraid he might have altitude sickness.”
“What? But Kholat Syakhl’s peak isn’t eight thousand feet. It’s too low.”
“This isn’t only about the altitude. It’s how fast we’ve been traveling and the fact he’s out of condition. Out of condition for this kind of climbing, I mean. He’s still out of breath while he’s resting, and that’s not normal, even on Everest. If he pushes himself to keep ascending now, it might kill him.”
Looking closely at her friend, Nat could see how he gasped for air, though he tried hard to hide it. The idiot was going to get himself killed. “What do we do?”
“I’m assuming there is no canned oxygen available?”
Nat, while never the most organized person at the best of times—she often teased Andrew about being the “brains of the operation”—wanted to shrink into her parka in shame. Her cheeks burned. “It never occurred to me we’d need it for this little of an incline. I feel so stupid.”
Lana patted her arm. “Don’t. It’s not your fault. No one could have seen this coming. Without oxygen, the best thing to do would be to rest here for a couple of days, long enough to let his body adjust to the altitude. You might be able to get away with one, but I wouldn’t push it. Altitude sickness can be fatal.”
As the reality of what Lana said sunk in, Nat felt a chill that had nothing to do with the arctic air. “We can’t stay here by ourselves. What if his condition gets worse? It would be suicide.”
“I agree. I’m glad you’re taking this seriously. I’d hate to see something happen to Andrew. He’s a great guy.”
Nat shoved aside the idea of anything happening to her friend, unable to contemplate the possibility without completely losing it. “Yes, he is. So, will you stay with us?”
“I would in a heartbeat, but I think it would be better if you had some muscle here, just in case, and there’s no way Joe will agree to be separated from his wife, especially after what happened last night. So that leaves Igor.”
But would the Russian go for it? That was the question. While he wasn’t as competitive as Steven, Nat couldn’t see him thrilled at the prospect of being stuck here with the two lame ducks.
“I’m fine with that, if he’s willing.”
Lana smiled. “I’m sure he will be. Let’s go ask him.”
As Nat suspected, Igor was not an enthusiastic volunteer. He didn’t say much, but he didn’t have to. His reluctance was written all over his face. Andrew put up a brief protest until he realized there was no way he could convince them he was fine to continue the ascent. With a sigh, he lowered himself to the ground in front of the fire. Nat could have sworn he looked relieved.
“Since you’re staying here, you get your pick of the meals,” Joe said, holding out the foil packages like an oversized deck of cards. “Take a few, in case you have to stay for a couple of days. I have an extra folding pot, so I’ll leave that with you as well.”
“Thanks, Joe.” She left Igor in charge of the menu selection, and the Russian’s discriminating tastes resulted in pad Thai, beef stroganoff, and some weird breakfast wrap thing.
“Are you sure you’re going to be all right? I don’t feel good about leaving you here.” Nat was touched by Joe’s concern, though she also knew he would never abandon his wife.
“We’ll be fine. We have Igor. We’ll set up camp, make some dinner, and turn in early. I’m sure Andy will feel better tomorrow.”
“Well, let me help you with the tents. It’s the least I can do.”
“You’d better get moving. It’s sunny now, but the afternoon will go by quickly,” Igor said.
“I insist. Come on, Lana, give us a hand.”
Though she felt guilty, Nat was relieved when the tents were set up and their emergency pit stop resembled an official camp. It made her feel safer, and with her lack of experience, she hadn’t relished stumbling around in the dark on her own.
“Take care of yourself, guys.” Joe shook Igor and Andrew’s hands and gave her a quick hug. “We’ll probably see you tomorrow.”
“See you tomorrow,” Nat said.
She wished it didn’t sound so ominous.
~ Chapter Seven ~
The wind picked up as the sun went down, howling through the peaks. It sounded like a wild animal, reminding Nat of the photo that had been discovered in Dyatlov’s camera.