“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.”
Argh, now his cloud of hopelessness had drifted over her way. “I thought we could trade off or something, have everyone take turns.”
“I’m out,” Igor said. “I cannot fit in their shoes.”
“It’s not practical, anyway. It would mean two of the group are either far ahead of the rest or waiting while the others struggle through the snow. Doesn’t make sense, unless we plan on splitting up again, which I don’t recommend.”
Nat scowled at him, but Steven was right. It was probably worth saving the shoes, just in case, but trading them back and forth wouldn’t make their progress any faster.
“I’m not meaning to come across as the Killer of All Hope here, but our resources are dwindling. In the time it will take us to walk down the mountain without our skis, assuming we don’t get hit by a blizzard, we’ll run out of food. We don’t have enough.”
“And whose fault is that?” Igor shot back, frowning at the mountaineer.
“It’s no one’s fault. It’s simply a matter of supply and demand. We brought enough food to last a week, and we’re getting to the end of the trip. It will take days, maybe even a week, to get anywhere on foot. Again, assuming good weather. No one planned for the skis to go missing.”
“Maybe if you hadn’t wasted all that food by leaving it out for the animals, we wouldn’t be in this mess,” Igor said. Nat was shocked at how angry the Russian looked, how flushed his face had gotten. She’d never seen him like this. Steven was on dangerous ground.
“I didn’t leave it out for the animals. It was to appease the yetis, a peace offering to make up for hunting on their land. I did it to keep us safe.”
“It didn’t do much to keep Lana safe,” Andrew muttered.
Steven turned on Andrew like a cornered cat. “I hope you’re not blaming me for her death.”
“I’m not blaming anyone. I’m agreeing with Igor that it was a stupid idea. Breakfast got ruined too.” He held up a hand before Steven could jump down his throat. “I understand why, obviously. I’m just saying we shouldn’t waste any more food.”
“I don’t think it was a waste. It might be the only reason the five of us are alive. Did anyone consider that? If we hadn’t left the food, they might have ransacked our campsite and slaughtered all of us. Besides, if anyone had a problem with it, they should have said so last night, not today, when hindsight is 20/20.”
“Would you have listened?” Igor asked. “From the first day, you have been telling us what to do and treating us like children. You’ve acted like this is your expedition, not Nat and Andrew’s. Everyone else’s suggestions are stupid. And yet, you’re the one believing in children’s fairy stories and leaving out food for yetis.”
“How can you deny their existence? Who the hell else do you think took our skis?”
“You probably took them.” Igor’s voice rose until it was a roar. Nat had been about to ask the men to calm down, but now she was afraid to get between them. How had things gotten ugly so fast? “You’re obsessed. Anubha and Joe died because they knew what you were up to. Lana died because she wasn’t interested in you. You can off anyone who gets in your way, and blame it on the yeti.” The Russian hooked his fingers into quotes as he said yeti. “Pretty fucking convenient.”
“That’s ridiculous. And, for your information, Lana was plenty interested.” Steven smirked, and before Nat could blink, Igor lunged for him, grabbing him by the neck.
“You’re a liar! That’s a lie, and you know it. She was interested in me. She told me what you tried to do.” Holding the mountaineer by the throat, Igor slammed Steven’s head into the ground. “She told me you went into her tent that night. You’re lucky I didn’t kill you then.”
Whaa? “Igor, stop. Please, someone stop him before he kills Steven.”
Andrew and Vasily met her pleas with helpless expressions. It would have taken ten of them to have had a hope in hell. Shit. Steven had released Frankenstein’s monster.
An eerie howl split the night air, starting off faint and growing louder and louder. It made the hairs on the back of Nat’s neck stand on end. Igor froze with his hands wrapped around Steven’s throat, Steven clawing at his fingers.
“What the fuck was that?” the Russian asked, but it came across as more of a demand than a question.
“I have told you what it is. Please stop—you are angering them with this fighting,” Vasily said.
Igor groaned. “You expect us to believe that was a yeti?”
“Honestly, it sounded more like a wolf,” Andrew said, and Nat agreed, although there’d been something unearthly, something inherently wrong about that sound. Then again, she’d heard the howls of wolves in the wild could be quite haunting. She’d never heard one before.
The guide wouldn’t budge. “It is not a wolf. You are going to get us killed.”
Whatever had made that noise had served its purpose. The rage that had infected Igor appeared to be gone. He let Steven go and stepped away from him, but before Nat could exhale, the Russian withdrew Joe’s knife from his belt. “I assume I’m your next target, but I’m telling you now—anyone who comes into my tent tonight, man or beast, is going to get this in the heart. Understand?”
Steven scrambled to his feet, rubbing his neck and coughing. “I didn’t kill anyone.”
Something Igor had said troubled Nat. She told me what you tried to do. She told me you went into her tent. Had she unwittingly exposed Lana to a predator? And had the cheerful blonde died because of it? Her stomach twisted in knots.
“Steven, what happened with you and Lana? Did you—”
A horrified expression came over the mountaineer’s face. “No! I don’t know what she told Igor, but she invited me to her tent that night. We fooled around a bit, and then I left. I certainly didn’t force myself on her. I would never do that.”