She hadn’t seen so many unhappy faces since the last election. Only Igor looked to be in decent spirits, but even he gave the mountaineer a wide berth, as though whatever troubled Steven were contagious. And Steven was troubled—of that, she had no doubt. Nat didn’t think he was intentionally trying to be a temperamental douchebag.
The man was scared.
“Andrew.” Bumping him with her elbow, she nodded to where Steven stood apart from the group. At least her producer would keep McDreamy company, even if the job wouldn’t be nearly as pleasant as he’d originally hoped.
“I know,” he whispered. “But neither of us will be able to keep up with him.”
He was right. As soon as Vasily was ready, Steven pushed his way to the head of the group beside the Mansi, where they walked together in silence. If it wasn’t exactly companionable, at least it wasn’t hostile.
“What do you think?”
Nat knew what Andrew meant. What was Steven’s problem? He’d fought to get on this excursion, so why say all that stuff about not appreciating it? What had motivated him to campaign for a spot on their team? It couldn’t just be the podcast. There had to be more.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “But I intend to find out. Something’s up with that guy.”
Part of her thought Steven had a point, however poorly he’d expressed it. They were investigating the fate of nine young people who had been cut down in their prime, after all. The occasion demanded some solemnity. She refused to dance on any graves.
The sky was gray and overcast, matching Nat’s mood. She longed for a little sunshine, but knew colder temperatures would come with it. That was yet another advantage they had over the Dyatlov group. It was warmer than it had been when the young Russian skiers had set off on their journey, with no storm in sight.
The trail began at a sharp incline and continued steadily upward. Nat’s calf muscles soon began to ache, and she wished she’d taken the time to get a good massage before leaving the States. She consoled herself by noticing that the chatter among her group had died off as everyone concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other. Only Vasily and Steven, far ahead of the others, didn’t seem affected. Anubha and Joe had opted for snowshoes over skis, and even their energetic pace had slowed. Nat hoped no one could hear her wheeze.
She focused on Anubha’s cobalt blue parka until her eyes watered. Left, right. Keep pushing forward. Right, left. Breathe (gasp). Left, right. Nat blinked, surprised to see that hot pink had replaced the cobalt blue.
“How are you doing?” Lana’s tone was casual, but Nat could see the sympathy in the Olympian’s eyes. She felt a temporary rush of resentment.
“Fine.” With a Herculean effort, Nat managed not to puff. “And you?”
“Oh, I’m great. I owe you both a lot for getting me back in the wilderness. This is so good for me. I’d really let myself go after the games. Depression, you know.”
Nat couldn’t imagine the perky woman depressed. She wondered again if this chipper routine was a persona Lana slipped into along with her snowsuit. “Our pleasure.”
“You have to understand, this comes as naturally to me as breathing. I’ve spent most of my life on skis. It would be a completely different story for a recreational skier, even one who’s fit. Are you sure you’re both okay?”
The way Lana directed her question to Nat and someone over Nat’s shoulder indicated that Andrew was still with them. Good. For the last mile or so, she’d been too exhausted to check.
“A… break… would be… nice,” Andrew said, sounding more drained than he did after an all-night recording session. What if he (or someone else) had a heart attack out here? Did anyone on the team have more than the most basic first aid skills? It was something she hadn’t considered.
“I think it’s close to lunch. I’m sure the others are feeling the same way. I’ll speak to Vasily.” And with that, she was gone, easily gliding past Anubha, Joe, and Igor.
“She… makes it… look… so easy.”
“Save your breath. You’re probably… going to need it.” After slowing down enough to speak to Lana, it took all her strength to resume her former speed. Nat could no longer keep from gasping. Sweat trickled over her nose, coating her lips with salt.
“Attention, everyone.”
Exhausted, Nat forced herself to look at the head of the trail, where Steven waved his arms. His voice was clear and confident, easily heard. “We’ll stop for lunch at the crest. Shouldn’t be longer than another twenty minutes.”
Andrew groaned.
“Hang in there, my friend. Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.”
“I… quit.”
Nat laughed, even though she couldn’t afford to spare the energy. “You can’t quit now. How would you get home?”
“Would… find… way.”
She risked a peek and was surprised at how miserable her producer looked. His cap and scarf were encrusted with ice, and his eyes watered, leaving red trails on his exposed skin. “If you can’t last for twenty minutes, how will you make it back to Vizhai?”
“Fuck… you.”
“Stop making me laugh. I can barely breathe as it is.”
“Whose… f-fault… is that?”
“Yours.” She slipped away before he could catch her, expecting a snowball to connect with her head at any moment. Smiling, she approached the trail with renewed vigor. Andrew always made her feel that way. She often joked he was the love of her life, but it wasn’t really a joke. She’d yet to meet a straight man she connected with so well.
The brief exchange had put them farther behind the rest of the group. Nat couldn’t see Vasily or Steven anymore, and even Anubha and Joe were a blur. Igor had slowed to wait for them, and when he caught her eye, he waved them on.
“Andy? We have to hurry. We’re holding everyone up.”
In hindsight, it had been stupid to put the slowest skiers in the back. If the others hadn’t noticed they’d fallen behind, what had begun as a lark could have quickly become a life-and-death situation. She’d speak to the group while they ate lunch about changing their formation. Perhaps Igor could bring up the rear.
Rather than seem annoyed when she at last came abreast of him, the Russian grinned, clapping her on the shoulder with such enthusiasm she stumbled. He steadied her by the elbow before she fell. “Don’t worry,” he said. “It is a tough climb, yah? But we’re almost there. You rest soon.”
“That’ll be good.”
“He is okay?” Igor’s brow creased in a frown as he regarded Andrew. Nat was dismayed to see how far he had fallen behind.
“He’ll be fine. We trained for this, but you know. A gym in California is hardly the Ural Mountains.”
“Yah, this mountain, she is something else. But no worry. We wait for your friend, and then we go have lunch. Yes?”
Winded, Nat managed a nod, hoping Igor attributed her flushed cheeks to the cold. Fuck, this was embarrassing. They should have taken a full year, put in a lot more training. What had they been thinking, attempting to keep up with mountaineers and Olympians?
In another minute, Andrew caught up, his face an alarming shade of purple. “Sorry,” he gasped.
“No worry, my friend. You okay to go?”
What if Andrew couldn’t make it? Nat didn’t know what would be worse—figuring out how to get her producer safely back to the village, or being stuck in the middle of nowhere with this contentious group of strangers. Igor, Lana, and the Inuit couple were nice enough, but Steven and Vasily—ugh. She’d never survive a week with them without her best friend.
Thankfully, Andrew managed to regain his wind after a brief rest and they pushed on, Igor setting a slower pace. By the time they reached the crest, the rest of the group was sitting around a roaring fire. Lana, Joe, and Anubha clapped when they arrived.