“Hail, hail, the gang’s all here. Now we can eat,” Joe said. “The good news is, at this part of the trip, we’re spoiled for choice. We have beef stew, chili, goulash, spaghetti and meatballs—”
“Ooh! I’ve never had camp spaghetti and meatballs. Let’s try that one.” Lana’s eyes sparkled as she beamed at the group. Either she was telling the truth about the outdoors rejuvenating her, or she really liked spaghetti.
“How could you not have had spaghetti and meatballs? It’s a classic,” Igor said.
Joe pulled the silver packets from his bag while Anubha gathered snow to melt for cooking water.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” Steven asked, and Nat noticed how everyone froze at his question. She wished he’d stay quiet for a while, give the group a chance to forget what a pessimistic asshole he was.
“Am I sure what’s safe? Spaghetti?” Joe’s voice was calm, but his body language changed, as if he were preparing for a fight, his back rigid and shoulders squared. “Yeah, pretty sure.”
“I’m not talking about that processed garbage. I’m talking about what she’s doing.” Steven pointed at Anubha, who glared at the mountaineer.
“My name is Anubha, and there’s nothing wrong with this snow. It’s perfectly clean.”
“What about the things you can’t see?”
Andrew groaned, sinking onto a snow-covered log next to Lana, and stretched his hands to the fire. Nat hoped Steven wouldn’t take her producer’s response personally, but when she glanced at him, he was still staring at Anubha. He hadn’t even noticed Andrew.
“What are you talking about?” Joe asked.
“Am I the only one who knows the history? Back when they found the Dyatlov group, their radiation levels were off the charts.”
Joe shook his head, black hair flopping to cover one eye. “That was in the ’60s. I don’t know if you’ve heard, but the Cold War is over.”
“It was 1959, actually, and it doesn’t matter. Ever hear of Chernobyl? It won’t be safe for another twenty thousand years.”
“This is hardly Chernobyl.” Andrew couldn’t stand people he referred to as “spoilers,” those with a knack for spoiling everything they were invited to or included in, and he was already convinced Steven was a spoiler with a vengeance.
“I think he came on this trip just to ruin everyone’s week,” he’d griped last night after dinner. So much for the startlingly blue eyes and rugged jawline. Physical attributes only went so far with Andy.
“It doesn’t have to be. Say the radiation here lasts only a hundred years. That’s enough.”
Andrew sighed. “You got the Radalert handy, Nat?”
“Yeah, it’s right here.” She pawed through the front pocket of her backpack, removing the radiation detector. Nat went to give it to her producer, but he shook his head.
“Give it to him,” he said, indicating Steven. “He’s the one who’s so worried about it.”
“Look, I’m just trying to be smart about this. I get that I’m a big pain in the ass to everyone, but I’d rather be safe than sorry. I’m sure none of us wants to come down with radiation poisoning.”
“You’re not a pain in the ass, Steven,” Lana said, her voice dripping with sweetness.
Anubha snorted. “Yes, he is. But in this case, he also has a point.”
“Thank you.” Pushing off his rock, Steven moved closer to her, extending the device close to the snow she was gathering. The machine made a light clicking noise but no beeping as he studied the levels intently. Finally, he straightened. “It looks okay.”
“Let’s get that snow boiling, babe. We’re already behind schedule.” Joe cast an uneasy glance at the sky, but Nat couldn’t detect anything worrisome. Just the same gray, gray, and more gray.
“I thought you two were going to get us some fresh meat. Wasn’t that the deal?”
Nat couldn’t get over Steven’s audacity. The two Canadians had volunteered to cook lunch for everyone, but the mountaineer was still complaining. Unbelievable.
Anubha ignored him, but her husband appeared to take the man’s shot in stride. “Not right now. There’s no point in going to the effort when we’re only going to be here for an hour.”
“Surely it doesn’t require that much effort to catch a rabbit or squirrel,” Steven said. “Look at this guy.” He gestured to Andrew, and my producer shrank further into his parka. “He’s running on empty. He needs the protein.”
“There’s plenty of protein in these packets. They’re designed for hikers. That’s what they’re for.” Joe took the pot of snow Anubha handed him and wedged it into the fire.
“They’re designed for campers; there’s a difference. And they’re not real food.”
“I’m okay, really. I’m a vegetarian,” Andrew said, which was a lie, but Nat hoped it was enough to distract Steven from his tirade. What was wrong with this guy? The worst thing you could do was alienate the people responsible for feeding you.
That got Joe’s attention. “Are you able to eat this?”
“Yeah, I can handle that. I’d rather have something that’s not as visibly dead as a rabbit or squirrel, if you know what I mean.”
“Understandable.” Joe shifted the pot so it would get more heat.
“Why is it understandable? It’s bullshit. What vegetarian goes on a trip like this? There’s no way a vegetarian diet has enough protein and fats to sustain you. Do you know how many calories you’re burning by shivering alone?” Steven glared at Andrew. Nat was sure her producer was regretting his impetuousness at this point. Looks were definitely not everything.
“That’s actually not true,” Lana said. “If you know what you’re doing, you can get more than enough protein from a vegetarian diet.”
Steven made an odd scoffing noise. “Sure, if he plans to sit here for hours eating nuts and seeds, but we don’t have time for that. I can’t understand why he came along if he’s going to be a weak link.”
Summoning more energy than Nat would have suspected possible, Andrew leapt to his feet. “Hey, I’ve had about enough of you. I’m still the producer, and I can send you back to the States tonight with a nice bill for all your travel expenses.”
“Andy…” Nat hoped she could intervene before they reached the point of no return, but perhaps they were already there.
“No, Nat. I know how forgiving you are, but let’s face it—it was my mistake to bring this guy on board, and from the first, he’s proven to be a real shit. We don’t need someone like this on the team.”
“I have more right to be on this team than you do. What are you contributing, besides a lot of lost time and whining?”
Nat’s mouth fell open. She’d come across some winners in her day, but never someone quite so determined to be unlikeable. “I can’t let you talk to my producer that way, Steven. We wouldn’t even be here without Andrew. So either you apologize and stop causing trouble with everyone, or you can leave. It’s your choice.”
“You can’t force me to leave.” Steven narrowed his eyes.
“Maybe I can’t personally, but I’m sure Igor can, if it comes down to that.”
Igor raised his hands in the air in a gesture for peace. “Everyone needs to calm down. What are we, children?”
“I agree with Nat. Steven should apologize to Andrew.” Lana turned to address the mountaineer. “What you said was mean and uncalled for. No one is the weak link. We all have something to contribute.”
Nat fully expected Steven to dig in his heels and really get nasty, but once again he surprised her. “You’re right; it was wrong of me to say that. I’m sorry, Andrew. And I apologize to the rest of you as well. It’s not my intention to be an asshole. I’m under a lot of stress, and I took it out on you. Please forgive me.”