“Is that a fact?” she scoffed. He nodded, unaware of her sarcasm and hostility. Nina adored Cammerbach. She had worked with him before, but when it came to her safety, her very life, nobody dragging her into it was exempt from her attacks. “I have been here before too, you know.”
Astonished, he took a moment from his frantic worry to look at her. “No, I did not know that.” It was obvious that the team leader felt a tad stupid for lying to his historical advisor to look better informed. He played dumb, though. “When were you here? On holiday?”
“Hardly,” Nina murmured, recalling her dangerous expedition with two other men who always dragged her into situations of immense risk — Sam Cleave and Dave Purdue. “A few years ago I was here with a group of colleagues to search for a relic reputed to have been hidden in Tibet and its surrounding ranges, Heinrich. And I know for a fact that this part of the land is riddled with villages full of goat farmers and traders.”
Cammerbach had no retort. It was true what Nina said, but he dared not blatantly admit to uncalled-for patronization, especially toward a woman of her knowledge and intelligence. Playing dumb was also not tolerated, and he had to concede to his transgression.
“I apologize, Nina. I was just trying to keep you alert while hoping you had not abandoned all trust in my ability to manage this excursion. I had no idea you were familiar with the place,” he confessed. His eyes were still very vigilant, and he turned to study the white obscurity surrounding them. “By the way, what relic were you looking for?”
“The Spear of Destiny,” she answered plainly. “Christ, I could kill for a cigarette right now.”
Intrigued, Cammerbach leaned in to hear Nina better. “Did you find it?”
“What?” she asked.
“The Spear of Destiny — did you find it?” he repeated, absolutely attentive to the conversation.
Nina shrugged, “We found a lot of things, some beyond the conventions of handmade historical items claiming to have power.” That was all she revealed to the expedition leader. Perplexed at her cryptic answer, Cammerbach was about to approach the question from a different angle to assure a satisfactory answer from Dr. Gould, but as he leaned in again to speak, the awful cry echoed once more. Nina jumped. Neville peeked his head out from the hole with stretched eyes that declared his alarm.
“Get through! Get through! They are getting closer!” Neville shouted into the dark ahead of him. Nina looked at Cammerbach. No more was he putting forward the idle chuckles and the dismissive consolations. He was terrified. The wails continued, coming from the pale nothingness around them, closer and closer. Nina could hear the workers chisel hard and madly, babbling in voices fraught with terror and apprehension. She need not know their language to understand what they were saying. Their uttering was universal — primal shrieks of agitation any creature with a soul could construe as emotional injury and impending death.
“Cammerbach?” she shouted. Inside Nina the tension gripped her brain. She could not make sense of any of it. How could so many men—prepared men — be so scared? “Cammerbach! What the hell is going on?”
But he remained frozen in his stance, staring out into the twirling snow at something that was not there. Nina tried to discern movement inside the whirlwind of ice, but she saw nothing. Cammerbach suddenly grabbed her and flung her small frame into the hole with Neville and his frantic colleagues. The rock broke right through and they tumbled into a conduit of dirt and ice, while Nina looked back for Cammerbach.
From the swirling vortex Nina saw a flash of light emanating and it struck Cammerbach squarely in the chest, splitting open his torso like a laser within a blink. The hot crimson flesh fell to the snow and melted its immediate surface. Nina screamed inadvertently and buried her face in her hands. The men with her went into a state of frenzied prayer and when she had steadied her heart, Nina looked up. There was no blizzard, no snow; only the silence of the Himalayan breath that gently stirred her blood-soiled hair.
Chapter 2
With no time to spare, they raced down into the hole. Neville pulled Nina away from the mouth of the tunnel and shoved her in front of him. His aim was to put his own body between the entrance and the precious historian whom he revered and admired, not only for her tenacity, but for her courage.
“Go! Go, Dr. Gould!” he screamed in the din of the cries and screams. There were eleven of them, an excavating team of archeology students, artisans, the late leader of the expedition, his historical and cultural advisor — Nina, and then there was Neville, his assistant. Neville pushed her hard from behind as they fell about in the dark passage with nothing but a faint light held by one of the men in front.
Nina could not look back, because Neville kept corralling her forward. She was wondering if he did so to keep her from wasting time, or perhaps to keep her from seeing what was behind them. The strange wailing had now become the distant reminiscence of whales, still loud enough to convince her that whatever made the sound had advanced into the tunnel with Nina and her party.
“In here, Dr. Gould!” she heard Neville call out.
“Where?” she yelped, still sick from the warm coppery smell of Cammerbach’s blood on her. Her slender fingers reached out in the dark to find Neville where she could hear his voice.
“Straight ahead, Dr. Gould!” he urged, tugging at her parka.
“Don’t you have a light, Neville? You are supposed to be equipped with a flashlight, at least,” she reprimanded out of frustration and fear. Her body fell hard against his in the dark, and Nina felt Neville’s rugged hand latch over her mouth to silence her. Under the restraint of his dirty glove she muttered his name, exasperated by his strange conduct.
“Shh, Dr. Gould. A light will let them see us and if you don’t keep quiet we will share the fate of those men,” he whispered hard in Nina’s ear. His breath was rapid and hot in her hair and smelled of atchar and green peppers.
“Who?” she asked inaudibly into his glove, tapping his forearm lightly to signal that he could remove his hand now. Before he could answer, she saw the beam of the timid flashlight of the front runner whip about wildly. Its ray painted the wall of the tunnel with wide lashes of illumination as the man holding it was subjugated by someone.
“Neville, what’s happening?” Nina whispered hysterically as the screams of the expedition party changed from prayers to utters of onslaught.
“Be quiet!” he growled as softly as he could.
Outside the small niche in the rock where Nina and Neville hid, three massive figures passed briskly. They were covered in white pelt, much like the elusive yeti creature of myth that Herr Cammerbach was there to find. From the chill of the surface they had come into the hole after the group of archeological explorers who invaded their territory. Nina pinched her eyes shut as they grunted, slumped over at over 6 foot, 5 inches, and made their murderous way through their victims. Neville had a time of keeping Nina silent, holding her up from near collapse as they heard the giant beasts snap the necks and bones of the unfortunate men in the duct.
Silence was deafening for a while after the last squeal had died down and the light was extinguished. Nina’s breathing was labored and hard against Neville’s jacket where he held her fast to keep her propped up. She could hear the Indian’s heart slam insanely inside his shivering shell and she knew that he was as petrified as she was. Her body felt weak and shaky in the pitch darkness of the confined space she was forced to take refuge in. For now, Nina’s claustrophobia had to take a step back to her survival, and she tried to occupy her thoughts with the deadly primates out to kill them rather than the small crevice she was caught in under several layers of rock and snow that could collapse on them at any moment.