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  “Where’s Andrew?” Panic crushed her, making it impossible to breathe.

  Then she saw him, over near Igor, his eyes wide enough to swallow his face. Did he get that she’d escaped, or did he believe he’d burned his best friend alive? She yelled to him, but he continued to gape at the tent.

  “Don’t bother. No one can hear you over that. How’s the foot?”

  Her foot. Wincing, she surveyed the damage. The right leg of her snow pants was ripped to shreds. Her sock was literally hanging by a thread, and her ski boot was gone. But the foot itself was okay, thanks to Steven. She wiggled her toes and gasped at the resulting sting. Singed, and probably soon to be frostbitten, but she’d gotten off lightly, all things considered.

  “Here, put these on.” Steven handed her two wool socks from his own pack, and she gratefully pulled them over her bare skin, ignoring the throbbing from the burn. She hadn’t seen any blistering, so hopefully she didn’t have to worry about an infected foot on top of everything else. Losing the boot was enough of a catastrophe.

  “Lana’s boots should fit you. We’ll go get them as soon as it’s light.”

  She cringed. “I can’t do that.”

  “Nat, she’s dead. They’re of no use to her anymore. And you can’t go without. Not if you want to get home.”

  It made sense. Why leave perfectly good ski boots to rot when she was in need? But, common sense or not, she couldn’t imagine stealing the boots from a dead girl’s feet.

  Best to change the subject.

  “Do you think we got them all?”

  Steven squinted at her, as if trying to decide whether or not to tell the truth. “I wish I could say yes, but there were a lot more than two of them making that racket tonight. You know it as well as I do.”

  Andrew called her name. She looked up to see him waving at her, an expression of ecstatic joy on his face. So he had thought he’d killed her.

  As he started toward her, something loomed out of the shadows behind him. Intent on their reunion, her friend didn’t hear it.

  “Andrew, no! Look out!”

  But it was too late.

  The creature seized him by the neck, lifting him off his feet. There was a moment when his eyes stared into hers with a dreadful knowing.

  The snowman twisted Andrew’s neck, killing him instantly and tossing him to the ground. His body flopped like a doll’s.

  Nat sank to her knees, in too much emotional pain to move or cry. He can’t be gone. Not Andrew. I can’t survive without Andrew.

  With a roar, Igor sprang upright on his good leg and stabbed the snowman in the face with Joe’s knife. He struck the creature again and again, mindless of the gore that gushed from within the hood to splatter his face.

  More shadows appeared behind him.

  She finally found her voice. “Igor!”

  Steven lifted her from the snow, dragging her toward the forest. “We have to go, Nat.”

  “We can’t leave him.” She jerked her arm out of his grasp. She tried to run to Igor, but her sock slipped on the ice, giving Steven a chance to take hold of her again.

  “Look how many there are. We have to go, now. If you want to live, come with me.”

  ~ Chapter Twenty ~

  Upon waking, there was a blissful moment of ignorance before the pain of losing Andrew came back to her. Moaning, she pressed her face into the snow, the heat of her tears turning the surface beneath her to ice.

  A hand touched her shoulder. “Nat, you’ll suffocate. Please don’t do that.”

  The agony was overwhelming, so intense it felt physical, like having a limb ripped from its socket. She was missing a limb, would always be. Without Andrew, she had nothing. In so many ways, he’d been the love of her life.

  “Leave me alone. Just let me die.”

  “Sorry, no can do. Andrew would never forgive me if I did, and the last thing I want is his ghost haunting me for the rest of my life. We may not survive, Nat. But don’t you think we owe it to them to at least try?”

  She pressed her face deeper into the snow. Ice crystals filled her nostrils, and she felt the welcome pressure on her chest as her lungs struggled for air. Fingers grasped her hair close to the roots, wrenching her upright. The freezing air hit her face like a slap.

  “Ouch!”

  “You have to stop feeling sorry for yourself. We don’t have the luxury.”

  She narrowed her eyes. “Fuck you.”

  “Maybe later, when our body heat runs low. For now, we have more important things to worry about.” Incredibly, he grinned at her. She shuffled forward, kicking his boot with hers.

  “How can you smile when they’re dead? They’re all dead.” The sob caught in her throat. “They’re gone.”

  “Because we’re alive, Nat. And damn lucky to be here, drawing breath. My focus is on survival, not self-pity. Have you forgotten I lost someone too?”

  She turned away, sniffling. “That’s different. You knew Lana for a few days. I’ve known Andrew for most of my life.”

  “Maybe I loved her enough for a lifetime in those few days. Did you ever consider that?”

  “I’m sorry.” She wiped her face on her sleeve. “I’m finding it hard to care about anyone else’s pain right now.”

  “It’s okay; I understand. As much as I can. I’ve never had someone be as close to me as Andrew obviously was to you. But that’s what you have to hold on to. Honor his life, not his death.”

  “Easy to say; impossible to do.”

  “I get that. And you have nothing to prove to me, Nat. You’ve already shown more guts than I ever gave you credit for.”

  She sniffed, looking past him. “Where are we?”

  Her surroundings were white, white, nothing but white. It was like being in an igloo.

  “The ravine. I found it yesterday. I was going to tell you, but I never got the chance. We had…other things to discuss.” His cheeks reddened.

  “The ravine? You mean the same one where—”

  “Where my great-aunt died, yes. It’s been my mission to find it, though I never thought it would save our lives. It’s fitting, in a way. Lyudmila would have liked that.”

  She swallowed hard and considered the ill-fated young woman. Nat wasn’t comfortable living in Lyudmila’s tomb, but what choice did she have? “I don’t mean to be a pessimist, but have you forgotten what happened to her? I don’t think it’s safe for us to stay here.”

  “No, I haven’t forgotten. But there has to be a reason she lived longer than the others. All we need is a couple of days, just enough time to rest and give things a chance to calm down. Then we’ll leave.”

  She knew she should thank him for saving her life—for staying calm in a crisis and getting her the hell out of there before she hurtled into her own death. But she couldn’t. Not yet. She figured Steven of all people was smart enough to understand. “What if we don’t have a couple of days?”

  “Look, nearest I can tell, Lyudmila’s group made some mistake, and that’s when the creatures found them. Maybe they thought it was safer to leave the ravine at night; who knows? All we have to do is not make the same mistake they did, and we’ll be fine.”

  “How are we supposed to avoid it, when we don’t know what their mistake was?”

  He shrugged. “We’ve been able to observe these things for days. We’ve witnessed what they sound like, when they move, how they kill. Now we have to use that knowledge to our advantage. We’re going to get out of here, Nat. I promise you. You will not die in this ravine.”

  His words were small comfort. Even less so when she heard a scraping noise and saw he was digging at the roof of their shelter.

  “What are you doing?” she hissed at him, kicking the sole of his boot again.

  “Making a hole.”

  “I can see that. But why?”

  “So I can get out.”

  “Are you crazy? They could be standing right outside, waiting.” But as her paranoia quickened her pulse, she already knew it wasn
’t true. She’d have been able to smell them. The snowmen had their own particular stench, a pungent aroma of dust, body odor, and rotting meat.

  “They travel at night, Nat. I assume they sleep during the day.”

  “That’s a big assumption to make. And a dangerous one.”

  “I prefer to call it an educated guess. Anyway, it has to be done. I need to get you those boots.”

  “You’re not leaving me here alone.” As awful as it was being stuck with him in the snow cave, the thought of being alone was so much worse.

  “And once you have the boots, we’ll go together to get supplies.”

  “We can’t go out there. That’s what they’re waiting for. What if they’ve taken over our camp? We killed their friends; I’m sure they want to kill us.”

  “We have to risk it. It’s either a quick death out there or a slow death in here. We need supplies, Nat. We won’t live long on snow.”

  By now, he’d dug a hole large enough to expose his head. Putting on his shades, he wiggled his way outside. She bit her lip to keep from crying out, certain something ghastly was going to happen. She kept seeing Andrew’s death, over and over again, the anguished expression on her friend’s face, until her chest squeezed so tight she could barely get air. The feeling of being buried alive intensified.

  Steven lowered his arms, dropping back inside their shelter. “It’s clear. I should only be a few minutes.”

  “Please don’t leave me here. I’ll go with you.” In her panic, she clutched his pant leg. With a bemused smile, he pried off her fingers.

  “I can move faster without you. I’ll be right back, I promise. You have to start trusting me, Nat.”

  “This isn’t about me not trusting you. It’s about me not trusting them.”

  Pulling her toward him, he kissed the top of her head. “I’ll be right back. Wish me luck.”

  And then there were two, she thought as she watched him disappear through the hole he’d dug.

  She hoped she wouldn’t have to revise that number down to one.

  * * *

  Nat had expected to go half-mad waiting for him to return, but before she could blink, he was shaking her awake.

  “Here, put these on.” He thrust Lana’s boots into her arms, and her stomach churned at the faint smell of decay. “Quick. We have to hurry. I found Igor.”

  Perhaps it was the lack of food, or she was groggy from the unexpected nap, but he wasn’t making sense. “Why the rush? Is it getting late?” Ensconced in their cocoon of snow, she had no idea of the time.

  “You don’t understand. I found Igor, and he’s alive.”

  She came to life herself, her stiff fingers fumbling with the bootlaces. Igor, alive! When she’d last seen him, he’d been surrounded by the creatures. How on earth had he survived? “How bad is he?”

  Steven grimaced. “He’s not great. I honestly don’t know how much longer he’ll live, but we can’t leave him there. At least, I can’t, but I need your help to bring him here.”

  “How did you find him? I thought you were going for the boots.”

  “The coast seemed clear, so I kept going, figured I’d grab some supplies on my own. The more we can get, the better.” He gestured to a full pack she hadn’t noticed. It was Joe’s, so she guessed it contained what was left of their food, not that those dehydrated packets would be much good to them without a fire. Hopefully Steven was right and they’d only be hiding here for a couple of days before descending. The important thing was that they were alive and that they continued to stay that way.

  As soon as she’d tied the second boot, Steven was through the hole in the snow and reaching back for her. It was tougher to get out than it looked. As he pulled on her arms and she leaned forward, trying to use her body weight as leverage, she realized how much strength she’d lost. If something happened to Steven, would she be able to leave the ravine, or would she be trapped, helpless, until the snowmen found her?

  She emerged into a sparkling wonderland. New snow had fallen during the night, capping the trees in crystalline white.

  “Do you still have your sunglasses? Wear them. With this much sun, there’s a considerable risk of going snow-blind.”

  Nat did what he said, not minding his bossiness. In her current state of brain fog, it was a relief to be told what to do.

  “Here.” He handed her a pair of snowshoes. Anubha’s. While she gawked at them like they were some bizarre relic from another era, Steven bent to fasten a pair to his own feet. Joe’s fit him well. There would no longer be any question of how to share them among the group, she realized sadly.

  “You have been busy.”

  “I did my best to get everything I thought we could use as quickly as I could.” He shot her a worried look, brow furrowing. “We’re going to have to pass them…and Lana…on the way back to camp. Can you handle it?”

  The thought made her want to melt into the snow and disappear. “I think so.”

  “My advice? Try not to look. For some reason, Lana…well, she’s not in a good way. She’s going fast.” His voice broke. “Soon she won’t be recognizable.”

  It was cold enough that the bodies should have remained intact until the spring thaw, but she remembered the same thing had happened with some of the Dyatlov victims. Several members of their team had decomposed much faster than the others, in a manner that defied scientific explanation. Another mystery that would forever be unsolved, unless she could figure out what had made Lana’s death different from the others’.

  They set off through the woods, their footsteps nearly silent on the fresh snow. The shoes made it a lot easier to walk, and Nat was grateful Steven had had the courage and forethought to get them.

  She stared at a point between his shoulder blades, figuring it was safest, but every now and then she glanced at the path they were cutting through the forest. It might as well have been a neon sign. “What about our tracks? We’ll lead them right to us.”

  “Don’t worry. When we get back, I’ll use a cedar branch to get rid of them. That’s another reason we have to hurry. We can’t risk running out of time.”

  Nat’s stomach growled, but then recoiled as she caught a whiff of rotting meat. Sickly sweet, it made her gorge rise until she was sure she would vomit. “It’s them, isn’t it?” she asked, not daring to look.

  “No, that’s Lana. She’s even worse than she was earlier this morning. Put your hand on my shoulder and let me guide you. Don’t look. Trust me, you don’t want to see this.”

  Breathing through her mouth, she squeezed her eyes shut, gripping Steven’s shoulder with all her strength. She forced herself to concentrate on his movements and the sound of his progress, matching him step for step. A sensation akin to vertigo urged her to open her eyes, to take a peek, but she resisted. She didn’t need any more fodder for her nightmares.

  “Okay, we’re past.”

  She knew without his telling her. The air was clean and crisp again, free from the cloying stench of death.

  “What about Andrew?” Nat was hardly able to say his name.

  “I’ve covered him, don’t worry. For what it’s worth, it doesn’t look like he suffered. Can’t say that about the rest of us.”

  She moved close enough to put her hand on his shoulder again. “Thank you.” As much as she longed to see her dear friend again, it would completely undo her. Their focus had to be on the living until they got home. Once they were off this terrible mountain there would be time to grieve.

  In the harsh light of day, their campsite resembled a war zone. Not much remained of her charred tent but the poles and a few blackened strips of cloth. Gray ash, looking like piles of salt and pepper, littered the ground. In spite of the fresh snow, some of the blood and gore was still visible. Ski poles had been bent and twisted into garish modern-art sculptures. Makeshift clubs and other wood fragments speckled the ground.

  But worst of all was Igor.

  The Russian moaned when he saw her, and she clapped her hand
over her mouth before she could scream. Steven should have warned her.

  The skin on the right side of his face was in bloody tatters. His eyelid drooped and his nose had been smashed flat. Someone—no doubt Steven—had covered him with a blanket, so mercifully his body was hidden from view. When she reached him, she collapsed, taking his hands in hers. They were cut and scratched, but were in a much better condition than his face.

  “Don’t cry,” he slurred. “I’m all right.”

  The obvious lie made her cry harder. If a snowman had appeared in front of her at that moment, she would have killed it with her bare hands. So many good people dead or dying and for what? These creatures killed for the joy of it. There was no other explanation.

  “Come on, Nat. We have to go. It’s going to take us a while to get him back.”

  Igor rolled his eyes to Steven’s. “Leave me,” he said, and she saw most of his teeth were either missing or broken. The pain must have been excruciating.

  The mountaineer didn’t dignify the Russian’s pleas with a response. “I think, between the two of us, we should be able to pull him to the ravine on a sleeping bag. We’ll need to move quickly, but the fresh snow will work in our favor.”

  Nat felt the opposite—that had it been packed, it would have made the journey easier, but there was no point arguing. “Okay,” she said, wishing she felt stronger. All she wanted to do was curl into a ball, go to sleep, and escape from this living nightmare. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I’ll need your help getting him on the bag. After that, we pull. Can you check the tents for the slipperiest bag you can find? I’ll pack some more supplies while you look.”

  The work was a welcome distraction from Igor’s condition. Patting his hand and kissing the top of his head, careful to avoid the wound that dissected his skull, she hurried to Lana’s tent first. The Olympian had owned the best in high-tech gear; it was the likeliest place to start.