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  “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.”

  Everyone looked at Andrew, understanding it was his apology to accept or not. Even Nat, who knew him best, wasn’t sure how her friend would respond. He was exhausted and probably in pain. To say he wasn’t at his best would be the understatement of the year.

  Andrew was silent a moment, but finally he smiled. “You’re forgiven. This is hard enough without us at each other’s throats. And you are a valuable member of the team, as long as you
can stop being such an asshole.”

  Nat held her breath, but Steven came forward to shake Andrew’s hand. “Done. I was genuinely worried for you, even though I’m sure it didn’t come across that way. We’re going to have to ensure you get the nutrients you need. Otherwise, with the frigid temperatures and the altitude, this will be extremely dangerous for you.”

  “That’s okay. I’m not really a vegetarian. I just said that so you’d lay off Joe and Anubha.”

  “Wow, I really have been an asshole.”

  Igor clapped the mountaineer on the shoulder, and Nat noticed Steven didn’t so much as shift his stance. It was probably a good thing the argument hadn’t come down to a physical confrontation. She was no longer sure the Russian would have won. “Yah, you have been, but that is all over now. Now, we feast on plastic spaghetti, yes?”

  The group laughed, and Nat watched the tension leave their gathering as if an actual cloud had disappeared. She resolved to sit beside Steven at lunch and get a handle on what was stressing him out. As much as he gave her the creeps, it was her job to take care of these things.

  However, Lana beat her to it. “What’s bothering you, Steven? Anything we can do to help?”

  He shook his head. “You’ll laugh at me if I tell you.”

  “No, we won’t.” Lana’s insistence was accompanied by assenting murmurs from the rest of the team. “What’s going on?”

  “How much do you all know about the Dyatlov group? I mean, really know about them?” Steven paced beside the fire, looking at each of them in turn.

  Joe shrugged. “I know the basics. Nine Russian skiers went missing around here, and a search team found their bodies a week or two later. So far, no one knows for sure how they died, though some think it was an avalanche.”

  “The avalanche theory doesn’t make any sense. It wasn’t the right time of year or the right place. Plus, there were no signs of an avalanche, none of the damage you’d expect to see done to their tent or campsite,” Lana said.

  Steven nodded. “She’s right. Anyone know some of the other theories?”

  “Being Russian, this is a big deal to us. I think I have heard them all.” Igor ticked them off on his fingers. “Weapons testing, government conspiracy, UFOs, animals, the wind going around the mountain made them crazy, the Mansi…” He tipped his head at Vasily, who was listening with no expression on his face. “Sorry.”

  “You did pretty well. But you’re missing one. Do you remember what it is?”

  “Wasn’t it Bigfoot or something?” Anubha said, and Igor snickered.

  “Oh yah, Bigfeet. I forgot about him.”

  “You’re close. Not Bigfoot, but the yeti. Otherwise known as the abominable snowman.” Out of everyone, Steven was the only one not smiling, but Nat had grown accustomed to that.

  “So ridiculous.” Anubha rolled her eyes. “Aliens? Bigfoot? I’m sorry, yetis. Who believes that stuff?”

  “I do,” Steven said. In the resulting silence, you could have heard a snowflake fall.

  “You’re joking, right?” Joe asked, but Nat could tell he wasn’t. The mountaineer’s face was so grave it could have been cast in stone.

  “I told you you’d laugh.”

  “We’re not laughing, Steven. It’s a surprise, that’s all. You seem so…” Lana trailed off.

  “What, sane? Level-headed?”

  “Serious, is what I was going to say.”

  “I am serious. My beliefs do not preclude that.”

  “So, what do you believe in? UFOs, yetis, or all of the above?” Andrew asked.

  “I can’t speak to UFOs, although I do think it’s incredibly self-centered of us to think we’re the only planet with intelligent life—using ‘intelligent’ very loosely in regard to our species. But that’s par for the course, isn’t it? Human beings are extremely self-centered. We have no concern for anything but ourselves.”

  Aaaand, just like that, Steven was back to being the happy soul they’d grown to know and love. “That’s a cheery thought.”

  He pinned her to the spot with that alarmingly intense gaze of his. “No, Nat, it’s downright depressing. But that doesn’t make it any less true.”

  “So, it’s yetis. That you believe in?” Igor said.

  “Yes, but hear me out. I have my reasons. A few years ago, I was hiking in the Six Rivers National Forest, near the Oregon border. As usual, I was on my own, which didn’t bother me. I actually prefer it that way.”

  It was difficult not to roll her eyes. Big surprise there.

  “Anyway, it didn’t take long for me to realize I wasn’t alone. Something was tracking me. At first, I thought it was a wild animal, but it was too intelligent. Whatever was following me was capable of critical thinking. And it had opposable thumbs.”

  “Whaa?” Lana said. “How could you tell?”

  “At night I kept my supplies up in the trees, in a net, and when I woke up, my pack had been rummaged through and every scrap of food that wasn’t canned was gone. Here’s the strange part—whatever went through my stuff had untied the net and unfastened my pack without damaging it or making enough noise to wake me up. What kind of wild animal is capable of that?”

  “So it was a person,” Andrew said, echoing Nat’s own thoughts.

  “That was my suspicion too, so the next night I set up a camera. And trust me, what I found on it the next morning was not human.”

  Nat shivered in spite of herself. Asshole or not, the man could tell a story.

  “Are you saying you have the Bigfeet on video?” Igor asked, eyebrows disappearing under his fleece cap.

  “Yes, I do. I suspected it was a hoax, some wiseass wearing a costume so he could steal from campers, so I brought it to these video production guys I know. Then I showed it to a few zoologists. They all confirmed it. This was no hoax.”

  “But if you have genuine footage of Bigfoot, it would be priceless,” Nat said. “You’d be famous.”

  “That kind of fame I do not want.”

  “So what did you do with it?” Anubha asked. “Just put it in a drawer somewhere?”

  “No, it’s far too precious for that. Let’s just say I’ve got it somewhere safe, somewhere no one will ever find it.”

  “But why? That kind of evidence, if it exists, could change everything.” Andrew raised an eyebrow at her. Nat guessed his thoughts. If they could convince Steven to let them publicize it, what a podcast that would be. The resulting glory could lead to a lot more than a raise.

  “Oh, it exists. But the way it would change things is exactly what I don’t want.”

  “What do you mean?” Lana asked, but Nat was pretty sure she knew where the mountaineer was going with this. It was in his comments about the destructive nature of their species.

  “Think about it. Once I released my evidence, people would descend on that forest, searching for him. In the process, they’d destroy one of the most beautiful wild spaces we have left. And if they found the creature? They’d destroy him too, all in the name of science.”

  “What kind of track did it leave?” Joe tipped his head at his wife, who handed him the bowls so he could fill them with steaming spaghetti. It looked and smelled every bit as good as what you’d order from an Italian restaurant. Nat’s mouth watered.

  “That’s the thing. Aside from its immense stature, that’s how I knew, without a doubt, that this wasn’t some dumb animal. The creature wore a type of homemade shoe that looked like bits of plant and bark strapped to its feet. It made a kind of drag mark on the ground that could have been anything. It certainly wasn’t as distinctive as a footprint.”

  The group fell silent, pondering the notion of a Sasquatch wearing shoes. It was an incredible story, but Nat didn’t think the mountaineer was lying. Either he’d seen what he said, or he believed he’d seen it.

  “Just because you saw this thing in the United States does not mean it’s here, in Russia,” Igor said.

  “Are you aware of the note the searchers found in Dyatlov�
��s tent?” Steven asked.

  Nat was, and she felt chilled in a way that had nothing to do with the cold.

  “It said, From now on we know that snowmen exist.”

  ~ Chapter Five ~

  That evening, Nat found it impossible to sleep. It wasn’t the cold. Andrew had done his research well, and even when the temperature plunged to -13°F, it was nice and cozy inside their two-person tent.

  After Steven had told his story, a sense of dread had followed her around that couldn’t be shaken by exhaustion, exercise, or the two hot meals expertly prepared by Joe and Anubha.

  “Nat?” She wasn’t surprised when Andrew whispered her name, but she still jumped.

  “Yeah?”

  “What did you think of that story?”

  “I thought it was pretty fucking creepy. Especially that part about the shoes.”

  Andrew was silent for so long she thought he’d fallen asleep, but then he spoke. “Yeah. The shoes. You’re thinking about Dyatlov, aren’t you?”

  Obviously she was thinking of Dyatlov. By tomorrow afternoon, they would reach the man’s campsite. “One of the reasons no one believed the yeti theory—”

  “In addition to the fact it’s ridiculous.”

  “—is that there weren’t any tracks. But maybe there were tracks. They just weren’t recognizable.”

  “You realize how crazy this is.”

  But was it? They’d investigated far crazier. What about the bridge that drove animals to commit suicide? They’d never been able to find a rational explanation for that, either. Their entire podcast was based on the fact that sometimes there was no rational explanation.

  “If there is something like that out here, it’s not even supernatural. It’s a creature that hasn’t been discovered yet. Aren’t scientists discovering new species every day?” Nat’s heart picked up speed. What if they returned with proof—actual proof—that yetis existed? She wouldn’t be as reticent as their mountaineering friend, that was for sure.

  “Yeah, but that’s like bugs and stuff, not carnivores. Trust me, if something like that existed, someone would have seen it by now.”