by Andy Lucas
Nothing was moving out across the snowy ground and he could just make out the hall, if he twisted slightly. Pace could clearly see some remnants of the shutters littering the snow outside, lying amidst churned up snow, but most of the debris would be inside the building, on the floor where the creatures had smashed their way inwards.
'What does it look like?' whispered Shilan impatiently. She despised inactivity and was ready to run a gauntlet of teeth if necessary. 'Any chance we can make it to your helicopter and get the hell off this mountain?'
Pace knew it looked peaceful but his sixth sense still clamoured a warning, though not as determinedly as before. It was almost warning him to a background danger.
'It looks clear.' He was also minded to make a break for it. They had already decided that when they went, if they went, that speed would need to be as fast as possible. It would create more noise but safety for them lay down the trail, back at the Lynx.
'Are we going?'
Just for a second, Pace's eyes caught a movement in the trees, just behind the hall. A huge pile of snow fell from a disturbed bough of a large pine tree. Scanning the area intently, pulse immediately racing, he could not see what had caused it to fall but it jangled his nerves and made him acutely aware that their chances of getting out of the village alive were not guaranteed, despite the beautiful sunshine.
'I think they're still out there, just beyond the trees. Something just moved. They could be watching, just waiting for us to break cover.'
'Where?'
'Over by the main hall. I just saw something move.'
'Could be a rabbit, or a deer?' Shilan suggested. 'I still think it's worth the risk.'
'Maybe,' Pace agreed, focusing as intently as he could at the spot where the snow had fallen. 'The only way to know for sure is to make a run for the downhill trail but,' he reasoned, 'to do that, we'll have to give up our hiding spot.' Shilan made no reply from behind him so he rephrased it. 'They think we're going to come out of the hall again. Maybe we should lie low for another day?' Again, no response.
Irritated by her rudeness, he craned his head back around to say it again but there was nobody around to hear him. Shilan was gone.
'Stupid,' he snarled to himself, realising that she had decided to prove if the Yeti were still there by using herself as live bait. 'I hope you're as quick on your feet as you think. If they are there, you're going to need it.'
Lowering the roof, he felt for the Mauser in the darkness created by Shilan's exit, along with her head torch. His fingers found the door but the rifle was gone. He would not be able to help her now so he did the only thing he could; returned to his viewing point, lifted up the corner of the roof again and watched, waiting.
He did not have long to wait before he saw her, appearing at one of the open windows. Peeking her head around the wall, she surveyed the quiet scene for a few moments before committing herself to the test. She had no intention of being frightened by what ifs; she had to know.
Swinging one leg over the window sill, Shilan sucked in a deep breath and pushed down the rising sense of panic. There is nothing to worry about, she reasoned with herself. All she needed to do was show herself and give any hungry Yeti the chance to do the same. If nothing was there, she and Pace could make a run for the Lynx. If they were being watched, it was only a short run back to the safety of the trap door.
Shilan brought her other leg over and jumped down into the deeply disturbed snow. Not waiting; fearful that her own creeping doubts would get the better of her, she began to walk slowly out into plain sight. Ten steps, fifteen. Nothing. The Mauser was held tightly in her hands, held against her hip.
From under the corrugated roof, Pace's gaze burned fiercely into the tree line, expecting a monster to crash through foliage at any second. Yet everything remained calm and quiet; no sound at all.
As a relieved Shilan reached a point roughly ten metres away from the window, her own ears caught the faintest of sounds from the trees nearest to her. Only a rustle, but it stood out in the pervading silence. She froze. Pace still saw no sign of life from the trees. He was too far away to hear anything but spotted her stiffen into sudden immobility, his heart lurching into his mouth. As he watched, he saw her begin to lift the old German rifle towards her shoulder.
Shilan heard the sound again, this time more pronounced. Something was moving, very slowly, in the shadows within the tree trunks. She turned her head incredibly slowly towards the spot until her gaze settled upon a section of the tree line that looked identical to the rest. Nothing appeared different; just trees and snow.
Her mind raced furiously, fighting her own desperate instinct to flee. Intellect and reason tried to explain to her spirit that the sound might be a rodent, or a rabbit, but her soul was not buying it.
The third time she heard it, even more loudly, told her that she had made a terrible mistake. Not only was something there but this sound came from a different point, some ten metres further along the green line.
Shilan began to back up, as fast as she could. She made it a couple of steps before two huge shapes solidified out of the shadows cast by the outer trees, stepping into full, glorious, terrifying sight.
She did not stop of look at them closely; instead spinning on her heels and bolting for the window. Shilan should have crossed the distance within a couple of seconds but luck decided it was time to play a cruel trick, whipping her feet out from beneath her in a Hollywood cliché when she tried to accelerate too fast over the snow. Stumbling face first, still clutching the Mauser tightly, the clumsy restrictions on her snowsuit served to slow her movements as she struggled to get back up, slipping down onto her knees; heart threatening to explode with fear, the first time she tried. Finally, too late, she was able to lurch to her feet.
Taking huge strides, her pursuers were barely a metre behind her by the time she reached the window. She heard them coming, unbelievably fast, and now felt the heat of fetid breath on the back of her head. With Death sharpening his scythe over her shoulder, she flung herself bodily through the window, knowing she had no chance of reaching the stairs, let alone the safety of the tunnels, before they would be on her.
Shilan's neck tensed involuntarily against the savage sensation of an impending bite.
A lethal roar exploded in the darkness inside the hall; a concussive bark accompanied by a brilliant flash. Coming from in front of her, her confused brain struggled to comprehend how the creatures had beaten her inside or where the light had come from. Then the roar came again, once, twice, three times in quick succession, as a hand grabbed her roughly by the wrist and yanked her up off the floor.
Shilan allowed herself to be pulled across the room and was almost at the top of the stairs before reality unveiled itself to her.
'Faster!' yelled Pace. 'Come on, and watch out for those broken boards!' Turning to empty the final shot from his Webley back in the direction of the disoriented Yeti, he pulled her down the stairs and shoved her clumsily down the shaft, following immediately afterwards.
Three minutes later, both panting and smiling stupidly, they were back in their hideout.
'I think,' breathed Shilan, 'that I may have been a little rash.'
'You think?' Pace had seen events begin to unfold and done the only thing he could to try and save her. How he had managed to jump down the shaft, crawl through the tunnel, pull himself up the other shaft and reach her in the nick of time; taking the dusty steps three at a time, was a miracle. All he had was his pistol but he knew it was powerful enough, at very close range, to do serious damage to flesh.
'Thank you.' Shilan's pulse was slowing. 'You could have left me to my fate. I would have understood.'
'I was too late to save Hill. You, I could do something about,' he added matter-of-factly. 'Besides, if I've got to be stuck here for a while, at least I'll have company.' Pace forced a smile in the darkness, leaning over and fumbling at the back of her head until he found the switch that activated her head torch. Clicking it on, they
regarded each other in the sudden brilliance, eyes blinking.
'They were waiting for us. All of them.'
'If that is all of them,' Pace wondered drily. 'They know we're here somewhere so they were staking out the hall.'
'They aren't nocturnal hunters then?'
'Perhaps, usually. They might just be keen to catch us so are hanging around, past their bedtime.'
'How long do you think they will stay out there, waiting?'
'That's the million dollar question,' replied Pace. He had tried calling Baker, on his satellite phone, a dozen times since entering the small hut but he was unable to get a signal out through the corrugated roof and surrounding snow drifts. He tried again anyway, to be rewarded by the same irritating beeping that told him he needed to try harder.
'If you lift the corner up high enough and I lean out a little, perhaps we could snatch a signal.' Shilan was impressed by the device Pace was carrying – top of the range, with a level of encryption she had never seen before, even in her own covert operations.
'Our only chance of remaining alive is for these things to not spot us. I've already risked enough by lifting the roof a few times. It would have to be raised a lot higher before we could make a call and they might spot the movement. Our scent, which is already pungent,' he added slyly, 'would definitely waft outside.'
'Do you have another plan?' she asked innocently.
'I was planning on slipping back into the hall and calling from there. I know I can get a signal from the upper storey. That was before you pulled your little stunt,' he said reprovingly. 'Now, we're going to have to wait a while before I try.'
'Sorry,' she stated, very unapologetically. 'At least we know they're still out there.' It was of small comfort.
They spent the rest of the day fitfully dozing on the floor, not attempting to lift the roof again and simply putting up with each other's rising stink. Days of sweat and unwashed dirt was only contained within their suits up to a certain point. Hot, stuffy and always listening for any sounds from outside, by ten o'clock that night, Pace was fit to burst with frustration.
They both made their way to the vertical shaft in the floor of the main hall, moving in the pitch darkness rather than risk showing any lights. They had no idea if the creatures were now waiting for them inside the building or whether they had retreated to the sanctuary of the thick forest. There was no sense in taking unnecessary chances, they had agreed.
Pace led the crawl while Shilan followed up behind him, gripping the Mauser. Waiting in the narrow tunnel as Pace stood up inside the shaft, they both listened apprehensively but heard no sounds from the abandoned old building above their heads.
The first thing Pace attempted was another call, hoping that he might be able to get a signal from the bottom of the shaft but, once again, the technology refused to co-operate.
In the room above, they waited expectantly, mouths dribbling at the delicious scent of the prey that was almost within reach. Huddled around the trap door, like hungry Eskimo fisherman patiently guarding an ice hole, waiting for a visit from a curious seal, the three massive bodies completely surrounded the hole in a wall of muscle and fur.
Down at the bottom of the shaft, Pace was straining his ears. The silence of the room above remained unbroken but to climb up meant committing himself to a leap and clamber manoeuvre, leaving him helpless to attack for a few seconds if there was anything nasty waiting for him up there. His nerves jangled constantly, warning him that all was not well but he wasn't sure it wasn't purely a reaction to accumulated stress and fear.
They had not discussed a Plan B but, on a whim, he paused for a second, kneeling down in the shaft to whisper to Shilan.
'Pass me the rifle,' he directed. 'Stay quiet. I want to try something.'
'Is there a problem?' she shot back. 'Are they up there?'
'I can't hear a damned thing but I'm starting to get a little spooked.' In the gloom of her damp tunnel, Shilan heard, more than saw, Pace strip off his snowsuit. Exposed to the frigid temperature in his jeans and sweat-stained tee-shirt, he was too busy to feel the cold for a moment but nearly gagged on the full release of his own body odour. If Shilan noticed the stench, she was too polite to comment.
Wasting no more time, Pace grasped the Mauser by its barrel end, being very careful not to go anywhere near the vicious, fixed bayonet. Slipping the integrated hood of his snowsuit over the weapon's stock, he straightened back up and extended his arms straight up, lifting the snowsuit several feet out of the trap door with a single, fluid movement.
It was an old trick, he knew, akin to a soldier sticking his helmet above the parapet of a trench to see if a nearby marksman put a bullet through it. He wasn't even sure it was a good idea and determined to only leave it up there for a few seconds; just a quick test.
The explosion of activity above his head, underscored by a succession of deafening roars, was instant. A powerful force grabbed the snowsuit and rifle, snatching it out of his grasp so fast that the bayonet blade sliced evilly across the palm of one hand, burning agonisingly and drawing a gasp of pain from his lips.
It took the creatures less than two seconds to realise that the cloth and wood they tore into, with frenzied, slavering jaws, was devoid of flesh and blood but it was just enough time for Pace to drop to his knees and shout at Shilan to back up down the passageway.
Responding rapidly, she backed off and simultaneously pulled at his tee-shirt, trying to help him inside the safety of the narrow tunnel. Her fingers only succeeded in tearing the material and Pace nearly made it inside before an incredibly long arm was jammed down through the hole in the floor above, searching for them. He did not see it coming and the arm was a little too short to reach all the way to the bottom of the shaft. The extended claws were, however, long enough to reach the backs of his legs, slicing them open cruelly with a single, vicious swipe but not catching any muscle or bone to hook.
Pace cried out in pain but forced the sudden threat of unconsciousness away, biting down so hard on his lower lip that it bled. Shilan was shocked but still reacted fast, moving closer and gripping him beneath his broad shoulders. Tugging for all she was worth, with his bloodied legs scrambling as best they could for purchase on the dirt floor, together they moved him inside the passageway.
'Come on, James. Come on,' she urged him sternly. 'Crawl for me. Come on. You need to help me. You are too heavy for me to drag you all by myself.'
Unaware of how seriously, or not, he had been injured, remaining in the tunnel was not an option. She needed to get him back inside the hut so she could take a good look at his wounds.
'Just keep pulling, sweetheart.' He tried a grin that came out as a grimace, which was nearly as bad as the very poor Humphrey Bogart impression he'd attempted. 'I'm right behind you.'
'Spare me the humour,' Shilan smiled, despite herself. 'Just crawl.'
It took nearly three full minutes for them to both reach the shaft below their little, stopping several times to rest. Pace could feel the wetness on his legs and knew he was losing a lot of blood. It took a terrible amount of manhandling and fighting to get him up the shaft, with him using his fading strength to pull himself up by his arms. Finally, helped by Shilan, he dragged himself onto the floor of the small building; his head already thickening and his thoughts beginning to wander away.
'Stay with me,' he heard her voice, seemingly moving away from him. 'James. James.' The second use of his name cut through the rising fog to register as an order. 'I am going to roll you over on your stomach, okay? Don't fight me. I need to look at your legs.'
Pace mumbled an incoherent reply before the blissful, pain-free blanket of unconsciousness pulled itself up around him, snuggling him down warmly in its insidious embrace and he heard no more.
The last time James Pace had been so seriously wounded that death seemed imminent; at the hands of a teenage girl wielding a gun, he'd been lucky enough to be treated by one of the world's leading trauma surgeons, who just happened to be vi
siting his local hospital on the day of the incident. Now, it seemed, fate had put him together once again with an experienced surgeon, albeit one who also moonlighted as a covert agent for the German government on the side.
For a moment, she feared he had died but a check on the pulse in his neck told her that he was just unconscious, which was probably for the best. The heart felt strong and regular so she forgot about it and got on with saving his life.
Using scissors in the medical kit she knew was in the backpack, she cut away the remaining tatters of his jeans and cast a professional eye over the two, raking slices; one down the centre of each leg from thigh to calf. The fact that the creature had managed to slice both of his legs with one swipe told her more than enough about its size.
McEntire medical kits were especially well-equipped due to the nature of the business and always contained a small selection of disposable surgical tools. This one, she was delighted to note, also came with a Covidien staple gun. Pre-loaded with staples, she lost no time in pulling the edges of the skin together and stapling the wounds up. Staring at the thigh, where the skin had pulled apart the widest, like a split, ripe peach, she worked feverishly. Ignoring the blood that still poured out, sealing the wound was the only thing that would save him and that was a long shot.
The staples lasted for his entire left leg and down to the knee of his right leg before the gun ran empty. There was no refill in the kit so Shilan had to make do with an old-fashioned needle and thread to finish the job down to his right calf. Her hands dripping with Pace's blood, she was relieved to see that her urgent work had completely sealed the wounds and reduced any remaining leakage to a seeping trickle.
With the most pressing work completed, she used some antiseptic wipes to clean up the blood from his legs, and from her hands, before using all the bandages in the kit to strap both of his legs up neatly.
