by Greig Beck
In several hours, they had made it to the small rocky uprising and began to climb.
“This way.”
Nikolay skirted the areas that he said caused them trouble the last time and easily found the mouth of the cave. He went to wave Carter in.
“Wait,” Carter said and pulled his rifle from over his shoulder.
“Oh, you’re right.” Nikolay eased back. “Just because there was no bear the last time, might be one this time.”
Carter picked up a lump of loose rock and tossed it inside. It bounced and skittered deep into the cave, but after another moment, all was silent again.
“Okay.” Carter waved him in. “Let’s go.”
The pair switched on flashlights, Carter’s a huge spotlight that nearly illuminated the entire cave.
“Wow.” It was as big and deep as Nikolay had said, and they quickly made their way to the smaller offshoot cave.
Nikolay pointed his light inside and then ducked his head to enter. “The bones, they’re still as we left them.”
He crouched and Carter came around him to pick up some of the coffee-brown bones, turning them over in his hands. He rubbed a thumb on the pitted bone and looked at the remains of the teeth in one of the skulls.
“Remains of several bodies here—adults and children. Age browned, and that only happens after a long time.” Carter rested his forearms on his knees.
“Yes, Marcus said that he thought the bones could have been up to 100,000 years old.” Nikolay shone his light beam around. “We think they must have been trapped by a rockslide. They all died in here.”
He sniffed, detecting a faint odor a little like cinnamon. If the cave had been truly sealed up, then as the bones rotted and they turned to dust, the people would be now floating in the air as motes of dust. That odor he detected might be the spirits of the tribe’s people.
“Looks like the entire tribe was sealed in and wiped out.” Carter tossed the bones down like they were old sticks and looked around. “You said there were rock paintings?”
Nikolay backed out. “Yes, this way.”
He led Carter further down along the cave tunnel to a long, flat wall. “Here, this is where they painted.” He ran his light along the wall.
Carter followed the light. The wall was flat, at least 20 feet long, and covered in all manner of images.
“Already they seem a little less, colorful,” Nikolay said.
“Exposure to the air. They’re starting to degrade. Sealed up, it was like a time capsule. Not anymore.”
Carter stepped in a little closer to where depictions of deer, bear, wolves, and also many other animals that were now long extinct like the mammoth, a giant antlered moose-like creature, and what might have been a rhinoceros with a branched horn sticking from its nose.
“Maybe they survived for a while,” Nikolay observed.
“I think you’re right,” Carter said. “Look here.” He moved to the far end of the cave, and his bright light lit up every crack, crevice, and flat space that had been used as a canvas.
“I haven’t seen these images.” Nikolay crowded close to him.
Carter nodded toward the wall. “That looks like a hunting or war party setting off.”
Sure enough, there were several figures walking away from the cave, all carrying spears.
“You know what I think?” Carter crouched and lifted his eyes. “I think you’re right about them surviving. Whatever it was that came down caused the monster wave, but that’s not what killed them. Maybe days or weeks afterward, those damned big human brains of theirs triggered their curiosity. So they sent out a small team of warriors to go have a little looksee.”
Carter moved a little further along, following the frescoes and did his best to decipher the artwork story.
“Holy shit.” He lifted his light and stared at the wall image. “One came back.”
Nikolay came closer and peered at the drawing. It was of a human figure standing with arms wide. But his belly was painted blood red, and streamers or rope seemed to emanate from his gut. And worse, what looked like spikes or spindly legs were rupturing from the core of his body.
“What do you think?” Carter asked and turned to him.
“I think…” Nikolay shook his head.
“Go ahead, say it, because I’m thinking the same thing.” Carter waited. “Come on, say it, so I know I’m not the only crazy one here.”
Nikolay looked down at the ground for a moment before lifting his head. He sighed. “The bear. Just like the bear.”
Carter nodded. “Yeah. Something was inside the returning warrior. He came back to the cave, but with something in him.”
Carter rubbed his stubbled chin, making a rasping sound that was loud in the near-silent cave. “Did it have something to do with the thing that struck the lake?” He turned to the young Russian. “And you said you could make out where the thing came down in the lake?”
Nikolay nodded. “I think so. The landmarks are all still here.”
“Good.” Carter checked his watch and then turned away. “Show me.”
Nikolay took him higher to the lookout at the top of the outcrop. They had to pull their hoods and face coverings in tight over their nose and mouth, as the wind here was bitterly cold. It also stung the eyes and the pair had to close them to slits.
“There, and there.” Nikolay pointed.
Carter immediately saw the landscape that was the perfect match for the cave art images. The artists had a good eye for perspective, and he could also make an estimation of where the thing came down.
“Right about… there.” He pointed.
Now it was a white desert of ice and snow for as far as his eye could see. But by the coastal hills and bays, it was only about a mile or so down along the shoreline and maybe half a mile out.
It was roughly between where they were now and the first of their fish pens. They’d even taken soundings around these areas and found them useless as prospective sites as they were too close to the black depths of the rift, where the lake bottom fell away to over a mile.
“Well, I’m hoping that if something fell in there, it stayed in there,” Carter said.
“Yes, down deep,” Nikolay said softly.
Carter turned and Nikolay didn’t meet his eye. But Carter knew they were both thinking the same thing: whatever fell into the lake all those tens of thousands of years ago and infected the long-dead warrior, and then what also crawled out of the belly of the bear, was undoubtedly connected.
Where they were was a great vantage point, and at night, it’d be a great place to watch out for those mysterious lights that Yuri and the men had mentioned. A curious thought jumped into Carter’s head: could the deep lights be in any way connected to the crash here all those thousands of years ago?
Crash. He snorted softly at the thought. Not impact as in meteorite. He sighed. I’m buying into the legends already, he thought and turned away. He paused.
Carter bent to pick the small thing up and held it in his hand, warming the freezing object. He opened his fingers displaying the black Swiss army knife—Marcus was written on its side, and it was just like his own.
“This place is bad luck,” he whispered and then turned. “Let’s get back.”
CHAPTER 27
The next morning, Carter stepped out of his cabin and the cold hit him like a slap. He coughed as it seared his lungs and he quickly hiked his collar up as high as it would go. He also rolled the beanie down to his brow line. But still, his remaining exposed skin stung like needle pricks.
The compound was dusted with snow, and it was hard to tell where the snow ended and the iced-over lake began.
He and Yuri were set to take to the bobsleds and head out to the pens that morning. It would stretch the limits of the small fuel tanks, but it shouldn’t be a problem unless they needed to deviate.
He was about to head down to the wharf when he saw the markings in the snow. He recognized the tracks from right around here a few months back
. He stared at them, trying to tease from their patterns the type of animal that had made them.
Carter had been game hunting and also tracking in the military, but these were beyond him. The double markings had a gait of about two and a half feet wide between the foot, hoof, or bug prints, if that’s even what they were, as they looked more stilt-like than feet or legs. He turned his head to follow their path and saw that they entered the compound from the tree line again to the north, wandered about in the compound as if searching for something, and then finally exited close to where they came in.
Carter followed them for a while, seeing exactly where the creature went. He saw that the tracks led from cabin to cabin—but not all of them; just the ones that were occupied. They then headed toward the main house where Sara was and went up the steps. Due to the snow-free wooden steps and porch, they vanished for a while and he assumed they went right up to the door, but then reappeared back down the steps into the snow again.
The tracks weren’t deep, so whatever it was couldn’t have been very heavy. He still thought it might have been a fox. Last time, he had asked Yuri and the big Russian had just shrugged and held his arms wide, indicating it could have been a dozen different sorts of creatures. Also, things can get distorted in snow pretty quick if the temperature changes and there is even a miniscule thaw.
Once again, they vanished back up to the tree line, and this time, Carter followed all the way. It didn’t take him long to climb the hill and when he got above the mill compound, he saw that there was a larger disturbance in the snow.
“What the hell?” he whispered. “Did you get eaten?”
The smaller tracks intersected with the greater disturbance and then only a larger set of tracks appeared like that of a deer or some sort of large hoofed animal. They moved quickly off into the freezing forest.
There was no predatory hoofed animal that he knew of; plus, there was no blood. Carter scratched his head and exhaled a stream of vapor as he stood looking around at the wall of trees.
“Siberia.” He snorted and turned to look down over the compound again. There was so much going on, and so much of it out of his area of experience. He sighed, feeling a little overwhelmed for a moment.
Carter suddenly wished Marcus was here—he was the smart one. If only there had been a way for him to be here when his little brother first arrived, he never would have run foul of the bratva.
Carter stayed on the hilltop for many minutes, looking down over the range of buildings, all covered in snow and looking like something from a Christmas postcard.
He shifted his gaze back to the forest line—much of it was a solid wall of trees and impenetrable to his gaze. It was dark in there, and anything not wanting to be seen had the perfect hiding place. When on missions, he had a soldier’s intuition when it came to a sensation of being watched… and he had that now.
“Fuck it,” he said and headed back down.
By then, he could see the big Russian up and already down at the wharf, smoking one of his stinking cigarettes for breakfast as he waited for Carter to arrive. He’d pulled the two bobcats out and was ready to go out to the pens.
Carter shook himself. “It’s goddamn freezing.”
“Pfft.” Yuri waved him away. “This is nothing.” He turned back. “You hear of place called Oymyakon?”
Carter snorted. “Of course not.”
“Coldest town in Siberia. Some days gets down to 88 degrees below zero.” Yuri grinned. “You know how cold it gets on Mars? Don’t think, I tell you; only 80 degrees below zero.”
Carter chuckled. “That’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“No, warmer,” Yuri shot back.
“Well, at least the fish don’t mind.” Carter stamped snow off his boots. “Let’s go.”
They sped out onto the frozen lake, sounding like two bikers on a desert highway, and throwing huge tails of crushed ice and snow out behind them. Carter loved the bobcats, as they were fast and fun, and if it weren’t for the excruciating cold lancing any exposed flesh, he’d be out on them for relaxation every single day.
The pens were located by GPS bulbs embedded in the pen buoys that were sunk just below the ice, so finding them was by technology as much as using the coastal landmarks.
“Here.” Yuri skidded his sled to a stop. He stepped off and hefted the chainsaw, shovel, and pickaxe.
Carter pulled up next to him and lifted another large box from his passenger seat that contained the underwater camera and diving equipment in the event one of them needed to go into the freezing water.
The Russian yanked the chainsaw to life and then set to cutting lines in the ice—six feet one way, then the other, creating a square. When he’d sunk the spinning blade down as far as it would go along all four quadrants, he cut more furrows within the square. When done, he put down the saw, grabbed up the pick, and set to digging out the chunks.
Yuri had to repeat this process twice as the ice here was already four feet thick, and by the time he struck water, he was puffing like a train.
“Not so young anymore.” He grinned through a flushed face and beard specked in ice chips.
Carter laughed. “One day, you’ll look back and wish you were as young as you are now. So enjoy it while you can.”
Yuri threw his head back and laughed like a bark. “You can make anything sound good. Are you sure you’re not a salesman?”
“Barman,” Carter shot back.
Yuri straightened for a moment and lifted one bushy eyebrow. “I think you were not always a barman, yes?”
“Jack of all trades.” Carter grinned. “Want me to take over?”
“Now?” Yuri puffed. “Is nearly finished.” He shook his head. “I think you get to do next one.”
The upside was they didn’t need to fill it in as the ice layer actually created downward pressure on the water, so punching a hole in it made the water well up to the surface. Then the cold took over, freezing it back over again.
It was damned cold, so they’d need to pitch a tent over the hole to slow down the refreezing. But even then, they’d still need to keep the water agitated so it didn’t get an ice skin over it and need to be hacked through all over again.
Carter just hoped there weren’t any problems below, because if there were, then one of them would need to don the cold-weather diving gear and head down. He’d dived in the Arctic as part of his Spec Forces training, and no matter how many layers, or how thick or hi-tech the wetsuit was, it was damned unpleasant.
The size of the final hole became clear, as Yuri had cut steps on the way down to the water. Otherwise, he might be at the bottom of the hole when he punched through and end up getting swamped.
This way, he was on the bottom step when the icy liquid burst upward, rising slowly and giving him time to clamber out.
Carter took over, lowering the camera. This time, it was tethered and once it was in the lake, Yuri switched on the computer to track it and began to maneuver it away.
“Going down,” he said and Carter went to crouch beside him and watch as the camera headed down into the inky dark water.
The tent over the hole was like a cocoon from the elements and the pair of men watched intently as the submersible camera descended. Yuri rotated it for a moment when they were only a few dozen feet down, so he could look back at the hole, and then—there was a glowing blue square amongst the sheets of white, and Carter could even make out the shadow of him and Yuri huddled next to it.
“Heading down.”
Yuri righted the camera and pushed the small joystick forward, pushing it down toward the bottom. It took several minutes as there was about 150 feet of water depth in this pen area.
The pen was large, and it would take them a while to travel along the net line, first looking for breaks or tears, and then to locate their farmed sturgeon.
“Looking good,” Yuri said as they traveled along the pen net-line. The water was so clear, the small headlamps on the robot camera picked up with cryst
al clarity the snags, nets, and their peg anchors into the lake bottom.
It would take them nearly an hour to patrol the perimeter, so Carter opened a thermos and poured a coffee for each of them. Yuri reached into his pocket for a small silver flask and held it out to Carter—vodka, he suspected. He shook his head and Yuri shrugged and tipped a good shot of clear liquid into his own mug.
He toasted Carter and sipped. The big Russian went back to the small screen and watched the dark water lit up by their lights go by yard after yard. All seemed normal.
“So,” he asked. “The beast; what did you find? Was it really a bear?”
Carter inwardly groaned, remembering Yuri wasn’t involved in the autopsy. “You heard about that, huh?”
He nodded. “I hear about everything. You are the owners of the business, but I am the manager. If something happens, I know about it. And the local Russians will come to me first.”
Carter grunted. “Okay, and yeah, it was a bear… once. It’s confounded us and the remains just raised more questions than they answered. We’ve sent some samples off to Moscow for them to do some analysis. We’ll wait to hear from them.”
“Good.” Yuri acknowledged. “A bear that is alive, but not alive. Very strange.” He raised one bushy eyebrow. “Let Moscow sort it out.”
Carter half-smiled, now appreciating that the guy really did know everything.
“Hold on.” Yuri squinted at the small screen and then paused to work the controls as his brow furrowed. “Water is being stirred up.”
“The sturgeon?” Carter asked.
“No, sturgeon will surge if they are frightened. But I don’t think it’s them.” He changed the camera angle. “Something is down there… with them.”
“Maybe a seal.” Carter leaned forward.
“Maybe.” Yuri didn’t look convinced.
The Russian maneuvered the camera into a new zone, and the water settled immediately. He swung the camera back, but there was nothing in the water behind them or to indicate what had caused the surge in currents.
Yuri bobbed his head. “This lake is so big it has its own tides and currents. But all looks good now,” Yuri said. “Let’s find our fish.”
